My Dear Uncle Warner

by Prettywhenicry325

Summary:

Little Allise, the princess of the royal Caelthorne family is harboring a secret. She has grown enamored with her own Uncle.

Separation with him due to the war was torture. But now that he’s back on her sights, it’s much more grave than the feeling of yearning. It has now become a dangerous game for a highly respected family, a suspicious eye for the brother of a king, and a huge disgrace for a sweet princess.

Chapter 1: Welcome back, Uncle.

The War.

Allise remember it very well. She had missed her father, brother, and her uncle. She initially thought they weren’t eligible for the war, but well, she was wrong—and that was when it all started.

The room was bustling with soldiers who had just gone home, families of royalty like the Caelthornes were, and she was in the circle of it, chewing on the skin of a strawberry from a bowl at the table. None had really acknowledged her, nor talked to her tonight. They were all enamored by her uncle, the prince who had just returned home after torturous two years of defending the country, and Allise’s brother, Elias, who had just returned from 6 months of studying the world.

It had been a while. Especially her Uncle Warner.

Uncle Warner.

She had no idea where it had begun, but the feeling was present—so present, and suffocating. He had been gone for over two years, but his presence was never forgotten. He would send her letters every week, not missing a time where he would. Her brother has seen that shoe box filled with his letters, and deemed her so sweet for keeping them. If only he had known the gravity of which his little sister’s feelings were for her uncle.

Allise gazed at him from the corner of the room as he conversed with the gentleman. He had changed. He’s bigger than when she last saw him, his stance straighter, his eyes sunken, and deeper. She had heard about that—how soldiers change after the war. She looked down on the piece of strawberry. She hope that her uncle has not changed. His letters never felt like it. He would say words that would twist her, and make her day incredibly warm.

I miss you terribly, Allise.

When my days feel pointless, I have the thought of you to keep me by, Allise.

I cannot wait to see you, to come home to my favorite girl in the whole world.

She felt as though she was very stupid. A girl who envisions wearing white, her uncle at the end of the altar. Stupid girl.

“You seem to be enjoying yourself.” A deep voice disturbed her thoughts, and she did not need to look up to know who it was.

With a smile on her face, a faint pink on her cheek, she does. She look up at him, and Warner stares at her, a smile on his face that warms his eyes unlike before. “I am not, and I wish for that to translate well.” She says with a cheerful tone, trying to hide the giddiness she felt. Oh, she missed him terribly. Two years without ever seeing him was great torture. A ploy of God to punish her for having such thoughts about a man who only loves his niece.

The corner of his lips turned up, as he looked towards the people who were mingling, drinking, eating. “It does, sweetheart. I truly did not wish to make you suffer a bad time. Your father went through an extreme for my welcome when I never asked for such.”

“He seems to know you well, and is aware of your adoration for a large number of people.”

He laughs under his breath. Soft, and intoxicating. “Well, yes, he does.” He says deeply, sipping the whiskey he had on his hand. “You, on the other hand, are here. More than enough for me.”

She wishes he would not say such things. Swallowing a lump, she nods more to herself. She looks to the sea of people, and an idea catches her.

She tugs lightly on the hem of his uniform. “Come with me, Uncle.” She says in a whisper.

He looked back down at her, a lone brow raised.

A smile breaks out of her face, a smile she was well aware her uncle calls ‘Allise’ mischievous grin’.

Without a second thought, her feet carry her towards the door of the room, and the hallway. It has been recent that father urged them to read, and to read, and to read again. Allise and her sisters had been fortunate, for unlike other fathers, or families—her father encouraged them to read, and read. To educate theirselves in matters even they sometimes cannot understand. Art, Social Studies, Politics. The King made them all knowledgeable about it, for he knew that knowledge was power in the world. She rarely stepped foot in his library before, and when she does—she feels as though a part of her always explode.

Opening the big wooden doors, she step inside, hearing the familiar click and clack of Warner’s boots behind her.

She breathes in the smell of the books, and the noise of…nothing. It was absolutely silent. When she was younger, her uncle would perch her on his shoulder, and walk through gardens and express how much he detested large crowds, and noise. That was the day she also swore she hated what he hated, and that she would love only what he loved. Everything he did, she would do. Everything he wanted, she would be.

Closing the door after him, she smiled. “Welcome, to your newfound rest.” She say softly, grinning from ear to ear.

His green eyes cast around the library. It was much bigger than how it looked two years ago, and her father made sure that there was change. He wanted them to feel the gravity of books, and their importance, and how there’s so much to know. It was much bigger now, endless.

He then looked at her, his eyes holding such warmth in them. “Thank you, Issa.” He says so softly, if she wasn’t so aware of him, and his presence, she never would've heard it. He turns to walk towards her, a soft glint in his eyes. “When have you grown? You look so much like a woman now, I never expected it.”

“That I’m a woman?”

“That you would grow, and become the most beautiful young woman another human being can see.”

With it, she blinks. She felt the tip of her hand shaking at her sides. She wondered if he knows that she was… odd when it comes to him. He looks at her with so much love, his lips in a smile, his words innocent. His thumb caresses the slope of her bare shoulder, and she felt such heat, skin raising goosebumps.

She can’t do this. Stepping back, She laughs softly, looking at anywhere but him. “A stretch–what a stretch that thought is.” She says, before looking back at him again.

The sight made her pause mid-glance to see such darkness in his face, as if she had upset him, until it was back to its warmth–like the uncle she knew. He puts his hands that rested on her shoulders to his back.

“But you might be right. I may be growing. Father will wed me very soon.” She rambled on, feeling anxious about his touch, his stare–his mere presence. After two years without him, She’s forgotten how much he can make her so… stupidly young, and just plain stupid.

He stayed silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “I’ll handle it. It won’t happen.” He says, his voice hard. She could have seen it differently, but the way his eyes seemed to darkened in the lightly lit room, the way his body became almost tense–she would’ve thought that he was… well, it doesn’t matter. 

But why would he? She was just his niece. She was the only one who was the most delusional about everything. These are those moments that she would nudge herself, and think really that… Wow, she really is just a fourteen year old girl isn't she?

“The Princess of Ladya is one girl only, there won’t have to be such a rush.” He says softly, turning back from her to sit on the couch across a coffee table. He crosses his legs, such elegance befitting a prince, but a man–a man at best, exuding the aura of someone reliable, dominant, someone a girl will dream about.

He seldom entertains women, he never really talks about them, never brought home any, never had warmth in his eyes for any woman–other than her. His most beloved niece. And yet, she feels at comfort knowing this.

She didn’t mind that he looked at her with such warmth only because we were related by the blood that runs through their veins, She didn’t mind that she knew he only saw her as a child. A young girl. He’s looking at her now, so sweetly, so loving, and she couldn’t help but bask in it, even if it was misguided–it’s hers, it’s what she has that no woman has.

She approaches him, her eyes dancing with warmth, and glint. She sat across from him, sitting her chin on her fist. “If you say so.” She says softly, a whisper in the room.

In her eyes, she sees the corner of his lips lift upward, a prideful look in his face. Leaning a bit closer, his eyes gleam, the shade of green jumping in her sight. She was always marveling at how beautiful he was, and she knew she could reason that well, he’s her uncle. It’s alright to admire him for his looks. She felt herself blush, shame coiling at her veins. She leaned back, and he tilts his head.

“You’ve grown, Issa.” He says, continuing his unyielding stare at my face. “No longer the girl who ran with pigtails?”

“I outgrew them, uncle.”

“Yes, indeed, I see it.”

Her head tilts together, legs clamping shut, slick thighs coating one another. Another thing, uncle, she thought, her private parts are now feeling things! Things they should not be feeling for you!

She had discovered this one time when she was 12, when her uncle had just been employed by the army. He had then sent her the very first letter he’s ever sent her. She had glowed with so much glee as she read it, her knees perched on the mattress. When she opened the note, it smelled him. The scent of a man with notes of home. She felt it then, the sudden throb in her pussy, the ache, and hardening of her nipples. She whimpered then, barely finishing the letter before she rode the pillow she reached behind her back. She had no idea how to do it, all she knew was that she liked the feeling of the soft cloth, and the plump of the pillow against her aching cunt. She had clutched the paper in her hands, smelling so furiously, grinding harder, and meaner at the pillow, no idea what it meant. As she imagined her uncle, the one in front of her, she sees him doing this for her. She doesn’t know what, but she wanted him to touch her. She wanted his voice, saying ‘good girl, my little Issa.’. She then felt it. That feeling, the feeling of exploding, turning liquid at the bed. She whimpered, and continued to rut in her pillow, until she exploded again, and again, wearing out the scent from Uncle Warner’s letter.

“Issa?” He whispers, shaking her out of her trance. She blushed hard, and leaned back at the armrest. Oh, she needed some help. A good little nudge from the high above.

Plastering a small smile on her face, thighs firm together, she nodded. “Uh—yes, I’m glad to be grown.” She says, a little bit too rushed for anyone’s liking.

He’s now home. Home with everyone he loves, home with her but she doesn’t feel at ease. It was easy to ignore whatever it was she feeling, but no more. Now he’s sitting here in the flesh, in front of her, she felt ablaze. She will never be normal, and normalcy will feel like an image far away. Her head is now once again filled with him.

Him.

Her dear Uncle Warner.

Chapter 2: The Concept of Bad and Good

“I never really did like those dresses that needed that… that thing?” Lottie says, Allise’ childhood friend. 

Allise looks at her, pausing her painting. “What thing?” 

They were in the drawing room at the royal house, painting as instructed by the lazy teacher who never ceases to nap at her table. She couldn’t blame her. What was the excitement in teaching three students only? 

Lottie smiles, and points down to her dress. “You know… that puffy wiring, that makes your dress go poof!” She gestures with her arms hands, and she remembered her mother. She had those dresses that needed that ‘wire thing’, and everyone would be so enamored with her because she had the most extravagant dresses. She always thought of her mother as the most beautiful woman in the whole world. A title matching the face. 

When she was a little girl her father always told her that her mother was the fairest in all of Ladya. She was the epitome of its beauty, and that Allise was fortunate to always be told she would grow into her. 

Oh, Allise. Her uncle once said in the softest voice. You’re too beautiful for this place.

She remembered being so giddy, because even as people tell her that she resembled her mother—Warner made it seem like she was much more than her mother’s counterfeit.

“Earth to Allise.” Lottie says, waving a hand to her face. “Did you get enough sleep these days, your eyes are sunken?” 

Sighing, she wanted to just tell her everything. It would’ve been so simple, and so relieving. A friend to tell everything to would be so great, but there’s just some things that can’t be. Lottie just…couldn’t hear that a princess such as Allise would have wanted her Uncle like how a girl would want a boy. She’d freak out, and Allise knows that much. She’ll report her to her father Lord Keller, and Lord Keller would inform her father of what his daughter had said, then her father would talk to her, and he would talk to her uncle, and her uncle would grow disgusted and just live far far away. 

She can’t afford for him to leave her. It would kill her to bits.

Crossing her legs, she shook her head. She couldn’t risk it. She looked at Lottie, and smiled. “No, I’m alright. I just worry about classes. Summer break will be ending soon enough, and we will be subjected to endless torture once again. I only worry.” She says, picking up the brush, and continuing to add details to the bowl of fruit they were painting. Truthfully, she was tired of painting fruits in a bowl, but they couldn't stop coming her way.

Lottie was right though, she does not sleep much nowadays. She keeps trying to say that it has nothing to do with Warner returning, but she’d be lying. Ever since he came home, she’s been looking over her shoulder, dressing her best, and making sure she never slip—her posture, her face, everything. 

Her Father has seen it in her, and commended her for growing into such a pristine young woman every day.

If only he knew the truth. 

 

—

 

Her brother, Elias had spoiled her rotten ever since. He’s made sure to always give her everything she’s ever wanted. Today, he summoned a tailor to create her new dresses for her ‘changing tastes’ as he call it. She was dressing more maturely. And when her instructor reported their conversation—which is impressive because she thought the only thing her instructor did was slumber—her brother thought that she wished for new dresses. It seems that she was getting more grown by the minute, and she’s thankful that they only think it’s that. 

Standing in front of a mirror, she clicked her tongue as the tailor left to look at the fabrics her brother insisted on. 

She looked at the large mirror, and saw herself, and really really saw herself. She had been different from how her Uncle Warner saw her two years ago. She was pretty as a little girl of course, and she can’t argue that she was still little now, but… she smiles to herself because she knows she’s become more beautiful somehow. Her height is taller, her waist slender now, breasts…well… she does hope they come soon, but they’re there.

Shifting to look at her rear, she frowns. Still nothing. Lottie didn’t have much either, but she had such large breasts, and it looked quite ridiculous. She realized that her body has not grown much, and she thought her period will change anything—it was all a lie. 

“Why are you frowning so much?” 

Her head whips up behind her, and she felt great all over. 

Warner stood in the corner of the room, closing the door shut. He wore a white shirt, its laces come undone, exposing some of his chest. He looked so tall, so dashing, and so… I don’t want to say the word but… delectable . 

Spinning, her dress twirls around her, making her feel like a ballerina. Grinning, she looks up at him. “What do you think of this?” She ask him, pulling up the fabric that was sandwiched by her foot. The dress was lovely, at least to her. It was a simple one, flowing down at her feet, lace falling down the sides. She had never worn something so tight, something that clings to her waist so much, and the corset under helped greatly. 

She felt like some girl when she saw herself but now that she was in his sight, she wanted to finally be a lady.

Blinking down at the dress, Allise shook her head. “Though… it is foolish to think that I can pull off something as grown up as—”

“You look very beautiful, Issa,” he said suddenly, making her look up at him again. She couldn’t breathe clearly; she was wearing the tightest thing known to mankind. He tilted his head, smiling so softly at her. “One thing I hope to grow out of is the fact that… I am very cautious about how others beneath us will see you,” he said, striding toward her.

She rolled her eyes, giggling. “You can’t say ‘beneath us’ anymore, Uncle. Father said that you are good now.” He grinned at her, his canines showing.

Close to her face, he towered over her, leaving her looking up at him as if he were the high above—and to her, he was. Sliding a large hand to her waist—her breath hitching in the process—he turned her around slowly to face the body-length mirror.

She almost wanted to look away. From this angle, the difference was obvious. He was large, far larger than before he had fought the war, larger than how he had towered over her before. She was young, and it showed in the whites of her eyes, shining with the light. He was older, and it was visible in the way the sun caught his eyes, the pupils angled downward—rested—something the light could not penetrate. She saw it so clearly then, she wanted to look away. She would end lonely.

Brushing a hand down her waist, a squeeze, she froze. The hand, how it moves went straight to her cunt, a pulsing need. His hands on her waist, she was sure that he can feel that. Her breathing? He can. She swear.

Putting his head down on the top of her head, he grinned, his pupils lowering. She had no idea what he was thinking. Why was he smiling?

“You’ll find that…” he whispered at the top of her head. “Through the dramatics and trauma of war… being good and horrible are sides one is never sure of,” he said, his eyes fixed on the mirror as it stared back at them.

“Do you?” She breathes out.

A tilt of the head. “Do I what?”

“Struggle with the concept of bad and good?”

Then, Allise felt his hand tighten, then ease up. He stared at her, the green of his eyes weighing down on her. For a long moment, that was all he did before plastering on a smile she found most curious. “I’ve never been good with figuring out… philosophical matters,” he said. “You have questions now for me, Issa. You’ve grown. It was always back when I went off to war—you never asked me anything, only loved me, like I do you.”

“I was younger, much more naive… I think.”

“You’re not naive anymore?” He raised a brow.

She doesn’t want to be anymore. She wants to be a woman now, a grown woman. Even if she were his niece, it’s integral for her to know that he’d still look at her. She wanted him to want to be the least honorable person. The least honorable thirty-two year old prince, is being at most intimate with his fourteen year old niece—who was the daughter of the King. His brother.

She looked at the mirror, and shook her head. “I still am, but I grew… and have more needs than I once did as a little girl.” She says in a breath, looking up at him, and she knows that she’s being daring—brave. 

Putting the side of his face next to hers, his eyes boring through hers in the mirror, he grins. “You’re a puzzle, Allise.” He whispers, his warmth sweeping through her dress. “I missed you terribly, and I still miss you terribly even though I am home now. Through every hour of the war, everytime I kill a man, I only envision that they are one less evil that is gone, one less evil that can make its way to you.” He gulps, brows furrowing. “I guess that’s how important a niece can be to an uncle.” He says, removing himself from her.

Well, that was a punch in the gut, she thought. She nodded, and smiled—she was still grateful. The thought in itself that he keeps her in mind is worth more than anything else. He’s not like this with her sisters, but she only thinks that it’s because they’re far away from the castle. Grateful. She really was, really, she was still grateful.

Gathering the bottom of the dress in her hands, she walked to plop down on the couch. He follows. 

She looks at him, and he smiles down at her. “Are you happy now that you’re back, Uncle?” She asks him, noting the way his eyes soften for her. 

The sigh he brings out is apparent, and she succumbs to the urge to put her small hand on top of his large ones. Looking down, he flips his hand over, and interlocks his hand with hers. “I have no idea. But I am happy right now.” He looks at her, and smiles. “Maybe I should make you live on my manor.”

“Father won’t allow it.”

“Of course he won’t.”

“Then why make me get excited for it?”

He shakes his head. “You are ridiculous, Issa. What kind of teenage girl would like to hang around with her Uncle?” A soft laugh, then a squeeze of her hand. “Once you're old enough, I’ll indulge your desires.”

She looks down on their intertwined hands. He won’t be able to indulge her desires as she had only one desire that no one can even know. He was her desire, something she can never involve herself in, and she makes myself sick for it.

Her mind goes back to days when he kissed her cheeks so tenderly, back when she had only seen the love she gave was the love for a very favored uncle. When she was as tall as his knees, he was very kind, and very giving to her. The most important person. It made her sick. She imagined it a lot of times, what if it was the other way around, what if she was him? And it never was a good idea. In her visions, he was filled with disgust for her, at the thought, and it hurt. 

Squeezing his hand, she looked up to him, and smiled. “I’m very happy you favor me.” She says, and it makes him take a breath. “I never really say because I thought it was mean. But…I really like the fact that you don’t treat my sisters the way you treat me. I’m glad, and irrationally happy that you have favorites, and that it’s me.” She smiles so softly at him. 

The corner of his eyes crinkle up, and something so warm crosses them. She sees his soft smile, a dimple that was always hidden showing up. Leaning down, he pressed his forehead to hers, and smiled wide. “Nothing is more factual about the truth. You are my favorite niece.” He says in a hushed whisper, and a playful smile on his face.

She smiles the same, and giggled. She felt happy in this moment, and it made her feel happier that he spends all his time with her. She was a selfish girl, and she was happy about being one. She got to be selfish, this isn’t hers. She gets to be selfish, this is not real. She gets to be selfish because she’s a child. A child. His niece.

“Princess Allise, oh, your brother did a number on me.” A voice says from afar, then a door opens, then closes. The tailor. She was fortunate that there was a wood panel holding them from his sight, but she does not wish for that damned tailor to intrude. 

Hearing the interruption, he raised his head, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, then he leaned back. She must be crimson, she must be. 

“Where is…” The tailor said, seemingly looking for her. Once she did, she sighs in relief, clutching her chest. “Oh, princess, you—” Her eyes then travel to the man who sat beside her, still clutching her hand. “Prince Warner,” She greets, standing straight and giving him a bow. Warner merely nodded his head. 

Looking at Allise again, he removed his hand—and she miss it dearly—and he caressed the top of her head. “I must go now.” He only says, and she nods. He stands, and fixes the crinkles on his suit. 

Flashing a look at the tailor, he looks at him with scrutiny. “Be good to the princess, and make her more dresses like this.” He points to what she’s wearing. 

“Of course, if the prince highness likes it.” The tailor says. 

“I very much do.” He says, before casting one last glance at her, he departs. 

As the tailor stood her up from my seat, and placed her back on the elevated flooring, Time seemed to slow. He seemed so slow walking away from her, so slow as he headed for the door. As the tailor talked beside her, she couldn’t hear—she could only hear his boots that click, only that.

Opening the door, he cast one last look at Allise, and she wondered if he feels it. She wondered if he’s wondering why she always look at him, look for him. Time stood to still for her.

She saw him in such light one sees a lover. 

Giving her a small smile, he exits, the door now closed, hot with his hand. 

Only then the tailor spoke once again, the room stopped turning, the room once again existing, and her with it, she wasn’t breathing no more, now she was exciting again.

Looking at the mirror, she intakes a deep breath.

Chapter 3: The Need for Eternity

Moments of quiet were something Warner Caelthorn cherished the most. Allise had always seen him in that light, as someone who needed those moments desperately. Without them, he seemed to shut down, to grow tired.

Sitting together in the library, as they had a week ago, they relished the silence. Another ball was underway, and though such events were no longer new, they were still exhausting. Allise glanced at her Uncle Warner. His eyes were closed, and his shoulders were tense.

“We’ve been here an hour,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“It can be longer.”

“They’ll look for us—more specifically you.”

He opened his eyes and shook his head. “I have no interest in being found, certainly not by lowlifes.”

This was something Allise did not like. Warner always maintained this indifferent relationship with people who weren’t family. He thought they were beneath him—beneath them in every sense.

“You must get tired of this, Issa—you must. Your father is too extravagant all the time; it’s exhausting,” he said, brushing a hand through his dark hair.

She considered his statement. She had never really thought about it before. To her, it had always just been a part of being a princess. Balls and parties were a must.

With a sigh, she nodded. “I do get tired of it, but I have no choice in the matter. I find that I’m fortunate for the things I have, and complaining that I have ‘too many’ extravagant parties doesn’t sit well with me,” she said, looking into his eyes that seemed to bore into hers. His eyes looked much too grey in this light, his brows slightly furrowed.

“You listen to me well, Allise,” he said strongly, his accent from the our Ladyan tongue thick. “You were born to be someone who complains. This is your life, you did not choose this. You are allowed to complain, and it is alright.” He pointed his finger at her. “You forbid yourself from life if you worry about faceless opinions.”

Deep inside, Allise knew he was right. She wished to think that way, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t afford to be that way. She worried for the people of the kingdom. She was much too fortunate, and not everyone could live as she did, even in their whole lifetime. Her mother had said it was a positive attribute of hers, her father too. But when Uncle Warner said it, he made her feel like it was alright to feel that way.

Faceless opinions mattered to her, though, and they always would. What would people think of her when she acted on her desire for freedom?

“I’m not a man who is free to act on a whim,” she said, raising her head from the table. “I envy my brother’s liberty. He comes and goes wherever he wants, and I know what he does outside—I’m not stupid.”

“You can be that way too.”

“Not a very good liar you are, Uncle.”

“I do not lie to you, Issa. I swear to the eye of the five men, that I have never once lied to you,” he said, raising his left hand, his face leaning close to hers. “I do not gain anything from lying to you, and I feel horrible at the mere thought of it.”

Blinking, Allise felt a swell of gratitude in her chest. But it only raised more questions. Why would he ever feel that way? He had no reason to feel horrible for lying to his niece. To what possible end was this?

Her brow twitched. “But why?” she whispered.

A smile stretched across his sharp face, and he leaned even closer into her space. “Because you don’t lie to me either,” he said softly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Every one of your siblings has lied to me. Not you. Never you.”

As Allise stared at him, she felt the redness creep up her face. She had never noticed it before, but she could never bring herself to lie to him.

When she was five, she had broken the very precious Nadprihya vase that was kept on the podium in the throne room.

Playing with the butcher’s son, Allise had seen it nearby—so shiny, so curious. It gleamed gold through and through, its corners blinding, imbued with diamonds. It was such a sparkling piece. She had been so curious that she wanted to hold it, and in her excitement, it had rolled over and shattered into a million pieces on the floor.

Her uncle Warner had been just around the corner. His eyes widened, his voice angry as he pointed at the butcher’s son.

“You! Boy,” he glared. “You shall pay for this, I swear, you tiny imbecile of a human tra—”

“I did it,” Allise said, her face wet with tears. “I had wanted to see it, a-and I…” She wept.

Her uncle Warner didn’t say anything. He simply picked her up in his arms and consoled her. She could’ve lied to him. Her parents had been furious with her that night, and she kept thinking she could’ve lied. She could’ve blamed it on the butcher’s son, but she didn’t.

She had been really proud of herself.

“I trust you to not lie to me, little Issa. I forbid you to,” he said to her slowly, his tone steady, almost like he was pleading with her rather than forbidding her. “I can take anything from others, I’m alright to be lied to by anyone, to be betrayed by anyone else, but not you.”

Something inside her warmed. Through his absence, she had given into the lust she felt for him, and in doing so, she had forgotten how much heart there was in their relationship with one another. Her Uncle Warner loved her more than anything, and she loved him the same. She feared that all of it would crumble once she acted on what she felt. It was never meant to happen, but oh… wasn’t it beautiful to her?

Breathing deeply, she nodded. His eyes softened. “I will always be by your side. For however long you need me to.”

“I need you forever.”

Shaking her head, she felt such a lump in her throat. “No. There will be a time where you will not need me anymore. You will find another who will… meet your whims.” She felt it then, the wobble in her voice. “There will come a time where you won’t call for me anymore.” A tear slid down her cheek.

“Oh, my Issa.”

Standing up to walk to her end of the table, he kneeled before her, clutching her hand. “You are mad if you think there will come a time where I will never need you.” He says softly. Caressing her cheek, wiping the tears with his thumb, he clicks his tongue. “How beautiful it is to know…that you will cry so pretty when I don’t call for you anymore.” He whispers more to himself. “It will never happen though. I will not let it.” 

“Marry?”

“Yes. If my Allise don't like it, I won’t.”

“That’s stupid.”

He laughs. “Yes, well… I aim to give you whatever you want. Did I not say that?” 

Allise bent down to wrap her arms around his neck, crying on his shoulder. He seemed to tense up, his shoulders tight, and his hands as stiff as stone. After a short minute, he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her close. One hand tightened around her waist, while the other held the back of her head. Breathing deeply, he kissed the side of her head and nuzzled it gently.

Brushing her long hair, he sighed. “I feel terribly lonely these days. You… You are truly my light in my darkest hours. You alone can mend me time and time again. I’m so grateful you were born, Allise,” he said deeply. “You were born for me alone.”

I wish to be yours alone. Forever, she thought.

“You’ve been too sweet these past few days, it’s as if you’re going to war again.” She leaned back to look at his face. “You’re not…aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Then why?”

He sighed, his face close to hers, his hands still on her back, while her hands remained draped over his neck. “Because I think you understand me better now. I feel that… You’re no longer a little girl who laughs at everything I say. I mean it when I say you’ve grown, Allise. You’re a lady now, you are beautiful—more than the Sierra. Your mother does not hold a candle to you anymore. You are also smarter, don’t think I don’t talk to your instructor. And… you’ve shown me great depth within yourself. Two years were a lot, and even if you are just fourteen, you have grown. It gives me a chance to say to you all the most beautiful things, and I know that now… you can appreciate them.” He said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I missed you dearly,” she said, her voice weak with emotion. “I don’t think I’ve said it enough.”

“You have,” he smiled. “I’m well rested now. Let’s go back to the ballroom?”

She nodded, and he led her to the ballroom, her hand resting on his arm. By the looks of it, the party had not yet dissipated. Everyone was still in their finest, drinking, mingling, chatting, and dancing in the middle of the room.

Heveena, Allise’s second sister, asked, “Uncle, where have you both gone? Father has made a search for everyone to find both of you.” Her dark brow raised.

“Forgive us, Heveena. We had explored the gardens just now. Lost track of time,” Uncle Warner replied, looking down at Allise and smiling. She smiled back, but she didn’t fully understand the need to lie to her sister. Still, she chose not to question it.

Heveena studied both of them before turning her gaze to Allise. Allise couldn’t shake the nervousness creeping over her. It wasn’t like they had done anything wrong, but Uncle Warner’s lie made her feel as though she was being put on the spot.

Heveena tilted her head, then nodded. “Make sure not to disappear again, Uncle. Father bothers us about it.” She looked at Allise. “And you—you are not old enough to disappear without saying, Allise. Make sure to inform Elias, Dyanna, or me about it. You are a child. A princess, and a lot of people will find it fun to take you for ransom.”

Allise’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It was hard to be reprimanded in front of the man she wanted to appear mature to. Her hand tightened around Uncle Warner’s arm, and she looked down at the ground. The idea of buying big-girl dresses now seemed so foolish. Heveena was right. Allise was still a child. What was she doing, acting this way?

Uncle Warner, however, seemed to find a moment of lightness in the situation. “Oh, Heveena, have you never sneaked out? You were younger than her when you have.”

Heveena’s eyes widened. “Uncle! That was ages ago.”

“And yet it still applies. Run along, tell my brother I’m back.”

With a final sigh, Heveena turned on her heel and walked toward the long room where their parents were. For a moment, Allise forgot just how grown-up Heveena was. She had always been a woman of class. She ensured every piece of furniture was up-to-date in the castle and invited singers to enchant the royalty every month. Heveena was loved by everyone, and every lord sought after her hand in marriage. But she had no interest in marrying. Despite their mother’s protests, their father didn’t mind. He believed that his children should live life as they pleased. Heveena, in his eyes, was living well—a real woman. Not like Allise was.

A bump of another forehead hits hers, and Allise looks up to Uncle Warner.

“She was just right to worry. But do not take it to heart.”

Her brows furrow, and a pout forms on her lips. “I never do. I understand.”

He smiles down at her and nods. “Good.” His gaze moves around the room, and he catches sight of her father, who has just emerged from the long room. Giving him a deep nod, he looks back down at Allise. “I’ll come back to your company later. I assume this will drain me.” He says before separating from her.

Allise watches him walk away, feeling reminded of how much she relies on his company at parties like these. She doesn’t know much. There were only a handful of people her age she knew. Lottie doesn’t attend these events, and Jamus… well, Jamus doesn’t talk much. He’s the only classmate Lottie and Allise have in their painting classes. Lottie tried to talk to him, but to no avail. His father is Lord Fyres, one of the court members on her father’s council.

There he is, in the corner of the room, reading a book that hides the fact that he’s only sketching. Allise doesn’t know why he hides it, but when she peeked at it once, he glared at her and snatched the pad away. It was a beautiful sketch of their instructor sleeping. Every corner, every shade had been perfect, and it impressed her. He clearly loved the class, but aside from sharing this mutual class, he never spoke to her or Lottie.

Maybe now is the time to change that.

Approaching him, Allise plastered a smile on her face, her hands behind her back. She had to admit—she was interested in Jamus. He was quiet, and whenever she saw him in the garden at these parties, sketching, she knew he didn’t like crowded places. That sounded familiar to her.

He was focused, sketching in his disguised book when she cleared her throat. He slammed the book shut with a furrowed brow and looked up at her. His eyes turned cold.

He was new to her. Every other teenager she knew was a fool for her attention, and she knew it was because she was a princess. But she was grateful for the friends she had who already came with titles, like Lottie.

But Jamus… she wasn’t stupid. She knew for a fact that after snooping at his sketches, he hated her for life.

“Princess,” Jamus greets, bowing his head before standing up again.

“Hello. Uh—” Allise glances at the chair beside him and points to it. “Can I sit with you?”

“No.”

Allise freezes, her brows furrowing.

She looks at him, surprised as if he’d grown another head. “…no?”

He sighs, his eyes glancing around the room, taking in the empty chairs before returning to her with a bored look. “You heard me right, your highness. Plenty of seats around for you though.” He opens his book again to sketch, leaving Allise standing in front of him with her mouth hanging open.

She wonders if Lord Fyres knew that his son was this rude.

Crimson spreads from her chest to her face, and she feels an unfamiliar sting of embarrassment. She’s never been embarrassed by someone beneath her. People have always accommodated her. She tries to understand him, but she’s still embarrassed.

“W-well… why are you so rude?” The words come out rushed, like she hadn’t meant to ask and was just speaking aloud. The embarrassment is palpable.

Jamus looks up at her again, a slight frown forming on his brow. “I am not rude. I merely told you a fact. There are plenty of empty chairs around. Why sit at my table?”

“Because I wanted to sit.”

“Ah, because you’re higher ranked than I? Because you’re a princess?”

Allise’s eyes widen, and her brows furrow in offense. How dare he say that? She makes sure not to express her novelty in front of others, but how dare he accuse her of such a thing! He doesn’t know her, nor does he care to. He only keeps to himself and never talks to anyone their age. His brain must be fried, she thinks.

Crossing her arms, she shakes her head. “What an accusation! I never!”

His mouth curls upwards for a brief moment, but he quickly straightens it. He’s amused by her. “I jest, princess. I apologize if I offended you. Please,” he gestures to the empty seat in front of him.

Allise glances down, weighing her options—another empty table or one filled with elderly. She sighs and sits at the corner of the chair, keeping her front away from him, a scowl on her face.

Jamus looks at her and laughs softly, turning a page in his book, resuming his sketching. Allise stays seated, observing the others at the party. Most are dancing or discussing business—husbands, wives, and children. No one their age is here. They were right to avoid these parties, but as someone of her position, she always has to be present. She needs to be here to show that their house is strong. If only they knew the mental strain she carries by loving her uncle in a way no niece should.

Her gaze drifts to Haveena, who’s dancing in the circle with the Lord of Faith. They seem to be talking about something serious, and Allise wonders briefly what it could be. Her brows furrow, but she moves on, glancing toward the corner of the ballroom where her eldest sister, Dyanna, sits.

Dyanna has been at the same chair for a while, talking with those who approached her. Dyanna’s never been the social type. She doesn’t complain about the many parties, but Allise assumes she tolerates them well. Their family is naturally sweet, but in public endeavors like this, they’re on their own. They all have to make sure they fare well.

Allise looks around, trying to find Elias and remembers they’re in the long room discussing matters. Elias is her father’s successor, so it makes sense for him to be there. But Allise knows that Elias doesn’t want to be king, though he has no choice. This is about family and legacy—there are no excuses.

“You frown too much. Princesses smile a lot, don’t they?” Jamus says, making Allise snap her head in his direction.

Rolling her eyes, something uncharacteristic of her with strangers, she answers. “You irritated me.”

“You thought the world would bow to you.”

“I did not think of such a thing.” Allise fumes, her voice sharp.

He raises a brow, observing her closely as he closes his book. “Yes, you have. You don’t mind much about the people surrounding you. You only know that you’re having a good time. If you truly cared, you would know things.”

“What kind of things?” she asks, the challenge in her voice evident.

“Like how Lottie’s mother has been gravely sick for two days now. You never knew about this, only those who are grown, but if Lottie was your friend—even if she hasn’t told you—you should have asked.” Jamus’s head tilts. “Your sister, the Princess Haveena. If you truly observed those who lived around you, you’d be more aware of them. You’d also be aware that she’s having an affair with the Lord of Faith. A preacher. The disgrace that holds.”

At that, Allise straightens, her brows furrowing in disbelief. “That’s a grave accusation,” she says, her voice low and controlled, teeth gritted.

Jamus merely shakes his head, unfazed. “As I told you. You only live in your own bubble. But those who are… below you, they notice.”

Allise can only stare at him, confusion written all over her face. She doesn’t want to believe him, doesn’t even want to think it, but the truth rings in his words. He’s right. She never knew about Lady Keller’s illness. She thought Lottie would tell her, but as her friend… Why had she never asked about her life?

A frown forms, and before Allise can stop it, tears start welling up in her eyes. She clenches her fists, holding back a sob. It’s embarrassing. Embarrassing to cry in front of someone she barely knows. Embarrassing to cry in a room full of older, distinguished guests. She’s not supposed to be this weak.

“Are you… crying?” Jamus asks, a slight panic in his voice. “You better stop. I don’t wish to be accused of something.”

In his words, the tears fall harder, and Allise can’t stop them. She feels like an immature child, overwhelmed by emotions she can’t control. It’s as if something inside her has snapped, the reality sinking in. She had always thought she was mature for her age, yet here she is, acting like a completely insensitive child among her peers. It’s becoming clear to her—she’s in way over her head trying to act grown. Especially this crush with her uncle. What was she thinking of keeping him the way she does? Having him swear to not marry anyone was grave, who did she think she was?

Before she noticed it, Jamus was right in front of her, green eyes wide. He held her shoulders, and shook her gently. “Allise, you better stop.” He grits out. “I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you were unaware of these things I…” A sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Sniffling, she shook her head. She couldn’t believe that she’d see the day where he’s the one who would be comforting her. “No…you’re right. I am self-centered. I never ask about anyone, I only talk about myself, and I thought that I was an adult. I thought I was such a grown up.” Her head hangs, she wipes her tears. 

“Well… you’re not a grown up, Princess. You’re fourteen.”

She looked at him, and she felt her heart ache. She truly was young, and she had been so blind to it. Fourteen. Basically a baby, and she had such an unholy thought of…of her Uncle no less? Someone ought to set her on fire. 

“What’s going on here?” A sudden question interrupts, and she looks up to see her Uncle Warner, glaring dangers at the kneeling boy in front of her.

Jamus stood up, putting his hands in his pockets. Clearing is throat, he gestures to Allise. “I uh… she was feeling bad, and cried in front of me, I just thought… to uh—comfort her.”

“You thought?” Warner raised a brow. “Next time leave her be. I don’t think her family would like a… strange boy hanging around the princess.” He says so mean, a snarl on his face that Allise could only shake her head. 

“No, no, Uncle.” She grasped his hand. “He’s Lord Fyres son, not a stranger either. Isn't that right?” She looks to Jamus who could only nod at her words to avoid the heat from the steamed uncle.

Warner could only furrow his brows, but he doesn’t push it. He raised Allise up from her seat, and Allise bid Jamus goodbye. 

Walking away from the confused boy, Warner’s words echo into her mind, and render her confused.

“I don’t wish to see you cohabit with that lowlife again, Allise.” He grits out, and she’s never seen him this angry. When he noticed that she was taking such a time to answer, his hand tightened at her hand. “What do you say?” He fumed.

Nodding, she gulps. “Yes, uncle.” With that, they made their way once more to the library.

Notes:

Switched to 3rd person POV because it was easier for me. Enjoy the update! Happy New Year!

Chapter 4: The heart aches, and cries for its beloved

As they entered the library, Allise felt uncomfortable beyond relief. She has never seen him angry at her, never before. Sitting down, Warner messaged his temple.

She clutched her arm that still felt his grip. She has never been roughly handled by her family—never by her uncle the most. She did not like it.

With furrowed brows, she stepped in front of him. “What was that for?” She asked, her tone hard. 

Warner’s eyes glance at her, hard as ice. He looked mean, and she didn’t care for it. Allise deemed him unreasonable, worst of all—rude.

Sitting straight, Warner cracked his neck. “You’re to ask.” He says, even. “You’re too young to engage in those, Allise. A boy kneeling in front of you, ‘comforting you’ as he says. Shameful. Ridiculous.” He spat.

“You were rude. To an extreme!” She shouts. 

“Out of all people!” He stood, his chair scraping the floor harshly. He was fuming, he looked downright vicious. “I only wish to protect you. I know young men like him, they only seek one thing! One! And after they’ve got it, you are nothing to them!”

Confused, her mouth open in an appalled state. She slowly turned around and tried to calm herself, and then turned back to him again, as if he was the most ridiculous person in the whole world, and to her right now? He was. She couldn’t believe him. They’ve never fought like this before. He’s never been this way. Never got angry even when she played with boys, talked with boys.

She figured that… he must’ve changed after the war. Everyone noticed it, everyone felt it. He was the same Uncle Warner to her, but… something changed. Something she can’t put her finger on.

Clenching her eyes shut, she breathed slowly to calm herself. “I do not plan to do something dishonorable with him, Uncle.” Allise stresses. “He is a friend. A schoolmate.” She raises her brows, and points towards the door they came in. “The son of a very important advisor!” 

“Who gives a fuck, who his father is!” He shouts.

She shouts back. “I do! You may not care, you may not give two hells about who anyone is, except yourself—but I do. And you were out of line.” Her index finger points to him.

With that he pauses, looking at her with an unreadable expression in his eyes. She didn’t know what to think. She feared… this version of him. The one that looked at her unkindly. 

“How dare you.” He says so quietly. “You ought to thank me, for I will never let you go astray. I al—”

“Well, I am not your responsibility.” Allise cuts her off. Shaking her head, she felt tears climbing up her eyes. It felt like they were choking her. “You. How dare you.” She brought his words back to him. Stabbing her index finger to his chest. “You know me, you understand me, you know I hate those situations. I hate being uncomfortable, I despise those who are obnoxiously rude, I hate making people feel fear, and you—you started it. Now, what am I now! You have put me in a position to be uncomfortable. Jamus is an untamable boy, someone I wished to befriend—”

“Don’t say his name!” He shouts, walking from her, his hand on his waist. 

Her eyes wide, breathing erratic, she felt most manic. “How ill tempered you are! How come you feel alright when you know you’ve treated someone the way you treat them!” She cries, she couldn’t believe him.

Allise hated one thing, and that is being placed in an uncomfortable situation. She felt sick. She knew she was a people pleaser since birth, and that bothered her so much, so she just made it in a way that she’s never to be put into an uncomfortable spot. She just stayed out of people's way, talked nicely, and made sure to do what was told. She disliked Warner for putting her in that scene.

She remembered when she was younger, she was never the good student she now was. She used to be free. A princess who did not care for things, and only did where feet takes her. When her educators informed the King and the Queen, suffice to say, they were embarrassed. They had spoken to her, and barely registered it. River Caelthorne—Allise’s father— had initially wanted for Allise to take in multiple tutors at once. While Sierra wanted Allise to take a break, reasoning that maybe she was failing because she was tired. They had the most difficult fight that went on. The look of disappointment made her feel horrible. The screaming, shouting, and it made her feel worse. Her stomach churned, and her ears rang. She felt a lump in her throat, and threw up which made them stop. After that, Allise came down with a fever that lasted a week. From that day forward, she vowed to never be placed in situations that could lead to her sickness.

Warner knew of this fear. And yet…

Her chin wobbled. She held her stomach, and she felt it. That feeling. That sick feeling. And had started breathing erratically, her lungs not coming up with air. Her eyes wide, streaming tears. With her uncles back turned, she held onto the wood of the chair, and tried to breathe.

Hearing the sobs, Warner turned around, his eyes zeroing on her, and rushing to her frame. His hand to her back, and the other to her cheek to make her look up at his eyes.

“No, no, don’t panic—breathe, you know this.” He says, his eyes wide with terror. 

Gathering the courage and the strength, she pushes him away, her eyes full of anger, her hands clutching her stomach.

Without another word, she opens the door, and walks away from him, heading to her own quarters. 

 

———

 

She’s already knew it, but it saddened her nonetheless. She fell ill once again. Her parents had no idea what to make of it. They knew something had happened for her to fall ill, but she would not say. 

Allise laid in her bed for three days. This is exactly what she avoided. How can he be so mean, so unkind. Gripping her like that, berating someone in front of her…to others it won’t seem like much, but to her it was too much. 

Staring at the sun shining through her large window, she contemplated everything. She wondered how everything was, and if Jamus had been alright. Oh, she hoped that he never told Lord Fyre about it, it would cause her such distress. 

Warner has requested an audience for days, but everytime she denies him. What would be the point? What does he want to hear? She felt irritated at the thought. He was the reason for this, and she didn’t like  him quite as much as she used to. 

They had never fought before. Not ever. This was a new kind of ache, and she didn’t know that it would kill her to not see him as frequently when the knowledge that he’s so close is so haunting. 

After a week, she finally managed to dress up again, and go back to doing whatever she wanted. She attended painting class again, and found solace in the silence of a secluded place with only four people to cohabit with. 

“Are you sure you’re well now?” Lottie asks, brushing a strand of hair on the portrait that is based on the female model right in front of us. Lottie looked at me, her eyes filled with worry. “When we heard, we were worried. You rarely fall ill.”

Oh, she knows that. She smiles, and sigh. “I only stood out too long in the garden. Caught a bad thing.” Allise replies.

“Well… then… we better start cleaning that garden, how can you fall ill from it?” She says, her brows furrowed.

She laughs, and nods. “You’re right, we should.” She only says. Looking beside Lottie, Jamus had momentarily excused himself, and their instructor was nowhere to be found. She remembered how Lottie’s mother was sick, and that she never knew of it. It was weighing on Allise for quite some time.

“I heard Lady Keller was ill.”

At that, Lottie stops mid stroke.

Allise puts down her brushes and faces her, eyes wide. Her face filled with sympathy. “I’m deeply sorry, and I wish I was a better friend so that you could’ve confided in me with it.”

Lottie could only shake her head, and then smile softly. “You are a wonderful friend, Allise. I appreciate that we did not talk about it. It’s not a jolly subject. When we are together, I find that I forget all my problems. You didn’t know about it because I did not want to tell you, and I didn’t really know how. But I knew that I wanted us to stay like we have always been. Not because you are a bad friend.”

Allise felt such weight lift off of her, and she was glad that it was the case. She hated the thought that Lottie don’t think of her as a friend worth telling things to. 

“Then that’s a relief, thank you.” She says, then placed her hand on Lottie’s knee. “Would you like to talk about it? If you don’t wish to, that’s fine.”

Lottie’s face beams, and a glimmer of tears made its way to her eyes but they don't fall. “That would be nice.”

At that, Lottie unleashed all her burdens to her, shed tears as she told the story of the tragic thing that had happened. You see, Lady Fyre has a weak heart, and more so at the moment. She remains at her chambers, throwing up food she eats, and feeling sick about absolutely nothing. Allise felt really bad for her, And she was thankful deep inside that her mother was as healthy as is her father. Lottie cried and cried, and told stories that even when Jamus came she didn’t stop, and the boy had to douse his foot in. 

That day, the Lottie and Allise felt closer, and they felt that Jamus had been lining up to be a good one.

 

——

 

Reading a book on the couch while Haveena played on the piano was peaceful to Allise. Every sibling had their own thing but they always had a chance to sit down at the piano room to do as they wished and be with one another. Unlike other kingdoms, their family was actually close. 

“That note was wrong.” Says Elias, who is at the opposite couch reading recent work of Gregory Ennis. 

Haveena scoff, and rolled her eyes. “I do not play for you.”

“Well it’s embarrassing to have you play for a crowd if you were to make novice mistakes.”

“You’re a novice mistake.”

“Enough.” Dyanna says, who was beside Allise. She had been sewing mockingjay, and never really had perfected it—by her standards—she loved doing it though. “You are both to be at each others throats soon enough at that state, and while it might be entertaining—” She points to wards the end of the room. “—mother, and father are here.”

From across the room Sierra, and River Caelthorne looked at their children and can only sigh. They were glad for their closeness, but they were too close that they always seemed to fight. Sierra was fixing the newly acquired furniture for the season of the fall, making sure that they were truthful, and River had been reading the tribune. 

“Oh, the south has been advancing once again.” Their father says, putting his face closer to read the letters. “Says they are gearing up for war. Well… they’ll be losing.”

“How can you be so sure?” Elias asks.

River only momentarily put down the tribune to say, “I just do, son.” Then back to reading again.

“If it does not go towards your prediction, Uncle Warner may be deployed once again.” Dyanna proclaims, not even raising her head for the conversation, just continuing to sew.

At that, Allise’s reading came to a halt, and she couldn’t help but perk up her hearing, She did not talk to her Uncle Warner yet, but… oh, she doesn’t wish for him to go any longer. 

“If it does come to that, then he’ll go.” River said, shrugging. “He was a good Captain to the troops, and I’m sure they’ll want him back again.”

“Oh, well that reminds me,” Sierra pauses, then looks back to her daughter Allise. “You know, Ally, sweetheart, he has requested your audience for days now. What has happened between you two?” She asks, putting her hands on her thin waist.

Putting down his tribune, River looked at Allise, his expression stunned. “Is something the matter, honey? Did you fight?” He asked.

Elias scoffs. “Allise, and Uncle Warner will never fight, ridiculous.”

“But they had.” Sierra answers back. “Allise will never deliberately ignore him if it wasn’t nothing. And I have the feeling that it had something to do with her being sick.” 

Allise felt like she was at a spot. Her mother has always been right. But of course, she doesn’t want to say the reason. She was growing up, she can’t still be caught up in arguments such as those, and grow sick for it.

“I just don’t wish for an audience right now.” She says, pretending to read her book, pretending as if the words are making any sense. 

Dyanna pauses her sewing, and looked at Allise with a teasing smile on her angelic serene face. “So you did fight?” She said in such a teasing tone.

Allise looked at her, and felt such blush in her cheeks. “N-no, we—” she brushed her hands down her face, shaking her head. “What reason would I have to fight with Uncle Warner…?” She whispered low, looking at her book once again. 

“Honey, the poor man is in disarray.” Sierra says, arranging the flowers sitting at the table. “If there is nothing—” She suggests, as if she knows that’s not true. “Then you should go see him.”

Allise’s brows furrow, her eyes shutting in frustration. “Mother, I d—”

“Your uncle is doing horrible with you ignoring him the way you are.” Sierra turns to her, her own brows drawn together. She looked perplexed at her daughter. She has never seen the two be the way they were. “You were that man’s lifeline in the war, Allise. If there is nothing wrong—as you state it—then it will not kill you to meet with him, bond with him as you always do.”

She didn’t want to talk back, and she sat there contemplating. “I’ll try to talk to him.” She says, plastering her face in the book again to shut down the conversation once and for all.

 

——

 

Allise felt at odds with herself. She stood lonesome at the balcony of the castle as the party commenced inside. She missed him terribly, she wanted to talk to him, but she… she didn’t want to indulge herself. 

She was young. A fourteen year old girl, in love with a man who was significantly older than her. Her Uncle. She realized when she was ignoring him, avoiding him, how easy it was to stomp down what she felt. If she can’t see him, she won’t desire him. Is she can’t hear him, she can’t proclaim her adoration even if it was just to herself. 

Up until now, she still hasn’t seen him. Whenever they say that he was around, she made sure to hide in her chambers. When the servants tell her that he seeks her audience, she quickly tells them no.

But…this was just not sustainable. Her uncle—even with the outburst that happened—he didn’t do anything that much wrong to warrant this. 

Stepping back into the party, her eyes scour into the sea of faces, trying to spot him. He wasn’t in any of these faces, he wasn’t anywhere—not even with her father in the long room. 

Coming up to Jamus who was sketching at the corner of the room, she reached for his arm, and he looked up from his pad to her. 

“Have you seen my uncle?” She asks.

Allise, Lottie, and Jamus have grown closer over the past few days. Lottie mostly has taught the boy to come out of his shell, and found that his company wasn’t so bad. Allise’s parents were more than delighted to know what the son of the council lord was friends with her.

Jamus’s eyes cast at the crowd. “Not at the moment, though I saw him much earlier, going there.” He points to the blank hallway, and Allise can already conclude where Warner was. Smiling at him, she nods, and walks down the corridor. 

He was at the library, she knew that. The party has gone on long enough, and he must have already felt the weight of it. 

Opening the doors, she stepped in. She looked around and saw no trace of him, and closed the door. 

Walking towards the sea of books, she looked at the little gaps to see if he was at the next hallway but to no avail. 

Walking aimlessly, she got stunned at how big the library actually was. She was impressed, and somewhat irritated because she would have already moved on and deemed that he wasn’t here if the library was small.

At the verge of giving up, she found him. At the end of the hallway, his head turned back reading from a book.

In this angle, he looked… rough. He had a stubble, in which he’s never grown before. His hair is unkempt, and his eyes… dark circles branded themselves amongst them, and she felt horrible.

Walking slowly towards him, she spoke. “Uncle?” She whispers, she doubted that it would be heard at how quiet it seemed, but it was heard.

His hand stilled, and back grew tense. Looking up at the sound, his distraught eyes locked with hers, and a breath escapes him, brows meeting together, his eyes filled with much pain. “Allise…” he all but groans out. 

The book fell to the ground, and with long strides, he snatched her frame to his arms, embracing her tightly. 

Allise felt his pain, and embraced him back. He was breathing heavily, shaking, his arms tight on her, his face buried at the top of her head, breathing in her scent.

For a long moment, he only did that, nuzzling his face in her hair, embracing her tighter, molding her into his, basking in her warmth as if he feared she would disappear like a mist.

“You cannot do this again…” Warner’s voice was grave, barely a whisper as he said the phrase from above her head. “Let us not fight anymore, Allise. I will perish without you, I will. I swear to you.”

He pulled back to stare at her face, hands on both sides of her face as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and Allise had no clue what he was thinking. He looked, and looked, and stared as if he was trying to figure out something. Allise was overwhelmed. He was so close. Her heart sang so beautifully. Even if he had missed her, he had no idea how much she in turn missed him. How much she ached for him at the time she didn’t see him. 

She had no control over herself, and she felt—she knew—that she glanced at his lips for much longer than she should. The lips that have spent most of their time talking phrases of sweetness into her ear, the lips that had smiled so good to her from days on end. 

The heart aches, and it cries for its beloved.

Before her mind could question it, her small hand clutches his forearm, her chin raising, her breath heavy with fright. She was scared of what she was doing. She had no control over herself. 

Wordlessly, she looked into his eyes with desperation, then to his lips that were mere inches from hers. One nudge, and they would lock their lips. They would cross a path that one can never walk away from. One nudge, and relations shatter, and reputations would be broken. 

 

——

 

Warner Caelthorne knew it then, as Allise felt such power closing her judgement, it was seen. The way she breathed, her hand clutching him tightly, the way her eyes danced from his lips to his eyes. He knew then.

His niece wanted for him to kiss her. 

Unbeknownst to him, the grip he has on her tightened, and he has cornered her into an aisle, their bodies held together close.

Tilting his head, his face the epitome of puzzled, confused, he didn’t understand it. Questions blazed from his mind. He couldn’t understand. 

Why…

Why wasn’t he pulling away?

Why were they looking at one another just like how lovers looked at one another? 

His brows twitched, as they continued to breathe deeply, as if they were breathing words they were afraid to utter.

The worst part in him was the quickness it took for his mind to resolve that he wanted to do it. If she wanted to, he would kiss her, and that terrified him.

She was his niece. A fourteen year old child who had no idea what kind of man he was, what kind of man he had become.

He indulged her in everything, and he never wanted to stop. Even this.

Looking deep into her eyes, he saw himself reflected back, he felt everything. The heat of her body, the contrast of how small she has always been compared to him. How she wore white, and how he wore black. Everything boiled down to how he should never ever be in situations like this. But here he was.

His grip was strong on her jaw, and he felt such darkness. He wanted to kiss her, and he wanted to be the only one to kiss her. He wanted to keep her all to himself, to lock her up in his manor, never let her see anyone else—only him. Only him for conversation, only him for comfort, only him for love, only him for kisses, only him for the lust, only him.

Warner and Allise for all of eternity, and not even death can bridge between.

It was as if the decision had been locked, and he found himself pulling her face closer, their lips to meet—

“Uncle!” 

Like struck by lightning, he pulled apart from her so quickly, his were eyes wide, and so was hers. He was a sick man for he noticed…all he thought of was that she’s was so beautiful, her chest heaving, and her cheeks flushed. 

“Uncle, father is looking for you!” It was Haveena, calling from a distance.

Her voice was loud, and yet he couldn’t hear her. He only looked at Allise, his other younger niece who looked at him with wide eyes, and embarrassment. 

He felt…anguish. How disgusting he was to think…how he was thinking! He felt repulsed by himself, and how easy it was he decided that he would lock her lips with him—him of all people. Someone damaged, older than her, related!

Breathing heavily, he looked deeply into her eyes, and he could only shake his head, so subtle, and so defeated. At that he saw her face weaken, the most magnificent beauty collapses its glee.

He couldn’t do this.

Not to her, not to the innocence she had within her. She was his light, his world that revolves, the warmth that seeps into his clothes that brought blood for honor. 

There was nothing to do but walk away from this.

With unsteady feet, he backed away from her, prying his eyes from her beautiful ones. He turns to march away from Allise, fast. 

He walked past Haveena who had been saying more things that he couldn’t register. They were noise, they were muffled. Walking out of the library, he didn’t look back.

If he had, she’d find him crying at the door, and he knew… he knew that if he were to glance…he would be abandoning morals, and letting his desire take its course.

If only…if only the circumstances had been different. If only he wasn’t as old as he was, If only he wasn’t… He can’t. 

At the end of the day, even when the tables turn and turn… He was still Prince Warner Caelthorne, the brother of the King. The uncle of his beloved niece.

Chapter 5: A Cheap Escape

Notes:

I wrote this an hour after posting the recent chapter, and I was like “I wanna wait and stuff” and I did. Though now I’m thinking… who cares?? Updates ARE FOR THE WIN??!!!!

Warner Caelthorne has been many things in his life. He has been a rebellious teen, a prince that made his parents angry beyond relief. He would be caught in brothels, in brawls, and in any other place you would find a teenager who seldom saw how life was outside the castle walls.

He has also been branded as someone who was mean, someone who had looked down to those who weren’t on the same boat as the Caelthornes. His brother, River, always had to apologize for him and had always told him that ‘If you were King, our family would be dead.’ He never took it seriously, and went on his way.

He has been deemed as strong and capable after being deployed to war. He was someone who used critical thinking, and knew when to separate what little emotion he had when it came to battle. He would make noble sacrifices, cruel decisions, but never losing the war. After two years of his soldiers listening to him, they deemed him as someone who was meant to live the way he was living. They liked him more when he became captain rather than when he was only a Prince. He was the most capable, most smart, and most tenacious when it came to it.

Out of everything he had been branded as, he loved that everyone knew he was a member of the family in which always expressed love and loyalty. Nothing means more to Warner than his family, and felt that if he were to die for them then it was a life worth living. 

What he was never branded was dishonorable. Warner was an honorable man. Everyone knew that, and they all knew he would be significant to the reign of his brother. While River ruled, he knew the glory was to himself for he fought. He wields a gun and sword for family. He will do anything for his family, and for it he was the most honorable.

Warner himself never knew why, but when River and Sierra birthed the three siblings, everything was normal. Sure, Warner loved them, but as usual they were children. Some creatures that he was sure when they grow they would be much more tolerable, but during their younger years, he has been so terribly bored, and terribly annoyed whenever they bug him. He would entertain himself by making them cry though, laughing whenever he teases someone into tears, in which River will want to punch him for.

It all changed the moment Sierra birthed Allise. He didn’t understand why, but the moment her eyes opened to the world, Warner had been on his toes, and felt such immense love that grasped him from head to toe. He would always be around to take care of her, to talk to her, and to just be with her. No clue as to where the need to be serious came, but she set him straight. No more brothels, no more brawls, no more anything horrible that can touch her, the niece everyone knew he favored. 

As Allise grew up, he felt nothing but adoration, and he in turn felt the same thing. Allise has always been attached to him, and she never forgets to tell him everything people could never tell themselves. He has been spoiled with her attention, and never knew that he had been abstinent in the process of soaking in the attention of Allise.

When the war came, and he had shot his rifle, damaging someone’s heart, making it stop beating—he envisioned her. He envisioned Allise, and how he thought that if the war ends soon? He would be seeing her, he would be near her once again. If some soldier were to peak at his pack that rested under his bed, he would find Warner’s written letters, and a folded picture—a portrait of the Princess Allise. One could think it was his lover, but never. Everyone knew who he was, and everyone knew who she was. They all knew that they were close. That was all.

His lifeline as he concluded in the war, was Allise. He thought of her every time he felt the pull of life, he thought of her when he was cornered, he thought of her when soldiers doubted him, he thought of her when the night grew heavy with grief. And whenever he does, he felt… better. He was thankful for her presence, he was overjoyed with her existence.

Another thing that he didn’t understand was…why he got angry when that… boy consoled her. All he saw that day—when he saw him kneeled in front of her—he saw a vision that ached him. As if he was to ask her for her hand for eternity. He felt sick, he felt such immense pressure in his lungs, and felt as if the world had slowed and he concluded that he would wish for the heavens above to never let it happen. Never let her marry, to give her undivided attention to a man that was not him. After the fight they had, he concluded that it was only his protective trait as her uncle. 

Now…he didn’t know if that was from his love for her as his niece, or something else entirely. He knew he'd never expressed the same love he gave to Allise to her siblings. Dyanna kept to herself, and while Warner loved his niece, their bond was alright—nothing severe, nothing grave. Haveena was irritating, but Warner loved her nonetheless. She was the niece he loved to tease when she was just a child, and when she cries it made him laugh. But…nothing more. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t mentally challenged. He never bore feelings for children, and certainly never for those related to him in any way.

He remembered the feeling—when she shut him out. It made him physically ill to think about it. The war paled in comparison to how he was when she deliberately ignored him, even the nourishment of seeing her was robbed of him. One night he had sunk into the bottom of a bottle, and found himself at the door of her bedroom, his knuckle white at the hold he had on her doorknob. He wanted to invade her space, to make the war between them end for he would gladly lose. He wished that she saw how much he lost, he wanted him to see, he wanted to see her. During those moments, none could talk to him, he snapped at people, and became much too hostile for anyone’s good. He even stopped grooming himself.

Sitting at his bed, he stared ahead. His mind kept reeling at the moment of almost. The wisp of want that night in the library. He thought about her face, the expression in them—the finality of it all. She looked decided, no confusion, no regret, no shock. She feels what she feels, and he suffers for it.

His hand clutched his head, a deep hole in his heart at the confusion the night brought him. Allise. 

Allise.

Allise.

His Allise.

For eternity, she was his Allise. His Issa. He questioned himself if it has always been this way, had he known of her feelings? Has he known of his?

His dread came to a halt when he saw the light of the sun shining down on the floor. He looked up, and saw that it was true. His mind ran till morning, and he breathed a sigh. He had spent the night in the castle, his feet had not had enough power to ride home to the manor. 

Standing up, he made sure to fix himself in the mirror, running a hand down his face again. He has been doing that a lot, and he was sick and tired of it. 

Exiting the room, he made his way to the dining room, and was welcomed by the married royal. 

“I did not know you spent the night.” River says, looking up to him as he drank his morning coffee while reading the Tribune. 

“I didn’t know I would be.”

“Well, sit.” Sierra gestures to the empty chair. “Come eat breakfast, the children will be with us in a moment.”

At that his stomach turned. He truthfully did not wish to see Allise. He needed to avoid the sight of her or it would put ideas into his mind that he can never take back.

“No, thank you, I must—”

“Ah, nonsense. Come eat before you depart, I insist.” Sierra says, flashing a soft smile. 

His jaw flexed, and he sat. He had been put in a spot, and he knew he couldn’t refuse. It was suspicious that way, he’s never acted so coldly before.

He nodded, and Sierra seemed happy and continued to drink tea. River, on the other hand, drops the tribune on the table, and places a hand on his temple. “I cannot look back from that damned war for one minute.” He says. “The south continues to gather troops, and marches to war. They had lost, and they never give up.”

“These are men, dear. They can never.” Sierra adds.

River scoffs. “Not like this. My men are tired. Warner, the captain, had just come home.”

Warner cracked his neck, and looked at River. “I would go to war if need be, brother.” He says, earning a nod from River. “The forces of the south border have come to an end. Weakened when they lost. Even with recovery they will never be the same number again.” 

“And if they acquire allies from other places?” 

Warmer shakes his head, his coffee now getting drank. “The west fears us, a lot of their lords, our traders. They will not help. The East is a known ally of the north.” Warner rubbed the stubble in his jaw. “They are matching to suicide without a plan. Let them.”

“I trust you’ll be leading the men when war comes once again.”

Warner nodded. “Of course, brother.” He was proud to do so.

Bustle behind him made his skin cold. It was as if he knew of her presence, even when she had others with her.

“Uncle Warner off to war again, father? So soon?” The voice behind him made itself known as it sat in front of him.

Allise, in her glory. 

He felt his stomach turn. How can he feel this way towards his angel? How can he have these wishes? The thoughts from the dark of night. How can he want to mar her skin with his rough hands, how can he wish to tenderly embrace her with his frame that dwarfed her, how can he wish to lay with her, love her, and make a family with her? He did not deserve it, and he out of all people cannot.

River shook his head at his youngest daughter. “No, sweetheart. It was just a thought. If they are a threat once more, won’t you like for your Uncle to bring glory?”

“I wish for him to be safe, than to bring glory.” She says, and he felt his heart beat. She glanced up at him, and then started to eat her food in peace, never looking up to see him—to see him always looking at her.

Maybe that has been it. Maybe she was becoming more and more a woman, Warner thought. But no. Even then… so what? Even if she had been growing up, it was still not a reason. 

Look at her. Her long black hair was up, drawing attention to her face. She was the most beautiful to him out of all of the Caelthornes—no, out of all the women he’s seen. She had the biggest eyes, brown and always stared at him with love. A soft upturned nose, and lips that pouts so softly even when she just merely speaks. 

Her exposed neck drew him in, and the necklace that hung from them. One he’s given her. And he felt cold, his knuckle clench on the table. He’s given her a necklace, but apart from countless ones he’s given her this one has been different. This one was gold, square in shape, and can store a small photo inside that when you open it—you’ll see. He had given that to her blank, expecting her to put a portrait of hers or of her late dog, Reya. 

After a time, he’s always seen her with it. One fateful moment, he didn’t know what possessed him, but he brushed her hair to her back, his fingers softly pressing to her skin as they touched the locket. Upon opening, it was a portrait of him. A portrait of Warner Caelthorne with his uniform from the war. It stunned him. And a feeling he didn’t dare to name came. When he asked her the reason. She merely said that it was because he had given it to her, and that she had wished for him to know that she keeps him close even when he was not to be around. The next day, he was deployed.

It made him beyond sick, how his mind took him in places they’ve never been before. If he was a much more horrible man, he would’ve kissed her. He wouldn’t let himself bask in the pleasure of doing what he sought. If he was much more horrible…

Looking at it now, he took a large breath. It sits around her neck, wrapped like a vine, secure. Just like how it should always be. He imagined it. He blamed it on the sleeplessness. Let his mind entertain him for a while, even when it filled him with anguish. How would it feel for his large palm… how would it feel to have her neck wrapped around them? How would that feel… and how would her large eyes look up at him? With lust? With fright? Or full of trust as they always have? What would happen if he kissed her, mauled her young innocent mouth with his experienced ones? If he defiled her, entered her, would she scream? He was afraid. Afraid that…maybe he won’t stop. He can’t. He loves her, he aches for her, his cock will sing with joy as it enters her barricaded sopping cunt—

With that he stood. Breathing heavily, enraged with himself. The chair scraped on the floor loudly, the whole of Caelthorne looked at him strangely, but not Allise.

Allise’s eyes were filled with worry, as if she always knew the turmoil he faced. 

“I’ll excuse myself.” With that, he takes off from the castle. Not bothering to look back even as if his name was called. Taking a long coat, he made his way to the stables, taking Ares, his black steed.

The moment he rode his horse, the rain and wind whipped him from his abhorrent thoughts. He wished to disappear. Wished to fade away from things felt. 

As he rode without direction, he heard loud noises, and clinking of glasses. His hood shields his face, but he saw it. The sorry establishment. A brothel. A places he’s never stepped foot in every since Allise came into the world. 

Hitching Ares, he didn’t know what compelled him to come inside. The moment the doors opened, the room smelled of whiskey, and sex.

The place was familiar to him. Naked women, breasts, and cunt open for the world to see. Men were lying down, sitting, with women who kneeled at their feet with cocks in their mouth. A woman shrieks loudly, as a man fucks her from behind, another woman in her back while another man fucks her ass hole, and another above her fucking hey pussy. Everyone was filled with lust, everyone was watching the others who indulged in the debauchery. 

His hood hid him as he made his way inside, deeper and deeper, no clue what he was going for, no understanding of his own motive. Did he want to have sex? He did not know. He knew he did, but not particularly with anyone here. Not anywhere near here.

When his eyes set on a bar, he sat, and phished a coin from his pocket. Laying it down at the wood, a hand takes it, and serves him some whisky. As he drank the brown liquid, he knew of its cheapness, but to be fair—what was to be expected at a place like this? All he knew was that he placed coin after coin, and got handed whiskey after whiskey.

He wanted to forget. He wanted to be filled by something other than thoughts of his niece. 

“You want something to do, stranger?” A whisper of a woman behind him, close to his ear. “I can do anything for you.”

His eyes open, and a mean thing makes its way around his morals. He smirks under the hood, and takes a swig of the last of the liquor. 

Noticing this, the woman led him by the hand, and took her to the sea of sex, and drunks, leading him to a place that might be their own if he were to go through with it.

He had fucked a lot of whores when he was much younger, he loved sex, and sought it every hour of every day. He never knew how much he tamed. He never knew that his niece would be the reason for it. He snarled. How could he let it go on for so long?

The woman in front of him was not pretty, nor was she ugly—she was not as pretty as Allise. No one could ever be. He tilted his head, wanting to see what the whore would do for his coin.

The woman pulled at the fabric of her thin gown, and it then piled at her feet. She was well endowed, her breasts large, her waist small, and her hips wide. She bit her lower lip, and made her way to Warner who had no expression on his face but amusement and curiosity. If he had been who he was, he would be hard, and will be rushing to fuck the woman until his balls were empty and his heart was breathing so fast he could perish.

But he was not that man anymore.

“What would you like?” The woman seductively asks, putting a hand on his chest, and standing on tiptoes to plant her lips to his neck.

Glaring at the wall behind him, his hand snakes to her bare back, up to her shoulder blades, to her nape until it rests on her hair—in which he yanks roughly, watching her face closely as her eyes widen in fear.

The woman gasps, but doesn’t pull away, used to the rough treatment of men. He looked down at her, basking in the expressions that crossed her face. She could never enjoy something like this—this woman, this whore can never enjoy sex. Certainly something like this. To him, not really. She was just humiliated, and poor. 

“What if I only wish to hurt you?” He asks, tilting his head, his voice low.

The whore’s eyes flutter in uncertainty, but she licks her lips, and gulps. “Then…you’d have to pay more.”

At that he huffs a laugh. He was amused, angry, and disgusted at the same time. He’s forgotten how dirty whorehouses were, and forgot the feeling of how the women there were nothing. Not enjoyable really. A cheap escape.

He hums, looking down at her, the lack of soberness clouding his judgement. He looked mean as he stared at the girl who looked fearful by the minute. 

He truly did for a while wanted to hurt her really badly. He did not know where the feeling came from, but he was so angry with himself today, and she had been unfortunately unlucky because he approached him and dragged him first in a dark room. 

Warner clicked his tongue, and dragged the girl by her hair to the bed, slamming her face down into the sheets, her face sandwiched by his firm hand on her head and by the pillow. She gasped, and breathed quick, but didn’t move regardless of how afraid she was. 

Looking down at her, Warner growled from beneath his stomach, and removed his hand from her. It was disgusting to him, and he wiped his hand on his coat. 

Putting coins on the small table beside her, he leaves.

He did not want to fuck a whore in a whorehouse anymore. It was beneath him, the place was beneath him. 

Warner walked back to his horse, and finally rode home. The manor waits for him, and he angrily slams his bedroom door once he reached it.

The situation was making him mad. It certainly didn’t help that there was so much cheap whiskey in his system. He wanted other things. He wanted to slam something, he wanted to fuck, he wanted to shout, so that’s the only thing he did. Shout.

He wanted to touch Allise.

He wanted her all for him.

Sitting at his bed, he only thought of her.

Rubbing a hand down his face, he slapped the left side thrice, leaving a mark. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to kill, and leave pain.

If he hadn’t controlled himself earlier, he knew within the depths of his soul—he could’ve killed that woman. That whore. With the answer he had with himself, he could’ve killed her there and then. 

All for the disturbing feelings he had for his niece. 

It bothered him so much, because he felt love for her, always had. It had been different now. He wanted to feel her. He lusts after her, he woke up today with an urge to be with her. As if the moment at the library solidified something inside of him. As if… his body waited for the moment because it knows. It knows that they were always meant for more. 

No. 

No, he can’t. The things he thinks about will disgust her. If she does harbor feelings for him it won’t be like this, it would not be as disgusting. She would seek to be kissed by him, be loved, but not fucked. Not defiled, not choked, not bred. Not that. At least that’s what he thought.

But that didn’t stop his imagination that has gone wild just from last night. Allise was on his mind like a plague, and how her chest heaved when he was to kiss her. The tightness of her corset, the soft outline of her breast visible. She has no single clue what she’d done to him. The anguish she left him.

He was hard. His cock is red, and tight in his pants, and he blamed the alcohol and himself. 

“Ha, fuck.” He says, laughing under his breath. 

A release. He needed it. Wanted it more than air, and without thinking—he reached down to tug on the buttons of his pants, phishing his cock out of their confinement. He’s never been this blinded by lust, never been drawn to fuck his hand before for he knew he can always fuck whores back then.

Now, he needs to do this, because there’s no other alternative. There can never be another alternative except for his hand. Not a whore, not a high born lady. Not Allise. Never.

He felt such a lump in his throat, because he couldn’t stop. He was envisioning such greatness, and he wished he was someone different. 

Pumping his hand once in his cock, he groans loudly, a relief in the thorn of reality. His eyes looked up to the ceiling, and he pulled, up and down as it went, slowly. 

“Uncle.”

He snarled, eyes shutting close, hearing her close as if she were there. He stroked his cock harder, his hips meeting the movement of his hand, like a desperate young man who had just discovered pleasure.

His hands were on her, the small frame of hers tense with anticipation. Knees, and hands on the bed, she looks back at him, and opens her legs, then her small fingers emerge in her thighs, and touches her bare cunt. Prying them open with her fingers, red, and plump, untouched, and intact for him.

She looks behind, directly at him, her eyes big with unshed tears of lust. “Please… Uncle Warner…” She cries, her fingers trying to ease her finger onto the tight ring of her virgin pussy. 

He groaned. Pre-cum leaking from his cock and onto his hand. He’s never had this much before, never this much.

Impatiently, it rings true. With a groan, he roughly sinks his cock into her cunt, her thighs quivering, her lithe frame almost hidden by his large one. Tears drop from her eyes, virgin blood coating his cock. He kisses her neck, her nape, her shoulder, her ear, anything to take her mind off the pain. 

Looking back at him, she bites her lower lip. “Uncle… it hurts, please make it stop hurting.” He would then wedge his fingers between her thighs, finding the small bud, and rubbing fast and hard circular motion that would make her knees shake. Her jaw goes slack, and her eyes empty. At that, his pace quickens. Fucking his young little niece in the mattress, as she whimpered and cries sweet tears for him. Under him her small breasts bounce erratically, and her cunt leaks down the sheets. The grunts are primal, a hand on her mouth tight to shush her as she cries and squirts all over his cock.

Groaning, he leans down. “Shh, your father will hear.” He breathlessly whispered into her ear, as his large cock pistons to her fourteen year old cunt. He couldn’t have his brother River hearing that he was fucking his young daughter with ferocity in her childhood bedroom.

Nodding, Allise whimpers.“Put your cum inside me, uncle.” She would whisper in her small voice. “Inside. Please, let me walk around with it dripping from my thighs.” He growled, biting down on her shoulder, making her cry out and going faster, his ball sack slapping her small pussy. “Let everybody know that the General fucks the Princess, that the General fucks his young little niece.” She cries.

Groaning, and fucking his hand, his orgasm came, and hit him like a bunch of bricks. He gasped, and continued to stroke his cock roughly as it oozed infinite amounts of cum, the head angry, and red. He was riddled in sweat, and he laid his head on the pillow to catch his breath, his hand still full of his cum.

Staring up at the ceiling, coming down from his lust, he felt empty—hollow.

What has he done? What monster was he? His chest constricted at his disgusting thoughts, his…fantasy. How could he? How could he even live with himself?

 

From that day, the Caelthorne’s would not be seeing Warner for a while. 

Chapter 6: The Esteemed Prince

“Pretty girl, are you?” The old woman pinches Allise’s cheek. “One day, you're going to come of age and you will be swarmed by men, I tell you.”

Allise could only laugh dryly, not knowing how to speak to the woman. 

The woman in question was her grandmother from her mother’s side. The Lady Merinne was Allise’s only living grandparent but she never really comes to the castle often. Most of the time when she’s here though, her mother forces the siblings to bond. It was Allise who lost today, and had to pay the price.

Allise shook her head. “That may be, but I do not like most men.” She says, smiling at the old woman. She found it bizarre that the features she once had were no longer there anymore. Just a crumpled face, old and wise, someone who used to be young like her.

In her mother’s chamber, Allise saw the small portrait of her grandmother from when she was young. Traditional Ladyan beauty was her. She understood that day where the beauty her mother had stemmed from.

Lady Merinne looked at Allise, and smiled too. She pats the young lady’s hand. “I was too at your age. I used to bask in the attention, enjoy it more—when they were much older.”

At that, Allise looks at her with an expression that could only be assumed was intrigued. 

“Your grandfather—may he rest in peace—was significantly older than I was.” Lady Merinne said, looking out the window with an expression that could haunt someone. An emotion, a finality that could bring someone to their knees.

Longing.

Oh, how longing can make someone go mad.

Allise sat properly to face her. “Were you much happier to be with someone who was older than you?” She asked, and she knew why she was asking. But even if…it was not the same. The situation she’s locked herself in was not the same as what Lady Merinne was talking about. But still… she wanted to indulge herself.

Lady Merinne softly laughed. “Happier…is a word that says too much. I was…alright. Eddrys has been upright in his life. Mostly for being the only son. When we met, he relied on me for his happiness. My dear, I was terribly young. Young as you. Epitome of happiness, and sunshine, and he loved it. Sought me whenever life weighed him down, whenever his responsibilities suffocated him. But as I learned about him, and I cheered him on, I noticed that… he could not understand me, and I could not understand him. We were different— him, and I.” She says, looking at the young woman. “From the day we joined hands I couldn’t remember the time I made any decision for myself. It was always him because he knew better. I was then dimming, fading. I was on the side, losing whatever made him happy, and he grew cold from it.”

“The disparity matters, girl. I sincerely wish you don’t end up like I did. It’s terribly lonely, for he will never understand you. You will try to understand him, reason for him, but at the end of the day—never the other way around. A lonely life will be for you…” She whispered. 

She felt it then. The way her heart dropped, and felt herself withdraw in her mind palace. It couldn’t be. It could work. It could. But that wasn’t the problem wasn’t it? Their age disparity was not their main conflict. 

There used to be a time where her relatives used to marry inside the family. Cousins marry cousins, and what gave her hope was when she discovered that aunts marry their nephews, and oh, she was overjoyed—uncles marry their nieces. 

But that was decades before. And when she heard that they had forbidden it, she cried the same night, her mother and father had no idea what triggered it.

Apparently, those who marry within the family have complications as they birth their children. Her great-great grandmother had remarried to her first cousin, and lived to witness the three deaths of her children. All stillbirths, some without ears, and a bottom that is only made up of skin. She heard the horrors of every child born under such unions, but as much as it disheartened her…she still wished for him still. She wanted her uncle.

“Maybe not all unions are that way.” She says to Lady Merinne. “Maybe… maybe some people lived differently.”

The older woman only turned to look at her, and gave her a small smile all the while shaking her head. “There’s a reason why you were born alongside others. Age matters, princess. It does. More than financial problems, and emotions. It will always hold back something. Listen to me, child.”

Of course, she can’t promise anything. Lady Merinne doesn’t understand, sometimes even Allise couldn’t but… she has never felt this way, and it’s her choice to choose to treasure it.

 

—

 

Weeks have gone, and she felt a lump in her throat. It’s been weeks.

It had been weeks since she last saw him.

Warner.

She ached badly. The look on his face, the distraught he suffered—because of her—because she couldn’t control her growing emotions. A man. What has she expected from a grown man? To act with complete understanding? To act with passion that matched hers? 

Of course not.

Warner Caelthorne was an honorable man, he will never think that way of her, and she doesn’t understand why she can’t just let it go. If she can…if there was a possibility… maybe she can live normally. Maybe she would just find a man as young as she, and get married, and have a family.

The house had been tense, and so was she.

The South has been continuous in their declaration of war, and the looming feeling that her uncle will be taken from their family once again was clear. No one wants Warner Caelthorne to go to war. Not one person in the family, but it was the most obvious option. No one can lead the men to war better, much more inspiring than the Prince Commander brother of the King. 

She doesn’t like it, and her mind wanders to places.

What if he had been absent because he was already gearing up for war? What if he was already there? No, her father would’ve said otherwise, but it still made her ponder. She was too nervous, she was too worried, she missed him so much she can barely breathe.

Going to the balcony, she looks ahead to the estate where grass meets the sky, and the road ahead was towards where he ought to be. 

In a normal scenario she could go to him. But…

Afternoon what had happened in the library? She was too ashamed. She wished it didn’t happen, and she had no clue why she had been the way she was… the torment she felt at that moment. He had embraced her like a woman, expressed such love, and fear of losing her presence, it made her too open. Too… loving,

When he had stared at her, and she felt the urge to kiss him, to finally dare to meet him. To finally make him see her in that light. 

Imagine the surprise when his hand pulled her in. She felt cold all over, and hot at the same time. Time stood still and there was no way to resume. But when the cup dropped to the ground, shattering their illusion… she saw how grave it all was. She saw his face, and she felt how much hurt there was.

It will never be the same between them anymore. 

She felt herself drop, and a lone tear escaped her eyes. Oh, it was all so horrible. She wished she was someone different. She wished she was a proper human being without foolish desires. Why…why her uncle? It was ridiculous to her! It was as if she wanted heartbreak, as if she ached for it.

Going back to her bed, she sniffled, and lied down. It seems as though that’s the only thing she does these days. It was torture when they fought and she had to put space between them, and now…he’s the one doing just that.

Her door opened, and she sat up, startled.

Haveena made her way to Allise’s chambers, and sat down on her bed. Sighing, Allise lied back down once again. “Why are you here?” She asks, but this was not new. The siblings often visit one another, talk about their parents, and every other thing. 

“They’re discussing war, and I just don’t want to be there.”

“Father?”

Haveena nods, chipping at her nails. “Yes, and Uncle Warner surprisingly.”

At that Allise sat up. “Uncle Warner’s returned?” She says, not being able to hide the happiness, and shock in her voice.

Haveena looked at her, and nodded. “Uh, yes—down the—”

Before she can even finish, Allise was running down the halls of their castle, her heart beating wildly on her chest. She seeks him, oh she missed him.

Her feet moved at a pace that was foreign to her. Some of the servants aimed for her to slow, while some tried to get out of her way.

Going down the stairs, she aimed for the long room. Her eyes were searching frantically, her jabs holding the bottom part of her dress to not drag her. 

Entering, she was met by the balcony, and she looked down to see where they were.

And when her eyes darted down, his eyes were already on hers. 

Dark and anguished. Her heart aches for him, as he looked much worse than when she last saw him. Her hands clenched on the woods of the balcony as they continued to stare at one another. Underneath his eyes, bags rested on them as if he had not slept at all. He has grown a beard now officially. He used to not have one, it makes him look older. Much older than her now.

As her father spoke, pointing at the map in front of the men, he continued to stare. His gaze pointed at her, long enough that she could feel it piercing her very soul. If seen from another type of perspective, it would seem as though he was angry—as if he was glaring at her, but she knows he wasn’t. He was just… not the same.

“Allise!” 

The name shook her from the trance, and she looked at her father. River Caelthorne gestures for his youngest daughter to come down, a smile on his face as if her daughter did not just barge in unattended. 

Swallowing a lump down her throat, she makes her way down, her eyes at her feet—blatantly aware of the eyes that trail before her.

Reaching her fathers side, River caresses her head, and smiles at the others. “Gentlemen, my youngest daughter—Princess Allise Caelthorne.” He said proudly, and Allise could only half curtsy and smiled at the men.

“Oh, how she’s grown, your highness!” Lord Danbury says, laughing from his pot belly. He smiles, and it makes her want to roll her eyes. Of course he knows she’s grown. He always looks at the young girl, and she feels disgusted by him. He would always pick at his nose during dinners, and she wondered if not one noticed. 

River laughed, and nodded. “Yes, smart too!” He squeezes her shoulders. “This one loves to read.”

“Ah, yes—Jamus always did say.” 

Allise looked up and it was Lord Fyres, Jamus’s father. Allise had no complaints about him. He was a straight mag with no feelings of a foul man. He had been kind, loyal, and respectful to the crown, and she sees Jamus in him—making her fond of him all the more.

“You, and the young lord Jamus are friends, little one?” Lord Ledrus raised a brow, and Allise smiled nodding. “Well! It looks like we’d have a beautiful wedding ahead of us, your highness, what do you think?” He says enthusiastically. 

Much to her surprise her father smiled and was about to say a word, when he was cut off.

“She’s much too young.” Warner says flatly, his eyes hostile and looking down at the map. Her breath is held. It was as if age was hearing him for the first time. She ached for him the way no one knew, and she made herself ill for it. A foolish girl she’ll always be.

With a subtle twitch of his brows—that no one would’ve noticed but her, for she breathed him—he looks pointedly at Allise.

“She’s too young for anything.” 

She couldn’t.

She felt like she was being eaten whole.

It was an admission she never wanted. He’ll never meet her in the turmoil of her emotions. She will always be alone, and suffer the romance of nothingness. Her hand at her back picks on the skin of the other hand's nail. 

Too young for…anything.

The phrase played and played inside her head, and everytime she felt as though something in her breaks. The hope she has. It’s always shattered isn’t it?

She knows that. Of course she knows that. She’s too young. She is…but…oh, how it hurt to hear from him.

Her father spoke, breaking her out of her misery. “Alas! If my daughter wishes to marry, I’m sure she'll choose the right one.” River looks down at her with a smile on his face, as if his daughter hadn’t interrupted them. “Won’t you, darling?”

All she can do is nod, and smile. “Of course, father.” She says, dejectedly. “I’ll…” She glances at her Uncle Warner, and sees him already looking at her with a certain hardness in his eyes. Snapping back her sighs to her father, she smiles. “I’ll excuse myself, father. I did not know the room was occupied.” She says with a short laugh to make her more believable. To their eyes she was, but only they know.

Excused, she climbs the stairs once again feeling the heat of someone’s eyes on her. This time she didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see what he looked like as he looked at her. It made her heart break. There was no love, no warmth. It felt like she was another one of those people who he deemed were ‘below him’, and he was looking at me with disgust and dread.

A lump caught her throat, and she rushed to exit the long room. 

 

—

 

Through the turmoil of their relationship, she felt much dead—horribly ill. 

Days had dragged on between them, and she sought him day and day.

He walked along the hallways, and she was too. Casting one glance at her, making her intake a full breath, they walked. Towards one another? To talk, finally? Embrace?

As she was about to speak, their frames almost close.

He walks past her.

Like a ghost. Not one greeting, not one glance.

Clutching her stomach as his footsteps drift off, she bit her lip to stifle a shout that she badly wanted to let out at him.

But she couldn’t really. Why on earth would she push him to talk to her, what would they even say? She tried to imagine the conversation they might have with one another, and they were never true, never realistic because this wasn’t something they could just… talk about.

Looking back, his feet walked forward—away from her. 

Her brows drawn together, as she felt another lump in her throat. She missed him dearly. It was another thing that they’ve already fought before this, and now it’s all difficult beyond relief. What was happening between them, she didn’t understand.

 

—

 

Weeks will pass and it will all be the same. 

No words, no acknowledgment of any sort, even the health of eye contact was robbed from Allise.

She felt herself withdrawing. 

Such depression in the way everything unfolded between them. No not unfold, it all folded back again—thrusted far in the drawer to gain dust and never to look back on—it’s over.

The Caelthorne’s would eat as a family, and he would always be there again but he was never there for her. She did grow curious as to why he was frequenting the castle once more, but she didn’t want to know. She was just glad that he was, and she got to see his face.

Whenever she came to that conclusion she found it much too ridiculous. She was in love with him, too in love with him, while he was disgusted. Traumatized by her.

 

—

 

“Are you alright, princess?” Her servant, Iolanthe, asked as she placed bows on top of Allise’s head.

Looking up at her in the mirror, she only nods. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” She smiles softly.

“Matters of the heart are painful are they not?”

“Yes, they are.” She sighs.

Now combing down her luscious curls, Iolanthe smiles back at her in the mirror, eyes full of sympathy. “It is difficult to be young, you are not free to express love felt so tenderly. They will assume that it is some puppy love that will be outgrown eventually. But that is not the case for you, princess.” She says, finished now with her hair. “You are heart wrenchingly in love, and I wish you to know that it’s alright to be lonely with me. Irrevocably, devastatingly, and greatly lonely.”

Allise’s eyes blur at her words. Iolanthe was her servant for way back when she was just a baby. She took care of her, loved her, and nurtured her more than her own mother. 

Turning around, she embraced her, and nodded. “I promise, I will.” She says, a wobble in her voice.

Iolanthe nods, and pulls back to wipe her tears away. The woman smiles so softly at Allise, like a mother witnessing their child bloom into someone grown. “Now, now.” She consoles. “You better get down there, stop the tears. The ball won’t be complete without their delightful princess.”

Nodding, Allise made her way downstairs into where the party was in full swing. 

She calmed herself and was truthfully glad that she was comforted by Iolanthe. None had acknowledged her loneliness and she was glad that now it has been. 

She looked at the crowd, and saw Dyanna, and Elias on the middle of the ball dancing. Her eyes then look for Haveena, but she was nowhere to be seen. For reasons she cannot acknowledge yet, she also looked for the older priest, and felt dread that he also wasn’t present.

“My Lord!” A loud voice echoed from the room, and I whipped my eyes to see father with his glass in the air. “And ladies,” he says cheekily, warning a laugh. “I am…well aware that we know the marching in the south. Aware of our fear for the lives of our children, our legacy.” A blend of approvals from the crowd, “But fear not. For we will ensure once more that we cannot be trifled with!”

Her brows furrowed, and she felt her stomach clench.

“For I will make sure that it will be done once and for all.” Her father’s hands clasped Warner’s shoulder.

And she felt it. That unmistakable dread within her, one that coils her insides, and makes her throat run dry.

“My brother! Your prince! Tomorrow will once again travel to the damned south, and crush the enemy at their feet, pool their streets with blood, and bring us victory!” Her father roars, and the crowd blows up.

Rounds of cheer can be heard, tears of joy at every turn, and she couldn’t take it.

A shake in her leg as she backed away, and then she runs fully onto the library, her heart beating wildly at her chest. 

Silence greets her, as she slams the door shut behind. She couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t fathom…how could this repeat? He came back with too many wounds, he came back to her different than what he was—he had been damaged by that war—and now they’re making him go back?

The devastation she felt was unlike any other. If she was depressed when he was not acknowledging her then this was the final nail.

Sitting down, she clasped her head in her hands, wondering why on earth things happen. Why does she love him, why does she ache for him, why does he not, why would he, why does he need to go to war, why is he leaving her, why is all of it damned?

The door shuts once more, and her head whips up to see him. The object of her desire, and the reason for her death.

Warner. Once again in the library with her. Uncle Warner whom she needed to have, to hold.

His eyes look at her with blankness, and she doesn’t know what it was. 

Breathing deeply, wiping away the tears that streamed from her eyes, she felt so much. So much angst, so much anger, worry, so much love.

“Why…” she felt her breath construct the words. “Do not go.” He intakes a breath, now averting his gaze from her. “You don’t need to—do you like it there, you don’t—so don’t go.”

Her Uncle Warner shakes his head. “You’re too young to understand.” He says, his voice low as if the words did not puncture her soul.

“That’s preposterous! You know that I can understand almost anything.” She cries. “But not this. Do not stand there and tell me you need for this, th-that you are willing to do this.”

His sharp eyes look back at her, filled with so much emotion. Filled with so much words he could not utter. “Either way, I can’t be here.” He says, shaking his head.

“Why?” She asked, exasperated. “Because…because of…”

At that, he glared. Breathing deeply. “Say it. Fucking say it, Allise.” He grounded out, and it stung for her to hear. He’s never cussed at her, never said anything remotely rough with her, and she winced. “The torment this brought me. How dishonorable it is. Do you have any clue what they would think of you if the people knew?” He says loudly.

Shaking her head, she clutched her chest. “I do not care about them, I love you!” She shouts, and she’s taken aback.

Warner takes a step back, and ran his hands through his face. “You—cannot—love me!” He shouts back. “You cannot say that to me, you cannot…do not fuck with my mind, Allise… you are not cruel, only I.”

Allise could only look at him, could only swallow down his torment before she felt such resolve. “Do you think that this is…easy for me? Do you think I wish for this, I…I… only wish to be… everything to you. I yearn to be something to you, more than…” she couldn’t breathe the words. “I can’t help it. And I feel so lonely, because you are my life. And you rob me of it. While I cannot blame you, it is rotten to hear from your niece, but I—I ache for you daily.” Her heart was now on the floor. Lone tears treks down her eyes. “I’ve loved only you, and for eternity I will love only you.”

Warner looked like he was in pain, his brows were drawn, and his eyes held too much. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and hearing this? This can’t be healthy for someone like him.

She thought that maybe this was childish, she thought it was such a thing a young woman would say. Vowing to love someone for the end of time must’ve been ridiculous. But to her…she swears she meant it.

“You will not come back for a while, and I know this.” She says, frowning, “I cannot bear to live and think that you are out there. I do not know if you’re eating well, if you’re sleeping well, if you’re doing well in general.” Her mouth quivers, and she looks at him with the most pleading. “Please… can you not do this anymore? Someone else can go, I know someone else can.”

Warner breathed deeply, and worth what looked like a forever, he walked slowly towards her, going on one knee to clasp her hand. Looking down at his hands that engulfed her bright her immense comfort at once, making the air breathable once again.

“Sweetheart, I… no one can do this like I can.” He says low, a whisper between them both. “How I wish that I…” now he whispered to himself before he cut the thought out, and Allise wished he was to continue. “I will come back, this I swear to you.” He looked at her eyes, and it was as if he made her see just how strong he was, how he believed it so, and she felt them wholeheartedly. “I shall come back, only for you alone. I shall take a deal with a demon if it means to come back here with you.” 

“I love you.” She whispered amongst his words, and he took a sharp breath, his head now hung low. “I wish for that to mean something to you. Take it as you will, but I wish for you to know it.”

“I cannot… give this emotion back to you.” His brows furrowed as he looked down on their hands.

Nodding, a dull ache in her chest. “That’s alright. I just wish for you to know it. And I will… I write to you again and again like I used to.”

At that, his mouth curves upwards and she squeezes his hand, making his dark eyes look at her. 

No words left him, nothing needed to be said. The silence stretched between them like time had paused and stretched for days at a time. His eyes searched for something in hers, and she sincerely hoped that he would find it. 

Without another word from the prince, he rested his forehead on her thighs, on their intertwined hands.

And he stayed that way for a long time that night, only ensnared in her warmth. Then after, he only left. No words once again, and she did not have it in her to demand for more.

—

Then when the morning came, tabloids were made, and made its way to her hands.

Her heart ached at the headline, even if she already knew it to be true.

“The Esteemed Prince Warner Caethorne Rides to War, the Fate of Ladya Hinges on His Sword.”

Chapter 7: Now and Always

“Fucking fall back, do you hear me?” Warner shouts at the young man shaking in his feet as cannons, and rifles go off near them. He saw the boy holding an empty rifle, and shouted again and again for him to go back to the camp and get ammunition, but he still stood there like an idiot.

Grabbing the man by the collar, shaking him and he shouts. “Get off the fucki—” Blood splatter in the side of his face, as the young man’s head explodes due to an enemy’s rifle. 

Warner ducks to avoid the fire, a nasty snarl on his face. Looking at the motionless heap, he felt so goddamn angry. “Fucking dimwit.” He curses at the fallen man, then reloading his rifle and positioning it to shoot at the enemies who are gearing up to shoot him the same.

The aim was immaculate, he was precise, enemies falling one by one. The dark years of intense training coming into the light. As if Warner Caelthorne was born and raised in a battlefield instead of a castle.

When River and Warner were younger, their father, Odylon the King of Wit, had always trained the two. River had always been calm, someone peaceful, respectful. Warner on the other hand has always been a firecracker, a boy with a certain darkness within. 

At ten he slayed a man for the first time. At that age, Warner wanted to grow old fast and thought that being older meant carrying firearms. In his back he carried a pistol that his father never even knew he had. He was allowed to train, but what he wasn’t allowed was to carry it without supervision.

He loved to walk the streets of Ladya with River, and even if he had looked down on everyone he saw, he liked it. He loved the food, the energy, the lack of decorum, but he was disgusted by the people.

One night, a man had seen them and the watch that glimmered under River’s coat. It had been a dark alley, and the man sought to scare the boys into giving it to them. To River, he can’t care. He was the oldest, and was accompanied by his younger brother. He was to give him the watch which had lost all its meaning, but as he did, there was a loud bang, and the man was on the ground.

Looking beside him, he saw his younger brother with a pistol that emitted smoke from the mouth. Warner looked shocked, impressed. He did not care about the fact that he had killed a man. He was impressed at the fact that wielding a weapon felt too powerful. He was awakened at that moment. He felt invincible.

Now, their father wasn’t really that nice of a monarch. He was much like Warner, and the people were happy to know that he was not the eldest boy. 

Learning of the incident, Odylon felt proud of his son. It was common sense that his wife, Eurecia, had been mortified. She did not desire for Warner to know of such things, she knew he did not understand the gravity of things, such as slaying a man. What if he only wished for bread, grains of rice, what if he only wished for the watch to dolls and fend for his family? Eurecia has been worried about the boy, but as she was, his father doted so much on him.

River had no taste for violence. He can stand it, but would rather not see it, which was natural. Warner was then turned into his fathers protege. Coming to executions, traveling alongside him through wars. At a young age Warner Caelthrone was trained to kill and kill, all for the legacy in which the Caelthrone’s wished to prevail.

Cocking his gun, he searched for the lone gunner on the other side of the hill. A subtle peak of his head, and Warner pulled the trigger, now officially there was no more sound. There will be more tomorrow, he knew of that. 

 

—

 

Taking off his coat, he placed them on the table, hating the way he felt filthy. Sand, and endless amounts of dirt clung to his skin, and he yearned for the baths in the castle. 

“Commander.” A voice calls from behind him as he splashes water from a barrel into his face that was dirtied by smoke. Turning around, he sees a young man—a soldier of his—looking like he was fresh from his mothers womb. Probably no older than seventeen.

Wiping his hands, Warner looked at the boy with hostility—not that it was intentional—and raised a brow to urge him to speak his business with the Commander. 

“I only wanted to say that I am an admirer of you, your highness. When I grow older, I-I would wish to be just like you. I will work my hardest!” He says in a rushed tone, stuttering in the process. “I heard from the-the surviving soldiers of how great of a Commander you were, and I wish to be very very useful here. I will be sure to win the war with you, and- and be like you.” He repeats.

That irritated him. What the hell does that even mean, be like him? It was stupid, something a young person who was filled with something so mindnumbingly-dumb would say. He did not wish to be who he was. A war loving, commoner loather, arrogant, lust filled, and an intensely niece obsessed moron. 

Only thing he could do was look at the stupid boy, walk past him. To his annoyance the boy followed him. “I-I am the son of Lord Fyres. The uh—second son, A-althius. We might as well be in laws soon, I sought to introduce myself so quickly.” An abrupt stop commenced as Warner stared at the man with so much hostility.

He disliked that, no, he abhorred it. The implication that someone would marry Princess Allise Caelthorne was laughable to him. 

Warner will never let it happen.

Of course, he knew he was being irrational. Everything about Allise and that… Jamus boy does look great in the tabloids. A young lord, her age—that irritated him even more—and they even had the adorable foundation of friendship. That boy would be the match fit for her, but to Warner, it was still not enough. The Fyres were still no different than anyone. Not really someone as highborn as the Caelthornes, just lucky ones who climbed to the top. Though if he really dug deep—this thought frightened him the most a moon ago—even if another prince was betrothed to Allise, he would make sure to kill that boy where he slept.

He thought about making Althius cry for satisfaction for the phrase he uttered alone, but thought that it would be a massive waste of time.

So instead, he smiled politely. “That will never happen. I shall personally make sure of it.” He says, leaving the boy confused where he stood.

He probably shouldn’t be that much of an asshole to a Fyres, but he couldn’t help it. Warner knows what that family wanted. A say in the family matters of the royals. His fists clench, and unclench at the thought. Seeing Allise walking down that aisle into another man’s hand made his vision blur with fury. He feared it. All this pushing, this guarantee between his favorite niece and that goddamned Fyres boy will lead to something. 

If that was their wish they better hope he dies in this war.

—

Unfortunately for Prince Warner Caethorne, the Fyres boy was not yielding. At every turn he will aid the prince, risking his life in the process. Warner thought that under normal circumstances, he could have been proud. Camaraderie was a big thing that was needed in battles. It will make them all survive once. 

But this? This irritated him. It was as if he was seeking approval from him—and to make matters worse he was part of the Fyres. That family makes his blood boil.

At every turn Althius would be there to give him food when he hasn’t, grabbing ration for him in advance. The boy will cover him in battle often risking his own, and Warner wished that the boy could just die or leave him be. Althius would also give him books when he’s to find the prince restless at night, and even if Warner never gave him any warmth, he will read the book for he misses reading.

At some point during one month's worth of pestering, he will not mind it anymore. He still does not like the Fyres, nor has he become friendly with the boy, but he was tolerating him.

Sitting in his field bed, the boy rushes into his tent. “Who told you that you can just enter here?” Warner’s eyes widened, his voice mean. 

Althius didn’t seem to mind his temper, and held in the air an envelope. “It’s a letter!”

The prince raised a brow, and tilted his head. “Yes, it is. Congratulations.” A flat tone came out from him, then he returned the book given by the boy himself. “Leave at once.” 

“It’s for you, commander!”

Looking up at the envelope, his brows furrow, opening his palm. Once given by the boy he surveyed the white plain envelope. He had no clue who it might be. If it was from the castle, it would have a royal seal. Opening the flap, his motion stopped. A very intricate writing that he knows very well, and to match his grief—a small letter ‘A’. Then and there, he knew where it was from.

Letters were not often here, and he was the only one fortunate to receive them consistently. All from Allise, but never like this. Never without a royal stamp. Maybe that was the reason why it took longer than her usual letters. He felt relieved. They have underestimated the forces of the south as it seems. Warner, as a Commander, was having a much harder time than the last. Faces fall, and bodies line up to be delivered back home. He was feeling… dejected as of late, lonely, and terribly homesick. 

Looking at the boy, he swatted his hand making him exit with a huge smile on his face. He was a stupid boy, he thought. He reminded Warner of little Elias as a child. Always trying to be a good son and nephew. Always doing things for him. 

Now, looking at the letter, he felt his heart warm. Such particular uniqueness in the letter of hers. Something she’s never donw before. His hand rested on the paper, pulling it from its confinements.

“ENEMIES! AT THE BAY!” A shout emerged from the camp, making his head snap up before he could even read the letter.

Taking his rifle, he stormed outside his tent, and rushed to near the waters of the bay—their camp.

They have never ventured this close to them, and they irked him. He was now more tense than ever. 

All he wanted was the letter. The letter, the letter, the letter.

A lump forms in his throat. Oh, he was tired of this. He wanted to come home, he wanted his Allise. Going into cover, he raises his rifle and shoots at the nearest man who was also aiming for him. A pull on the trigger caused the man to slide for cover. 

Reloading his gun, he waited for an opportunity. The war was making him confront feelings he never wished to admit. Maybe… maybe… he would have listened to her. What if he did? It was what he wanted. He wanted to embrace Allise, kiss her tenderly, bask in the warmth of hers, engage her in love, and be engulfed in her own form of love. He would be happy. He would live knowing he loved, and was loved. The man emerged again, and this time the man had no opportunity to find cover. Square on the forehead, the bullet flew.

He advanced, taking cover from the bullets that sought him out. Every advancement he made, his bullets met tragedy. They could run away. Away from all of it. Royalty. Warner never really cared for it, only the glory. But with Allise… he did not need glory, whenever he thought about it, she gave him all the glory he needed. How… how he needed to go home. Maybe if he lived without the shame and guilt of his inclination to be with her, to possess her completely, to build a family with her, maybe… he would stop looking at wars, and meaningless fucks to be truly happy. A bullet almost comes flying towards him, and he snarls, gunning down the man who dared. Now, he was empty, bullets were now lost on him due to the rush of their attack.

“Commander!” His head snapped towards the sound, and it was Althius who was beckoning him to come to the more broad cover. Warner inhaled a breath, and ran to take cover with the boy. 

Althius was breathing erratically, pumped with the need to please, and fear. He looked at Warner’s hands, and knew. “D-did you run out of bullets?” He questioningly shouted at the Commander amidst the loud bangs of bullets around them. Warner could only clench his fist, and nodded. He could run for it. Go back to the camp, and secure ammunition for him and the bo— “Stay put here, Commander. I’ll go back to the camp, and get us some.” He shouts, then he runs for it.

Warner shouted at him to halt when he saw that he was running like hell to get there. He huffed a laugh under his breath. Well, that boy was going to get rewarded immensely. Looking down in his hand, the tremor never leaves. What was it? The rough hold from the rifles, or fear? The fear that he might never come home, and see…

Closing his eyes shut, he looked for resolve. 

The letter. It was sitting in his tent, unopened, unharmed. He needed to get it. He needed it. Needed it more than anything. He could not die without having read it.

Breaking him out of his trance was Althius, holding heavy loads of ammunition for them. A big smile breaks out of the boy’s face, as he kneeled in front of him, covered, and gave the ammunition to the prince. Taking them, Warner reloaded his rifle, and nodded at the boy for his bravery. 

“You did well.” Warner’s voice booms amongst the noise, and the boy beams with glory.

Nodding, all teeth of smiles. “Thank you, Comman–”

Warner’s body jolted.

What?

Touching his face with his fingers, he then looked. Blood was now on his face, fresh, and red. And?

And?

He looked down to see Althius laying motionless in front of him. A hole in the side of his cheek, blood continuing to pour out. His eyes open, and now robbed of the glimmer he pestered the prince with. Ammunition rested at his hand, and a rifle lying lifelessly on his shoulder, body twisted in an uncomfortable position.

He could only force himself to look up to the man who was now reloading. Finding his chance, his sight was now red with rage. Sprinting at the man, whose eyes were now wide. Warner was a large man, both in height and in built making the man fear for his life as the latch stuck on his weapon.

Tackling the man to the ground, he takes his knife and lodged the sharp end onto his stomach. Plunging it again and again, and he didn’t know just how much more. The man now stared at the sky, dead to the world, and the prince still continued to gut him like a pig in a slaughter. His comrades came in his aid, and covered the prince who seemed lost in his rage. 

The noise soon died down, and he was the only one heard. 

“Commander.” A voice says from behind him, breaking him out of his tance. 

His body shook, and his breathing erratic. Looking down at his bloodied hands, he stood up, and looked at the men. They were all looking at him with horrific faces, fear. He was covered in too much blood. As if he bathed in it. 

Stumbling a bit, he regained his footing. His face scrunched up, then straightened once again. He looks towards the body of Althius Fyres. 

Pointing towards him, the finger filled with tremor, he addresses the air. “Take him.” His voice says in a low whisper. “Alth…” He stops, “That boy is Althius Fyres… a highborn’s son. Take him.” He says, walking away, and towards his tent. 

He felt like hell. He ached so much, all over. The Commander didn’t know how much more he could take. He was dying by the minute, the desire to abandon everything was coming to mind. 

Sitting in his field bed, he stared blankly. Too much grief overcame him, and he wanted to ruin something, to kill someone for his rage. He swore that he will kill the war once and for all, he will make those lowlives suffer. He fucking swore it.

Putting his head on his hands, his eyes darted to the letter.

The letter.

His hand shook, picking it up. As if he were to be rough, it will surely crumble away to a heap of dust.

Inching it close to his nose, he was greeted with the scent of lavender—of her—and a tear escaped from his eye, brows scrunching up from the pent up grief.

 

 

My dearest, Warner.

 

 

I It is I, you know who I am. I grow worried, and sick for you. Things I hear have not been great, and I am worried deeply. You must be wondering as to why this letter is to be sent, and I for one… could only bear this. I did not have it in me to write to you normally. I could not bear to pretend. And then, I write to you as a woman who has admired you wholeheartedly, who has loved you for every waking moment of her life.

 

I write as a woman who misses her lover. Do not think of me as anyone else, I beg of you.

 

Oh, the lonesome I feel here. I hear that things are not easy, and I wish for you to be strong, to have hope. To feel that you have it within yourself to succeed. 

 

I do not wish for you to bring victory to the kingdom, I do not wish for you to be acknowledged in the highest regard, I do not wish for you to get another badge of honor from the King.

 

I wish for you to come home safe to me.

 

The hour is dark, and I don’t dare to imagine you. I wish I was brave to imagine you, but I’m not. You can be the brave one among both of us, but I can’t. For I fear for you. And I know better. 

 

They all see you, and see how strong the walls you’ve built around yourself, but I know. You grieve, and you feel, and you love. And in the war, I know you feel all of these things, and you feel them without admission. 

 

Even if my presence is not there to try and comfort you, I sincerely hope that my words can. Know that daily, I look into the sky to pray to you. You cannot hear them, but I write to you and whisper to you everyday. 

 

You will survive, Warner. You will come back to me, and I shall comfort you, and let you grieve in the privacy of my eyes in where you feel the safest. I’ll listen to your stories no matter how dim they can get. I’ll let you hurt me, love me if it was to make you feel happy. In the dark of night, I wish that you can find it in yourself, no matter how hard it may be, to find the resolve I know you have to come home.

 

I will do anything to see you here, to what you, smell you, and to exist alongside you. I think I… have you in my veins. There will be times that I feel such strength, and I may be naive, but I think they’re from you. When you fight, and slay enemies, I feel you, and I feel strong. There will also be times where I feel much grief, and I think of you, and my heart breaks for I am not with you. How I wish to be. How I wish you would let me.

 

The air looms of anticipation for good news, and I still have faith. I need to have faith. And if you are reading this, I love you.

 

I can never love somebody else, and I long for you. Not a day goes by that I don’t feel you in my skin, not a day goes by that I don’t seek you out in places you’ve never been. The portrait still hangs in my chest, wrapped in my neck. It shall stay there for I am yours.

 

I am irrevocably, undeniably, and exceptionally yours. Until the end of time, and even after.

There are no words, the emotions harbored but my feelings transcends more than the words uttered by me, transcends the progress of time, transcends the length of distance. I cannot give you anything more but the assurance that I feel for you deeply—believe in you deeply. But I do remind you. I am just an admirer today, nothing more. Do not think of new as anything else. 

I shall be waiting for your return. However long that might be, I shall wait for it.

 

I love you, Warner. Now, and always.

 

 

-A

 

 

His eyes clenched shut, and he felt himself fill with life. 

Warner presses the letter to his lips, his hand clutching it tightly, the white paper now stained with the dried blood from his troubles.

Through this he could smell the softness of the lavender, of her scent that takes his soul from the grave, and he lets it.

He lets the tears fall, the tears that were lodged in his throat for days on end. The letter rested firmly at the softness of his lips, as the prince felt the grief of what he had been dealt with. 

No one dared to disturb the commander. No one dared to check up on him, to give him news of the fallen soldiers, and of new strategies to give. They allowed him the privilege to feel, and mourn, and to find it within himself to bring them all back home once and for all.

 

Chapter 8: All Better

Three months.

Three whole months. 

That was how long it's been. For the world, it was three months. With Allise, it felt more than that. Three months? No, it did not feel like three months to her. It felt like the taxing stretch of a clock, struggling to find the numbers to a time it knew.

The sounds to her were dimmed as if she were submerged in water so deep she couldn’t be moved. 

“Allise, honey, you should go down.” Sierra, Allise’s mother says, her worry for her daughter etched into her face. “Your father is worried, your siblings…So an I.” She muttered softly.

Allise could feel her body—even if she tried—it was incapable of functioning. 

It didn’t help that she hasn’t received a letter for two months. 

Licking the dryness of her lips, she stares at the window. The sun rays are filtering through the cracks, shiny things, festive enough to plunge into her but she was not willing. “I…” The voice came out hoarse. “I’ll come down in a little while.” She says, and even as her mother left, Sierra knew her child was lying.

The whole family worried for Prince Warner but they never dared to express that worry towards Allise. They knew of their bond, and they knew that if they were worried, then Allise was thumping on the walls crying for salvation.

Her letters had been unanswered, no more for Allise. She… could not bear to write anymore.

Throughout her time in her bedroom, it seemed too thin. The walls felt like a trap of rotten wood, smelling of dust, and root. The floor was made out of grass, green, and anticipating feet that walked for her. The air was stifling, like polluted air of companies that ceased her breathing. She felt as if her room was a prison. 

Where was he? 

Is he well?

Is he eating well, sleeping well? 

Her brows furrowed, and she felt the well of tears climbing up her throat like persistent thorns. 

How did this happen? When he left for the first war —two years too he was on the battlefield—she never felt so spoiled by life, by waiting. She never felt this much anguish over the fact that he was nowhere.

Allise felt the swift kiss of death as she waited.

 

—

 

Seven months.

Her gut coiled at seven months.

Allise never really quite realized that, until it was pointed out to her by her siblings.

She had just been reading a book, basking in the angel of the morning—paper dusting under her fingertips, the action of the words jump on them.

Then—

“I wonder how Uncle Warner is. We have not received any letter for months.” Haveena says in a curious tone, alongside worry.

As the family conversed, she gathered how it took for her to move, and to be able to hear and be a participant of that conversation. Somehow… it was a relief to know that Warner had not written to everyone. She missed him, and that was a fact.

But she knew it would be her nightmare if she thought that the letter she last sent him—before the letters from him were still existing—made him uncomfortable, and didn’t bode well with him as the war went on.

Allise would feel horrible about that, she knew so.

“Have you heard anything from him? No?” Elias says to the young girl, making her big eyes chil crinkle— clueless, terribly, and hearteningly lonely eyes—she then shakes her head. No news to her part either.

And that… might be the start of the crack that was only mended by a small kit to open up once again.

 

—

 

In the ninth month, Dyanna would be running at the castle walls, and cheering so much—a tabloid in hand.

Queen Sierra Caelthorne, furrowed her brows at the girl, and shook her head. “Stop that at once! How unladylike!” She says, and Dyanna could not hear.

“The War—” She says rapidly, all from the clumsy running and the poise-less jumping.

At her words, the family perks up. Allise sat up, and clutched her chest. She felt the pricks of tiny beds onto her feet—nervousness coating her skin. Please be good, she thought. She needed good news, she needed something to take joy in.

Dyanna shook the tabloid. “The-the men are coming home from the war! It’s done—it’s over!” She shouts, jumping yet again with joy.

“Stop, unladylike!” Sierra says, but she smiles at her children, relief coiling the mothers veins, then planting a kiss on the joyous King River Caelthorne.

Elias cheered in the corner, and brought a kiss to his cross necklace. Haveena had her mouth agape, a smile on her face as she digested the news of the eldest princess.

And there was Princess Allise Caelthorne, she felt the familiarity of the dampness on her cheeks. Her hands shook, and she felt such happiness consume her. There was a distinct feeling of what blessed her, and she couldn’t hear any more. The only thing needed to be done was to wait for his return, and Allise was anxiously waiting for it.

It will be a time. It doesn’t matter if there was still an unanswered letter, a love confession, it doesn't matter anymore.

She aches for him to get home.

That day, she discovered that the world had been lighter, once she heard the day after of how the other men were now home with their families.

No royal blood, and she knew that already. The highborns were deployed somewhere much farther than the others. Prince Warner could be home a week from now, and that made her pulse with anticipation. 

 

 

—

 

“Still nothing?” Allise says, out of breath. 

She had just come down from her room when she heard the devastating news that the body of Jamus’s older brother—Althius Fyres—had been delivered to the Fyres house. Allise wrote a comforting letter to her dear friend, not assuring that it will help, but a kind word will do him good she hoped.

Elias shook his head, and pointed to their father who was reading a letter. 

“Your uncle is well.” River Caelthorne stated. 

At that, Allise’s brow twitched. 

He’s… giving letters.

When he had never responded to hers. Months of no reply to the letter she sent with her soul, blood engraved. She didn’t really expect something grand, but she expected…something. 

She felt such weight, and embarrassment. Maybe he…saw it as something so terribly disgusting, and he’ll not come back to see her anymore. She’s sure that he will be most distant to her when he comes back. 

She felt sick. What had she done?

Stepping forward, her feet unsteady. “W…what did he say?” She whispered.

River shrugged, and placed the letter down, and Allise looked at it as if it was treasure on an isolated island. “He says he might take longer there. That… there’s a lot of things to do. But he’ll come back.” He simply states. 

Her breathing shallows, she couldn’t. She… could disappear. Her eyes drift to the ground, confusion in her veins as she speaks, “Did… di-did he say anything about me?” 

At that, her father looks at her with sympathy. River knew of the connection his brother and his daughter shared. Seeing her in ache, and longing for her beloved uncle breaks him, and he wished Warner could just come home already now that the war is done.

“I’m sorry honey, he must’ve been too busy to be more detailed. I’m sure he misses you.”

He was lying. That was a lie, she thought. He’s disgusted by her. 

But…she still wished to see him.

Nodding slowly, she exited the study, and made her way back to her room. Sitting at her bed, she contemplated everything. 

She can’t keep doing this. She can’t keep pushing herself to someone who would never look at her that way. It was demeaning to her, and it is most uncomfortable to him. She winced at the thought. She truly was just a young girl with no regard to the consequences her musings would bring. 

Warner Caelthorne was everything to Allise Caelthorne. If he wanted for her to cease this, then that’s what she would do.

She was to bury it.

She aches, and is weakened.

That day, the Princess Allise sealed something shut, and she wrote to never open it again.

She now swears that she will never confess to him anymore. Never push herself towards his affection to feel the resemblance of true warmth. She can’t keep doing it. It was not healthy. Not for him. She would do…anything to keep him how he’s always been with her, even if it meant shutting down what took years to be built up.

Allise Caelthorne is officially done for.

The thought in itself set her to lie down, and bury her face in the pillows as she sobbed. It was a hard task. She wished she could talk to someone about it. A mind doctor, perhaps? No. That doctor would only sell that information somewhere, and it would be most scandalous. 

She wanted her mom. Sierra Caethorne could comfort Allise better than anyone, but even she is not applicable. No one can know about this, and it makes it more complicated. Why did she make her life complicated like this? Not being able to tell a soul, not being able to express what she wants to do, say what she wants to say.

She is out of her mind with her delusions, and she deserves to rot in bed. 

 

—

 

“Honey, please eat.” Sierra says at the foot of the bed, a hand on Allise’s hip. 

Little Allise is one of those Caelthorne children that had cases of deep solitude, and deep feelings. They tend to grow weary of the world, and will resort to hiding themselves away when it gets too big for them. Sierra worries for her youngest daughter. She was the most light, frail, and porcelain glass amongst all her children. Allise feels everything, and she suffers for it.

Standing up, she places a soft kiss to her daughters forehead. “Ally, please. Your are too smart for this, please eat.” She says, and she waited for her…anything. 

Still lying on her side, back facing Sierra, Allise’s mother sighs. River had advised her to let her be. Confident that his daughter will rise up on her own, Sierra thought that maybe he was right, but a mother will try.

Singing, Sierra nods. “Alright. I’ll leave you be.” She says, caressing her head one last time, then leaving the room.

Tears dropped from her face, as she buried herself. It was all too much. It was not enough. Is this how she’ll live? A fact so grave, one so deep, like a plunge from an elk’s antlers, twisting her, making her writhe in pain. Is that how it truly was?

Is this the feeling of love… never to be?

Did she turn into one of those kinds of heroines?

 

—

 

Five days Allise has been in bed, she will push her feet to the ground to wash her face, her armpits, and all she can reach with her hands. She seldom ate food, and can only drink water, and eat fingers of fruits.

The royal family worried immensely for her, and she couldn’t bear herself to get her out of the rot she was in. There was nothing in the world for her now. She could only perish, wait to be married off, and live the rest of her life in crippling loneliness. Only existed to wonder every now and then on the ‘What if I had done this?’ Or ‘What if I had said this?’ 

Stepping back from the water, she wiped her face, her movements slower than anything. Looking into the mirror, she was greeted by the sunkenness of her cheeks, her frame thinner than they have been. No more fat, no more muscle. Just skin and bones, and she felt such hate. 

Something was horribly wrong with her from birth. That was the only reason. How could she be the one to live with such monstrosity of a secret? How can one person grow attracted… to her own relative?!

Her uncle! 

Throwing the towel sharply in the sink, she cries, and slammed to the bed—a bed that she somehow made her own—and cried at the pillow that muffled her frustration.

Her door once again opens for the millionth time today, and she only wished for peace. She wished to be left alone. Left to her devices, and grieve for whatever she buried.

A tray has been set on the table behind her, a platelet of food again, perhaps. 

Then the bed dipped.

Someone sat there, and she didn’t want to acknowledge it anymore. She…didn’t have any will to raise herself up for her family. She was done trying to be… her.

In the moment of calm, in a moment where the stars and moon meters in the sky, there is a sudden silence that can only be said as relief. 

That was that, when a calloused hand, one that touched dirt and life touched her own hand that rested on her hip.

Her eyes opened slowly, and for what felt like the slowest moment in her life, she twisted her head to see.

There in the flesh, true in her eyes. Eyes sunken by the horrors, built bigger than she saw him last, face unshaven, black hair long—to his shoulders now. A warmth in his eyes that she can never forget. For it’s always for her. Hers alone.

Warner.

The Prince Warner Caelthorne.

The Uncle.

Her dear Uncle Warner.

With a cry from her lips, she sat up to pull her to him. Her arms tangled into his neck, face buried deep. She sobs, and embraces him like the clouds would embrace the moon.

His arms were shaky as his hands slid from her waist to her head. He plasters Allise tight to his frame, and she then felt how much heat he emitted. There were no embraces like this back then, isn’t there? No amount of familiarity, and warmth. This was it. A love incomparable to any other. One that was true to her word. One that transcends time, words, and meaning.

Pulling her face from his neck, her hands find his cheeks, caressing, her eyes plastered to his features. She looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears, and lips stretched to a smile. One of relief. 

She was too young to feel like this. She vowed herself not to feel this way ever again.

Warner could only look at her as she took him in. His eyes were unrelenting as it stared into the deep of her soul. Her hand, curious, and shaky, wanders through his cheekbone, forehead, and then to the scar in his right eye. There was a gash there—more scarred, it looked like it must’ve been painful.

Her heart aches as she traced the outline of it on her finger, his eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly under her skin. 

Acting on instinct, she leaned closer to press a soft kiss on the scar. A tradition, a habit the two enforced upon one another. When she was much younger, when she hurt herself, scars herself, her Uncle would comfort her and kiss it better, and she adapted to it.

Now, it seemed as though… It was something too entirely intimate to keep track. This was not a scar from a fall, not a scar from a splinter. 

This was a scar from a battle won, a scar from a blade that intended to kill and rob him of life’s gifts. 

Warner’s brow furrowed lightly and shook his head, before smiling at her. His hand, rough and steady, stretched to caress her cheek—one sunken by madness. 

In her sight, there was also a new scar on the inside of his wrist, deep and healed—but there to look so tormenting. Nuzzling herself on his hand, she takes it, and planted a soft kiss on it too.

She couldn’t speak, she was too happy, too elated. Her head was filled with fog, and the silliest softest dreams that befitted a girl her age. She wondered why no words left him either. Was he that happy to see her too?

Putting the hand she kissed to her lap, she smiled so softly at her Uncle, and he tilted his head, and smiled warmly in return. 

“All better?” Her voice, rising up from the grave asks, caressing the scar with his thumb.

Looking down at her hand, his eyes relaxed, and his shoulders seemed to do the same. It was as if her voice had been confirmation of her. It was the truth that she had existed in front of him. True, all true this time.

He smiles at her, looking deep into the eyes that hold so much love, and innocence.

“All better.” 

 

Chapter 9: The South's Peace

He could not sleep. 

He could try, he could try squeezing his eyes shut, making them twitch all night and morning.

He could try walking, and he shall stare at the moon with anger and comfort, making him also each morning with it in his veins.

Warner Caelthorne found it amusing how much he sought sleep these days— it was truly an amusing fact when he found out—but when sleep did find him he would be riddled by the night, tormented by its shine, and its mysteries. 

Nightmares filled by every terror known to man has been brought to him, and he could only shake himself and force sleep once again.

But a few moons ago—when he was still at the soils of the war—it had been different. He dreamt of a nightmare that made him go cold, one that placed bright fear in his heart more than anything else.

It had been Allise.

His dear Allise.

A prisoner of war, one to taunt him with and make him comply. It was his fear now as he thinks about it. He fears the life he’ll lead if they had lost the war, and if the enemy were to use Allise and make him a puppet.

It will happen. He will be anything for them, he will enslave himself for them, let them hurt him, cut him, burn him as long as her safety at that day was guaranteed.

In his dreams, she was bloodied. One soldier, a faceless stranger, would be placing his dagger into his small body, over, and over again. Her eyes would be blank, as he stabbed a lifeless one.

He was sure he could feel it. He can feel himself trying to wake up. He can remember screaming, shouting at the dream—dread washing over him hard and fast—and then he was doing the same as he woke.

After that dream…sleep could not find him.

His family expressed concern for him, and he wished he could appease them and tell them that he was alright. I only love the night more now, he could say. But he did not want to lie to his family, he did not like the feeling when their concerns only truly stem from their love for him. They also insisted that he was to stay at the castle for the meantime, have the royal doctors check on him every time the doctor could because they know he will not bother to do it himself. He lets it.

But… Warner was occupied at night, and the space opposite of him always assumed the form of a figure so devious, it harms his most beloved. 

So he will walk with a purpose, feeling the doorknob twist, he would check on her—every night never once refraining. 

When he knocked the first night, his hands felt cold, and he felt the urge to throw up everything he had consumed the night before. 

 

“Allise, A-allise?” He knocked on the door, his mind barely conscious of how many times he did.

Allise then opened the door, a robe wrapped around her frame, eyes wide as they stared up at him. Innocent, trusting, beautiful—safe. Her brows furrowed, looking around. “Uncle?” She questioned, sleep still clear in her eyes.

Placing a hand on his stomach, he gulped, and looked at the ground. He was being paranoid, being much too difficult disturbing the princesses' sleep like he had. 

His one foot stepped back, and he bent his head. “I’m…I apologize, I…” He said, barely continuing before he felt himself retreating, about to go back to his room.

“Uncle?” 

His body froze, and he looked back at the girl most precious to him.

Taking a breath, he looks at her. “Yes, sweetheart?” He breathed deeply.

Wrapping the robe tighter to herself, the princess looked him over, worry etched on her young face. Worry for him. And that thought shouldn't delight him as much as it did at that exact moment.

She looked at the halls, and then smiled softly, eyes full of warmth. “Do you want a cup of tea?” She asked in a whisper, opening her bedroom door a smidgen.

No. 

He felt the cool coil of something horrible in his stomach, and he had the instinct to just run ahead. Run from this. 

He has been actively running from this.

And yet… he’s always here. 

Even in theory, even in his mind palace, he’s always outside her door, always peeking at the corners to see if anything lurks. One that he will take, make suffer, and pluck from the world. Enemies…even her lovers. Their lives were his. His alone, forever.

Biting his lip, he stared ahead, his brows furrowed. He denies himself her company, there was nothing good that could come out of it—even if only good for him ever came from it.

Warner couldn’t forget that night after the brothel, he was ashamed, and he swore to never do it again. 

Though strangely… he never felt guilt when in front of Allise. He’s never hid away in her presence, never really felt his identity gone from his feet like he expected to. Seeing her was normal, more normal than it ever was—worse, though. He craved it, and it made him calmer, sane somehow.

With a gulp, he nodded. “You uh– have tea in your room?” He asked, curious about that. If it was there up for ready made imdulgement, it must be cold—boring tea, nothing special that is warranted for him to be invited in.

“Oh, no.” She shook her head, grinning. “I’ll get some.”

“Now? In the kitchen.”

“Yes, Uncle. That is where they are.”

Tapping his foot, he looks towards Allise. She still looked at him with worry in her eyes, her arms crossed in assessing him.

He tilts his head. “What?”

The air felt still as she shook her head, words hanging from the air like a lifeline waiting to be grabbed. He realized it then how much her words meant to him. He wanted what was inside her head at all times, needed to know what dined there. 

Stepping closer, he shook his head the same, a feeling so grave overcomes him. “Say it.” He orders and it sounded like he was talking to a small soldier. He detested the thought of her even withdrawing her thoughts from him, and she will not name the reason as to why.

Her eyes—big, and shining like the diamonds in her ears that he bought for her—looked up at him with apprehension. “Nothing… it’s just that I think I see you here often, Uncle. Walking like a ghost who haunts, walking the halls aimlessly, and not daring to step into what he truly desires to... go.” He sighs, eyes closing shut, exasperated. “ I-I know you don’t sleep, I know. You eyes…” She switches her gaze every now and then through both of his eyes. “They don’t sleep, they don’t shut—they can’t. The healers told me that tea might help.”

“You’re much too young to worry about me.” He says, after feeling his heart beat wildly out of his chest, that he had to step back from her presence.

“I… turned fifteen when you were at war.” She muttered. “Is another added year enough for me to be aware that I worry for you? Can it be… temporarily sufficient? Because…” She laughs softly, but her voice shakes. “ I can’t age anymore just yet. I have to wait to be… valid to feel worried for you?”

Before even thinking, he pulled her to his chest, caging her in an embrace that she never expected. He loved her dearly. More than anything in his life—more than his own life, he loved her. She understood far more, but the deepest parts of him could not have it.

Letting her be the only one who cares for him, understands him to the core, loves him more than the sky itself was… far worse than the lust that he feels. Desiring her was easy to navigate. Needing her? That was a different tale.

Planting a kiss on the top of her head, he pulls away slightly to brush his thumb through her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mutters, shaking his head. “Tea is a good idea, darling. Go on then.” He says, releasing her, then giving her a small smile.

She sniffles, and looks up at him, her eyes pooling with tears—beautiful. She nods, and leaves for the tea.

Sighing, he enters her room. 

He could have imagined it at that moment… the smell of her greets him, and he feels the comfort of home. The true home he sought after. The kind that felt like coming home after being in trouble in the field. It smelled like something from the past, and he didn’t know if it did smell like it, or he had looked for fragments of moments that had the need to be correlated to her.

Her window was open, and his brows furrowed. Stepping closer to it, he closed it shut. What if a man with vicious intent had entered her room? Took her? What then? He was to tell her about that. She needed to worry more. They were at war.

The corner of her room was filled with dolls—the indication, the hard indication of innocence and youthfulness that is far from reach for a man like he was—he felt the surge of guilt in his stomach, needing to look away from it. 

Casting his eyes on her bed—a spot her crib once was as a baby—he touched the sheets and felt a smile on his face when he saw a small stuffed rabbit on the pillow.

Even if... the relationship between them was now tainted with something else, he still remembered her fondly as his youngest niece.

The girl in ponytails, who ran across his estate, dolls given by him in hand. She was always at his manor, even if the travel could be far. The princess loved it there, and he loved her immensely there. He never admitted it but he wished for her to be there all the time. Talking to him, playing, laughing her day away. The manor felt more alive wherever she was around, and when her presence was gone he felt… the need to seek out other things to occupy his time. 

The door opens, Allise carrying two cups of tea, eyes trailed on the teacups, scared to spill. 

Coming over to her, he took his cup, and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, one of instinct. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He says, and Allise could only nod.

Sitting at the couch, she placed her piping hot tea on the table. “So?” She says, leaning forward, feet swinging. “Why have you come?”

The tea could use sugar, but he did not mind. Allise could make a dish out of sand, and he would still eat it like the moron he was. Too afraid to mar her confidence, or make her feel horrible.

Sitting opposite of her, he sighs, heavy eyed all of a sudden. “I..." He pauses, deliberating if he should truly say, then decided that he was too...tired for secrets. Maybe not today. "I dreamt that you were in danger, and I… had to come.” He simply stated, drinking more of the tea.

The only thing the princess could do was stare at him, her lips opting to move, then not, then move again, hesitation in her limbs. 

“I’m not.” She settles for the words.

“Your window,” He gestures his hand on the now closed window. “Should not be as open as it was tonight.” 

Looking back at it, she frowned. “Fresh air enters.”

“Something else could enter too.”

She smiles, and laughs softly. “What, like a prince in the storybooks?”

“Well the nearest prince is in the south, and we’re trying to not have them around you in any way since we’re at war.” He says, a smirk on his lips, finding comfort and amusement for the first time in a while. “You don’t have much selection of appropriate princes to climb your bedroom.” 

“You’re a prince.” She says teasingly.

At that, he halts. His breath held the same. There was no scenario in any way that he should be coming to her bedroom. That phrase did not do him any good. It was more than inappropriate. 

It was taboo.

“Issa,” He muttered so quietly, feeling the air bristle through his limbs. He closed his eyes, shaking his head. 

“I know.” She all but just smiles, as if the phrase hasn’t really bothered her as much as it seemed to bother him. “It would be my last one... after that letter.” She says quietly, a whisper in the wind, her eyes staring at the moon. 

At that, Warner regarded her with curiosity. “Last one?” He repeated her words.

Looking back at him, she only nodded her head. The night sky illuminating her best. “I am aware that…” she licks her lower lip, sadness in her eyes. There was a certain loneliness in her, a splitting image of her when he had first seen her after the war. Something that seemed to be going away, but was now back to her beauty—a sickness he hoped to rid of. “I will never bring it up again, or say it again. For I know it… it was not something you would wish to hear from me.” 

No.

That was most wrong. 

That letter. Throughout the war kept him alive, kept him sane, kept him reaching for the green of the grass.

But what can he really do? What was the logical, most honorable thing to do? What would even wait for them if he recognized his emotions for her, if he indulged the… the girl in what she felt? It was not simple. There was nothing simple about what was between them. If she had been a princess of another palace, age the same—in their customs it would not have mattered. But their age was not what could bury their family in shame wasn't it? 

It was the fact that he was her uncle. A man who held her as a baby, one who provided her joy and love as she grew.

So, no. There was nothing to be done. Nothing to say to the princess to sway a decision that should never have even borne fruit. He only nodded, and let the night fly by.

That night—although he was given words that seemed to render him broken—he slept peacefully. He slept more peacefully than he had ever slept. And that night visit to her room, tea in hand, became frequent.

—

Through all the times he’s returned home, the quietness, the reserve, and the content at this moment was different. 

He felt her nose drifting towards the top of his head, the tip of her fingernails touching the end of his long hair that she said she adored. He swore he wouldn't cut it.

She stood behind him, as he sat forward with his eyes on the surroundings, her chin on top of his head, her hands hanging loosely from his shoulders as he sat, his hand holding onto her other hand that was not caressing his hair.

‘Why are you so quiet?” She once whispered near his ear.

‘I wish for quiet.’ His voice muttered back. ‘It had been a truly loud time.’

The sun looked surreal at the balcony, and he insisted that they were to sit there and enjoy the view. Warner had loved how peaceful it is, how it lacked chaos that he had grown accustomed to. He felt…immense relief when he came home, he told her.

Warner was aware that Allise worried for him. He was much quieter than she was used to, he told her not to worry.

Her family had thrown a party on his behalf yesterday. He scarcely saw her, making him terribly anxious. This morning, he knocked on her bedroom, breakfast in hand, and a prospect of peace that resides in her balcony.

“ Issa ,” he softly spoke, then she muttered hmm? sound.

A short pause, and he felt such warmth strike him inside. Something bringing to a boil. “I thought my life was about to come to an end.” He says.

Tightening her arms around him, she nodded. The young girl had always felt for him, residing in his veins for longer than she could and she’s always said it. That she wanted all of his pain to go away. If she could take them, she would. 

“The Fyres boy,” He softly whispered, something broken, and her breathing hitched. Warner Caelthorne had not opened himself up like this to her, never before. For she was just a child, she still was—but he trusted no one else than Allise.

“You went to his memorial.” She whispered on top of his head.

“Yes, he was just like Elias.” 

Her thumb ghostly caresses his hand. “Oh… I’m so sorry, Uncle.” 

A brief silence, then he intertwined his hand with hers. He was bleeding vulnerability, baring his soul to her, forever if it were possible. He wouldn’t have been able to tell this to her father, for death was normal in the battlefield…but as the sun ceased to show in the sky, are they not just mere mortals who fall in the thorns of grief?

He was not comfortable to do this either, his hands would tighten and un-tighten around hers, as if trying to find the right words to say.

“The boy was… eager to be in laws,” He scoffs.

At that she laughed softly on top of his head.

“Do not laugh at that, it will never happen.”

Allise could only snicker, and nodded. “I did not say it will.”

“It won’t.” He says strongly, twisting his head to see her eyes. 

At that, she felt taken aback. Warner had looked aged, something pale, his eyes were haunted by tales that were kept locked, and it was killing him so slowly. He needed to be heard, be understood, and be someone else aside from his own.

Nodding, she smiles so softly, and his eyes soften. 

She untangled herself from him, and sat beside him to gaze at the warmth of their surroundings. His arm extended to the back of her seat, occupying her space.

Allise looked up at him to see him already looking down at her, she spoke. “He must have gotten close. The Fyres boy.”

“He was just a boy… enthusiastic to please, and it brought him somewhere horrible.”

“It could not be helped, it was war.”

He shook his head. “He ran to get bullets for us.” He looks ahead, his brows furrowed as recollecting the memories he wished to tell. “It was a sudden attack, one we had never seen coming, and they were all…armed to the teeth. Then when I had come empty, he ran to get ammunition. Before I could comprehend it, before I could wrap my head around it, he was dead on the floor. Robbed of the life he should be living." Fuming in frustration, he shook his head. "Why let someone aid me? Get close to me?” His face soured, please filled with disdain, eyes cast down at his clenched fist.

There was some silence—something that cannot be named—she clasped her soft, small hand on his clenched ones. 

“I…” She mutters, making Warner look at her in earnest. Eager to hear what the young girl had to say, holding dearly to what came out of her lips. “I must be too selfish, too rotten to say that I… would…” Her teeth bit the plump of her lower lip. “I would be ready to let anyone lay to waste if it resulted in the outcome of you here with—” She paused, finding the word that she truly desires to use. Tasting it on her tongue. “With us .” She settled on the word, and Warner felt amusement.

“What a cruel thing to say.” He then looked ahead, a smirk playing at his lips.

He had a thing, Allise was soon to realize it. He oddly loved acts of cruelty most, even more when it was from the young girl. If she had been angry, deranged with uncontrollable fury, he would be there, staring at her face—entertained beyond relief that she was blowing up.

“Does that not make you angry?” He questions, a furrow in his brow. “That girl took your doll, your most beloved one, does it not make you angry?” 

Allise, only at the age of six had shook her head. While that girl made her cry out of fury, her mother made her understand that she was more fortunate than most, loved than most. If she had a doll taken from her—wrongfully so—she would be given more, more, and it would not even be from her parents, by other highborns that favored her.

“I would be.” Her uncle would whisper to her, caressing her hair in the fireplace. She was sitting on his lap, face stricken with tears from the snatching of her favored doll.

Her small face looked back at him. “I-it’s okay… mother and father will just get me another one.” She said in her small voice, wobbly, and so broken it had been so beautiful to him.

Warner thought that anyone else could perish before Allise. He knew that she deserved the world, and that anyone who stole from her would have their heads paraded all over the palace walls—a reminder who had been the highest amongst the peasants.

Nuzzling her head with his nose, he clicked his tongue. “Yes, but… it won’t be the same, won't it? Lady Aseilleine’s long gone—cannot make you the same doll ever again.” He frowns, putting her cheek in his hands. “Oh, Allise. That one doll is gone forever, now in the hands of some peasant girl.”

“She’s not a peasan—”

“No, she is. How dare she?” He says, looking at the fire. “She should be taught a lesson, don’t you think?”

The young girl’s brow furrows, too young to comprehend what her uncle was saying. “W-what kind of lessons?” She says curiously, sniffling. “I don’t want to partake in those kinds of things. Mother and father would be angry.”

Warner nodded, respecting the young girl's statement. He had been thinking that he had not cared about that. His dear niece shed tears for a doll that a girl snatched. How dare that girl? While his Allise begged for her to give it back, that darned wench had the bravery to refuse. Refuse, imagine! Refuse the princess? It enraged him beyond relief when her niece ran to him, arms wrapped at his knee, crying. When Iolanthe told him the story, it made his blood boil, wanting to run the damn family to the dust.

“But…” At that, Warner looked down at the girl who stared at him with wide eyes. “If you want to… you can.” She says, then averting her eyes from her uncles who shone with wickedness, canines showing from his grin. She had participated, no matter what she might have thought so.

“Good girl.” He says.

The girl who committed the crime to his dear Allise's pony had turned dead the day after.

—

Sitting in the dining room, Warner was tense. 

River was explaining to them what the King Vaelric Darevaas had sent today. In lieu of the war, he had conceded that he would hold off his men, a hold on the deaths, and the bloodshed they were bringing to each other's door. And he had proposed something for peace... something far greater than the cost of a thousand men. Warner was clenching his fist, anxious. 

A marriage pact. 

It was something that he had wanted to avoid. He could not bear to share a union with that kingdom. He could not subject his nephew and nieces to a marriage pact. 

River would not give Elias. He was his heir, and he was being saved for a union more beneficial than appeasing an enemy. Dyanna was admired by another lord who was already making his appeal with the King, but Warner knew that River was not even considering him. Haveena was unattached to anyone, but everyone was attached to her. And Allise… well, Warner would burn the Darevaas to the ground.

“My children—daughters— I vowed to let them choose the man they wish to marry.” He says, drinking from his glass. The face of a tired man was seen on River, and Warner could see as clear as day that his brother had aged. Far from the youthful boy he once was, and it made him think that he must have aged too. He was aging, adding one more year to him next month. 

Nodding, he looks over at Allise who was talking with the Lottie girl, laughing together. He cleared his throat, brows furrowed as he figured out what to say. “I uh…” He licks his lower lip. “Who are they wishing to marry in our family?”

“The heir prince.” Warner’s stomach churned, dread in the pits of his soul. “Prince Kael. He… counts nineteen years. As old as Elias, a year older than Dyanna, two years older than Haveena, and four years older than Allise. It would not be inappropriate for my daughters, but I… do not want to rob them of the option, of the joy it is to be able to choose who you end up with.” He says, looking towards his daughters. “Sierra and I chose each other, Warner. You know this. No laws, no pressure, and no factors had to exist for us to be together. We chose to be together, and I can confidently say that I’m happy with what I have.” 

Warner smiled at his brother, remembering the tender time of youth. How River would sneak out the balcony window every night, the stray lock of hair he keeps in a box, all sentimental. He couldn’t decipher what he felt when he saw his brother that way, more so when he had returned home from a brothel. Fucking whores had been a temporary relief for the ache for flesh, and he gathered that he was feeling was… jealousy. 

“I hope you won’t mind it, Warner. I was pondering the thought of taking them as guests on your birth tide.” 

“What?”

Massaging his temple, River looked intently at her brother. “Brother, listen to me. Do you wish for your nieces to marry a man they do not know?” 

Warner shook his head, jaw tightening. 

“If not, this could be an opportunity for them to get to know him. Maybe… maybe one of my daughters will like him, and in turn the prince shall as well.” He placed a hand on Warner’s shoulder who remained steady on his seat, no speech on his lips, not even for after River's words. It was already decided by his brother, and he had no say in it. “You do not want another war, do you? You’re exhausted, Warner, I know. I can see it.” 

Warner did not wish to say it. He vowed not to even think about it. It was dishonorable, a disgrace, something one would deem to be disgusting, and he agrees with the thought.

But…

The risk of that fucking prince picking his choices between the princesses did not sit right with him. 

Looking at Allise, her beautiful smile, and the way she was beaming with freedom. Nothing on her finger, just the shine and the innocence of being young was enough for him. If the prince chose Allise, he would not take it well. 

He did not want to think about it, but… he would rather have the war.

He would rather kill every single one of the southerners than have the risk of Allise marrying someone other than him.

Chapter 10: Shackles of a Dream

And it had been romance.

Through glances, through the touch of hands, through the way eyes had danced around with one another, it had been romance—a love beyond imagining.

Hands switch to the palms, swaying with the music as the orchestra behind plays and plays. 

It was a romance. Through and through.

A romance that she was to never indulge herself in. 

Dancing, switching, and dancing again, she smiled tenderly at those who held her hand and let their feet be stepped on by her.

“ That’s the prince from the south.”

The orchestra plays, and plays.

Allise felt her breath as her feet quickened, and her hair whipped to her face—almost losing poise. She laughed, her dance partner, Elias, also laughed.

“ I heard he was here to marry one of you three.”

Ball in full swing, all those with a name were in it—all eager to meet the enemy who was all smiles and shining like gold amidst the other lords and ladies. It seems as though the revel was not just for her Uncle’s return, but for the Prince as well.

“ You know, princess, you could be the next Queen in the south. Bring peace in our kingdoms.”

Can it be romance? Still romance through all of these? Could she truly hold onto her tale of perfect romance, the fulfillment of youth love in these circumstances? 

Leaning at the door of the library, her eyes on her feet, loud noise at her back. She felt the weight of everything on her shoulders. There were no words to describe her dread. She had been living a dream, one that made her think that life outside it—the one she has—was not real.

Allise was a princess. She was the daughter of a king. 

What was the right of a girl like her? Even if her father always told them they had choices, and that they are free to do what they wish with their lives—it had always been a lie. He had no control over it either. When the sun goes down…the king’s children will always be arsenals, accessories for the throne. 

Aside from it, what was the point of it all? She was not the heir. Nothing would be hers, not really. She can’t work for herself, she was much too young, too valuable to the kingdom for labor.

The only thing a girl like her is good for was to always get married. Bear children for her husband. Allise never did try to pay attention to it. How they always say she would be the most caring, and beautiful mother. How she’s to be the most beautiful wife, that will make her husband incredibly happy.

Being a wife and a mother was all a girl like her can do, otherwise…there will be a reckoning of how she dreamed more for herself.

But that was not the true thing, was it not? Being a wife and a mother was not a thought she hated, she only hated it if the thought was not about her Uncle.

She has been living in a dream.

Perhaps it was the romance of it all. The lack of it enabled her to imagine more.

Now… she was walking from the sweetest dream.

Taking a deep breath, Allise looked ahead, and let it go. She needed to grow. She needed to grow into the shoes she was given.

Turning around, she opens the door, and walks to the ball once again, a smile plastered on her face.

“Have you seen him?” An arm interlocks with her, and whispers. Allise did not need to look to know it was her dear friend, Lottie.

Her jaw tightened. “Yes, he’s being surrounded, is he not?” She says, and she was painfully aware of how bored it sounded in her lips. Pursing her lips, she looks at Lottie who was too busy trying to peek at the prince, while the princess thought she had offended her friend. “Approaching him is not criminal, Lottie. You can talk to him.” 

“Nonsense, I’m not of equal standing.”

“You are one of the ladies in here, the daughter of the King’s advisor. You can.” Allise says, sighing at the scene. There was no joy left in her limbs, no certainty of her dreams.

She felt dead to the world.

Her uncle was not around, and she found it irritating and ridiculous when the whole thing was thrown in his honor of return. Allise knew that Warner did not particularly like these gatherings, and she did not know where he was. Entering the library—their solace—and she discovered that he was not there. She was confident that…maybe if she saw him she'd be more brave, and confident—more alive.

Lottie gathers up the courage to approach the prince, but much to Princess Allise’s dismay, she needs to be there—forced to be—and talk to him with glee.

Prince Kael Darevasaas is a boy to her. Allise thought that he was really beautiful, head white as snow, and truly truly pretty. Perhaps too pretty for her liking, but what did she expect really? Elias is also a pretty boy, and that’s because they were young royals. Nothing to prove just yet, no calluses in their fingernails, no darkness in their eyes. 

She hated to admit it but there was an appeal to her in seeing that a man was touched by life itself. One that had a boil within themselves that could reach the surface at any given moment.

It excited her. It delighted her beyond anything, and that fact frightened her.

“Princess Allise,” The prince greets as approached, flashing her a smile that must have brought many girls to their knees. Lottie certainly seemed to have smiled more at this moment more than before. Allise bows, and gives him the same smile. “I must say, you are very beautiful, no, radiant tonight.”

It was all too boring. She had heard it before, and she will keep hearing it. Allise knew from the day she was born that she had been beautiful, and grew tired of reminders—at least the repetitive ones—and she just tends to gauge the people she had conversed with through that alone.

No person with substance will go for the comment of plain beauty for conversation.

“Thank you, my prince.” She says sweetly, her smile showing her teeth. “I trust that you are enjoying yourself?”

“Of course.” He nods, gesturing to the other part of the room. “Your father was very kind to invite me.”

Allise could only smile, and it seemed as though she forgot that her friend was wrapped around her arm. Turning to her friend, she introduced them. “Oh, I  apologize, but this is Charlotte Keller. Daughter of Lord Keller, the king’s advisor.” She proudly says. 

“It’s very nice to meet you, my lady.”

“You too, my prince. It’s been a while since we felt the existence of a new prince here.” She blushed, and it dismayed Allise for a bit. Even if she had the blood of royalty, she wouldn't get to marry him. It was dearly unfortunate for Allise, and she just wished that he would get lost.

“Well, maybe there shall be more princes along the way.” He suggests, casting a glance at Allise. “Of course, when everything goes well that is.” He laughed softly, the sound feeling like a death sentence in the ears of the princess. 

Before she can comment on the matter, his hand extends her way. “May I have this dance?” He questions, flashing her a smile that looked boyish—harmless, and yet she felt unsettled. A pit on her stomach at the thought of getting much closer to him. If he favored her, her father would have no choice but to marry her to him. 

Even if she had feared it, she was not rude. It was wretched to raise with such class, and it covers the rudeness that comes from saying ‘no’ to men that seek her company. 

With a nod, she takes his hand and excused herself from Lottie who was truly glad to give the princess  to the prince. “It would be an honor.” It really is not. 

It was ridiculous to her, how fluid it was for him to dance. He was precise, not missing one single step in his footing, and it was…quite beautiful to her. Elias had been stupid when it came to finding his footing on the dance floor. Like an ape trying to be a man.

His hand on the small of her waist, the other on her hand, he looked intently at her. All pretty, and youthful. “It’s an inconvenience is it not?” He says slowly, leaning close to her ear to mutter the words. “It’s unwanted. It’s something that does not quite fit. Forced.”

At that, she leans back a little to look at his face, the young princess confused, stunned, their faces close together. She did not quite understand, yet she did. It was something unfortunate about being royalty. The lack of freedom. Of choice in matters. Allise was not owned by herself, just like Prince Kael was not owned by himself. They were materials of their kingdoms, owned by the people.

Looking at him, she couldn’t help but sympathize. “It is an inconvenience.” She admits, feeling a weight off her chest.

He then smiles, one that was genuine. One that fit his face, and did not look as though he was trying to be charming for the people who were only present to scrutinize him. She then realized at that, seeing the prince in that kind of light that… oh, he was just a boy. Someone who did not wish for this to happen, just the same as her.

“Thank heavens.” He mutters, looking at the crowd as he sways with her in his arms. Thinking deeply, he shares. “Dyanna would not speak to me, he simply ignores my existence and just gives me polite responses. Haveena… I saw her once, gave a polite greet, and disappeared into the wind. Still have not seen her.” He confessed.

Looking around, she tried to make sense of her sister. He thought about what Jamus had said once again, and she wanted to think nothing of it. It was a sin. And she was in absolutely no position to remind her sister of the gravity when she is in something not ideal herself.

“I want you to know that I don’t like this as much as you do. I saw it in your face. I noticed how you held your breath, your hand clenched…” He bit his lip, brows furrowed as he stared into her eyes. “You’re just a girl. You might be allowed to be married to me, but you don’t have any clue what it would mean to be with me—to my kingdom, you will be a stranger to them. A representative of a house that has slain countless of their people—”

“They slayed ours too.” She defends.

“But you will not be here to make that claim confidently, and you cannot say that.” He simply says, and it was the truth. She would be alone in his kingdom, only stares that bore hatred for her time and time again. “But, I do not wish to talk to you about that just yet.” Breathing deeply, he seemed to clear a slate in his head. “You have a lovely palace.” He says, diverting the conversation.

Only seeming to nod, and give him a smile—one with pride in her house. “Yes, thank you. It’s a warm home.” It truly was.

“Though I must say, you have a very peculiar garden.” He says, a face confused and amused at the same time.

Pursing her lips, Allise could only hide her laugh. “What would be the peculiar thing about it?” She tilts her head.

“For starters… royal gardens consist of roses, tulips, the finest botany for the finest family.” 

She nods, smiling from ear to ear. “Yes, and?”

Looking at her with a barely contained smile, he spoke. “Yours are filled with crops. Potatoes, carrots, and whatnot.”

At that, Allise grinned, feeling warm inside at the fondness of that garden. “Yes, and they’re given to the villagers once harvest season comes.” She says, the pride in her voice prominent.

Smiling down at her, he hums, as if understanding and admiring the sentiment. “But why in the royal garden?” His brow furrowed, his lips in a friendly smile, twirling the both of them in the dance floor. 

Breathing deeply, she looked around, and tried to step to what he was not stepping on. After a brief pause, “It was all planted, and grown by Prince Warner himself.” Her voice softens at the mention of his name.

Seemingly shocked, Prince Kael looked down at Princess Allise with wide eyes. “The War Prince?” He says with bewilderment that she understood far too well.

No one ever really did know how much Warner was capable of such warmth.

“Yes, it was planted by…the war prince.” She says, finding it hilarious—the nickname. “All of them, with tender care.” The explanation stops there as they dance. 

Warner had trained to death in youth when her grandsire saw his potential. One thing that interested him enough, and seemed harmless enough was botany. A man who has served them had taught him how to do what they do, and it created a sense of calm within him, eased his mind into normalcy as he told her. He could not really remember how it had started as a hobby for him, but he did it whenever his hands shook from the blade, and the stain would not leave his hands. His mother did wish for him to learn from the best and plant the roses, and the tulips. He grew bored of them, never really got the purpose of those, when he can grow what can be consumed.  

It delighted her to learn this fact. This is one fact that has separated him from how the rest of the kingdom saw him. He has killed people, he grows potatoes. He humiliates those who he thinks are beneath him, he explains to me what the best fertilizers are. He can be cruel, and yet he is peaceful here.

As the dance went on, the prince conversed with her the endless things he could say. Mostly about his family in the south, the ten of his siblings that half seem to envy him for making the first step towards peace. 

When it ended, she felt truly glad to get to know him. It made the idea of getting familiar with him that much easier, but this did not help her in any way to not be selected. If he had found solace within her that he did not find with the other princess, she’s doomed.

Her breath stills, and she clutched her stomach, returning to the crowd that mingled with one another. Her feet halts as her eyes see Warner staring intently at her, then makes his disappearance in the long room. 

Looking amongst the crowd, she wondered if anyone else plans to go after him. It was the long room after all, striking a conversation there would be most wonderful.

Seeing nobody take a step towards the room, her own curiosity got the better of her, she walked towards the room, hoping to find him alone and talk to him about nothing and everything.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the lack of bustle. It was empty, and she knew that everyone had been in the gathering enjoying themselves at what was supposed to be for her Uncle—who had been camped in the room for heaven knows how long.

Seeing him sit at the corner with a drink in his hand, she smiles. “You’re missing your gathering.” She says softly, mirroring the stillness of the room.

He did not reply, barely even looked at her as his eyes stayed at the flames burning in the fireplace. Gaze empty, or filled with something so much more grave, and it made her feel anxious once again.

“Are you alright?” She asks in concern. 

No answer.

“Uncle, are you—”

“Did you like him?” He spoke, his voice feeling like something that had been dug from a deep grave. 

Clasping her hands, her brows furrow. The prince. Of course, she knew who he had meant. Breathing deeply, she tried to lighten his mood by giving him a smile. “Well, he’s kind. Very much like us.” And he was. The prince had felt genuine from the short moment she had talked to him. 

“But he’s not.” He says, looking at her with eyes that are glossed over with…hurt? Oh, she’s felt such pain in her chest. “I never expected… oh.” He breathed out a bitter laugh. “Never expected for you to swoon over a mere fucking prince.”

At that she flinched, her mood souring. “What?” She whispers.

Downing the last of his drink, he slammed it sharply on the table beside him, his face looking at her as if she had disgusted him beyond relief. Pointing a finger near her face, he smirks, mean and horrible. “Maybe it's what you want. To… to get back at me for…for what? For rejecting you?” He shouts, coming a frustrated hand through his long hair. “So in turn, you wish to quickly marry someone else? Your…devotion to me—” He slams his palm to his chest, looking at her in anger. “—wasted? Is this what you want! To see me this way.”

Shaking her head, she felt tears climb her eyes. He has never been this way, so full of distraught, anger, and had no more composure left to himself. She did not have it in her to mutter a word.

“He plans to marry one of you, do you not understand that? He has to. He is tasked to choose a bride, and out of all of you three—you basked, and enjoyed his company! I cannot get you out of this, Allise.” 

“No… h-he has expressed his disdain and I sympathize with him only.” She cries, trying to dissuade his anger.

Stopping in his tracks, he laughed. “You. You’re a child—and you signed yourself to him.” He points at her, shaking his head. Eyes filled with betrayal, he looked into the fireplace one more, the light illuminating the goodness of his eyes. “You…said you loved me.” He tilts his head, turning to look at her once again, his face trying to make sense of her as it seemed. “He will marry you…” he says, the word bearing such weight in them and it makes his breath quicken. “He will. He cannot help it. And… he will be the one to make you happy for the rest of your days…make you full with his heirs… who…who would not want a marriage with you?” his face crumbles, and he rubs his hand down his face. 

There was no way to describe what the princess had felt. She thought herself too young to comprehend what exactly he wished to say—a part of her thinks that she knows—but thought differently. 

The ache of thinking, and deluding herself has been tiring. Waiting for him, and knowing that an honorable man such as Prince Warner, will never accept the wicked feelings she brings to him. Never. Why would he? 

After a still in the room, his voice booms once again. “You want to be the Queen, is that it?” He says, glaring daggers into her, making her flinch. His feet carried him towards her, his hand clutching her cheeks in a firm hold.

Allise’s brows furrow, frightened of what he might do, fearing him for the first time. He seemed like a man who was living inside his head. He was not conversing with her, he was talking to himself, firing arrows at the voice in his head that made him think of all the things he did not wish to think about.

Trying to pry his hands from her, she looks up at him. “U-uncle…” She tried to speak to him and her voice panicked, but he was not there. He only stared at her, burning holes through her skull. She was beyond confused, and frightened. His hands were searing his skin, as if the feeling of betrayal was scorching her skin. A deer on the barrel of a gun, and she was the one with the bullet. “It’s…” A tear slid from her cheek. “I-it’s not that way…”

“It’s not?” His eyes widened, mocking her words, fury beneath the depths. “How dare you…” He whispers, his voice shaking.

At that moment, she felt the weight of everything on net ears.

If one truly wonders about it, let themselves think of all the possibilities of it…maybe.

Her grip on his forearm weakened at that very moment. She felt her beating pulse, the still of the place, the way only she and him were the ones alive at this moment. 

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

His eyes hardened, eyes watching one to the other, hand loosening their hold on her small face. 

“If I marry him, have his children…” She whispers, her voice carrying something that she was too bare to admit. Something akin to bravery, courage, passion. “If I had done all of it, left here—why does that matter to you—why should it concern you?”

As if she herself was on flames, he parted from her, hissing at the thought. He shook his head, careful not to meet her eyes anymore. The prince was not feeling as brave as he did, was not feeling the anger that bursted in his veins a wind ago. 

Nothing to fear from him anymore.

He shall bear his soul, she cannot hide anymore.

She will not have it.

“If you can terrorize me, torment me—without even knowing it—I can do that too.” Her voice cracks. “I do not understand what you want. And I will never understand what you want, uncle. Why do you do this to me? Why can’t you let me out of the shackles you absentmindedly put me in? You put them to me, and then you urge me to run free—you are rotten!” She raises her voice, feeling the emotions present within her reach the surface, like water in a kettle. “You… have placed me beside you, and you will not be satisfied unless I know for certain that I am placed by your side. You do not want for me to feel trapped, and so you hide as you yourself bind me.”

His eyes burned with words that could never be said, thoughts that are left to unheard, a melody that cannot be. And without another word, he walked past her, exiting the long room, no glance to spare the princess that clutched her chest, as she fought the sob that threatened to break free.

Hearing his footsteps weakened, and the door closing behind her, she felt such grief in her bones.

Sniffling, she looked around her trying to make sense of what she felt. Reaching down, she felt the fabric of her dress, she looked at the wind blowing the curtain, hear the owl hooting on the tree, the smell of the wood burning in the fireplace. She then found herself calm down, safe enough to go back upstairs, to refine what truly should be for her.

As she walked and reached the halls, her eyes were unfocused, too ensnared at the complicacy of what she had been dealt with. She was only so young. Why did it have to happen to her?

Bumping into a body, she looked to see Dyanna, stunned, and now was looking at her with nothing but concern. 

“Allise, are you alright?” She clutched her sister's shoulders, and tilted her head to get a proper look at her.

Snapping back to reality, she smiled, “Y-yeah, I uh… just got tired.” She says, trying to plant a laugh somewhere in her phrase. It felt dry, like an ill fitting corset that did not sit right in her body. There was no laughter there, no smile to give. She just wanted to be alone.

Dyanna’s worry did not cease, and she nodded. But it was evident that she did not believe her in the slightest, but she was never the one to push. That was Haveena, not her. “Alright, then… So you wish to rest? Even if it is for a bit? I can tell mother, and father that you were feeling quite unwell.” She asks softly.

Allise shook her head. “No, I’m alright. And… it’s not a normal gathering.” 

With that, Dynna stood straighter and rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, he thinks he’s a charmer, that prince.” She laughs, now walking arm in arm with Allise, looking at her closely I’d she can walk properly and in turn, her sister was lost in her own world. “We shall be seeing him a lot, and one of us will marry him—might as well get used to him.”

She did not need to remind Allise.

The whole night, the princess placed the mask of deception into her angelic face. She laughed when there was a joke that was too horrible to even smile at, she talked to ladies that bored her to death, danced with lords that sought her company, and talked to her friends even if their words did not penetrate her mind in the slightest.

Inside her head, she was tired.

Terribly tired of being someone other than who she was. Tired of the feeling of her emotions eating her up from the inside until nothing was left of her.

As the night came to an end, she entered her bedroom, taking the uncomfortable dress off of her body, no help wanted. She’s could not bear company, she did not want to put up any front anymore.

She changed into her nightgown, sighing at the body length mirror, and she hoped that sleep would come quickly to her as she walked to her bed.

“I told you to close your window.” 

She jumps, clutching her chest, as she looks at the dark corner of her room, squinting her eyes in the pitch black.

She already knew who it was, and it made her heart beat fast than anything.

“I told you that… someone might come in here.” He emerges from the corner, his eyes red and brooding from tears that escaped him. Tears that people did not think he was capable of. But he was. For her. Only ever for her.

Her breath hitched. “And it is you.”

Warner could only look at her, his face filled with something other than distraught this time, and it made her incredibly curious as to what it was. He was too far. She could not see clearly. Through the time he has disappeared from the gathering that was thrown in his honor, what had he thought of?”

Walking towards her, his gait heavy with emotion, he spoke. “And I wish for it to only be me, until the end of time.” He says so softly, such warmth in his voice that it made her gasp. It felt like god itself came down to end her suffering. “You can understand me, Issa. At some time…you have understood me already—better than anyone I have ever encountered in my whole existence—and you’re right. They are clouds in my head that I just cannot say to you.” He stops in his tracks, looking down at her, and she can see it. Her eyes fluttered, and her brows pulled. She can see now, see it so clearly in the dark of night what was in his eyes.

Surrender.

“You wish to know why I hold you so closely?” He tilts his head, voice as soft as the moon that shone down from the sky. “You wish to know why I can never bear the thought of you in the arms of another?” His hand raised, and caressed her cheek tenderly. “You wish to know why… I place you in shackles? Close to me, near to me always?” His other hand does the same, his gaze then closed down on her plump lips. “That is because…” His thumb brushed a hand on her lower lip. “I’ve always known you are meant solely for me.” Then he lowers his lips to hers.

Her shock was evident on her face, eyes wide, body still. 

He cupped her cheek tenderly, as he pressed his soft lips to her, caressing her in the most tender way possible. A lover with his lover.

Feeling the tension in her jaw, his hand lowers to the side of her neck, thumb caressing the skin, eliciting such comfort within the young girl.

Feeling the silent approval, she closed her eyes, and parted her lips, letting his tongue in to explore her from within.

She had no idea what to do, but she sought to taste him like he was doing with her. She presses her lips the way he was locked and tried her best to mirror what he had been doing. Testing him the way he has been exploring her mouth.

Tongues intertwined with one another, his hand lowering, arm pulling her from the waist to mold into him, get absorbed within his frame. 

She needed him. This was not enough. 

Nothing was enough now that she had tasted what dreams actually tasted. It did stun her, how much he knew how to actually kiss her properly. It dawned on her, the way they truly were different. He will not mirror, he shall not freeze, and it made her unconditionally and terribly happy. Kissing a boy would not suffice, she never thought it would be great anyway. But this… this was different. 

This was romance all over, and she clutched it dearly.

Breaking the lock they had on one another, he stares deeply into her eyes, and nuzzles his nose with hers. Doing the same, always mirroring his uncle, and it earned her a smile from her most beloved. 

Warner could only inhale a large breath, placing his forehead to hers, eyes warm as they looked down at the big ones she had. 

It was romance.

She decided that it already was, as it cannot be said anymore, and it was too sacred to be uttered to the wind. But…everything that she held dear, the warmth she felt in her chest every time she saw him…It was always the same.

Being at one, longing for one, freeing themselves at one—they’re the same. 

They had always been one.

Always in sync, even in matters that are not reached by the lightness of the sun.

He brushed his lips to her cheek, lingering for a long time until he subjected the other cheek the same tenderness. Then her temple, and when he leaned back to look at her one more time…he smiles. Staring at her with so much vulnerability.  He was stripped of his armor, and shown himself in plain sight to see tonight. 

Leaving down to place another soft kiss in her lips—one that shall always render her speechless and pleading for more—he caressed her cheek then left for the door. 

Once again, leaving her alone with feelings that swallows her whole, like monster amidst the deep sea.

But this has been different.

Notes:

Hehe

Chapter 11: Blood of the Royal

Sitting at her bed, she was stunned. Still in spirit, her eyes wide, staring blankly at nothing in the wall.

Allise could not believe it. She could not believe it.

The heat of his lips were still felt, the brush of his lip as it travelled to her lower ones, the way his tongue entered her mouth, feeling her teeth, marking her tongue. 

She had never been kissed before, never knew its importance other than how it was important in the literature she’s read. 

It was so tender .

God , it was so tender. She wants more of it, and she wishes to know the day when he shall bless her with his… expertise .

What had confused her was… why ? Why had he done that, why in the world…

Standing up, she paces the room, her heart beating wildly at her chest, her lips still feeling the electricity of the meeting, her tongue still tasting him and it is making her so…aroused.

Locking her door, she could not run fast enough to her bed. Sitting at the head, she makes haste to gather her nightgown up, exposing her heat to the night. 

Spreading her legs, she licks four of her digits, lathering them with wetness before rubbing her pussy with unrelenting fervor. She whimpered, tears bridging her eyes as her whole palm devoured her cunt with no direction, just chasing the pinnacle of bliss that was derived from how her uncle exhibited dominance of her mouth for the first time.

Holding onto the headboard, she clenches her fist, fighting the urge to cry out. Allise’s legs spread wider, her arm aching from the way she swiped, rotated, fucking grinding herself on her small hand.

Oh god, the things he could do with that mouth of his—it makes her vision darken.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her hip rising from the bed, chasing the hand that was pressed tightly to her nub, rubbing furiously as if the world was about to come to an end.

She needed him so much. She wanted him forever, she was curious. She was curious how it would feel if he was the one doing this to her, if he was fucking her with his fingers. She was sure it would feel good. Sure that it would be an experience that will make her see the heavens above. 

Would he tease her? Make her beg, slap her pussy as she orgasms? Would he be full of filth, whispering things in her ear—things he should never say to a young girl like her, let alone her niece—as he rubs her pussy with his palms that were almost as big as her entire face. 

He would treat her so good, she knew it. She knows he’ll take good care of her pleasure.

But what if he didn’t? What if he was the type to let her dangle near the edge, then remove his hand making her cry real tears? He did always love it whenever she cried for him. Maybe if she cried sweet tears for him, he’ll let her cum, over and over until she was eventually begging him to stop, crying anew at the torture.

With a whine, she sat up to look at her hand that continued to rub herself, her hole clenching in the air as she felt the familiar glow in her abdomen. That feeling of ascending into the sky, one that makes everything numb.

Breath hitching in her throat, she pressed harder on her nub, and her eyes and head rolled back, slamming on the headboard. She came violently in her hand, muffling her screams with one of her pillows as small liquid sputters make their way out of her virgin hole dripping down the covers.

Her legs clamp shut, her hand still intact. Rapid breaths can be heard in the room, and she stares at the ceiling, her eyelids half open as she thought of her uncle alone. She could not stress it enough. Could not make it more obvious than it already was.

Oh, how she irrevocably, devastatingly, and truly need him.

—

Well, maybe her words were not that reliable. She was indeed just some stupid girl who was too young to know what it is she wanted. She could just feel herself get buried with much too much shame.

Allise spent the day avoiding Warner.

Everytime their paths crossed she made sure her eyes were down to her foot wear, finding something so particularly interesting about them. Appreciating how they are shaped, how beautifully colored they are, and how they were made by some… by some…great designer. Everytime he was around, there was something much more interesting—even if it was dust on the shelf.

She truly was young as she thought at this hour. Scandalous things happen all the time, and people would scarcely notice it until it was exposed.

It was soon realized by her that she cannot play the part of being someone who had been excellent at keeping secrets.

Remembering one of her mother’s friends, she could not help but applaud the adulterer for being so nonchalant when in the face of a lord who was married with children at the time. When they were in a room with everyone else, everyone would not suspect a thing, and they could even converse with one another as if nothing occurred behind closed doors. When the news of them committing adultery came out, Allise could not believe it. Those two risked everything to hold one another, kiss, couple and yet it did not show. How did they do it? 

Because… this was difficult for Allise.

She never thought it would bear fruit. 

Did not think that he might be feeling remotely the same for her. She thought that she would be loving him all her life, always about him, and that she shall see him get married and be with children of his own. It would be most painful, but it was natural. She would accept it, even if it had ached her.

But now…

Oh, she does not know what to think.

Trying to be as discreet as possible, she snuck out of the room where the whole family came to just simply be. Chattering away while she…had been filled with paranoia.

Do they know?

Do they?

Do they know we kissed?

Oh my gods, it’s obvious.

Warner was there in the room, reading a book…as if he did not put his tongue in his niece’s throat. Frankly, she could not be there. Could not focus to save her life, and everytime she sees him…talking? It was as if the muscles in his lips were slow. It feels as though when she sees him, his lips, it made her think about how skilled it had been…how hot his mouth was, and how he felt like he was to devour her before completely stopping.

Closing the door, she breathed a sigh of relief and made her own way to the library.

She needed to calm herself.

Needed to not think about how that mouth would feel like in other places.

It was only some stupid distractions. She saw some servants talking amongst themselves on her way, and she decided to join in. In their household, it was much understood how some of the Caethornes were friendly to those who work for them. It was common sense that Princess Allise was the delight of the house ever since she was a young girl. Warner did not like it—though he was not always around—but her parents quite liked that she was very friendly. Even to those… below their station.

Entering the room, she made her presence known. “What has happened?” Allise’s doe eyes looked up to the house servants who in turn looked at her with concern, and stress. 

Sighing, one of the servants spoke, clutching her chest. “The prince… the… south one.” She whispered as if she found it repulsive to say. “He keeps on requesting food that we are not familiar with, keeps on… instructing us to change the way his sheets are washed, and…” She leans down towards the princess to say another, but she grimaced. “…no, I cannot say this to you, princess.”

Looking back and forth to the other servants, her brows furrow. “What? What does he do?” Her curiosity was peaking.

The servant looked at the others who shook their heads, too apprehensive to share details with the princess. 

Frustration growing, she scoffs. “Tell me at once!” She cries.

Heaving a sigh, she leaned closer to the princess, within earshot. “He… without shame… sleeps and wakes in…” The servant’s brow furrows, tasting the words on her mouth and they are incredibly sour. Whispering the word, the servant grimaced. “As how… he was presented to the world for the first time.”

Allise looks at her, confused, and unsure. “You mean… naked?” She blushes.

At that, the servants wince. She forgot that a lot of their servants were all maidens, and a lot swore chastity to prioritize their responsibilities towards their family. Allise was the same as them of course, and the idea of the prince just basking bare in his bed for all servants to see was atrocious, and terribly rude. 

“He’s making our jobs difficult.” One of the servants says, a young girl who blushes crimson as she mutters the words. “We are so sorry, Princess.” She then sheds tears, making two of the servants comfort her.

The young princess felt such heartbreak for the servants of the house. It was improper for them to see that. They see an ill omen of a prince from a who not only seems to not have shame in another’s home, but exhibits nonchalance and a disrespect to their rival kingdom that took him in as a guest for peace. Something that one might contest for disrespect.

Clasping one of the servant's hands, she signs. “What can I do to help?”

“Princess! Oh, we could not ask it of you.”

“No, you must.” She says sweetly, wearing a warm smile on her small face. “It’s alright.”

After a moment of careful consideration on her face, she looked back on the other servants that can only resign their expressions. Crying, she nods to the other servants. Coming to a resolution and a vote. “It would mean a lot, princess…”

The servant then turns to Allise, and pales when she casts her eyes at who had been behind her. 

Gasping, she greets. “ Prince Warner. ” They lower their heads, and Allise’s eyes widen more than they already had.

After a short still of the air, he speaks. “Leave us.” He orders, and it sets every servant to leave the vicinity quicker than anything. 

They truly did not like him.

Hands cold and awkward on her side, she grimaces and turns her body around. Giving him a tight lipped smile, Warner could only look at her. One brow raised, his head tilted, with his hip leaning towards the table of the servants. Looking at anywhere but him, Warner then crosses his arms. 

Nodding again, at absolutely nothing, she laughed and clapped her hand once. “Well, I better get going.” She said lightly, pointing at absolutely nothing, and was about to walk away from… well, whatever this was.

Before she can even walk past him, he grabs her arm, not even bothering to look at her. His jaw sets, and he can only breathe in deeply. “You’re not to do anything for those people, do you hear me?” He then twisted his head to look down at her, brows furrowed. “If they do not wish to see him bare, why should you? Are you not thinking clearly?” 

Frowning, she felt embarrassed. It truly was a ridiculous concept, but she wished to be of help. Just because she was royalty, it did not mean that she had any right to treat them less. “I wanted to help only, they were weeping.”

“Do not care about them, it is their duty.” He says, whispering the words sternly, hand pulling her closer with his grip. As if on cue, his eyes then drift to her lips. The one that she had been gnawing, lower lip abused by her own teeth, all because she was too afraid of the conversation. 

And now, he stares.

She stops everything.

Her teeth release the plump of her lower lip, glistening with saliva from her most beautiful mouth. He stared for a moment, brows furrowing, his own lips slacking, tongue touching his lower ones—attempting to feel what he could not. And if she held her breath, it felt like it was for her. It was all for her, and she wished that he would just get in with it.

His hands tighten around her arm, making her gasp.

As if hit by thunder, he lets go of her, and rubs a hand down his face—something that Allise noticed, as this is how he gets when terribly frustrated—he then looks at her once more, shaking his head. “Do not approach that prince, do you hear me? Not even if he calls for you.”

Calming herself, she swallows. “Uh… that would be rude.” She breathes out.

“I do not care.” He says, walking towards the exit, then returns to whisper to her ear. In the most gentle, and warm way he spoke. “Be a good girl for me, Issa. You want to please me, don’t you?” He looked down at her, and raised his hand to run his knuckle down her cheek, looking at her with expectations.

Allise did not know what the feeling was, but it felt as though only he existed with her. She felt light, and submissive—like how she felt when he reprimanded her when she was very young. The princess had only thought of that as respect for her uncle, and it now sickens her to realize that it had been something entirely different.

Without even soliciting the movement, she nods against his hand. “Yes, uncle.” She breathes.

Warner smiles most wickedly, and planted a kiss on the side of her lips. “ Good .” Then turns to leave her at the servant’s kitchen, breath trapped in her lungs.

How daring.

—

She was terribly good. Such a good girl for him, and it makes Warner itch with impatience for a feeling that he would not even try to name.

Kissing Allise had not been his plan the night before, but when he saw her dancing with that prince—a danger that hid in tremendous clothing—he had been filled with much despair.

She had tried to be most kind. Allise was perceptive, and Warner knew that the princess knew of his foul mood. 

Then she tried to lighten his mood.

It angered him even more. 

The thought had been sick. Was that the future? Just jesting with each other as if there was nothing in the air that haunted them? Something that chokes them from the insides, and fills their night with emptiness? 

Asking him why he reacted so was a mistake. Reacting to it by planting his lips to hers—one of the greatest decisions of his life—was wrong .

How it felt… oh, it was beyond words.

It has been innocent on her part, no clue what to do with her lips. It excited him too much, and he fought the urge to grab her and push her down the bed and claim what he owned. 

It was terrible—restraint. 

It was a terrible feeling. From watching her undress, one that he did not even expect to happen, but it did. It was torture.

She was young all over, and it shocked Warner at how aroused he had been. Allise was not the kind of flesh he went after when he was young. He craved breasts that were too large to palm, frames that were perfectly molded for him. She was small, and he knew that already because it factored that she was just a girl. Her breasts were not quite there yet, just a small slope, her behind was the same. 

She looked most young, so innocent, and yet…

He wanted to rail her, hear her cries, rut into her small heat, and plant his seed there so it would take its root, proving to the whole kingdom that incestuous unions are now different—they were different—and that it shall provide heirs that are more deserving of royalty. 

He had fought that urge , and he was most proud of himself.

Well… that was until he reached his chamber. Barely making it into the bed, jerking himself off so fast and rough at the thought of fucking his niece. His hand was almost crushing his doorknob while the other relentlessly pumped his cock until he was groaning and shooting his load into his stomach. 

He made sure to not to act without rationale when morning came, and so as he prepared for the day, he again fucked his hand. Envisioning his sweet Allise sucking him like a good girl, like how she had sucked her thumb as a child when she sought comfort. He came, his seed all over his hand before wiping it on a napkin.

Now…well, it was still not enough.

He made sure to be discreet when his cock grew in his trousers when his niece was around, and he noticed her in a way that she kept avoiding him. It annoyed him, but he knew it was perhaps for the best. 

Warner waited for the feeling. The feeling of disgust for himself, for the newfound adoration—lust—that he felt towards his niece. He had loved her, every waking moment of her life, he loved her. Now there was a new feeling there, a new type of love that he questioned as to why it happened to him. 

There were an infinite amount of women out there for him. 

Why could he not have been just attracted to them? He did not like it that he had such thoughts about her. His sweet angel. If others had such thoughts about her that way, he would make sure they perish.

But …why his niece? He could not understand. No matter how much he racked his brain for it.

One thing was for certain. He was making it his challenge to keep that bastard Prince away from her.

Truth be told, he had no desire for peace. None at all. 

But his brother did, and for good reason. It was for the family. He always, in turn, respected his orders.

He, however, did not express any delight whatsoever when it came to concealing his facial expressions. Warner has always been known as someone who has…unconventional behaviors for a prince. They never did see him as someone kind, only someone who was heroic when it came to it.

It was no surprise when they were all summoned for breakfast—with the boy prince present—that he was not smiling, nor greeting him the way he should be greeted. 

Sierra entertained Prince Kael as they ate breakfast, and expressed enthusiasm at the culture they had over in the South. 

“You know… it’s considered very good luck when you have four children. They say it was…an even number, that equates to double the blessing.” He says charmingly, and it makes Warner’s head tilt. 

What an awfully smiley person.

The Queen beams. “Truly?” She smiles, dimples showing. “Good thing there was no after Allise then.” She says, casting a warm glance towards the youngest.

“Indeed.” The prince says, looking over at Allise, smiling still. “She takes after you, my queen.”

It makes his blood run cold.

The worry Prince Warner felt was undeniable. That damned Prince did not express interest in the two eldest daughters, only in his Allise.

There was something so primal within Warner that made him feel the need to plant his claim. To be reckless, and it feels as though he’s aged backwards. The era of being someone who liked marking their territories—especially when they’re women—was a trait that he thought had gone in the wind. A whiff of one long lost youth, now surfacing to the grave he had built for himself.

“I know…” Sierra says, her eyes wide as she nodded at his statement. “More beautiful, I fear!”

In the corner of his eyes, Allise sat beside him and was blushing crimson at his comment. He didn’t even have it in him to be angry at all the spotlight that made its way into her. No will to be angry at how her beauty was praised by those who he did not wish to take notice of it. She truly was beautiful. Everyone in Ladya, yet there was no one with beauty like Allise. Soft, and yet elegant. Beguiling.

Of course, he was not the only one who saw that. But… he did detest it when someone else notices it. 

Pleasantries… it was all just so irritating.

The whole breakfast he had been tense, all the times that the dirty prince looked at what was never to be his. He had never been so angry that Allise was beautiful before, but now he was. He needed her kept somewhere with a lock, no one to enter but him.

As the tedious time dissipated, he found himself tending to the garden, and it had been ridiculous to him. It had been a time since he’s gone, and it was all just because his niece was being coveted by another.

“Rotten.” He says, before plucking the fruit from its leaves. 

“How marvelous it looks in here.” 

The voice makes him turn into stone. His body tensed, while his brows furrowed. Standing, he turns to look at the prince who still had that smile on his damn face.

Taking off his gloves, Warner only looks at him. “Very kind of you.” He says only, his tone flat on his tongue.

“My uh… my sister loved gardening. Though… she did not do this type of gardening. It was roses, and lilies, and—”

He breathed out a small laugh. “Ones that are incredibly useless?” He interrupted, raising a brow. Placing the gloves on the table, he glances at him again, wanting to see his face falter.

It did.

It was then Warner’s turn to smile from ear to ear.

“You do not like me that much don’t you?” The young prince questioned.

Warner tilts his head. He has appreciated the transparency, and it earned him a bit of respect on his part. “No.”

“How come? You do not know me?” Prince Kael says. The smile on his face now gone, and traded with a serious one. One that took offense.

That was true. But… it had been… terribly personal to him. He had taken an interest in what had been originally his for all time. He reminded Warner of how it truly was such a privilege to breathe the same air as Allise, walk the same ground as Allise, to coexist with her had been a blessing from above.

It made him insane, and made him think that what he sees can be seen by anyone. Others will want her, and what they do not know is that…she wanted only him.

He had taken that for granted. 

Not anymore.

He breathed out an appalled laugh, looking at the young boy with ridicule. “I did not say I hate you. I merely agreed to not liking you. Liking you will require an acquired taste that I am yet to have.” Clasping his hands on his back, he added. “You are not liked by anyone here. Not even my nieces.”

A short pause, then Prince Kael spoke again. “Allise likes me.”

Warner tilted his head, a scowl forming on his face. Oh, he’s never felt such rage before in his life. Not even on the battlefield had he ever felt such anger come to him. He had been very very patient, and he was not known for that. 

If it had been his way… the prince in front of him will not live to be an old man.

Walking towards him, he stared at the young prince who had emitted arrogance in his presence. “You overstep your bounds, do you realize?” His voice was low, merely a whisper—a threat looming from the victorious general.

The prince could only look at him with bewilderment, until he did not. 

Raising his hands up for surrender, he laughs. “You know, our culture is vastly different from yours.” 

Warner rolled his eyes, and walked towards his station to resume gardening. He needed to do something worthwhile than to engage in feuds with a boy that was not even in his league. Oh, he truly did not understand himself.

“Our culture acknowledges the unions of uncle and niece.”

At that, Warner’s hand stills. If he had been moved by the phrase, he did not wish for the prince to notice. He had abhorred how entitled he had been, how he seemed to know what goes behind the veil he’s cast upon himself.

Putting on the gloves once again, he nods. “Yes, I am aware of that.” He says with complete reserve. No, he did not know of that culture. Now that he did, all he could feel was jealousy. “You must have had odd looking children, and many complications in your family.”

He walked towards the line of flowers—something that had been truly branded as the only beautiful thing in the ridiculous garden —and he shook his head. “Yes, to both.” He laughs softly, and then looks at Warner for a short moment. “But… some of them were born alive, s ome of them pass after that. But when the ‘some’ survives…” He drawns, looking at the Prince General, a look of knowledge. Walking towards him, he smiles. “They are born strong, beautiful, smart. A royal to behold, one that shall make someone tremble in their feet. Viewed as saints in my homeland.” There had been proudness in his voice, a victorious look in his eyes. “Treated more special than the heirs. For they are of pure blood. If they turn out to be heirs… well,” He smiled. A few meters from Prince Warner, he stops. “...then they may be on the land of their enemy, because home thinks ‘ if someone can pray for peace’, only he can. ” The pride in his voice was apparent.

When Warner’s brow furrowed further. It had been bizarre. Of course his brother did not disclose that information. It wasn’t asked by him, and it was improper. But… how? Prince Kael looked… proper.

The young prince knew he had hit a goal by his expression. He had the knowledge that none had. The knowledge that can break bonds, tarnish names, and elicit the rage of the land. It would be shameful, and it would be a waste.

Prince Kael shook his head. “It’s a different ordeal. Blood of the royals.” He says, his tone low, almost sympathetic. “Attraction to the bond is surreal to feel. A calling from the above that deems reckoning when not answered. The longing is the most horrible part.” He squinted his eyes, observing the Prince General closely. “The ache you must feel…” 

Warner could not help but agree.

—

His eyes cast up at the window of Allise—one that was still open, even with every damn warning—the prince did feel the ache.

If unions such as the South has been blessed…why did it not happen for Ladya? For them? Why were they wronged for loving one another more than what has been intended? 

Steadying his footing, he found himself—once again—climbing up her window. He had jest about a person might climb her chamber, that there is a danger in what she does. 

Maybe he was the danger. Maybe he has been the most unreliable grown man, encouraging a young girl to sin.

As soon as he stepped into her threshold, he felt such relief. One that was similar when the white flag had been waved. The resemblance akin to salvation, to living—it was her.

She could not hear him, and that was understandable. He had been brought by his father to things that he had never even comprehended. Learning to be quiet—assassinate someone whilst quiet—has been one of his powers.

He did not know what possessed him.

He had no idea who he was, but all he knew was that he wanted to go towards the side of her bed—the side that had her sleeping in peace.

Looking at her face, he felt such a surge of love for her that stemmed from something bigger than who he had been. One that did not make sense to have such amounts once upon a time. 

Now, it was making sense to him. The prince of the south may be right.

Nothing has felt more right than this.

How could they keep him from doing this? From something that felt as though it had been encouraged by the gods themselves?

Warner’s brows furrowed as he looked closer to her, his hand touching her head to caress, another to clasp her small hand. 

He had felt distraught. 

Pained beyond the fact that he did not have any power to change anything. There was nothing left in the world  that he desired, that he prayed for more than her.

And yet…

Closing his eyes, he pressed his head to her hand, relishing in the heat and the knowledge of her presence.

“Uncle?”

His head snapped up to see her already staring at her, sleep apparent in her eyes. Allise looked very much confused, and he did not wish to say it—but he was as confused as her. 

The urge to deny what’s felt was easy. To succumb to them was painful, damaging—blissful.

Planting a soft kiss in her knuckles, he smiled. “Good evening.” He whispered softly.

“Good evening.” She returned, her eyes alternating at his, confused. Her brow furrowed, and he could see the worry in her angelic face. He felt full. “Are you alright, uncle?”

Sighing, he shook his head. Feeling the right one the night on his shoulders, he softened against her presence. “Do you mind that I climbed your chambers?”

“No.” She answers, voice so tender and kind.

“Do you mind that I observe you whilst you sleep?”

“No.”

Looking into her eyes, he felt such pull. One that will never be felt without the blood that courses through their veins. 

“ Then… would you mind if I held you through the night?”

A short pause, and a flutter of the young girl's eyelids, she shook her head. She then smiled so warmly, so softly. 

“ No .” 

The word had been his salvation.

Allise slid through the other side of the bed, making space for her Uncle. He did not know what she was thinking, he did not know what she felt. But one thing he did not wish for her to feel, was to be forced to bed with him.

Right now, he did not have it in him to worry.

He wanted her so.

He yearned for her more than anything.

As his head met the pillow, he looked deep into her eyes. The doe eyes that he has always been searching for. The eyes that he watched grow, and it did make him feel at angst with himself but… there was this feeling…

That bigger feeling that triggers his soul when he looks at her. 

How her eyes had been the same shade of green as his, how her hair had been the same shade of black as his. Everything had been the same, everything had been his, everything had been hers. 

With a shaky breath, he pulled her into his heat. Embracing her in the night. Body engulfing her small frame, and yet, perfectly molding into him. He felt such happiness, such…delight, comfort, and…rest. This had been a long time coming. Something that has been set in stone from the start of their lives.

In his mind, deep inside him—they were always meant to be together.

Chapter 12: Yes, you

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Allise’s eyes remain closed as his arm wrapped around hers, caging her body into his. She breathed deeply, as her heart hammered to her chest. He had been breathing down, felt immensely at the nape of her neck. Arm wrapped around her waist, face nuzzled at her soft skin.

He was not asleep. She knew that by now. 

“This.”

“This?”

“Yes, this.”

The princess took his hand that wrapped itself around her, and placed it on her cheek. The hand had been rough, textured, one that had been there for the horrors and the labor of a long life. She loved it very much, fueling her desire. 

Planting a kiss on his open palm, she closes her eyes as he opened his mouth once again.

“I deserve this.”

“What?”

“This.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Since when?”

“Since I held you first. Your father had been called to a gathering, and I held you first.”

He sighs into her skin, inhaling her scent.

“Perhaps I’ve been there, because I know you were always meant to be for my sole existence. A reward for life spent suffering.”

—

Looking at the window, Allise sees how empty and quiet it is. No one to call to her, no one to look for her, no lord that shall try and peek at her chambers. It was just her, and him.

Prince Warner. 

Her uncle.

Her uncle, in the flesh, holding her in the night, his front pressed to her back.

Pursing her lips, she let her eyes drag into everything that was remotely interesting, when all she truly wanted to turn around and look at him instead. It had been a dream. One she never wished to get out of. 

Something was different about him, and Allise couldn’t exactly pinpoint her finger as to what it was exactly. The feeling that resided in her stomach at his acknowledgement of whatever he felt was foreign.

Was she scared? 

It suddenly became too real.

Does she truly have these feelings?

Or was she just really young? Looking for fascination to set her sights in?

Not really. 

Grasping his large hands into her small ones, she traced the lines and the roughness that ate away in his skin, wondering as to why this happened—was it true? Was it truly here?

“Are you confused?” He mumbles at her back, his breath hitting her nape, leaving a shudder in her skin. 

Gnawing on her lower lip, she paused, finding her thoughts. “I’m… dreaming.” She says in a soft whisper, breathing short as she turns her head around.

Seeing him, he looked terribly homely. His hair had been disheveled due to the pillows, curls landing on his temple, falling in his face in a boyish—youthful way. Something that she never truly saw in him. He had always been the older man, one who fought wars, one who was the right hook of the king. Prince Warner, to her, will always look strong—steady, and fierce. 

And yet…

He looks like he shared her thoughts, shared his fancies, laughs at the same things as her, and worries about what she worries about.

Eyes traveling to every inch of his face, she held her breath. Shaking her head, she blinks. “I…. I’m worried this is one of those circumstances in which I dream whilst I’m awake.” She mutters, eyes never leaving his scrutinizing ones. “I won’t mind, but…it would be terribly cruel. This is my most realistic dream.”

A small smile had stretched to his face, then his hand moved to tuck her stray hair to the back of her ear. “It’s real.” He only says, then his brows furrow. “But I… do not know what I’m truly doing here. No clue as to what I want to achieve, what I truly want to hear, or-or feel.” His voice softens, finding the proper words to give his niece. “I do not have the slightest idea how I can navigate through this, Issa. Because this…” He looks towards her features, pupils dilating. “I often think that maybe I’ve prayed for this… and yet, I cannot do anything to keep it.”

Feeling his emotions through her skin, all the young princess could do was sigh. “What can I do to make it all easier to accept?”

“I’ve accepted it for a time.”

Lids fluttering, she blinks. “When?” She breathes out.

At the question, he sat up, and Allise feared that she must have pushed boundaries with her questioning. A youth girl such as her thought that he could never understand him, and that asking him questions could only result in his withdrawal.

But… Warner sat up and turned his head to smile down at her.

“When you argued with me relentlessly about not finding my temper fair.” He smirked.

Allise could not help but try to hide a smile. “Which fight?” She sat up the same, looking at her uncle, tilting her head. “I can clearly think of countless fights that involved your temper.”

Warner threw his head back, giving her a hearty laugh that came from deep in his stomach. It looked… beautiful to her. In Allise’s point of view, he can never do wrong. Deep inside her, she knew she had been different. He had sides in his personality that had been for her eyes only. 

Prince Warner Caelthorne’s warmth has always been reserved for his niece, Princess Allise Carlthorne alone.

“Well…” He says, while a smile dancing around his lips still. “I was terribly angry at seeing you with that nudist prince. And… It occurred to me that…” He whispered the last part, looking at her then. His gaze had been soft, terribly warm in her sight as the words faded into memory.

“Occurred that?” She repeats, holding her breath.

Licking his lower lip, he furrowed his brows. “Occurred that…” He tasted the words. “If I was to imagine you married… it would break me to pieces. All of me, shattered on the floor, and I just will not have it.” The phrase seemed to seep into him unspeakably deep, as if the mere words themselves caused him so much turmoil. “After that, I realized I had taken all of it for granted. I shake your feelings off, not knowing how privileged I was to get them. I’m… terribly, terribly sorry, sweetheart.”

Allise felt it then. The weight lifted off of her, the feeling of breathing when submerged in a body of water. As tears fell to her face, her uncle could only look, appreciating them for they were for him alone.

Always for him.

 

—

 

It was funny.

She laughed too much that night, heart full of everything that he had to offer her. He was free to express himself, free to tell her that war felt hell and that he never wished to come back.

He was free to tell her that he had been afraid, that he too, grieved.

“I do hope that you are aware that it was not your fault.” She leaned to the wooden foot of her bed as he stood on the other side, gaze fixed on the moonlight. “Althius Fyres was a soldier, and he thought it was an honor to fight alongside you.”

“A child, Issa. He was a child.”

She nods, looking at him intently. “Yes, well… young people tend to be reckless with what they wish to do, are they not?” She tilted her head, smiling softly at her uncle.

Warner laughed softly at his niece, and sighs. “When I was his age… your grandsire taught me to play a game if I were to be subjected to a real war.” He looked conflicted as he narrated, his gaze at her now seems so far away. “ Nyenzir .”

Princess Allise’s brow furrowed, lips frowning. “The children's game?”

“Yes, the children’s game.” He nods. “In an endless spot, you are supposed to collect the most rocks at a given time. One stone, two stones, three… all of them equate to your victory.” Looking quite peaceful, she painted a mental picture of youthful Warner Caelthorne who used to play. “You see, I was a competitive child.”

“Ooh, what a shocking revelation.”

“ Shh .” He just grinned, and threw a playful glare her way. “Yes, I had been too fiery as a child. Alas, it served me purpose to play a game in battle. The enemies were then rocks, and in order to prevail I only need to collect them. Let them drop to my feet.” His face softened, and hardened again. “I admit to you Allise… I killed in the war in order to prove to them that it had been my victory. That… I killed the most, and it should be in my name. I scarcely cared about the men I went there with.”

It was not something that was to make her feel at odds against him, not really. Allise knew of her uncle’s distaste towards those who were not family—she did not like it, but she knew about it already—the young princess could only understand him. 

Always.

“If… if it took you back alive to us, it hardly even matters.” She breathes out. 

His head cocked to the side, and he observed her intently. “You sure?” The prince stated, the one who delighted in every aspect of her cruelty.

Allise pauses, then nods.

Warner walked towards her, the foot of the bed the only thing blocking them, and he smirked. “You lie, my sweet.” Their faces were not that far, only a breath away.

Breath held, Allise could feel her hands tightening on the wood. He was teasing her, gauging her. And it… made heat pool all over her. 

Gulping, she nods, her large doe eyes looking up at him alone. 

“You love me terribly.” He coos, finding amusement and love in her devotion. He raises his hand to caress her hair that was free from her braids, pulling at the scalp lightly, then letting go. “Beautiful…” He whispered, more to himself as his hand drifted to the soft plump of her cheek. Thumb caressing the skin, it made its way to her lower lip. His gaze lowered, and his finger traced it, lowering it exposing her little mouth, then letting it go back to its place.

At that point, Allise’s breath had been labored, legs clamped shut in desperation. “Why do you not attempt to kiss me again, uncle?”

At that, his darkened gaze snapped to her. He looked downright angry, and she did not mind it. She was just desperate for him.

“God, Allise.” He grounds out, lips curling as if he was so tempted at the thought. “I don’t want myself to be so lustful, you are too young.”

Shaking her head, she whines. “No, no…” She breathes. “I know you love me, I know. But…” She bit her lower lip, and Warner could only hiss at the sight. “It felt good.”

Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. “You do not know what you ask, Issa. It’s too much for someone like you.”

“Why? Am I as fragile and weak as you think?”

“Do not. Put words in my mouth.” His grip on her tightened, as he pulled her face closer to his, eyes searching her wide eyed ones. “A child… asks for too much. Can you even handle it? With your frame much smaller than those of your age…” A mean glint covered him, as he paused. Eyes fixed on her. “My cock would break you happily.” He says as if it was merely an observation of his.

Allise’s body shuddered, lips parting as she felt the unmistakable throb in between her legs.

Noting her reaction, he smirks. “You want new things, Allise? How can I ever refuse my favorite niece?” He says so gently, but his eyes didn’t communicate the same. He looked mean. Like the soldier he was.

She has never felt such desperation in her life. She could never understand what he does to her, but he has always been successful at sending her to a place in which she only wanted him. “Please. Please. I’ll be good. I’ll do anything.” She says in a breathless pathetic plea, before she can even think about it. 

“Yeah? You want your uncle?” He frowns, clicking his tongue, looking at her as if she was the most sorry sight in the world. 

Nodding for her own life, she whines, holding onto his forearm that continues to caress her cheek. 

The space was filled with fog. Something that she never even thought to be possible, but it was filled with fog—or maybe it had been her mind? Either way…she could not bring herself to care. Nuzzling her cheek to his hand, his thumb made contact with her lip. Looking at him, she did not know where the urge came from, but it happened.

The princess let him push the finger into her waiting mouth, sucking, and swirling her tongue in the flesh, feeling her pussy throb hard. 

Warner looked murderous, looked at her as if he was going to attack her without any remorse. It was hard to know what he had been feeling, and Allise had always made sure to observe him closely, but now…

She did not care. 

She wanted a different side from him.

The side that had been a man first, then uncle second.

Thumb leaving her mouth with a pop, Warner crashed his lips within her, making his way towards the bed to push her down the sheets. He had been feral, moaning so beautifully, tongue exploring her as if everything will be ending and he had to taste the greatest fruit.

Allise’s hands made their way towards his now longer hair, pulling him closer to her, trying to mimic how he kissed. She felt truly light, as if nothing surrounded her. 

Just him.

Only ever him.

Breaking the kiss, Warner squeezed his eyes shut, foreheads firm on one another, breathing much erratically. “Allise… I do not want you to be forced to do this with me. I love you—all the same with you to me. I do not ask this of you.” He says in one breath.

But she had never been sure of anything her entire life. 

She loved him, and gave everything as his beloved niece.

Now… she wanted to give him everything as a girl who deeply loved him.

Nodding, her eyes pleaded with him. “Please… I want to. With you. Only with you.” The confliction in his eyes was evident, looking closely at her as if trying to tell if she had been lying. “ Unless… ” She shook her head, head of cruelty making its way to her skin, poisoning, and waking everything in its path. “Unless you want another to do it.” She taunts, and it feels powerful.

Warner had then stilled, a tick in his jaw as he looked down on his niece that seemed to grow up overnight. The girl that once had relished in dolls he’s given her, was now begging for his cock—for his experiences.

Shaking his head, he sneers. “You have no idea what you’re begging for, and it’s amusing.” He says, his voice bordering on ridicule. Something that she’s never heard from him, but… being ridiculed by him felt… fucking delicious. 

As his hand started drifting down her neck, he breathed a shaky breath. Licking his lower lip, he untied her nightdress, looking at her with barely controlled lust. One finger flicks the material, and her small breasts were exposed in the wind.

Gasping, she moved to cover them, only to have rough hands swat the hands away. 

He didn’t do anything, just simply stared at her face while she remained exposed, relishing in her embarrassment and humiliation. He must have liked it. The blush in her cheeks spread to her neck, to her chest, then to her breasts. He looked down then, brows furrowing, breathing deeply at the sight.

Allise gnaws on her lower lip, feeling insecure all of a sudden. She did not look like how…other women look, and she was quite sure that her uncle had been with women that looked almost like Gods. She was just a girl, but she swore she will develop more when she grows up. 

But now… she was just feeling adequate.

“It… it’s small, I…” She says, and she felt such shame at telling things like that to him as if it were such a big thing. What does she even mean? Does she even understand what’s meant?

His eyes then snap at hers, and with a tilt of his head, he frowns. “And so?” He says simply, as if it truly did not matter. “You will never be with another man again, but… I assure you, it does not matter.” With fondness this time, he smiled. 

Letting his finger brush her nipple, earning a squirm and a whimper from her lips, he sighs. “It does not matter.” He repeats, leaning closer to her breast.

It was only a fantasy. Something she imagined when she was alone in her room, when she had her hand down, rubbing herself till she fell asleep—it was only a fantasy for her, and she couldn’t believe that it was now true. Her thighs were slick with want, her body feeling much lighter, and he hasn’t even done anything to her yet.

She loved him, needed him, breathed him, adored him, ached for him, bleed for him, existed only ever for him.

“These will feed my children one day.” His eyes met hers then he caught her nipple in his mouth, and she felt her pussy throb and her body sing.

It was too much, and yet it was not enough. He bit, sucked, and lapped at her breast while the other pinched and rubbed the other. Her back arches, seemingly reaching for the warmth of his mouth, eyes rolling back at the pure ecstasy. 

Being filled by him, the thought of carrying his children made her feel such arousal that she never expected she could feel. The thought alone, with his mouth on her breasts—a peak in the future—was more than enough to make her cum.

“You want that, niece?” He says, removing himself from her. Adjusting his position, he sat upright and tore the nightgown from her body. The gasp she let out was pathetic, rushed, and nervous. “Don’t be afraid. I will never hurt you.” With a stubble smile on his lips, he shrugged. “Unless you would want me to.”

If she wasn’t so out-of-her-mind-aroused, she would’ve questioned that. In what way would she even ask him to hurt her? 

His gaze unwavering, he kissed his way down her stomach, rubbing his hands through her curves. Tongue against her skin has been unexpected, a heat she’s never craved before—she will now—her breath turns choppy in her throat.

Opening her legs, she felt such enlightenment flood her. Not even here got to peak that intimately down there. She was sure before that aside from it making her feel good, it wouldn't be that interesting to look at.

But…

Why did he look as if he was ready to fucking ravish her?

Brows drawn, he looks down at the flesh. “So tiny, so fucking small, I’m going to fucking break you, Issa.” He groaned, spreading her legs wider until they were unnaturally bent. She grunts as her knees were now net with the sheets, her pussy tremendously exposed to his hungry gaze. 

Lowering himself, he used the tip of his tongue to lick her slit, making her frame jolt. “Uncle!” She gasped, biting her lip.

“You make the word ‘ uncle ’ sound like something from a foul fucking mouth.” He says, then he repeats the movement, her head thrown back. “I have never in my life, Allise… only you. You make me desperate, pathetic. I cum in my trousers by only smelling you, I get hard when I see you, and I want to fuck you everyday—until you’re pumped full of my come—until it drips down your knees then to the fucking floor.” He snarls, before placing his mouth to suck on her clit—hard.

Her hands snap to her own lips, as a scream tore from her throat, hip lifting off the bed. His hands kept her planted on the bed, as her whole body thrashed. Everytime, he would lick her pussy, suck on her clit, her eyes roll back to her head—faint in every way.

Her whole body shakes, as he continues—mouth firmly latched on the bundle of nerves that harden under his tongue. “U-uncle, please!” She whimpers, knees locking onto his head. She didn't even know what she begged for, but she wanted him to stop, yet she did not want it to end.

His tongue, ever probing, slid from her cunt to her virgin hole. Her jaw shakes as she leaned forward to see his eyes already staring back at her. The tongue pushes on the tiny hole, whilst continuing to suck the life out of her. 

With her mouth agape, she could feel her drip to her chest, and she whines—shaking uncontrollably as he pushes his tongue further. 

“W-wait…” She tenses, begs.

Allise had no idea what was going on down there, but it was making her lose her mind. His tongue twists, mouth sucking whatever he was sucking on—she was delirious. The prince was fucking his tongue into her hole, then sliding up her slit again to suck on her clit, then back again.

Thrashing against his strong hold, she felt it then. The beating of the drum, the spark in the thunder, the splash of the nearby stream.

Noticing the way her knees steady on his head, Warner pressed his mouth tighter to her cunt, sucking on her clit, whilst his tongue sped up its ministrations, looking at her with dark hooded eyes. 

With desperate breaths, her head crashes back to the pillows, hands clutching her chest, hips waving meet his mouth like a greedy fucking whore. She’s never felt this before. It was so good, so unlike anything. Hey fingers and imagination failed. The act of eating her out like he had been starved won.

“Uncle Warner…” She grounds, breathing ragged. “Uncle I’m going to—” At that, one of Warner’s hands snapped up to cover her mouth that was letting out a blood curdling scream as the orgasm took over her whole being, squirts of liquid meeting the bed sheet and his face.

She felt like liquid. As if her existence were a matter tale. It was not real was it not? Her uncle was not fucking her with his tongue? She was not meeting his tongue with grinding from her pussy right?

Spent, her breathing was labored, and was left with her eyes upwards, dazed and empty while she tried to regain her breath.

“Uh!” She jolted when she felt it. The sudden zap in her cunt, and when she looks down, Warner’s whole hand was on her like it was property. 

Her confusion was addressed when his hand came down again on her sensitive pussy, making her once again jolt. 

He did that a total of three times, all the while keeping a close eye to the cunt that doused him in cum. 

As the hand stayed covering her whole flesh, he looked down as if truly hypnotized. The young girl’s eyes threaten to close on her already. She’s never felt that way before, and it unfortunately made her feel terribly sleepy. 

Knees were still spread, she made no effort to close it even.

That was until her eyes yank awake, when his whole hand rubbed hard and fast against the newly orgasm pussy.

Her legs shut close, hands trying to pry his furious hand away that seemed to ignore her protest, her whole body twists to the side as she sought for freedom. 

“No, uncle! It hurts!” She cries, eyes rolling back, dangerous heat already falling grin the other side, as she tries to push the hands away—as if she forgot that the man who she wanted to overpower was a general.

Yanking one of her legs open, he continues, looking down at her and shaking his head. “Give me one more.” He stated simply. “How about that? If you want me to think of you remotely as a woman, you shall do as I fucking say and cum.” 

Her gaze zeroes in on him, and she feels the heat pool in her stomach, the pain dulling. 

With a high pitched grunt, she once again reaches through the roof, cumming and cumming as if the time will never end. 

The bedsheets were damp, full of her liquid, as the body shook and trembled beneath him.

Planting a soft kiss on the barely coherent woman, he smiles as he caresses her hair. “Good girl.” He whispered softly.

Chapter 13: A Lover’s Lock

“Don’t fight it.” He whispered against her ear, lips running down the skin of her neck. “Let it happen.”

Her mouth opened in gasps, as his hands continued to rub circles into her pussy, teasing the nub that seemed to cry against his fingers. 

“Have you ever had a finger here?” He grunts, breath spraying on her skin. His middle finger drifts down towards her virgin hole, pressing slightly, making a squelching sound from her wetness. “Issa?”

Shaking her head, her toes curl. “N-no, uncle.” She whimpered.

It was the most surreal feeling. She never really did try that before, and the fullness was more than anything—she loved it more than anything. It was his fingers, his hand, all of Prince Warner was fucking into her head.

When he eases into it, all the while pressing the heel of his palm into her clit, her mouth opens stupidly. Dumbfounded in what she was feeling, and hearing.

Pumping his finger, he smiled. “Sweetheart,” he calls, making Allise look back at him with tears in her eyes. “Kiss me.”

There was nothing left to do, but nod. Warner crashes his lips with hers, hungry and demanding as he continued to fuck her with his middle finger that seemed to struggle to accommodate him. 

“We’ll have to break you in carefully now. Don’t you agree, Issa?” He breaks the kiss, and looks at her with adoration. His pace quickens, breaths mingling to one another. Allise could only hold onto his forearm, closing her eyes shut. “No, look at me.”

It was something entirely different, with a finger up in her pussy, in and out, in and out. The heel of his palm rubs down on her clit at the same time, making it seem as though the sun was down in the earth with her shining the brightest light. 

With eyes locked into his, her gaze pleads.“Cum for me.” He says, feeling the tightening of her hole. “Make your uncle proud.” He whispered.

At that, her eyes rolled back and her fluids once again doused the sheets.

 

—

 

Sitting at breakfast felt so odd. Allise has never been truly a participant of any secrets before, and she did swear to never be in a position to be in one.

Well…

Her eyes were cast at anywhere other than her uncle who finger-fucked her awake, and had to jump down from her window.

“Allise, you’ve barely eaten.” Queen Sierra says, concern evident in her eyes. “Are you alright? Do we need to bring in a physician?”

Shaking her head, she smiles at her mother who only expressed worry.

“Our little Issa seems to be riddled with many thoughts this morning.” Her eyes snap to her uncle who tilts his head at her—a great actor, eyes expressing the same worry as her mother—the glint in those eyes were so noticeable to her though. “Did you get enough sleep, sweetheart?”

Oh, he was good. Allise could barely keep a straight face, let alone talk as if she knew nothing of the deeds from last night. 

Sierra smiles softly, and pats her head, continuing to eat once again. 

Insanity is what it was called, she thinks. It was still a vivid memory as she looked at him. His fingers… his breath erratic at her skin. Nothing could really compare, and her pussy throbs at the thought. 

It was as if he'd read her mind, for his gaze darken at her. He diverts his eyes, and breathes deeply, placing his attention to the meal in front of him.

Desire was the story, desire was the end.

She was finally getting everything.

 

—

 

“Are you alright? Truly?” Lottie asks her as they walk towards the halls, gathering her dress up in her hands. “I’ve scarcely seen you so… reserved.” 

Snapping out of her thoughts, the young princess shook her head. “I… I’m alright, I…” She needed to tell someone, to be able to give light to reality. Not necessarily expose the incestuous nature that had been occurring in the family, but… she ached to tell.

It had to be real. She wanted to tell the tale for it to be true.

Putting her hand on Lottie’s arm, she stilled, pursing her lips. 

She must have stood there for much longer than she had intended, because Lottie nudged the girl. “You are truly odd.” She says, giving her a short laugh. 

With a nervous breath, Princess Alise bit her lip, and looked at her friend's eyes. “Have you… ever kissed someone?” She asked suddenly.

Silence.

There had only been silence. 

The switch of emotions in Lottie was terribly apparent and it caused anxiousness to rise up within the young princess. Maybe the plan to tell her just a bit of something had been a very bad idea. 

“I…” Lottie’s brow furrowed, eyes drifting towards the ground. “Of course not. I am not married, it would be improper would it not?” 

It was indeed a bad idea.

At that Allise actually felt the shame of it all, and went back to her shell. 

Right.

She was right.

How could she even propose to tell her friend that someone had kissed her, let alone fucked her with their fingers? It was a different world, and she should not be even subjecting herself into something like that. It was dishonorable. She felt the gap between them as companions at this very moment, and how she knew—in her mind—it won’t ever be the same for her ever again.

Backing from her friend, she nods. “Right, right.” She says, clasping her hands together, thinking of something to divert the conversation into something that will expose her to the air. “Of course, I was just curious. I was… reading a very romantic novel last night.” 

Lottie’s apprehension seemed to ease, and she let out a soft authentic laugh. “Why, of course you did! I found it truly odd for you to suddenly ask something like that, I thought you had something to confess.” Her friend shook her head, and clutched Allise’s arm resuming their walk down the hall. “Kissing…” Lottie tilts her head, pondering very hard at the concept, and it just proved to be such a foreign one. “It is something we will not be experiencing just yet. It needs to be special, don’t you think? What if the man was only there for one thing?” She piques, looking at Allise with a genuine wonderment. “Anyone who would propose intimacy that way without the assurance of a marriage is certainly a bad pick.”

Allise felt the phrase deep into her bones, sinking their fangs into her conscience, and bleeding her dry for all to see. 

Looking at the distance, she halts and looks at her friend. “What if…” She breathes deeply. “What if they were terribly anticipating each other for such a long time? What if… they loved each other so?” Her voice has been desperate. And if her lie was convincing, then Lottie must have thought it was a very powerful romance novel.

“Then would it not have been worth the wait?” She counters. “If love had truly been present, then the other will not bear to subject such shame to the other.” She says nonchalantly, and it makes the princess feel a bit frustrated.

She could not really come clean about what she truly meant couldn’t she? Could not really tell her friend that ‘Oh, well, marrying might be difficult! He’s my uncle, and so he just wishes to climb into my bedroom.’ 

Rolling her eyes internally, she sighs. She had to pick her battles, pick the right time to truly be honest.

Smiling at Lottie, she urges her forward. “Yes, exactly.” A lie on her tongue that burned flesh in its wake.

As they made their way into the garden, they were once again greeted by a sea of people that were engaging in all kinds of talk. 

The entry of Prince Kael was turning out to be a week-long type of celebration, and her father did not spare any expenses. 

Crossing the business men, the new money, and the gossips, Allise bid farewell to Lottie who had been called by Lord Duncan. Her young friend was destined to study abroad, and was placed on a tight schedule that was all about studying and studying again.

She then made her way to her two siblings—Dyanna and Elias—who were huddled in one corner and were whispering amongst one another. 

“You both look suspicious—” Allise interrupted, before Dyanna snapped her head to her and pulled her to them. 

“Do not draw attention here.” She whispered, her eyes glaring at her little sister.

With her mouth agape, Allise let out an appalled breath. “You’re drawing attention to yourselves just fine without my help.” She replied, then sighs. “But consider me intrigued, I want… whatever this is.” She shrugged.

The two eldest looked at one another, with a hint of concern on their faces. Elias was the one to breathe out a breath of frustration, and looked at Allise. “We… we saw something.” He says plainly.

Allise’s brow furrowed.

Holy mother of deity.

There has been a line in literature that often describes a feeling of cold water being doused at them. This was probably it.

What could they possibly know?

He… he was careful before he went down her window.

Right?

Was he?

Clasping her hands together to her front, Allise tried her best to straighten her face. “W…what did you see?” There was no mistaking the slight tremble in her voice.

Dyanna shook her head, crossed her arms and turned, seemingly upset. It did make Allise’s blood go terribly cold, and her hand to feel most clammy, but she tried to keep a straight face.

Elias leaned over to whisper in Allise’s ear. “Dyanna saw… Haveena…” He gulps, brows too drawn together in stress. “With the… Lord Priest. They were…” A pause, “Coupling.” The prince then blushes crimson at the word, leaning back to grimace. 

Oh, well that’s a relief.

Obviously not, but…

Allise felt relieved that the spotlight hadn’t been on her, but… she felt like she knew this before it was even told.

Haveena has always been secretive. For a socially acceptable royalty like her, she never did favor any suitors that came her way. At some point, the siblings did not understand her. Almost every lord wanted to take her hand, and while a lot of them asked the king for it, it still depended on her. 

The liberation in which River Caelthorne placed upon his children was thanked—but now?

If this news was to reach the ears of their parents and other highborns, it would be different. Being so trusting towards his children will change, and the perception that they can make decisions that will prove beneficial to their lives would be moot.

“W-where?” Allise whispered, looking at the two who seemed to have the whole world on their shoulders. 

Dyanna turned to look at Allise and then to Elias, an undistinguished look gracing her face. “We cannot talk here. We need to go somewhere quiet.” She says, rubbing a hand in her temple. Elias nodded, and pointed to the other part of the room.

The three siblings found themselves in the long room with only the crackle of the fireplace being heard. 

Until the quiet embraced their frame, it only rang true the gravity of which they were being subjected to.

It would be a scandal.

It would be horrible for her, that one was true.

But the Lord Priest was a good man, built from the ground then up. He will not survive such news. He would be banished from his post, if not killed for it.

“We have to talk to her.” Dyanna breaks the silence looking at Elias, her voice booming across the room. The frustration was now evident in her beautiful face, the disguise wearing off.

Elias sighs, putting his hands on his hip. “It…” He hesitates, looking at the window where the sun shines with clarity. “We know nothing about it, Dyanna.”

“What is there to know? I saw them!” She shouted.

Elias nodded, and then shook his head slowly. “No, she will be compromised.”

Dyanna breathed out a mean scoff. “She already is.”

“Yes, and it will be more damaging.” Elias says, his voice grave. Pausing to collect his thoughts, his jaw ticked. “If her maidenhead is gone, no marriage to see to it, a priest disgraced… no lord will wed her. The humiliation to which we’ll subject her will be the same, and she will choose to go forward to mother and father. Washing her hands of their misdeeds, and in turn her identity.”

Allise could only watch her eldest siblings, and think of Haveena that seemed to get herself in a mess of a situation. She felt bad for her, concerned. What if it bears fruit? Their…deeds? She will need to request for the wine of the Fiye to let the child drop from her womb. To whom will she request it? 

The shame of it all. 

It does drench on her too. Like her sister, Allise now understands more of the shame her siblings were to ever find out. 

Dyanna sniffles, and Allise could see the outline of tears in her eyes. “She cannot pretend otherwise.” She says, pouring a hand on her stomach to steady her breathing. “Our traditions are different. If she weds, the sheets are to be presented. If there is no blood… she will be divested.”

Her words hung in the air, and it left the air that was too tight to breathe in. 

The young princess bit her nail, and thought on her feet.

In youth, Allise has always been bright. When she was four years of age, she was already a very well read little girl. Almost everything that she wanted done will be done, every mistake righted, and every solution to her innocent worries gone.

Perhaps that’s how she thought of what she thought of. 

Stepping forward a bit, she purses her lips. “What if…” The two then look down at her, listening. “The prince of the south—Kael—they have d-different cultures. They don’t require bleeding on their wedding night.” She looks up at Elias who’s head tilts, processing her words carefully. “If we can convince him to pick Haveena…there won’t be a problem.”

Dyanna’s eyes glint with determination. She nods frantically, and looks towards their brother Elias.

“We don’t have any idea if Haveena will take him as her husband.”

“What she wants doesn’t matter!” Dyanna hisses at him. “Not anymore, she threw her options away, along with the liberty to do what she wished to do!” The words had hurt to say, Allise could tell.

Elias could only breathe deeply, then proceeded to look at Dyanna. He looked conflicted with it, but with a lone sigh, he nodded. “I’m entrusting you with this, sister.” He addressed her, then paused. “But I do not wish to take any part in this.”

Princess Dyanna’s eyes widened, brows furrowed. She strides towards Elias. “Your sister will be shamed by her husband, his counsel, and she will be presented to court in front of her father—the king.” She says the words with sternness that had been in contrast to the softness she emits. “When her husband cries impurity, it will damage her and in turn it will damage us.” She tilted her head, and crossed her arms. “What you truly wish for does not matter this time.”

Turning to her heel, Dyanna turns her back and walks towards the exit doorway. She calls out for the last time. “You handle Haveena, brother. I’ll make sure the prince marries her.”

From that moment, Allise felt the admiration and fright in her eldest gentle sister.

Elias pointed at Allise, and raised his brows. “You’re not allowed to tell anyone about this.” He says sternly.

Mouth agape, offended. “Uh? Of course I won’t, what am I? Insane?” She says, waving her hands in the air. She was irritated that he would even need to ask that. As if airing out the dirt they had would do her any good. 

The last thing she needed was a suspicious eye.

Rolling his eyes, he nods. “Yes, I did think you were insane.” He said sarcastically, then he turned her around. “Not even Uncle Warner, Allise.” He followed, walking back to the bustle in the garden.

At the garden, everyone looked the same.

But when Elias left Allise’s side to find their ‘scandalous sister’, she felt the weight of everything.

Allise saw Dyanna mingling amongst the crowd—one that included Prince Kael—mingling much unlike her usual behavior. 

What would the plan even guarantee for them? 

Oh, Gods.

Sensing the gaze, she turned her head around and saw Prince Warner already looking at her. His eyes burned right through hers, then to the prince of the south. 

She didn’t even have to ask, and she just knew that he’s misinterpreted everything. Shaking her head subtly, she tried. All he did in return was remove his eyes from her, turning back to talk with the lord who she didn't doubt would be talking about something incredibly boring.

The princess knew he would react irrationally, and she couldn’t wait to see what he was storing for her this time around. She did often wonder if whatever it could be would end them forever estranged.

There was nothing more she loathed never he tried to take control of her.

 

—

 

“Ugh! I did not do anything!” She shouts in frustration as she plops down on her bed.

Once again, her uncle has climbed her window. But now, it made her irritated because he was goading her about the slight gaze she fixed upon the prince—in which she was not even looking at the prince—he would not take any of her word for it.

Warner shook his head, eyes ablazed. “I truly think you enjoy taunting me.” He says, walking in pace. “I cannot express to you enough how much I cannot have you taking his attention. He can marry your sisters, but not you! You are already spoken for.” The anger in his voice was prominent, built upon frustration and restraint.

However…

Oh, that traveled perfectly well  in her ears.

Leaning forward, her lips turn upwards in a smile. “What?” She repeats, raising her brows. “I am…already spoken for?” With a tilted head, she teases.

At that, Warner stopped and looked at her. His face had been priceless at how confused, and frustrated he had looked.

She loved every moment of it.

Well, it was his turn to be frustrated. She’s had years of frustration.

“You…” He points a finger her way. “You irritate me.”

“Yet, you climb my chamber.”

“You force me to climb your chambers.”

“How’s that?”

“By living normally when I am in anguish everyday.”

She stops then, concerned. “What?” She walked over to him, and placed her facts in his arms. “How come, Uncle? Tell me. I do not want you to feel that way ever again.” Her tone conveyed much concern.

See, that was the thing. They tease each other, but nothing mattered more to Allise than her Uncle’s well-being. In any way, she prioritizes it most of all. He was different from everyone. He will not complain, but she wanted it more than anything.

Warner stared at her eyes for a short moment, before turning his head in the other direction to suppress a smile.

Suppressing a gasp, Allise then glared, dropping her arms. “Oh, you’re teasing me.” She says, rolling her eyes.

She turned to walk away, when two strong arms held her from behind, burying his head on her neck.

“My sweet, sweet, sweet Issa.” He whispered. “You worry for me, and I only anger you.” He laughed softly at the skin of her neck, then he placed a soft kiss on it before turning her around to face him.

She looked at him with irritation—true to what she had felt—and yet he looked at her with undying devotion. 

“You are promised for.” He says softly, voice feeling loud when they were not. It made her skin prickle in delight. “I will figure out a way…for us to be free to be who we wish to be. For us to function with our family, and to have the assurance that we can make our own. But I…” His brows furrow, hands steady on her sides. “I need you to draw attention away from you—the prince loves you.”

At that she groans and tries to pry herself away from him, to no avail.

“I’m serious.” Her uncle Warner says, hand tightening. “I will wage war to get you back, and it will not be pretty, Allise. You are mine alone—do you understand?”

Truly?

His alone?

No words could come out of her as she once again could only stare blankly at him. Her heart has been on her sleeve, and her dreams were always too vivid to be true.

She often pinch herself to believe that the reciprocation had been real. Now, he says things that make her legs buckled from underneath her, and she had no way to wake herself up if it indeed was a dream. 

The only thing to wake her up was to act.

React with actions that were never even questioned by Her mind.

Rising to her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to him, softly—lovingly.

For a moment, she felt as though he was shocked. She never initiated kisses like he did, and to her defense, she didn’t know how.

She didn’t care.

Nothing was more grounding than feeling his lips to hers.

Gaining consciousness, he clasped her jaw with his large hands—as gentle as she was—reciprocating the kids as much as he could.

The most gentle one.

Assuring and sure.

No one tried to penetrate the other with their tongues, no one to bite each other's lip. No one to conquer.

Just two lovers who locked each other's lips to feel their warmth, the swipe of the flesh, to feel the connection that had felt too surreal to feel. 

Maybe…in the near future they could talk about it more. More about how the emotions that stirred inside them felt more real than life, felt graver than death.

Warner slid his hand onto her waist, the other on the back of her head to keep her close.

Allise crossed her arms over his neck to pull him close just the same as he did with her.

A lover’s lock.

A binding embrace.

One of promises, and one that solidified the hunger for true intimacy that was to come that very night.

Chapter 14: Make Uncle Happy

“Please, please…” Her voice moans, fists clenched tightly on the sheets as Warner’s fingers penetrate her with vigor, making her whole body shake. “Uncle, uncle, please!” 

She didn’t even know what she begged for, but she knew it was coming. Like a cup to be filled with endless amounts of water. Her thighs spread wider, cunt meeting his fingers as they continue to pump into her virgin hole. 

Those long fucking fingers.

It did not make sense for fingers to feel that good but it did. It made her eyes water, roll back, and drool to drip from her mouth to her chin. Warner told her how much he adored it, how much his cock cries whenever she sees her face that way.

“Are you about to cum, Issa?” He teases, then he arrogantly spat down in her aching pussy, watching it roll down from her sick to her hole, the sight itself made her gasp. 

Dazed, Allise could only nod as her lower stomach burns of a promise to reach heaven. Toes curled from underneath her, fists clenching the sheets below. Stars danced under her eyes, barely holding on to the fantasy that turned all too real.

And there it is—looming dangerously on the shore— the orgasm that felt too wonderful when it was done by his hand.

Face scrunching up, Allise’s mouth opens in a single anguished cry. “Uncle… I’m…” Her whole body shakes.

She wondered if he planned to kill her reaching her climax like that. Seeing her, he leaned a bit to press his other hand down her abdomen, the sensation shooting straight to her core, intensifying the feeling of her cunt being stretched and played with.

He twists and turns his fingers inside, widening it for something that she doesn’t even know. 

“In all of your existence…” He rasps out, gaze zeroing on her sopping cunt. “I never thought I would be the one to do this. But… then again, I would kill anyone who ever even wished to do this.” 

Allise could only hear him, absorb all of him as she felt it. “I’m going to explode.” She whines, reaching to grip the palm on her abdomen. 

“Go on, sweetheart.”

With a shaky breath, she looked at the veined hand and how it dominated her more than anything.

“Uncle…” She moans highly.

Hips rising from the bed, she screams. “Uncle!”

 

—

 

“Uncle!” 

Warner then rushed to the little girl’s side, coming to her aid as her foot bent, side crashing to the dirt when she walked. The dashing prince carried her, legs wrapped around his waist, weeping her soul out. The little princess must have sprained herself as she walked ahead of her uncle—now she paid the price. 

Crying, the girl clings to her uncle. “I know, I know, sweetheart. Oh…” He coos, hand caressing her head as she sobs on his shoulders.

“Hurts.” She says, tightening her hold on his neck.

Warner then nods as he sways her a bit, much like a toddler who had been whining about whatever that bothered them. 

Allise was the type of child that had softness in her bones. It did bother Warner a lot, and had physicians come to check on her if something was the matter. They never did find anything on her, and often claimed that she just was just a girl—a small one at that.

Allise did not really like that.

She hated the fact that the doctor blamed the softness, and her clumsiness to her sex. It never sat well with her, and often told the prince about it, telling him not to send any more physicians.

The prince then realized that it might be true, but he just did not trust it. He hated the thought of her being sick. The thought itself makes him anxious beyond relief.

Walking back towards the palace, she continued to cry, turning heads of servants from all over. 

Setting his dear niece down to the dining table, he checked hastily for a bruise in her foot. Examining the skin loosely, and trying to discern if wherever he touched had hurt her.

Nothing did, and he was relieved to know that.

“You did not hurt your foot, Issa, what’s the problem?” He says softly, caressing her plump cheeks with both of his hands, writing the tears away.

The little girl shook her head, tears streaming down her angelic face, and poked at her side. “Here it hurts. I fell on a rock, it hurts.” She sniffles. 

The ruffles on her dress did look almost dirty, the land had just been damp with rain from the night. It had escaped Warner as he loved strolling through the castle. But… he felt irresponsible at the moment.

Smiling down at the young princess, he caressed her cheek. “I shall kiss it better, sweetheart.” The prince says with immense sweetness.

Allise’s tears seemed to have subsided, now turned into a soft giggle as Warner offered to indulge her childish whims of tradition. He mostly kissed everything better by imitating a gassy sound whenever he got close to it. Says it works better, because pain will not get close to something that stinks. 

Warner leaned close to her side, almost to laugh as he readies himself. “I shall kiss it better, no more pain.” He says.

 

—

 

Prince Warner’s lips worked up kissing her abdomen, stomach, sides, worshiping his niece's body.

Recovering from her climax, Allise eyes remained close with her breath rapidly exiting from her lips. It was a sight for Warner. 

One of delight, and one of confliction.

This was his niece . 

His young niece—only just permitted to take in suitors—that very young, and he’s here…taking advantage of it. Her clothes discarded, small breasts on full display, legs open with her cunt red and glistening from her wetness.

As if back in the horrors of the battlefield, he ripped himself away by sitting back on his feet at the bed, hand on his temple. 

What kind of monster…

Before he knew it, his breath had gone erratic, lungs compressing onto one another, heart breathing wildly at his chest.

As he felt himself slipping away, she moved to go to him. “Hey, hey.” Soft hands make their way to his shoulders. “No, come back to me.”

Shaking his head, he croaks out. “Allise…I fucking ruined you—I am ruining you.” He says, with so much pain in his voice. 

The hands stilled. A beat of silence followed and Warner did not know what to think of it. If she had felt terror and fled, he would not mind. It would pain him so, but the connection had been marred by something deeper than their blood.

Before he can fathom it, she straddled him and embraced him like a baby animal that clings towards their parent. Stuck, clingy, needy.

It renders him speechless, makes him short circuit, and think of all the horrible things that he’s done—all the people he’s killed. He wondered briefly that even if this fairytale was true, what had he done to deserve it? How come he’s so lucky, how come someone was embracing him this way? The beauty and the cruelty of it all. He wondered why it was him, and would kneel to God to thank that it was her.

For he will never admit it.

But he was certain that she was born for him.

Leaning back, Prince Warner looked at her face. The beauty, and the marks, and how she had a resemblance to him. The color of her hair, the color of her eyes, all through him. All Caelthorne through and through, even if they all deemed that she truly was the spawn of Sierra.

Shaking his head slowly, he bit his bottom lip. “If we do this…” His brows furrow, eyes scorching at hers. “There’s no turning back. I cannot… give back what I took away, and I am sorry for it.” He says regretfully, and he was. 

He is too selfish. He was only a man, only a man made up and joined by the world. He can be selfish, and he will be. He will take her, and he will enjoy it. 

But…what if she did not? What if she grew more to realize that it has been a grave mistake? 

It will kill him, but he did not wish to think that far yet.

Allise looked at him with love, as how she’s always looked at him, and she nuzzled her cheek to the hand that was planted gently to the side of her jaw. 

It always did render him speechless. How she got here, how she stayed here—but he will not have it any other way.

She gave him a small sigh. “I counted all the moments that could lead up to this.” She says, blush coming up to her face. “I imagined it… everything but regretful.” She then shrugs, not looking up at him due to her own innocent embarrassment.

“It will hurt you.”

Blinking rapidly, she then nodded, fist suddenly tightening on his shirt. “I know. I… I think I do.” Brows furrowed, she looked up at him again. Her small hand raised to caress his cheek, feeling the stubble—and he held his breath, always holding his breath when it came to her—she smiled softly. “If you don’t want to…i-it’s alright, but know that there will not be a moment where I would loathe it.” 

Warner’s eyes only focus on her, heart full of love for the girl who seemed as though grown overnight. 

At the same moment, his cock hardened—finally decided on what it truly wanted.

Allise’s eyes widened, looking down briefly, then back to get uncle’s eyes, a furious blush in her cheeks. 

“Never seen one?”

“What do you think?”

He glared at her. “You better not.”

“Of course I haven’t!” 

Smirking more to himself, he leaned back, and tilted his head at the girl. He’s decided . “If you want to continue this…” He licks the bottom of his lips. “You’re going to have to learn how to please me, Issa.” 

With determination in his eyes that makes his cock go steel, she bit her lip, doe eyes staring up at him so expectedly it makes him want to push her down. Make her take his cock without preparation, and the blood would be a testament—a tempting imagination of a wedding night that he prays to the Gods for—he would treasure it, and he will brag.

Right now, this will have to do.

Baring his teeth, he tried to collect himself, the blood was all rushing through his cock, and it fails to remind him that who he wants to fuck raw and dirty was the fucking princess of the country.

Leaning towards her, pushing her to her back—the General towered over the young girl, shielding her frame away from almost everything—engulfing her in the process. 

His cock throbs in its confinements as he stares down at her. Her bare body was more than enough to make him rut in the spot, but he held off on it. 

Without taking his eyes on hers that seem to be filled with anticipation and nervousness, his hands reached below to tug his trousers down, exposing his large cock into the midnight air. Pumping once, he shudders, then looking down.

He could’ve combusted on the spot.

His veiny cock, red and angry, was pointed towards her soft pussy—small and wet—it made his head go blank.

“God fucking damn it, it’ll hurt so much.” He whispers more to himself, lining up the head of his cock to her slit.

Her thighs twitch, a whimper coming out of her.

Looking up, he thought that it would be much easier to think of the situation that she was not his niece—but a grown woman.

But…

His cock throbs at the thought of her being his niece.

Allise looked down, and gasped, blushing furiously at the sight. It did amuse Warner, more so made him feel like a king, made him feel incredibly bigger than anything. 

Running his thickness through her slit once, she whimpered, back arching off the bed, eyes rolling backwards at the new sensation.

He’ll make it his mission.

Teach her everything she needs to know to please herself, please him, to please them both when they are entangled in sheets in which no one can see them.

He did it again, looking closely at how his cock separated the lips of her pussy, the skin struggling to accommodate him. She huffs, and moans quietly, but she couldn’t even register when Warner’s gaze was set in the goddamn cunt that was haunting him day and night.

“I need it to hurt, Issa.” He rasps out, speaking his truth in finality. “When you take my cock, I want it to hurt you so that you scream for me to halt—I will not. I want to pull out of you and see your blood and cum drench my cock. Your maidenhead—all mine.” He quickened his pace, grunting. “They’ll smell you on me from a mile away, and I shall make sure they can. Even your father will.” He growls out.

At that, her breathing hitched, throwing her head back against the pillows as tiny spurts of liquid gushes out of her swollen cunt.

He leaned over to hold onto her cheek, he stared down at her, before grabbing his cock…

And then shoving it in one deep thrust into her virgin hole.

Pitch darkness, and quiet.

The feeling was beyond imaginable. 

He was being choked by her tightness, and he can’t remember if pussy was truly like this. Had it been too long for him?

No .

Nothing felt like this. She was perfect. A good little cunt that could keep his cock warm. He grunts, fighting the urge not to cum like a little boy who was fucking for the very first time.

At that she stilled. But before she can even belt out a scream, his large hand muffled her mouth—silencing her, eyes wide and tearing up against him. He keeps still, watching the waves of emotions in his niece’s eyes.

Pushing his hips further, tighter, bottoming inside her small cunt, he felt such immense pride. A cockiness that he has never felt before. Sure, he’s always been a pain, always regarded himself as someone high and mighty. But not this. He’s never known the kind of pride that was attached to something such as this.

The feeling of taking his nieces maidenhead was something he never knew he would experience, and that…there was nothing that could compare to the feeling.

As Allise’s eyes welled up with tears, he felt his cock throb. “Allise, Allise…” He grunts, hand securing tighter at her mouth. “Cry for me, sweetheart. Come on, make me see that it hurts.”

He had no idea why it mattered. No idea why it crossed his mind, or why he itched to see it, but he did.

And like a good little girl …

Her brows furrowed, eyes pleaded, then she sobbed underneath him. Sobbed like a child. Sobbed just like how that little lowborn stole her favorite toy. 

Clicking his tongue in mock sympathy, Warner felt such an arousal flood over him. Making the blood rush all over his cock, twitching inside the cunt of his niece. 

It filled him with so much satisfaction.

He had gathered at that moment that… Allise will do anything for him. Not just because she loved him, but also because she trusted him completely with her life.

Uncle Warner. 

Uncle Warner will never hurt her.

Removing his hand from her mouth, Warner nuzzles her nose with his. Cock still lodged deep, he breathes through his nose, noting her tenseness. She was still too tight beyond relief, legs still squirming underneath him.

“It will get better, sweetheart.” He grunts in her ear, willing himself to not move an inch as much as possible. “Just wait for it.”

He wasn’t meant to take her tonight. Was not meant to lose himself, and bury himself deep within her walls. That’s how much she disarmed him.

Warner Caelthorne was a man of control, and restraint. In battles, he was never the type to plunge into them just because he ached to. He was the type to plan it, weigh his options carefully, think of all the possible outcomes.

Not this time.

This time, he’s grunting into the ear of his beloved niece. Cock throbbing inside her bare cunt, small, and all maiden. 

Within a few ticks of the clock, Allise found it within herself to hold onto his bicep, clenching her fingers on his skin. Staring deep into his eyes, the young princess nodded, while sweat beaded her brows.

“You sure, sweetheart?” Warner grits out of his teeth. He couldn’t even truly comprehend if he would care if she was not ready. He was, and he was aching all over.

Gathering her strength, Allise spoke. “Y-yes, please.” She replies, leaning backwards toward the pillow. 

He made sure to be calm, to be exact.

Slowly, he pulled himself out—not all the way—and entered her again. 

Her eyes were clenched shut, her small hole tight around him. 

Leaning down, he captured one of her breasts in his mouth. Tongue circling the nipple, sucking on the skin with fervor. Allise’s back arches on the bed, and he could feel the subtle gush of liquid that comes out of her hole.

Little niece loves getting her tits played with.

He continues to piston in and out of her as his mouth continues their assault in her breast, while the other was being pinched and kneaded by his hand.

Never in his damn life…

Who would have thought that avoiding marriages for years had a reason?

Reaching down, his fingers rub on the softness of her pussy, assaulting her clit that was abandoned by his attention. 

“Uncle!” She gasps, shuddering.

“Call me differently.” He rasps out, rubbing her pussy harder and faster. “Call me Warner. Like a lover will—like my lover would.” 

Unable to focus on his words, Allise tried her best even when she was being pummeled into the bed by her uncle. “W-w…” She cries, woo occupied with the way he had made her feel the way she's feeling. “Warner…” She moans, grimacing at the pain, and yet her legs were wrapped tightly on his hip.

For the first time in his whole life, Warner felt himself harden more. His cock quickens in an erratic pace inside of her, sloppy and desperate—shameful. He even found himself let out a little whimper at how her tongue spoke his name. 

The girl’s face slackens, as her uncle grunts into her ear. 

He was going to perish here, about to pass from the bliss that was the heat of her cunt. No one can salvage him, no one can scream into his ear to revive him, no one can pound on his chest to shake his heart awake. He was only a man. A man so cuntstruck that no pussy will ever suffice.

She’ll have to take him. Every day, and every hour.

He’ll teach her to like it.

Planting a kiss on her cheek, neck, ear, then to her lips, he moans. “Milk me dry, Issa. You know you can.” He grips her jaw, staring down at her glassy doe eyes, noting the little whine that makes way out of her bruised lips. “Make uncle happy.”

At those words, her brows draw together, clenching on his girth, and what had sounded like a sob—she explodes below him. Fluids escaping from his cock, and onto the sheets, mixing with blood from her virgin hole.

Leaning down, Warner crashed his lips onto hers, drinking in her whines and shudders—all the while fighting his orgasm that now truly seemed impossible.

“You better pray this doesn’t take root, Issa.” He grunts in her ear, breaking the kiss. His hips continue to slam on her small pussy, lewd sounds filling the room. “When I officially have you…” He moans, clenching his eyes shut. “I assure you that you will bear my child every year. I will pump you with my seed, you’ll fucking drown in it, you shall beg me to stop.” 

Looking down on her, eyes zero on him, dazed. He found himself feeling terribly, and uncontrollably possessive.

She was his .

Always have been. 

“Look at you…” He fucks her faster and harder, enjoying the way she makes little sounds that matched how much she looked. “I will not stop won’t I?” He rasps out, feeling his balls tighten. “You’re mine, Issa. I shall wear you out as I see fit.” Faster pace now losing their rhythm, making her mouth hang loose. “Uncle’s little plaything.” He says, then with passion, spits saliva into her mouth.

Like a kettle, she rolls her eyes back, milking his cock again. 

This time, he follows suit. 

Burying himself deep into her pussy, he shouts against the pillow on her head, muffling the sounds that came out of him as he painted her walls white with his cum.

Nothing can ever be the same.

They were one, officially.

There was nothing more frightening to him than that.

 

Notes:

I’m so sorry for the long update huhu??? I want to assure you all that I WILL NEVER abandon this story and we should all blame this goddamn life for making writers miss updating chapters

Chapter 15: A New Lesson

Allise felt sore and she was aching all over. Not once had she felt something so…good, delicious, and at the same time…hurt so much that it felt like she had been teared from the outside and on the inside.

It was terribly scary, truly frightening on her part. She did not even have the slightest idea on how that possibly led on and how she had the courage to proceed.

It was news to her that once a man… finishes inside, it could have the possibility to bear fruit. Her uncle Warner kept on and on about it and even when it was a matter that could not be taken lightly, she observed that he could be…too invested in the idea of her having a child.

She would be lying if the thought did not make her cunt throb.

Luckily, she had been blessed. 

He promised to be careful next time.

“W-what do I do… if I was to grow with child, the-they’ll notice and it shall be over for us.” The young girl panics, then looking down at her hole that was pushing out his cum that lodged itself deep.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I will be careful from now on.” Warner stared at her core, eyes darkening, before he looked away to the wall. “Have you bled yet?” He rasps out, voice deep and with an edge that makes her toes curl.

Thinking about it carefully, she bit her lip. Now was the time in which she truly had to count it—she did not understand why, but she did it anyway. Brows furrowing, she addressed him. “I have not. But I will  soon.” She says, voice filled with worry.

At that, the prince looks at her. Warmth filled his eyes, matched with the feeling of relief.

“If so, then it shall be of no consequence.” 

“How do you know?”

With a tilt of his head, and a slight grimace, he shook his head. “Best for you not to know.” 

Brows furrowing, mood fast depleting, she grabbed his hand. “W-what does that mean, how do you know that?” 

The only thing the prince could do was to pull her close and plant kisses onto her face, mumbling words. “It will never happen again. Never do it again, I promise you.”

Allise sighs, and sat down, wincing at how it actually made her skin feel goosebumps.

It hurt.

Bad.

Though… it did fill her with some pride that the pain had been caused by him—his ownership.

But it still hurts.

She felt almost feverish towards it all. When she went to the mirror when morning came and he had already snuck out, she viewed and was mortified at how many marks—hand prints on her waist, kisses that had inked—all over her skin. 

Bruised was the term.

So as she bonded with her family, she made sure not to move an inch. 

She had been anxious beyond relief though and kept on thinking that maybe they actually knew. They might just be waiting for her to say something, and banish her. Oh, they would kill him. They would hang him for this, they would—

“Allise?”

The young girl looked up at her mother who looked all too concerned for her, and it made her palms sweat. She thought the heat was getting to her but she knew better. 

She was guilty.

Plastering a soft smile onto her face, she held onto Sierra Caelthorne’s hand. “Yes, mother?” 

Sierra crouched down, and placed the face of her palm to the young princess’ cheeks. “You feel warm…” She says softly, and she drops her hand. “Are you feeling alright?”

And if the princess hadn’t been bathing in cold sweats before…she was now. She hated the eye contact. Well… she’s always done it, but why did it feel so unnatural to do it now? Especially with her mother looking at her with much love.

Oh, if they knew how much their princess daughter just made love to his uncle through the night.

Sitting straighter, she looked down on her hands, breathing deeply, then back to her mother. “I’m… alright, mother.” A smile accompanies her words. “I think I just… ate something earlier that did not agree with me.”

It did occur to her that her mother was quite truly perceptive. One of those women that can assess tone, and body language better than anyone she knows. 

The thought alone that her own mother could know sent fright all over her being. 

What more if it was the whole kingdom?

Sierra tilted her head, and was about to say something else—but Warner made his way to the two women, making Allise more frightened and yet relieved.

“A walk might help.” He said simply, placing both his hands behind his back, giving Sierra a smile.

Looking to Warner, then to Allise with utmost concern, the Queen nodded. “Yes, I think that would do you some good, honey.” Caressing the young princess’ head, she gave her a tender smile. She then turned her head to the Prince, giving him a sigh this time. “Please take care of Allise, Warner. She may not say that there is anything wrong…” She looks pointed to her daughter, then back to him. “…but I know better.”

Allise’s hand clenched on the fabric of her dress, guilt sweeping into her soul like the raging havoc of raindrops sent by the Gods.

“Does that even need to be said, Sierra?” Warner laughs softly, extending a hand towards Allise. She takes it without even thinking. “You are well aware that I shall always do.”

It impressed and terrified him of how well he acted in the face of pressure. How could he smile, and be cheeky when she’s almost dying?

The Queen nodded, and looked once more to Allise. After a minute of her stare, she spoke. “Do tell me if you feel unwell, honey. There’s nothing more important than your health, you know of this don’t you?”

As Allise nodded, Sierra finally got her relief and excused herself from the two.

Prince Warner then led her outside to the greenery, his grip on her hand soft. 

It would have been such a gossip if it were anyone. The Prince holding hands with another girl, or if the princess were holding hands with another boy—would surely gain the attention they never would like to bring to themselves

But… they were Warner and Allise.

The uncle and niece that were inseparable. 

When she was younger and much younger than that, she was always held hand in hand by her uncle. Always off to the palace, always outside the palace.

Everyone in the kingdom found the two, their flesh were always enclosed—clapped together in firm bond. With souls merging with one another.

They ought to be suspicious of this.

They should be.

But they were not.

As they walked, Warner looked down at her face, then he raised the hand that was embracing her palm—kissing the back of her hand tenderly. 

“I’m terribly sorry, sweetheart.” He says softly, voice but a whisper in the cold of the day. “I should not have lost my hold over myself—”

“I’m fine.” She insisted.

He shook his head, and looked ahead, his jaw clenching. “No, you’re not. You’re terribly young to experience that… Gods, you’re terribly young…” He shut his eyes, as if the words were registering just now to him. 

Allise frowns, panicking a bit. “Uncle, can you stop regretting a decision that’s already taking a toll on me?” She glared, snatching her hand from him then walking ahead.

How could he? She truly had no care about what his viewpoints were at the moment—not when her core aches and throbs for everytime she dares to walk. Nothing was as excruciating than this. She will never have sex again. Not if it would be like that every moment they will lay with each other.

Looking back, she’d see him smiling ever so softly. Head tilted back slightly, feet planted on the ground. The young princess wondered what was most amusing. She wondered briefly if he needed a mind doctor with the way his stance switches. Happy, angry, sad, manic, and normal the next.

“I’ll never do that again. Nothing hurts like it.” She says with a shrug of her shoulder. With her arms crossed, she looked at him pointedly. The deepest parts of her wanted to truly believe that she would remain true to her words. Never again, never do that again, never come through any moment that will lead to it.

But would that even be possible?

Looking at him now…

Her most dear uncle Warner.

How could she ever refuse him?

And how could he ever deny herself of the delight of his flesh against her skin, the warmth he gives inside of her, his eyes that flashes with love and anger as he takes her.

She shall never admit it.

But a part of her truly loved the way he had always been conflicted. It made her satisfied to know that he was at odds with what resided in his mind, and that he tortures himself for the decisions based on whims—all because he could never set her away.

She had never felt so good.

Him inside her, grunting into her ear, speaking the most absolute filth, his hold strong—hard. It was as if nothing had felt more real to him than that moment, so he hurts. 

It could be… that in his imagination… she would be able to take it. That the young princess will temp him, goad him on. 

She felt like she understood it as she looked at him now.

The unpredictability and the human that she was. The one that existed outside of his imagination. The one who was kind, beautiful, submissive, and innocent. It must make him delighted when she does something out of his concept. Such as be cruel, be mean, cry as he penetrates her, get furious at his reactions.

He loved everything in Allise, and wanted to see all of who she was.

She knows it now.

Warner inclined his head, and walked towards her once more. “Alright, I apologize, and… well we can do other things that do not involve me pushing inside you.” He says simply, as if discussing dinner. “Though it can be a shame…” Looking down at her, with eyes hooded—it made her pussy throb… this time with need. “Could I perhaps use it when you’re deep in slumber?” He leans down to whisper the words.

Her head snaps up, heat coming through her whole body. ‘Y-you—” She blushes, looking away from his teasing eyes. 

Warner pauses, and then lets out a soft laugh. 

Frowning, Allise huffs. “I-it’s not amusing. Y… you’re such a…” She clenches her fist, fighting the urge to shout at him and say words that she never even once considered to say.

Raising a brow, he grins. “You’re such a… what?” He repeats, mocking the young princess. “Tell me. A…? Motherfucker? Or a fucker in general?” He tilts his head down towards her—eyes twinkling with mischief and she could not even be mad. 

She loved seeing him light and happy.

Loved their bond the most, and how it evolved to something complicated… yet beautifully tragic. In its own way, only in a way that both of them could understand. 

How could this be against the laws of their kingdom?

Was this not beautiful?

Looking into his face, engraving it in memory, all she did was sigh. “You’re terrible.”

“That I truly am.” He says with that grin in his handsome face. All others see him is this general who won wars, and could be truly… truly mean to the people that he meets. 

Well, those were still true.

And that he gives her these moments of heaven and light? She could never pray her love for him enough. Could never express her delight in his attention. 

She would start to. 

She owed him that. She owed herself the same.

 

–

 

“What would that even mean! I- I don’t love him, I-I don’t l-like him, why should I marry him?” Haveena shouts, shaking her head in frustration. 

Dyanna stares at her with a glare, fuming from both ears. Her stance had been firm, and her breathing much more ragged with every word that came out of the second princesses’ mouth.

Pointing at her, Dyanna huffs an appalled laugh. “You will do it. It’s of no question anymore, Eena. Don’t disobey me anymore.”

Haveena’s eyes were something that Allise will remember for the rest of her life.

A cornered lamb, one that had no fight, no say.

Her heart ached for her sister.

“Elias?” She says, looking for the eldest son—the heir to come to her aid. 

Looking towards her brother, Allise could see his confliction. His eyes were on the large window, watching the servants chatter amongst their tasks. Elias could only turn to Haveena and clench his eyes shut. “There’s no other way.”

“B…but why?” Haveena questions, her tone quieter. The weight of his words were her nail. She had to obey Dyanna for being the eldest princess, but Elias’ word as the eldest brother and heir to the throne was set in stone. “I-I don’t understand.”

Allise could see. 

She does know why.

From her panic, to her words, and desperation.

She knows why, and is petrified by it.

Crumbling to her knees, Haveena’s face scrunched up as tears emerged from her eyes. “Why?” She sobbed, hands covering her face as she did.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Dyanna’s eyes tear up the same, before she turned her face to the other direction. Elias’ eyes stayed on her sister, sympathy on his face, but… sympathy was not enough. 

Allise could feel the tears emerging from her eyes, and she rushed to swat them away from view. Nothing ached more to her than seeing the shining light of her sister snatched away because she had been a fool to love someone she should not have.

She knew all too well.

“Tell me straight, please.” She says, looking up to the three siblings. “I… please.”

Elias looked to Dyanna. The eldest princess had her back turned to all, holding her temple through her fingertips. “You know why.” Elias simply said, soft as a feather.

A short silence was blessed in the room and all Haveena could do was shake her head, hands come pleading for something—anything.

Looking at it… she must have had her hands in surrender for her lover more than her own.

Finally, Dyanna looks at her sister. Down at the pitfalls the second sister went, and Dyanna could only meet her with rage befitting an eldest daughter. 

“As if you do not know why!” She says, spitting the words out. “I saw it.” The words were venom, letting linger in the air. “You—and the Lord Priest.”

At that, the air thinned. Haveena could only stare at the floor, eyes wide in terror. Elias could only focus back on the window. Aliss could only look at her nails with a recognizable ache in her chest.

Not Dyanna.

Dyanna started looking at her, taking in her reaction—letting her know the weight of the gravity of what had been happening. 

“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about. I…” She had been in a puddle on the floor, hysterical and beyond comforting. It ached Allise to see her that way, but it was the word of the eldest in the household. What could she even say, what could she even do for her sister? 

Nothing.

The eldest princess shook her head, the softness now coming back to her face. With it, the shine of liquid in her eyes. “It does not matter… if you claim not to know.” She sighs. “ You will be marrying the prince anyway. He’s eager to go home, and he can only do that if he gets married.” Looking straight at her, she sniffles, but keeps her head up. “And you… they will eventually find out. You were lucky it was us, and not father, mother, uncle—not anyone else. You are not exactly trying to be careful. But think about this for you, sister.” Going near Haveena, crouching down to her view, Dyanna clutched her shoulders making the second princess look her in the eye. “He could be hanged, you know this don’t you?”

Those words made Haveena sob louder, pleading with her eldest sister. “N-no, please—don ‘t take him, don't… d-don’t let mother and father find out, please.” She then cast her eyes to his brother. “Elias, p-please!”

All he could do was nod. 

Dyanna took a hold of her arms, making Haveena look at her eyes. “You will marry him, do you hear me?”

A long pause, then accompanied by another burst of cry—when she was once again shook by the shoulders of the eldest daughter, fury in her eyes, and determination in her gait. “Haveena!” She shouts to her face. “Do you hear me?” 

Elias sighs at the sight, and walks towards the two girls. He stood at the defeated frame of Haveena, and placed a have on her slumped shoulders. “Listen to her, Eena. I beg of you. Do not fight this matter.”

Allise nods, taking a breath. 

She could not really say anything to her. Not when she’s in somewhere she shouldn’t be in—a much worse situation.

Haveena could only wither at her seems, looking down at her hands. One could only imagine what occurred in her head—the hurt she knows she’ll inflict. She needed to do it.

Looking up at Dyanna, she weakly nodded. “A…alright.” She closed her eyes, face crumbling at its wake. “I’ll…marry him.” 

At that the two eldest seemed to be filled with relief. Especially Dyanna.

Allise did wonder briefly now, looking at her eldest sister. She could truly do anything she set her mind into when it comes to saving her family. Maybe she will never know what truly occurred. She will never know how Dyanna truly did convince the prince of the south and maybe it was for the best.

Everything that can ever happen shall happen.

It truly had to always end well, and It also had to end badly.

 

—

 

“Where have you been?”

Allise yelps, turning around to see Warner sitting in her bed. 

Truly it did not matter to her if he had come or not, she just did not wish for him to speak unannounced in the dark anymore.

Clutching her chest, she let out an exhale. The day had beaten her beyond recognition. 

She then headed towards the bed, looking at the prince with herher wide doe eyes.“Can I embrace you?” She asks softly when she was just on his side of the bed.

Prince Warner tilts his head, curious. Then his eyes softened, and he welcomed her in his arms—exhaustion leaving her frame from the day that seemed to wreck her all of a sudden.

She was on top of him, clinging to him like a babe. All she could do was bury himself into his neck, curling herself to her most rightful place—which was truly…by his side. There for her, there to nurture her, there to comfort her when things were weighing her down.

A lone hand caresses the top of her head, his lips planted on the side of her temple. “Did something happen to you today, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice vibrating through his entire body and making her insides feel like a warm summer day.

She can never say it anyway. What would be the point? Worry him further?

Even if they had been…something different now… he was still their uncle. 

So, no.

She shook her head against his neck, letting herself warm. “Nothing happened.” She muttered, closing her eyes and letting herself relax against him.

“No, something happened.”

“Nothing.”

He paused, caressing her head without stopping. “Is it not for me to know?” He simply asked, and it made Allise look up.

Curiosity was seen in his eyes, but she knew with certainty he would never force her to. It has always been that way. Before everything. Their bond was one of respect and love.

Allise placed her chin under her hands that sat on his chest. Giving him a soft smile, she hums. “You don’t want to… make me tell you?” 

“No.” He said simply. “I want you to tell me what weighs on your head of your own accord. I want to know everything that is to know—more so now—but I want for your… will to wish to say everything.” His finger swept a stray lock of hair to her ear. “But…if it’s grave and needs aid—it needs to be said. Do you understand?” He raised a brow.

Nodding, Allise agreed with him.

But…she will never tell him about the plan with Haveena. She knew that at some point he was now… hers. Although…that may be true, but her father was still her brother.

And they were still family.

She could only softly give him a smile, looking at his features that were just truly handsome for their own good. 

When she had been much younger, she would compare the faces of the brothers in her head. It would make River Caelthorne scoff when Allise would claim that Warner had been the more handsome brother, and Sierra Carlthorne would be claiming differently.

But to her, Warner was the most handsome. In all of existence. 

The most beautiful soul too. Someone she knows inside and out.

And that’s why she knows that he was lying.

Warner wanted everything to be laid out to him, for her secrets to spill out like ink on a pen. Secrets were never his favorite, and certainly never when it comes to Allise. At some point, the princess gathered that the prince might have been truly enamored by her—more than she was.

So…for a while she shall keep it secret.

She knows he will make her tell the tale one way or another. She just had to give her siblings time to perform their duty, so that when the news breaks to him he cannot do anything about it.

Gods, if he were not very much insane he’d laugh at how ridiculous it was.

But she needed something different.

Clutching his shirt, she sat up, looking down at him with her lip wrestled between her teeth. 

She’s never felt this way before. Just by smelling him, looking at him. Even with all the pain she felt, her pussy still sings and aches for him—more so tonight.

“What do you want, Issa? Come on, tell uncle.” He says, a rasp in his voice. Large hands holding her hip in place, in line with the straining cock in his trousers.

She was beet red already, heady with lust. Breath labored, and her body shaking with need already. How could she possibly say whatever she needed from him? “I…” She gnawed on her bottom lip.

Warner raised a brow. “You…?” 

“I need it inside me again… please, uncle.” She whines, rubbing her cunt in the strain in his pants, making his hands hold her strong and steady. 

He hissed at that movement, glaring up at the young girl. “I thought you’ll never do it again?” He mocks, giving her a head tilt.

The young princess shook her head with passion, and pressed herself at the tent, feeling the friction zap up her entire body, making her eyes heavy with nothingness. “Please, please…”

It was humiliating to see her that way, and she knows it was delightful with the way he twitched under her. 

“We can’t…” He groans when she grinds herself again, but his hands don’t stop her. “…we can’t risk it anymore.” He looks down at her hips, then up at her face. The prince has gears working in his head, and if Allise were not so delirious with want, she’d find it truly attractive. “Take your clothes off.”

But that did snap her into action.

She rushed in getting every lace and bodice out of her skin, and watched as Warner lowered his trousers to stroke his cock while his little niece struggled to untangle herself out of her corset.

Spitting in his hand, he continued stroking himself, then beckoned her over. “Come. On top of me.” He says, his voice low and grave, as if it weren’t even from him. 

As Allise sat on top of him, he placed his cock to lay in his stomach. With his hands, he guided Allise, and aligned the lips of her reddened cunt into his length, grinding the young princess up and down.

She gasps, hands falling to his chest as her toes curl, and her whole body shudders. What was this feeling? What was he teaching her, showing her? How could someone know all of these to make their lover feel good?

Repeating the grinding motion, this time harder, Warner grits his teeth but never removes his eyes from the cockhead that disappeares whenever her pussy lips hug it. 

Her eyes were glassy, dazed looking, as her mouth was open to let out small whimpers and shaky breaths. His cock was hitting everything. Even when he’s not inside she could feel him—all of him. His veins, the curve of his cock… it made her shut down in every sense.

“New lesson for my little Issa.” Her grits out, guiding her hips a little faster now, making her face collapse into pure pleasure. “My cock is the only thing that will make you feel good, you hear?” His hand took a hold of her locks, bringing her face close to him.

She gasped, feeling the sting of his grip on her scalp. She was now moving on her own accord. Grinding her pussy at his cock at a furious pace, no thoughts combined. 

“Come on, Allise… say ‘Yes, uncle. Your cock is the only thing that can satisfy me.’ Come on.” He goads, hips smashing up against her, matching her pace.

She was near, the explosion behind her eyelids coming sooner than she thought. 

“No, no.” He said, then her airway was then restricted, his other hand now enveloping her delicate throat. But it did not stop her, she was still fucking herself silly on his cock. “You say it, or I throw you on the other side of the bed and make myself cum on your face and you get nothing.” He spat out, mean and evil—it was making her feel blind with lust. 

Shaking her head, huffs making their way out of her mouth—she tries. “Y…your cock is t-the only thing that can s-satisfy me.” She whines, the feeling of a foreboding orgasm getting a grip on her.

“Again.”

The hand on her neck tightened—she couldn’t breathe.

Panicking, her hands tried to pry his hand out—but… what was bizarre to her was the way she did not stop. She was still using his length to cum, looking down at him with pleading eyes. “Y…” Her voice was nowhere. 

His pre-cum was leaking out and staining their skin, making the slide of his cock more easy on her pussy. Staring at her, eyes hooded, he raises a brow, expecting the words.

Her brows furrowed, the pace was making her head cloud up, but she tried again. “Y…our c-cock is…” She tried to per his hands again, while his hips met hers hard, making her eyes roll back. “T-the only…thing that…can…s-s…s-satify… me.” She cried. He then let up his hold on her throat, letting her catch her breath.

Before tightening it again.

“Again!” He said louder as his cock throbbed underneath her, and she knew that he was about to cum the same,

Repeating the words, air restricted—the phrase lingered in the air again and again.

Until… her ears rang and her cunt clamps down on nothing. Her vision went the darkest they’ve ever been, and he placed his hand on her mouth, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream as she gushed all over them. 

Warner brought her face close to him as she came, forehead touching one another. At the same time, he huffs and then lets out a grunt, then his cum splashes their torsos, making them a mess once again—similar to last night.

Allise eyes were already too heavy to even notice this, but she was sure he stood up after and cleaned her along with him.

When her eyelids open up a bit to look for him, he finds him pulling her closer. He was still on the bed, stroking her hair, and kissing her forehead. “Sleep now.” He says softly.

And then she did.

Notes:

Subtle Hannibal line reference in there—couldn’t resist.

Chapter 16: The War Broke Him

“It's wonderful news, is it not?” Sierra claims, looking at Haveena and the Prince Kael with adoration in her eyes. 

To her, the message of ‘Young Love’ was clear. They must have thought that it was something that had taken root behind their eyes and ears. 

It was an intimate night for the Caelthornes. One of dinner, laughter, and joyous news. Allise looks at Princess Haveena as the news broke and her heart ached at her composure. The way her eyes crinkled with happiness, the way she laughed at Prince Kael’s jests with adoration…

Looking at the King and the Queen, Allise briefly wondered if they truly wished the best for their children, and if they truly thought the union was real. But… it needed to be real, right? The kingdom had to take a bite, and the Princess was the first victim.

“It is. I congratulate the both of you.” Her father said, but Allise could see the reserve he had in his eyes. “The wedding shall be a feast, the largest ceremony the kingdom has ever seen… would you like that, honey?” Addressing Haveena specifically, he looked at her with warmth and… comfort?

Taking a deep breath, Haveena nodded—enthused at the idea. “I’m sure I deserve that.” She laughs, looking as if it had been the best thing she’s ever heard. “It’s a shame Uncle Warner is not here for the news.”

Looking at his spot at the table, Allise shook her head. “He went back to his manor for a short time, there were things that needed attending, he said.” The young princess explained. Licking her lips, she added. “Which…reminds me.” She turned to look at her parents. “Could I perhaps spend some time there? I truly wish to unwind and… you all know how much I love that place.” She laughed.

“The princess and the prince general are truly close, are they not?” 

Snapping her head to the direction of the voice, she sees Prince Kael looking at her with a tilt in his head. A look that was odd to her, and made her feel…uncertain.

“Ah, yes.” Sierra agreed, smiling from ear to ear fondly while looking down at her food to slice the meat. “Ever since she was a child she had been attached to the hip with her uncle. The bond with the parents pale in comparison to her bond with Warner.” Looking back to Allise, she nodded. “And… yes, you may.”

The phrases themselves made her ice cold. As much as possible, the young princess avoided the topic of Warner altogether. She was truly panicked, and worried too much that it could show on her face…all of the things she hid. The secrecy of everything.

She smiled at her mother, and went back to eating her food quietly—aware of the pair of eyes that were training her every move.

 

—

 

As morning came and River Caelthrone sent word for Warner to send a carriage for Allise. Much usual as the protocol whenever she was to stay with him for a short while.

The sun had shone down so beautifully, making it a great day to travel to his manor. Alice wondered briefly if she was truly going insane.

He never called for her.

As soon as he left for the manor, she felt this…ache—one that dulls her chest, and makes her feel terribly lonely.

Having him around and missing him had already been common. But…this was different. She could not bear this.

“I hope you’re careful.” 

She looks back to see the prince of the south, walking towards her. To be honest, she’s never found him intriguing—never found him to be…anything that could be of any use to her.

Though that remark at breakfast… that stayed with her, and made it all too menacing.

Clutching the small patch of handkerchief in her hand, she tried her best to mask the nervousness in her face. “About what?” She asked softly, giving him a small smile.

“Even if Haveena weds to me, to the kind of parentage I have…” He looks to the distance, stepping beside her, hands behind his back. “Nothing could truly change another’s culture, don’t you think? And…It truly was incredible how you hide. I don’t meddle, but I’m—intrigued.”

She had no idea what he had been talking about. The confusion was etched into her face, but her insides knew otherwise—she was on flight. Her nerves were getting the best of her, and she knew that all of her was taking the truth.

He knows.

Allise is so sure he knows.

She subtly starts to shake her head, but Prince Kael scoffs. Closing the space between them, she looks down at the princess. “This marriage—the context of it can tear apart countries all the more…something that I’m too exhausted about. I want out of your country…and be back home at peace. The repercussions for this is grave.” Looking at Allise, Prince Kael sighs. “That’s why it can never be known by anyone else.” He says quietly, face closer to hers to whisper. “Certainly not the prince commander. If I get a whiff that he knows of the reason for this union, I will cause an uproar in your family about how you are no longer a maiden, and that the Prince Warner climbs your chambers every night to fuck you when he can.”

What?

Allise’s brows knit together, hand tightening on nothing. She felt her breath hitch in her throat—the sound of her surroundings fading into a loud pitch.

So…it was this frightening. 

The fact that someone else could know, point it out to her—makes it sound like a grave, disgusting, and thought provoking crime.

What was this prince doing? Was he spying on her, leering every moment he could?

She was sure that her face betrayed her already, but she chose to plaster a smile into her face. “I… what a thing to say to me.” She says, but her voice loses the power.

“Isn’t lying a sin in your culture?”

“Well, I’m not religious.” She says plainly, giving him a tight lipped smile. “I’m a… see it to believe it type of girl.”

“You should be. You should be most at one with God, having the situation you have.”

Allise clenched her hand at the back of her dress, giving the price a polite smile. “Nothing can truly turn me somewhere I truly have no belief in.”

The prince tilted his head, and it was obvious that amusement was dancing around his features. “I wanted to marry you. More than any of your sisters.” The fact was in the air, as if it was the most casual thing to ever be uttered. “But…the pull of the same skin is truly different,” He looks at the pathway, while Allise remains stone cold. “Good morning, commander.”

Allise’s head snaps to the pathway, and she feels such terror. There he was, on his horse, staring at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

Leaning a bit close, Prince Kael whispered. “Be good, little Issa, can you?” 

That told her all she needed to know, and just how much the prince knew. 

He departs, leaving her clutching the bunch of her dress.

“What was that?” 

She shook her head, fearing more so for Warner than for her in all honesty. Her veins were frozen, her limbs were stone—she felt… petrified. “Nothing, uncle.” She says softly.

And while she has not made any necessary eye contact with him, she feared that the heated glare on her right face was from him alone and that he was beyond angry for this was not the first time since they’ve gone intimate that she’s withheld information from him.

If it had offended him greatly back then when she lies—he’s absolutely livid now.

Allise looked briefly at his blazing eyes and looked at the horse he’s sitting on. “No carriage?” She asks, playing with the fabric of her sleeve.

After a moment, he spoke. “No.” The voice was flat and unfeeling. “I had… originally planned to ride with you in this beautiful weather.”

“Is that still not the plan?”

“It is.”

“Then why ‘had’?”

He tilts his head at her, expression unreadable. “Hm.”

Walking towards him, she looked up at him as he sat on his horse, looking down at her with an expression she couldn’t comprehend. The princess was more nervous than she could admit, and she knew it showed to her face,

After a while of just plainly looking at the young girl, Prince Warner jumps down from his horse—wordlessly and effortlessly grabbing Allise by the waist to hoist her up his horse. 

And thus began a trip that was spent on complete silence.

 

—

 

Arriving at Prince Caelthorne’s manor—in which after hitching his horse, walks past her—Allise could only sigh.

She wants to tell him too, she wants to be able to tell him whatever resides in her mind, but… that’s just not possible. He can’t know everything.

Even if that could make him feel so irritated, she didn’t have it in her to quench his thirst for her mind. The obsession he feels can’t always be something to fawn over.

She was still her own person.

Going after the brooding prince, she takes his arm, pulling him back. “Uncle, please talk to me.” She says softly.

His jaw flexes, looking in the other direction. She held her breath, waiting like a stupid girl and when he finally turned his eyes at her—she froze.

It made her remove her hands.

He had been a man that hurt.

A man who carries within something that she can never get familiar with. The weight that what had been his could easily be taken away.

Tracing his lower lip with his tongue, he looked at her once again. “Grace me a moment to compose myself, will you?” He says, his voice a lot low tone—filled with anger and calm at the same time.

She could tell he wanted to explode.

She can tell it.

Even when his anger was never on her before.

She drops her arms and stands in front of him, still. Unmoving. 

“Do you want to shout at me?” She asks, feeling such immense emotion in her chest—a welling of something incredibly horrible on her soul. It was as if something else overtook her.

As if the words were a surprise to her, she tilts her head. “Do you want to hit me?” A genuine question from her lips.

What scared her the most wasn’t really the phrase itself. It was more on how…

She wouldn’t really complain if he did.

If he wanted to, he could.

And that frightened her.

The thought that even if he were to pull all of his strength, lay his hands on her, make her bleed until he screams into her face—leaving her pooling on the floor…

She would be fine with it.

“No.” He says, making her look up suddenly, making her snap out of the trance—the expression on his face unreadable. “No, y-you…” He looks in the other direction—at Merlin, his butler. “Take her to her room, don’t make her come out.

Merlin’s face looked conflicted. “My prince…” He says in hesitation.

“Do as I say.” He says, pointing an unsteady finger at him, before walking out.

Allise looks towards Merlin, and sees such an apologetic look on his face. He didn’t really have any choice, she knows that.

Even if she was indeed a princess, he was still the head of the manor.

 

—

 

Well…

Getting locked in her bedroom was a first in her life.

Growing up, her mother and father never really had any punishment for them. They were most likely just angry, and then…nothing.

Her uncle on the other hand… never believed in getting angry at all with her.

It made her anxious and at the same time… happy. It was one of those indications that the dynamic between the two of them had changed. She was no longer just his niece and he was no longer just an uncle.

Going up to the window, she looked at the moonlight and thought it was funny that she was spending her night like this.

She envisioned it to be something entirely different. More so on…romantic.

A child would think that.

Well, she still was.

And that depresses her at some point for it just goes to show that she can’t do anything much even if she was high up.

If it had been Haveena, Dyanna, or Elias—they wouldn’t have been forced to be locked up in a room. No one could do that to them.

They weren’t as young as she was.

Why was she just…

Weak and…

No.

Steering back from the window, she shook herself out of the thoughts that seemed to eat away in her mind. 

Feeling arms wrap around her waist, she froze.

Then tears welled up on her eyes.

“Why would you ask that of me? I will never wish to hurt you.” The voice whispers, the outline of his lips felt in the skin of her neck.

Her stomach felt sick, as if large boulders were pressed on then, the same goes for her throat. It was all just… wrong.

Twisting her head slightly, a single tear rolls down her face. “I thought you…you were angry at me, and…”

His face etched into something sympathetic, all too painful for her. 

“If you wanted to at that moment, it would be alright. Nothing… n-nothing would change and maybe y-you’ll be less infuriated.” The words dragged on in her lips, shivering at them—at the words itself.

As if the world paused, Prince Warner looked at the window. His eyes are far from thought but there nonetheless. 

Then…he leaned to place the softest kiss on the back of her neck, under her ear, then to the back of her hair. His hands then found the ribbons on her back, slowly untangling it from their place.

“I live for you.” He says softly, rubbing his knuckles on her bare back. “Every day…I think of all the ways I can take care of you, love you, make you happy… and if you think that I would feel better shouting at you—hurting you,” Warner breathes harshly. “I would never, my love.”

Feeling the shift in the air, she sighs—closing her eyes to his warmth.

Carrying her to her bed, he laid them both down, then sat up to remove his clothes. Allise felt her heart swell up, relief flooding her chest.

“I only want what’s best for you.” He leaned over, words and lips caressing her ear. Using his other hand, he delved down to touch her pussy—rubbing it once, then squeezing—making her gasp.

She felt lightheaded.

As always, when he touched her. Nothing could penetrate the cloud that plagued her wherever they were skin to skin. 

Going down on her body, her breath catches in her throat when he sees him making his way towards her cunt. Instinctively, she tried to shut her legs—but he was too fast.

Prying her legs open, his eyes looked down and he hisses. “I dream of the day when my children will come out of you… when the time is on our side, I’ll pump you everyday—making you carry children every fucking year. You make me out to be a fucking mad man, sweetheart—my cock is so hard I can’t think straight.”

He then dives into her pussy, sucking on her nub—making her scream. His arms held her legs down, relentless in his actions.

She has no idea how it was possible, but she felt heaven at that moment. The little princess’ eyes rolled at the back of her head, body shaking in bliss. Her hands clench on the sheets as his tongue circled her nub then sucked—oh, fuck—she’s so close. 

Her toes clech, legs trapping his head.

How could they take this from her? How could they take away bliss—this…incomparable pleasure that surrounds her veins? No one could please her like he does—she’s certain of it for he knows her.

Knows her deeply inside and out.

And that’s why she’s thrashing on the bed as she cums all over his face, hips rolling onto his eager mouth. “Uncle…uncle—oh my god.” She gasped, eyes dazed, trying to pry his head away from her overstimulated throbbing pussy. 

He didn’t let up.

Which then caused her to shriek and thrash all over the sheets.

At that moment, he slid in. His cock burying itself seamlessly into her young cunt, pace much slower than one can expect from him, deeper though, one that strives to explore. “I love you.” He says softly, nose burying in her hair, lips planting kisses on her face. “I love you so much, Allise. I love you so much that I feel faint.”

His hips piston in and out in an even pace where Allise could feel the thickness of it—the veins that scratched her walls. Warner groans, seeing Allise—hands clawing at her sides as she stares at him dazed, with a look on her face that could only be labeled as ‘well fucked.’  

“I can’t wait to fill you up properly—Issa.” He grunts, pained look in his face. “Have your legs up, to let your rock your own body to trap my seed inside.” His hips grew desperate. “I need to pump you and make you birth children til the end of time. I want to make you a birthing mother queen just because I want to see my seed take root—that I entered you sweet young pussy without your father knowing.”

Her jaw went slack at his words, stunned. She should be disgusted—should be revolted that he was bringing up the innocence of her father to this monstrosity that they were doing.

But…

She wasn’t.

In fact—the wet patch on the sheets was a testament that she had been insane.

“What did he say to you? That BOY prince?” He rasps out, clouding her mind. “Tell me, Allise—you’re only mine, he cannot be someone who could bathe in your company—tell me what he said.”

But she was silent, more so, focusing on her own pleasure. “I’m close…” She whimpered. His voice rang silent as she clenched over him—body shaking in pleasure as spurts of her fluids came out of her hole.

And when he finally takes his cock out of her, shooting his load onto her stomach—groaning—she barely registered it before he put on his clothes and went out of her chambers.

He… left her marked with his seed in her skin, no kisses, no anything.

She felt her eyes water.

How cruel he can be when he doesn’t get his way.

 

—

 

Warner Carlthorne was not stupid.

His ears were more effective than anything, eyes—even if it had been in the corner of the room—were sharper than anything.

So when he saw within the corner of his sights the servant who unfortunately made her way to the chambers, eyes peeking at the sight of the Gods—Warner felt amused.

Like he was when he had been informed that Haveena was promised now to the boy prince. It had been joyful news. Though… the will that his niece had to lie to him had been new.

But, he feels his teeth gnash whenever he envisions him with his stature close to his woman.

His property.

His wife.

It still was a happy news of course, but that pact would not be the last.

Many of his kind would want to marry a Caelthorne. There were three princesses anyway, a banquet of royalty with gold in their blood. All gunning now for two women.

Dyanna, and Allise.

They all had no clue that there was only one remaining princess. To take the other would mean death and war.

If he had seen the servant, it would be such a relief to torture her—make her bleed and plead. The shackles he’ll place onto her will be unforgiving but then again, so was he.

She would wish she was dead.

But at this very moment, as Warner roamed in the quest of the peasant—he felt something cold that could crumble down the estate.

He was not the man he was.

That’s what he realized.

The war broke him, destroyed him beyond repair and now…

As the servant resides in the kitchen quarters, eyes darting on the sides as she clung to another servant. It was a busy day there because that’s how it always is when the princess visits. Every meal she wanted would be cooked, everything she wished for would be prepared.

Now, that… stain.

Nervous eyes.

Shaking frame, mouth whispering to the other servant girl—starting something, starting a word of mouth that will tarnish them forever.

“My prince.” The head chef says, abandoning his work as Warner enters the ivory kitchen. Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at the prince, ready to be his neck and call.

He wasn’t here for anyone.

The war broke him.

The girl's eyes see him, then she stands upright—eyes then going to the servant beside her. The tale now passed.

The war broke him.

This could ruin the family.

He could kill them—imprison them.

The war broke him.

That much was obvious when he only looked at the two, then his feet took him back. Turning away from the slaves that were beneath his feet.

This was where they could be useful.

Let them talk.

About them.

About him.

About Allise.

A tarnished reputation would surely take the heat off of her.

The war tore and broke him.

Damaged him beyond repair to care about repercussions, too clouded by the feeling of her.

It would be easier to have her when her purity was questioned. Easier to manipulate the court into letting her off of the shackles of marriage to another.

He will not allow it.

No one can have her. 

No marriage, no council, no royalty—not even death.

As he walked away, his fists clenched at his sides. When had he been this way? Was it just about the war? Or was it that he’s always felt this way about the little princess and now that he’s free to have her, he’s gone off the tracks?

It makes him frightened.

If the fates backfire on him and they send him to death, he grows frightened.

Not because of his fate.

But for her.

But because he knew that if he were to die, he would track her down and kill her the same.

She can’t live without him. Can’t start a life if not with him. 

Prince Warner would go through every lengths to keep it that way.

Notes:

Hello! Long time no upload, work has been fucking my life. Rest assured that I will never abandon this story though and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Chapter 17: Now the snow’s here

Days are perfect when you try to make them. Once you place your heart onto having a perfect day, it shall be. You can always…do something to make yourself feel better.

But…It can’t happen this time.

Not when Warner just treated her like that.

It was bizarre to her that she relied so much on him for her own happiness. So when he was horrible, she felt it from her toes then to her heart—making it clench up to nothing.

She wanted to go home.

No more of this. Not now anyway.

Gathering herself, she walked outside of her bedroom, on her way to locate her uncle. 

At that moment she felt the air thin. Such was the terror of being scrutinized much more closely—not admired, but simply observed like a lamb on the market.

Turning her head back, she saw some of the servants looking at her, whispering amongst one another. The other held a sneer in her face. The very moment the princess’ eyes met hers, they stood upright and left—whispers still following their trail.

Allise tried as she would and paid them no mind. There had been no reason for them to talk about her, no reason to sneer at her—yes, it’s for something else. What could they possibly have about her? She was dear to everyone, the delight of the kingdoms. It wasn’t her job to worry about them.

Until everyone had been the same.

Servants shielding themselves from her gaze, turning away after one greeting, whispering like a couple of peasants on the countryside.

When she was younger, she went to a small village called Brunstwa. They were made to go there and offer their condolences to the men that sacrificed their lives for the war.

A lot of them were widowed, orphaned.

And all of them spat near their feet, cursing at the way they came, the way they spoke—royals cloaked in glory having not done anything for the country except to bark orders at the people.

Allise hated that day.

Allise hated this.

Allise hated yesterday.

She hated that night the most.

The circumstances had been different. As Allise woke up today, she realized. She realized that she was important in her own life and it has been bizarre to offer herself up to him the way she did. No holds and no more barriers.

Offering herself up to him, like a little lamb ready to be slaughtered had been a mistake.

That’s why she got treated that way.

Why should she find him?

He should find her and apologize to her for what had occurred the night before—should be on his knees and bled for how he treated her.

She realized that she must’ve let his words come to her, his cruelty, in her veins like an unwanted guest. The voice that tells her that she can always do better and make people know it had been a trait of her uncle.

Selfishness and being unreasonable was his forte and now she thought that it did feel good to be so.

Turning back, she returned to her own bedroom of the manor.

He will apologize, he will be the one to approach him.

Not her.

Why should it always be her who extends her hand?

 

—

 

She wanted to scream and curse.

He did not visit her.

Two suns had passed and nothing.

No window to do so when she learned from Merlin that a carriage had been brought to her from the castle, saying that her father had ordered for her to come home this instant—no reasonings, no arguments.

She found it odd, but she obeyed anyway.

Stepping into the carriage, she turned back to Merlin. Grasping her dress, she looks at the windows of the manor. “Why hasn’t he shown himself to me?”

Merlin’s hands were clasped on his back, giving her an apologetic look, and another she could not comprehend just yet. “The prince has a lot of things on his plate, princess. He does not mean any offense and wishes you a safe trip.” His voice was tight.

Looking at him for a moment longer, she simply nods, then looks behind him to the servants that continued to look at her with certain eyes that made her hesitate. 

“Well, do tell him that I’ll be going back.”

“Yes, he already knows, princess. He regrets not delivering you.”

At that, she clenched her jaw. Her feet then took her to the inside of the carriage, not even bothering to look back. 

She felt most disrespected here.

She hated her visit.

 

—

 

It could still have the potential to be a good day. When you really make your mind up about it, you will have a perfect day. 

How so, when you’re fetched by the prime minister himself.

“Lord Fyres,” She greets, taking his extended hand as he guides her down the carriage. “To what…do I owe this greeting?”

He flashed her a small smile that did not quite reach his eyes and placed his hand on his back, “There are simple things that need to be done, Princess. I apologize if your trip was cut short.”

Everything made her insides swell with anxiety.

“Come, princess, your father awaits you.”

 

—

 

“What?”

River Caelthrone arranges the paperwork on his desk and sighs at the sight of his daughter. “It’s not an execution, sweetheart—it’s just for a while.”

“You forbid me from seeing Uncle Warner.” Her breath picks up.

Messaging his temple, the king walked to Allise and kneeled on her feet—eye to eye. “Just until the false rumor dissipates. It’s not good to have that going around, certainly not when there’s to be a wedding in the house.”

Looking into his eyes, she felt hers well up with tears. She didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. It irritated her the most that her father wouldn’t tell her what the rumor is. He dances around the taboo of it but never speaks it out loud.

She knows she’s young, but she’s about to have a heart attack.

Trying to steady her breathing, she looks to her father pleadingly. “Wh…what’s the rumor?” Her voice, small and innocent, asks.

At that, River Caelthorne’s eyes hardened. “You do not need to know about it.” He says, before standing to walk back on his desk. “The matter will be finished in no time,” His jaw clenched. “I have many people to answer to and suitors that are dropping their hand—others on the edge of a cliff. It’s a distaster.” His hands went busy on the endless amount of papers. “All the men and women who gossip about it, shall answer for it.”

At that Allise could only gulp, dread filling her inside.
“Answer what?” Her brows furrow. “Father, please.”
With one last look, River Caelthorne sent her a gaze that made her stop in her tracks. It immediately reminded her of a time where she wanted to go to the hunting trip her uncle was going to. She had begged and begged for him to let her go—which had sent her mother into a fit of confusion and shock, saying that young girls shouldn’t be in that kind of spectacle. Her father did have a trait that Allise liked and hated all the same. River Caelthrone will always be on her wife’s side. Learning of her disdain, he kept a firm no. Allise, as a young girl then threw a fit and immediately disappointed Sierra. One look from her father that only shouted ‘Anger with repercussions, a fire that’s to explode’ made her settle down.

Allise did not wish to think about it, but she knew it had a connection with the way the servants of Warner’s Manor looked at her.

With judgement. 

Disgust.

It made her skin crawl.

Chewing on the inside of her lip, the young girl nodded. 

She stood up, and excused herself from the fume of her father. Whatever the rumor had been, it closed its way to River Caelthorne’s mind. The sharp part of it lodged deep into his skull.

As Allise walked out of his study, deep inside of her was someone who already knew what it was. It was still difficult to think of any kind of evidence that would support such a claim—there wasn’t any—but the word of tongue is certainly enough, wouldn't it?

But…why them?

Coincidentally, why them?

After his manor, someone could’ve easily fabricated a lie that was triggered by the anger for the Caelthornes, for taking in Prince Kael when their people killed ours.

There was too much.

This was all making her insides feel as though the aching heat of the fire had been all over her.

Walking down the hall, she lowered herself, sitting on the ball of her feet as she clutched her stomach. The pain had been excruciating to say the least, making her forehead gather sweat like a contestant put on the spot.

“Allise?”

Her head turns to the voice behind her to see the Prince Kael himself, standing with a confused look on his beautiful face.

Allise swallowed the overflowing saliva on her mouth and breathed as slow as she could. “Please…please help me.” The words come out in her, something that sounded truly foreign—weak.

At that, the prince rushed to her side. Scooping the princess in his arms, he looked at her. “Where would you wish for me to take you?

Pointing to the library, the princess grimaces, holding onto her stomach as if the tiny thing would give up on her already.

She was nervous.

She was anxious.

She felt everything she would have hated to have felt when the time came and he took her.

When the prince set her down to one of the chairs, he kneeled down and looked at her face with close observation. Allise couldn’t read his face and could not even be bothered to, for she felt dread all over her small frame.

Looking up to Prince Kael—noting the subtle green and blue hue of them—she shook her head. “What is the news? What has got the King rattled? You must know…and you must—please—tell me.” She let out in rushed breaths, forehead beading sweat from the pain that attacked her.

The prince could only look at her, then he swallowed, as if he had been deep in thought. The air in the room grew thick with tension—it was the kind of tension that didn’t excite her in the least—dread was the only word to call it.

“Say something.” She whines, curling into herself to press her stomach.

“It can’t be worth it, Allise.” He says softly, his voice shedding into her skin as if she were nothing more than jelly.

It had been the first time that the prince spoke that way to her—to anyone—and constructed thoughts that had been unmanned from his mind. He sounded like the future heir of the South.

But she didn’t have time to dissect him. Not when what she has was on the line.

She shook her head, slowly. “No, it is.” Her voice cracks in pain that had doubled in meaning. “You won’t understand—”

“I do—”

“No, you do not understand.” She interrupted him, feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. “My life…has amounted to this.”

His brows furrow, confusion, irritation etched his features. “It’s not worth ruining your life over, do not be naive.”

“I’m not. Please.” She clutched one of his shoulders with her free hand. “He’s my life—I’m his.” When he saw the reluctance in his features, she clenched him tightly. “No, you must listen to me. All of this—” her hands gestured to where they were. “I want you to take it into your chest when I say all of these mean nothing to me.”

With a hard look her way, he spoke. “Then you’re a foolish girl.” He bit his bottom lip, shaking his head, looking at her as if she was another specimen that another needed to understand. “The rumor was… a servant has seen the two of you in your own chambers in his own manor, with him on top of you, planting his seed to your womb—that was specifically said by him—and that you were enjoying yourself.” He looked back at her, observing. “It’s true.”

It was not an assumption.

It was a fact.

Something that made her terribly and uncontrollably ill. 

“No.”

“Yes. And now… the wedding shall be postponed until your kingdom can get a grasp on the supposed fallacy.” He clicked his tongue, brows etched with irritation, then his tired flash to hers once again. “I know that in our culture we permit uncle and niece unions, but engaging in intimacy before your hands could even be bound to one another—is a big mistake.”

She shook her head. “It was not like that—”

“It is like that.” The prince shook her lightly, eyes looking at hers as if she grew a new limb. “You cannot marry one another—no matter what nonsense he might have placed upon your head. It will never happen.”

Allise’s heart aches, and she feels her limbs weaken. It had been a fantasy of hers. To get married to him. To live with him for all of eternity, but how would that be possible?

She never asked herself that—too afraid of the answer, overly naive to care.

 

—

 

It can’t always be simple.

Nothing in this world, nothing that had worth bearing to hold onto tightly—tight in a way that could make your flesh bleed—would ever be so simple.

Nothing ever was.

She was starting to realize that.

No one had been talking about it, certainly not with her

But…

She sees it.

The stares.

The revolting, disgusting, incriminating stares that scorch her back, making the hairs on her arms stand on guard, making her palms slick with unwanted sweat. Though she paid them no mind, and so did the rest of her family—she still felt sick to her stomach.

She was lucky that the people knew of her as the princess with the greatest feelings, the princess who cries at every funeral, the princess who cried the whole night after seeing a stag’s head. 

She was lucky to be deemed fragile and not guilty.

The incapability to see Warner had also taken a toll on her.

The health of him, the lacking sight of him made her stomach ache—made her insides coil with absolute anger.

Yes, they weren’t well when she left his manor. But… that’s passed.

Seven days, to be exact.

Counting to eight.

She could not believe it.

Allise had been thankful that her family left her alone as she rots in her bedroom, aimlessly staring at the window he climbed into every chance he could. 

Standing from the heat of the fireplace, she went to the window, the breeze welcoming her face—making her shiver.

It’s no time to leave her window open.

Not when snow’s here.

But she hoped he would come, sweep her off her feet, and extend to her the offer of a lifetime that she would gladly take, consequences be damned. 

It scared her, how much he meant to her.

How much she was willing to give up to be with him, to love him, to be able to show to everyone that it was possible.

She would do anything. She would live somewhere with him where titles did not mean a thing, where he and she were insignificant beings. It would be alright to her if their home would be small, made up of cheap wood, and rusty chairs, it was the kind of home that would smell of something faint when it rained. Their window could only be two, facing the sink where it also faced a meadow where their children play. 

He was nobody, so was she. 

He could farm, she will try her best to be of use.

She could have endless daydreams, and every possible scenario involved breaking the chains of royalty.

How naive she still was.

Gripping the handle of her window, a lump emerged from her throat.

Closing it shut, she felt her insides coil—as if speaking, no, screaming to her about her impatience. There’s this voice that scratched the back of her head, telling her that he might still come to her and that she should wait.

But…

It was tiresome to do so.

And his hands were tied just as much as hers.

 

—

 

Haveena could only shake her head.
“What?” Allise whispered, brows furrowed.
“He can’t come. Not yet anyway.”

“When I had spoken to father about it a few days ago, he said he couldn't.” Elias followed. 

The youngest royal shook her head. “Has he changed his mind, you think? Why not?” Her voice reached exasperation. “Father already knows that the rumors are rumors, why can’t this be lifted? I feel so terribly worried for him—Uncle has never been apart from us whenever he’s back home.”

“I understand, we all do, it’s not fair.” Dyanna rubs her back, her chin resting on the other. “But… it’s only been  two weeks, my sweet, and the rumor has reached certain areas that should not have been reached.” Looking at her sternly, she shook her shoulder lightly. “Now, I want for you to understand that this is a serious matter, it’s not to be solved by your impatience.”
Elias clicked his tongue, furrowing her brows, looking at Dyanna—her sharp tone unneeded.

“Must you always be this way? She understands the gravity of it.”
“She’s a child.”
Allise winces.
Elias massaged his temple. “ —who, I can assure you, understands the gravity of the situation, you do not need to rub it on her face. How much misery it is, or how it could ruin our reputa—”
“It could! It could ruin our family!” Dyanna interrupted him.
Holding his hand up, Elias gestured for her to calm and pause. When she did, he sighs. “All I’m saying is that… Everyone is stepping into fire lately, the fact that a baseless rumor could spread tremendously fast is suspicious. It makes me wonder if we have a spy who’s relaying these rumors.”
No, she thought. I was, in fact, caught having intimate relations with my uncle.

What she hoped was that…she hoped the wench was suffering the consequences of what was happening. 

It can only be her suffering this way.

“A spy!” Haveena exclaims, laughing at the thought. “How untrusting you are, I’m sure it was just someone that thought it would be fun to spread falsehood while Allise was with uncle.”

“And risk their lives for it?”

Haveena, frowns. “Perhaps they did not know it would even be taken seriously—I honestly didn’t.”

“It’s a waste of time to engage in.” Dyanna follows.

Allise could only clutch her head in her hands, her insides feeling more like liquid at every time moment without the commander prince.

When the door of the reading room opened, Iolanthe bows her head slightly to the royalty, eyes on the ground then to them. “Your highnesses, you’re all being called by His Majesty to the hall room. He says your presence is needed." She bows once more, and leaves the siblings to their devices.
“I do doubt that.” Haveena muttered.
Elias clicked his tongue, before standing up, and adjusting his clothes to its proper state once more. “It was bold of us to exit the gathering as siblings. All of this for an engagement party to make up for your postponement." He looks down at Haveena pointedly, jests on his tongue—an effort to lighten the mood.

Since the wedding had been placed on hold, the father of the five nobility made sure to arrange a gathering to seemingly celebrate the engagement. 

It did placate the royals for a time and it showed how the rumor that surfaced to everyone’s ears had been a light matter that was not to be taken seriously.
Haveena smiles, picking up on the mood. “Yes, well.” She looks teasingly at Allise. “If only you were not coupling with Uncle Warner, this would not have happened.”

At that they walked off laughing with Allise following, trying her best to seem as though it was indeed a hilarious comment.

Once they entered the gathering, the only logical thing to do was disperse and busy themselves with conversations from the lords and ladies. 

An arm clutched Allise, making the princess jump. Glancing at her side, it was none other than Lottie—she sighs. “My dear friend, you frightened me!”

“Yes, I did think so.” Lottie laughs softly, before her eyes get replaced with worry that Allise could not help but detest. “I apologize for even having to bring this up to you once more, as I’m sure you fill with anger at it—”

“I wish for you to tell it, at once.” At that time, Allise could feel her jaw clench. Her eyes look at her friend. For the first time in her life, she had felt such irritation and anger. 

It was irrational, she knew of it. 

Yet…

She detested having all of them gawk at something that had been true. And it devastated her all the same, for this was truly the reaction that they would get if they were to come forward with the new form of relation they now had for one another. It got events postponed, it got people hushed, it got people whispering.

Even if they had deemed it false, she did briefly wonder just how come everyone was still engaging in it, and how her father was too clammed up about it.

Lottie gave her arm a squeeze. “How are you? I know that… whatever that gossip was—distasteful and disgusting news it was…”

Her heart ached.
“I wish for you to know that I’m right here.” SHe says genuinely, the words grating horribly on Allise’s ears. “How dare they sully you and Prince Warner’s name that way? I hope that whoever started such a preposterous rumor gets punished. They must be!”
“Yes, I do hope so.” And it had been sincere. 

She hoped that whoever had the audacity to ruin the two of them gets ruined from the inside and the outside. 

She hoped whoever it was could feel the rage she felt within for she had never been this angry.

Whoever came between her and the affair she was having was to suffer immensely. If she knew any better, her uncle is more enraged than she was.

And if she knew him well, he would offer the rat to her.

She would enjoy that immensely.

She had many ideas that rested upon the anger on her clenched fist.

 

Notes:

I want to say that we’re nearing the end of this story, everyone! Well….not near NEAR, but you get it.

 

And…I’m curious how you all think this would end?

Chapter 18: Look, I’ve hurt you

The days went by without her.

It was all fine. It was planned for it to happen after all, it was ingrained deeply into his mind of how it would all unfold.

Warner Caelthorne did wish for it to spread faster—wider.

He wishes for it to reach all parts of the world. 

One could only imagine his delight during River’s visit when he heard his woes. 

There were lords that extended their hand towards the young princess at a time, once after hearing the preposterous rumor—they had all fallen back! It was such a delight to know, and to hear.

He seldom minds how it troubled his brother so.

He was losing his own wits about him.

“I remember…” River starts, his eyes on the horizon, content at the peace Warner’s manor gave him. Away from all the chaos that erupted back home. “We used to take from father’s armory—swords, guns—wielded them as if they were toys. Everything… all play, everything all fun.” 

Warner stared at him. 

“I find myself tasked with truly difficult thoughts. I could barely remember the reason why I even desired the throne.” He downed the last of his drink, refilling it with another. “Yet…everything is difficult. Marriage was difficult, raising children proved to be difficult.” He glanced at Warner, giving him a subtle shake of his head. “Being a brother too. I detested sending you to war.”

Warner breathed deeply. “It has always been an honor for me to bring honor to our name, brother.” He says, voice soft and light.

What followed them was silence, with the king’s brow pressed together—a tired man—he continued to drink as if he was now unburdened by the heaviness of his crown, now only a brother to his only remaining one.

Warner seldom wondered if he should be feeling more horribly in the face of him. If he should be cowering, frightened at the very sight of him.

But he wasn’t.

To be a coward in front of him, would be a signal of regret or remorse about how the path had progressed.

Allise was everything to him.

River Caelthorne finding out would be the greatest relief his soul could ever harbor.

It will not be a pretty sight.

He will hate him and even if that fact ached him, he knew that there was nothing to be done about it. He needed to get through it to be more shameless.

He will never give her up.

But it did unnerve him at some point of how his brother never mentioned it to him—never uttered of the bloody boulder that resides in the halls of the Caelthorne castle.

The rumor.

His brother never told him of it anymore, never mentioned, nor hinted—he just talked about the aftermath of it.

He was waiting for the punch, the inevitable doom that could come out of his brother’s mouth.

“I make myself ill, brother—alas—I should not speak of it to you,” His voice lowers, eyes drifting to the horizon. “They all concluded that it might do the empire greatly if you were to aid in the war in Deniatz. Once again as a commander of our men.”

His back steeled.

Deniatz .

The war of the northerners.

All summer and cocky men.

Warner could count the times that he and his family had ever stepped foot in Deniatz. For a long time it had only been another Kingdom ruled by whoever it was that wished to rule it. It had not been invaded by the Caelthornes nor the Darevasaas—it was too far, path too treacherous. A place that’s eligible for someone who wishes to get away from everything. It was not worth the trouble of the trip as a commander.

The mountains and the rough sea you had to go through to get there was monstrous.

It was mostly a quiet country, but when a king had eight sons with no will—things would get horrendous. They had a practice of taking multiple wives, in result, it made every prince have different mothers. All highborns with different clans and different wills wish for power.

Now the eight siblings were off to fight war amongst themselves.

Warner Caelthorne didn’t even know who they sided with if he were to help.

He did know why he was being sent.

Even if his brother would not speak of it, the rumors would be answered.

The prince did not have it in him to confirm the suspicion—he knew.

“Do you remember him?” River’s jaw tightened. “The eldest. Alec Vanzevore.”

Of course, he did.

He was the only one that unnerved him more than the place itself. When they were younger and visited that damned place, Prince Alec was often quiet. More so when spoken to.

He had piercing silver eyes that were signature to their line, like how the Caelthorne’s would be gold. 

That prince inspired him at some point to do better at swordfighting. When Warner Caelthorne was young, even if he was, none had beaten him in a sparring. 

Not until he matched him.

It was as vivid to him like it had been just two moons ago.

They were only three and ten when the Caelthorns visited the Vanzevores. It was a hot day like any other day but it was particularly hot to the westerners.

Prince Alec was more than willing to spar with the beloved prince of the west. Of course, Warner Caelthorne was always a humble kid. He never mouthed off skills he never had and was thankful when the prince permitted the swordfight.

He had dirty blonde hair, longer than most for the north grew their hair that way—Warner could remember how he placed it in a tie and he remembered once again that he had been one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever set eyes upon. 

All before Allise shattered every notion of it.

No one won that day, both were too good—too skilled for their age. Alec was glad for it and so was Warner, for they did not wish to mar the respect they had for one another.

He looked to his brother. “Of course, I remember him. How could one forget?”

“Yes, well.” River rolls his neck, a weight pressing down onto him. “He’s the eldest child. It would be natural to be supportive of him.”

Fuck his life.

He knew he would be exiled somewhere eventually, but he did not know it would be there.

All for her.

Gods, this was all for her.

“As you wish.” He says with a smile.

—

“ What ?” Allise stressed, placed a hand on her head. 

“I truly do not understand.” Dyanna’s brows furrow.

The siblings were all gathered in the piano room, each of them together to once again talk about endless things outside of the royalty title.

How delightful it was to hear that Warner’s once again being plucked away from her. 

She knows why, but oh—it was truly irritating.

Haveena looked at Allise and tilted her head. “You would think that such a preposterous rumor would slide off the tabloids easily—yet no—now one of our kin is being shipped off to a land that holds a festival that eats human flesh.”

Elias looked back at her. “Yes, I've heard of that—but is it true? Terribly barbaric if it was!”

“Do not believe everything you hear.” Diana replied, sighing. “They were all dignified like us, just less appreciated for they were not friendly. They’re a kingdom that holds tremendous wealth and finds it below them to exchange pleasantries with the rest of us.”

Haveena adds. “And they were eight sons! Can you imagine? Eight!” She laughed. “From the day they were all born they wanted to kill one another.” Looking towards their eldest brother, she sighs. “Oh, I’m glad we don’t have another son here.”
“Bold of you to assume we’ll fight for it. I am the eldest son, the claim belongs to me by right.”
“Yes, well—not because it was given to you that it means you deserve it.” Dyanna raises a brow, tilting her head to her brother. “That is precisely what they fight about in the North. Yes, Prince Alec was the eldest—but how did he deserve the title more than anyone? Eight brothers, consider this all! Those are testosterone ruled men! They will wage war on almost everything, a throne nonetheless! I assume they cry ‘ I’m deserving! No, I am the one! ’ as of this moment.” They laughed. 

Allise will not laugh. She could not fathom what her father was thinking, but it needed to halt. It needed to stop once and for all. Taking Warner away again and again was giving her the stomach ache she hated most.

She cannot bear it. 

Standing from her seat, she slithered away from her siblings to locate her father.

All the while failing to notice the scrutinizing gaze of one of her siblings.

 

—

 

Did his office feel this far before? 

No, not really.

Today it was.

She was feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders recently, all of it crushing down on her all at once.

Bending down, she clutched her achilles heel. 

Her feet hurt.

Best ignore it.

Tears gather at her eyes, but she swats them away, gnawing on the inside of her cheek—continuing to walk until she located her father’s office that feels like a myth at this point.

And even then…

What can she do? What could she possibly say for him to change his mind? Why would he? Why on earth would he? She was just a young princess whose opinions never mattered. She was just a girl who was known to love her uncle more than anything—what could she possibly know about matters such as these.

Why would he listen to a child?

Bracing her hand to the wall, she sniffled. 

She’s never felt so helpless before. It was as if every move would be a losing game and that even if there had been a game—she would never even be invited to play in the first place.

So then she stops.

Facing her father with tears in her eyes will do nothing to ease the image of her as a mere child.

Her feet take her to her room then.

One the door clicks shut, her walls then crumble. The grip she has on her doorknob makes her weak, her knees sharing the same sentiment as she sat on the floor. All the while heaving breaths that threatened to choke her to the abyss.

“At last you come.”

Her head whips behind her.

She felt her chest tighten.

“What… uncle!” She sobs, crawling to him fast, reaching him quickly as her head rests on his knee, whilst he sat on her bed. She clung to him, breathing him in—the scent was of the woods that he rode in.

He caressed her head once, twice, thrice like he would a good little dog.

She looked up at him, hardly believing her eyes at the moment, the sparkle in those doe brightness unmistakeable. Her instincts told her that she might be imagining him, but no.

He was here.

Now .

But within a few breaths, he once again would be far away into the abyss.

Her head shook, brows drawn together. “You must object to Father’s demand—you cannot go! You mustn’t!” Her voice carried so much desperation within them. “I do not understand why he believes those rumors! You must convince him they’re all lies, the lot of them!”

At that, Warner could only stare at her. His hand continued to caress her head. 

“Uncle!” She calls out to him.

His hand drifts to caress her cheek, tracing from the plump of it, to her nose, then to her lips—every word from her lips seemingly ignored.

Pulling her close, he closed the distance between the two of them—locking their lips together.

Allise’s hands trembled as they held onto Warner’s knees. She tried her best to return his kiss, the push of his tongue, and the eagerness of it—attempting to ignore for a time how everything made her sick to her stomach.

She wanted to forget about it too.

But it cannot always be like that.

“Stop…” She pulls away, only to be pulled once again by his strong hands, eager. She breathes heavily, pushing his chest. “U…uncle. Stop it.”

But he did not.

Instead he grasped her by her nape, his other hand yanking her to sit on his lap. He was all teeth, biting, nipping at her lips—an anger that could be felt clearly by her.

She felt faint.

She then tried to turn her head, which earned her a hand—clutching her jaw to face him. “No!” She struggled. “Why… there are more pressing things to attend to. S-stop!” The princess could feel her eyes water at his forcefulness. “Please…”

It seemed to piece through him, his movements slowed—halting almost completely. 

Allise then looks at him with clarity. 

Her brows furrowed at how darkened his eyes were.

She was not certain if it was the dark of night or if it was because of this very moment.

She was terrified of him.

“I knew who spread that rumor, Allise.” He breathes the words that did not seem to even come from him. “I…alone, knew of it. I saw her, stared down at her…” He grunts, pulling her small body closer to him, hands squeezing everything they can, mouth on her ear.

She remained frozen. 

What did he mean by that? What could he possibly mean? Did the person escape from his grasp? How could one ever escape the commander? The prince!

She looked at him, leaning back to try and decipher what he could possibly mean. Her eyes searched his blank ones and tried to come off with an answer—a different one that did not leave a sour taste in her mouth.

“Then… what happened to her?” She spoke softly with apprehension. “Where has she gone?”

When he didn’t speak, when his lips failed to move—she felt something ugly rear itself into her shoulder, one that never came across her. An anger so prominent and so hurtful that she looked at him and felt the urge to kill him.

To hurt him as much as he does her.

“You let her endanger me—”

His nostrils flared, shaking his head. “I did not, I will never—”

“You let her get away, you-you let her tell those rumors.” She gasped, her wide eyes returning to him. “Gods, she did see us…”

Even with his hands trying to get her to remain where she was, she felt such emotion that she had to wretch herself from his lap, falling to the floor.

She breathed roughly as her hands clasped the carpet, clenching into nothing. Her stomach felt as it would cave in onto herself, she felt the bile rise up to her throat. 

No .

It was shameful.

Yes, she’s always known that it would be, of course she knew.

But the image of it?

The fucking image of it.

The sweet princess of the kingdom? Teary eyed, legs spread, a cock of an older man railing her, her uncle—the commander of an army, whispering filth into her ear, both moaning in pure bliss.

WHORE .

SCUM .

She heaved. “What have you done!” She shouts, tears streaming down her face as she looks up at Warner who looked at her with wide manic eyes. Eyes that resemble her own.

“They won’t take you, Allise.” Warner crouched down, kneeling to her and grasping her shoulders, his fingers digging into her skin—pain that could not even register in her mind. She was too angry, too enraged, same as him.

Only she had a just reason for it.

While he was simply out of his mind.

He shakes his head and now Allise could see him with complete clarity. He had bags under his eyes, they had almost no life to them. He was a ghost walking, someone who was deeply haunted.

By her.

Always by her.

“You jeopardized us—”

He shook his head. 

“You have put yourself and me in danger—”

“Farce!”

“You have tainted my image—you have tainted my very being. All because you love me and have grown obsessed with me—”
“And I am the only one for you.” He grins, grasping her jaw roughly, digging. He looks at her lips, and snarls. “Yes, I did that to stain you. I want them to think that you’re a filthy, disgusting whore so that no one takes you from me.”

Inside of her, she felt the ugly thing rear once again. And this time, she takes it, embraces it.

Anger will envelop her more than the hurt she feels today.

At this moment, she decided she wanted him dead.
“Only I? You’re a stupid man, you’ve tainted yourself too and now you’re being shipped off like a worm.” She laughs meanly, thrashing against his hold.
His eyes look into hers, seemingly taken aback by her words before he smiles full. His canines showed itself to her. The teeth that bites one way or another.

“Yes.” He breathes with sweetness, letting go of her jaw to look deeply into her eyes. “And by then, as I ride for that godforsaken city…you will still be a whore here. You will still be shunned out and spat out. And I will rejoice for it.”
At that Allise threw her hands back and hit him across the face, as she seethed in anger. 

The sound resonated in her whole room.

Her eyes were blown as Warner looked back at her, the side of his face red from the sharpness of the impact. In another world, she would feel such fear. She would feel the dread of hitting her most beloved uncle. 

But not today.

He smirks, laughing. He then clicked his tongue, the sound of it making Allise’s ear ring. “ Dratziya int radnyok .” He spoke in their tongue with such teasing, shrugging.

My little whore.

It was all red.

Before Alise could even run the thought to her brain, she stood and ran her palm and fist down on him. She didn’t think she could even see him, just her hands hitting him with such fervor, yanking his beautiful face in different positions. She was never the type to be violent. Never the kind of girl that loved being mean, or cruel.

She never wished to be.

Not when her dolls get stolen, not when she’s teased, not even when certain girls made snide remarks at her.

She was a princess after all.

How could a princess get angry?

Scratching his face, she heaved and heaved—and for some reason… she felt herself lighten.

Once more, her hands land on him. “MOTHER—” She grasped onto his hair, twisting his head to face inches from her as he continued to keel at her feet, looking up at her with no expression on his face—though one corner she can decipher… amusement. “—FUCKER!” She screams into his face until her voice turns hoarse.

By the time she’s done, she will get a good look at her creation. One of his nose bled, the corner of his lip busted, a claw mark of her nails showed from his jaw to his neck, and a bruising on his cheek. He looked more battered in her eyes under the moonlight here, in her bedroom, more so than when he came back to her from the struggles of war.

She wanted to kill him.

She wanted to spend her life against his skin.

She wanted him dead.

She wanted him all to herself.

“Why…” Her grip loosens on his hair, tears springing from her eyes. “Why do you make loving you so difficult? Why must the feeling of it hurt the way you wish it to?” She sobs, shaking her head, wiping the blood from under his nose. “Look, I’ve hurt you.” Shaking her head, Allise backs away and masks her face with her hands. “I do not understand most of the time what motivates you, I do not know what goes on in your mind—I’ve never any clue. And… here it is. You have ruined us. You have ruined me! And yet…” She sniffled, and dropped her hands, looking at him, desperation in her veins at the words she’s to utter to him. “I am my own, uncle! You hold my heart deep within your palms, but I am not yours. Not wholly. Not completely. Certainly not when you do things like this! I am not yours, not like you’ve given yourself to me. And I wish for you to do that for yourself, why can you not? I am not your world, uncle. And if I am—why must you destroy me?”

He stayed in his position, looking at her with red rimmed eyes.

Up until now, she could not read him with complete clarity. She can never know what’s on his mind like he knew hers. 

“Why must that be horrible?” He spoke in a mutter. “I have given myself to you, even before our lips met.” The words hung in the air, puncturing the anger that planted itself on the center of her heart. “You’ve kept me alive. I have given myself to you, not by surprise. I have willingly done that and I will never take it back. For you are the love of my life, and I–” He halts, the words sounding more and more clipped. He averts his eyes, looking onto her open window. His jaw clenches. “But I am selfish, Allise. You know this—”
“It is inexcusable!”

“Yes, it is.” He looks to her once more, tilting her head. “But I do not detest that. I seldom hold regrets and I will never be made to regret you.”
She shook her head after a beat. “I was too naive.”
His sharp eyes regarded her with curiosity.
“I dreamt of such quiet life for us.” Her feet took her to the bed where her bottom planted itself. “It will just be the two of us, and no one else. Where I’m permitted to kiss you even when there are other people around us, where I’m allowed to express that I love you more than I intend, I envision such lives that are far from ours.” She looks towards him. “In every one of them you change. And that’s where I’m wrong.” Shaking her head, she felt herself weaken. As if the bones in her body told her that they would not work normally just yet. “So…maybe this is much more preferable at the moment.” Her chest cracked. “You should go and live another way. Fight another war. Because I cannot satiate your boredom and your need for chaos.”

Of course, Allise did not wish to address that.

But it did cross her mind.

He was still a man from war.

A man that has been accustomed to certain noises in his life.

And now that there’s none?

It comes crashing to their lives in another way that can only be classified as something that’s undeniably disruptive and destructive.

“I have changed my mind, uncle.” She spoke dejectedly. “I implore you to go. Away from me. For I cannot be your only purpose.”

In the quiet of the room, the only thing heard were the collision of their worlds and how the realization that he was all her first became much evident. 

Her first kiss.

Her first touch.

Her first anger.

Her first violence.

Maybe it would be better to have him gone. For she detested seeing herself in that light.

Without another word, he stood—Allise held her breath.

As he came near her, once again dwarfed by his size, she could feel the heaviness that sat on her throat. Oh, she did not wish to part from him! She loves him! What could that possibly mean? She loves him, she will die for him! Do not let him go!

She clenched her fist on her bedsheet as his hand made its way to her nape, he then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on her head, before moving towards the door.

Then he was gone.

 

—

 

She was wrong. Allise was wrong.

The day loomed and he looked at the sun of this part of the world. He was now witnessing a different hue, a different scenery in front of him, one that was far from his most beloved creature.

It was better this way.

He knew it would happen.

He knew of the anger that would befall him. And… he rejoiced in witnessing it.

He wanted her to be furious, to let it all out, to scream in anger and anguish, to rain down what she’s kept inside from the days that led up to it.

For he was a man. 

All his frustrations can go elsewhere. He can be violent, he can be mean, he can be horrible.

She could not.

And he deserved it.

He deserved the sting in his lip, the ache in his cheek. He deserved all of it and more! If Allise had wanted, he would head to the kitchen and grab a knife for her. Oh, she could carve him with her name, stab him in the hand, and he would gladly take it from her. For he was the only one who deserved to witness everything that laid in her chest.

It was better this way.

Yes, it should be.

The carriage door opens, and a man greets him. “Your highness.” He bowed his head. “We welcome you to King Alec Vanzevore’s estate.”
Warner only looked at him and to the large establishment before him. 

They truly are one of the wealthiest.

All white, with gilded doric columns. It was well kept, well cleaned, looked more like a museum of such and not an establishment of a prince. Warner’s gaze went up to the large letters that carved itself on the face of the structure.

House of Summer’s Children.

Stepping out of his seat, he straightened his clothes, nodding in acknowledgement to the man before him before speaking. “What is this place?”

“This is the orphanage.” He spoke kindly, seemingly delighted by the presence of the prince. “King Alec is a kind soul for establishing such. Children with no homes, wandering out in the street, in the care of unreliable adults. They are placed here, cared for, giving them liberty to choose who they wish would take care of them for all their lives.” He turned to him once again, and laughed softly. “I apologize, my name is Kalsar Cassian. I am the king’s advisor.”
So he’s regarded as King already.
With a dip of Warner’s head, they began climbing the steps. 

Kalsar eased the silence. “This is a place that he always frequents, more of his home than his estate up in Arta. He’s very dedicated to his duty here—of helping those in need.” Warner gazed at him as they walked and he saw such kindness pass by the advisor’s eyes. “He is a gift to the people, and we are truly grateful that the kingdom of Vinladya will give their aid. He’s the rightful king and he deserves the throne that sits empty up to this day.”

Oh, he truly could not care less.

He was aiding this war as banishment. A ploy to ease down the whispers from their kingdom by erasing him from the picture. It was amusing really, but he did not wish to think of its ridiculousness and how he did not have any care for opinions of low-lives.

So, instead… he gave Kalsar a small smile. “Of course. Being the eldest son along with the kindness he has within, he deserves the throne.”

And he thought that the damn advisor’s face would not lighten up all the more.

He nods, then gestures to the large doors. “Shall we, Prince Warner?”

Then there they go.

Notes:

This gives an introduction to the main lead on the next work of this universe. YAY I'm so excited to be able to make yall read that

Chapter 19: Gods be damned

“Where has my brother gone? You know where he was, I know you—you better start talking or you shall lose them both.”

The woman from the opposite of him thrashes and screams, hysterical at the hold of the man against the young child in front of them. 

“Sh-she’s just a child, please!” 

Alec Vanzevore raised brow, looking back at the mother. “Do not fret, madam—I do not kill children, it would serve me no purpose.” He gave her a kind smile. “I will only kill you, to torture him—” He lazily gestures the knife in his hand in her direction to his. “And perhaps…” His gaze slid to the young girl who was shaking in the corner. “A few scars here and there would not hurt.”
“YOU FUCKING MONSTER!”
Alec only looks at him, nodding solemnly.

Warner Caelthorne could only watch in amusement as the sight unfolds. He has not seen the royal man in a while and it seems that the years and the war that was now occurring in his land made a few wheels in his head break.

After a beat of silence, Alec lets out a little laugh that earned him a frightened look from the two spouses. He smiles yet again, then he slowly unfurls a large dagger that was well hidden below the table. 

It glistened in the candlelight of the dark dungeon, the handle filled with intricate design of silver and emerald—Alec’s favorite color—he then turned to his wife and grasped her scalp, making her and the rest of her family scream. “Last chance.” Alec’s eyes emptied, looking at the man who’s helplessly strapped on the chair. He points the dagger to her cheek, and he watched her face closely as he dragged it down—only a small nik—but enough to make the man frightened.

“Please! My prince! I do not know where Prince Vraldin resides!” He sobs, shaking his head, snot coming out of his nose. “He only sought my counsel for weaponry, the steel to use for them, but that was it! I am no help to you, my wife did not even know of it, my daughter the same! Please, have mercy!”

“I am not a prince, my lord.” He chuckles, retracting the knife from her cheek. “The only prince we have is there.”
He gestures to Warner Caelthorne.

The prince who all but lowers his hat and gave the man a brief nod, a small smile on the corner of his mouth.

The lord blinked, looking back to Alec. “The commander prince?” He says incredulously, looking at the two powerful men. “A Vinladyan man! You drag more foreign men to the land? Have you no shame!?” He shouts, shaking his head with such passion.

Warner thought him stupid.

“What would your father think!” 

Alec turns his head at him. “He’s dead, is he not? Why should I still bother myself with his thoughts? It certainly was not free!” Standing tall, he looked at the man pointedly. “My father…through all of his extravagance, believed in doing what you can to secure your place. And that’s what I’m doing.” His finger points to the commander prince. “Prince Warner here is generous enough to see that I take what’s rightfully mine.”
“You will never get it. Through this…” The man trembled and yet he still shook his head, while his wife’s eyes widened. “You have already betrayed your empire!”

Eerily calm, Warner watched as Alec nodded once—before giving him a grin, the blade in his hand shining under the candlelight.

By then it was blood.

 

—

 

“We still have no clue about his whereabouts.” Warner says as they walk out of the bloody room. “You’ve let that peasant get under your skin, you must be smarter than that. He wished to die and you handed that to him.”
“He was of no use to me, so I gave him what he wanted.” He looks towards him with that same grin. “Call me a God with my generosity!”
These past few days had given Warner a clear view on what Alec Vanzevore was and he can sum it up in short words.

A maniac.

A devil.

A friend.

He did wish to help him and he wanted to see him succeed, for they were alike. In any other world, a man of their behavior would not even be considered for the throne. And maybe that’s the reason why he wished to help. In another world, he might have fought for his place to be king, to rule the kingdom instead of his brother.

But Warner has always been loyal.

Shaking his head, he stopped in his tracks and looked pointedly at him. “And?” He raised a brow. “What now? You have no more informants that will gladly rat out your traitorous brother. He must be lacking men for him to be hiding the way he is—which is precisely why we need to locate him before that changes.”
“You wish for us to kill him before a fair fight?”
“A fair fight is needless casualties. Why have thousands of men die when we can end it without a lot of them?” 

Throughout all the wars he had been in, Warner Caelthorne never saw the necessity in waging war in a field. He would have liked to find the man in charge instead and challenge his authority while everyone watched. It would save everyone heartache from losing their loved ones and it can prove how strong the authority was.

Alec only hums, then strolls again. “I want to see what he can give me.” He said. “Vraldin is a man of pride and I know he can give me such a show when the time comes. I have men who are ready to die and wish for a good fight, I do not wish to be such a disappointment.” 

As their feet made their way to the garden, Warner sat, his legs crossed. 

He looked down to see the bunnies once again camping beneath his feet. “I implore you to get rid of these, they will ruin your plants.”

“Nonsense, they keep it alive… in a sense.”
At that Warner scoffs, looking elsewhere to find his eyes drifting to the high tower of the house where a single window was seen. 

Once again, the girl with the red locks slithered away before he could decipher what she looked like.

How odd it always seemed to him. 

“I need to find the others too. Not just him.” Alec spoke once again, leaning back. “Vraldin, Cassian, Marzin, Eldya, Liztalle, Henrik, and…” His brows furrowed and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remind me who the last brother is, my friend—I could not care less.”
“Rendien.” Warner replied, a light chuckle leaving his lips.
“Ah, yes!” He rejoiced. “All the names that will always have a plan on ending my life are now complete. Whether I'm not on the throne or in it, I have seven contenders who are welcome to end my existence!”

Warner’s small smile remained as he shook his head. “I swear to you, friend—the possibility of them doing so will not happen as long as I am here.”

“Ah, you make me out to be incompetent!”

“Well, you did just kill your only informant.”
Alec clicked his tongue, looking to the field. “He will never say anything, you must know this. And as I think about all the ways I would be annoyed by him, I gathered that the most reasonable thing to do would be to end his life.”

“Then what shall be your plan? As you say that you wish to carry it all alone on your back.” Warner spoke with his brow raised. “I did not come here to be slaughtered, I hope you know. I have never been bested.”
Alec shook his head, a strand of white hair falling from his tie. “Oh, come now—I will not let that happen.” Leaning close, his head turned down, he spoke once more. “And I shall bring him to my brother and tell him of the joyous news. I implore him to be smarter to kill me. Ah! The willpower of a second child, I cannot fathom it. Imbecile! Good for nothing twat! Spoiled rotten.”

It was always refreshing for Warner to hear his thoughts.

Alec was a spectacle to him, a brother he never knew he needed. Someone who shared his depravity and superiority. When he had been kicked to aid him in his war, he did not think much of it.
No, he knew within the depths of his soul that he would win this war for him.

Warner Caelthorne will make sure Alec sits the throne, just like how every villager and every nobleman wanted it to be.

Another glory will be brought to his name once it happens.

Then he can finally come home.

 

—

 

Ah.

He could not believe it.

It was so boring. All of it.

He did not travel all this way, just for Vraldin to give into anger.

“Huh, that is unfortunate.” Alec spoke, closing the scroll.

Warner placed his tea down, tapping away his finger.

In only a span of two moons—after Alec sent Vraldin the head of the traitor—Vraldin then followed suit with an angry proclamation of war. Unbeknownst to them all, the man was his friend.

Kalsar had told the story of the Lord Harol and the second born prince. When they were still children, they used to play together. A history was laid long before the others were born and Warner could feel the rage seep through what he wrote, and yet it was… disappointing. 

He understood how much of a poor choice it had been for him to wage war on Alec. It was not a well-calculated choice, a reckless one. He would not have hidden so much if he had the troops he needed.

It was a war based on something much more personal.

Warner now guaranteed he would lose.

The fight will not be fair, nor will it last long.

“I cannot be the only one who seems to be soured by this?” Alec waved the scroll, his face a mask of irritation. “I considered him to be my worthy enemy, Warner. And my friend, I do not wish to offend you, but if you were killed by Vraldin—”
“That will never happen.” Warner sighs.

“Yes—but if you were, I would not wage war like a madman. There is not even a possibility of him bending the knee, he simply wishes to kill me—or be killed by me.” He squints at the scroll. “I understand he never wrote that he wished to be killed by me, but that is what we’re seeing! He has no chance against my army.”

“At some point, it is quite beautiful to go to war when the chances are equal.” Warner recalled the time of all the wars he fought where blood was shed in suspense, where there was risk in simply stepping out of your tent.

Warner thought of those times with fondness. There had been a time where he had just gone to the woods to do his business, when he was ambushed by 3 men who desired to finally take him down. With only one knife hidden under his shirt, Prince Warner would then show his enemies why he was a commander when he could have been a mere prince who hears and reads of the war…instead of participating in it.

And of course, there was nothing more rewarding when the commander of the other side would be cornered, jailed, and tortured. It was his wins, it was those barbaric moments that got him panting with adrenaline, much like how he was when it comes to Allise.

Ah, Allise.

He misses her terribly.

All the letters she sent him will always be filled with politeness and curtness, making him aware that her letters were being closely monitored by the people of the castle.

They would all be filled with simple ‘I hope you are well’ and ‘I am well, we hope you come back soon’ and ‘Please eat well there and take care.’ Nothing in it that will symbolize such sweet saccharine from two lovers who never cease to long for one another.

He did not wish to send her anything.

Even if he could have, he seemed to know that Allise was not looking for a response.

And… he had no control of all the words that could befall those papers.

He would bleed among them, while expressing how much he loved Allise and how he yearned to see her and hold her and kiss her—all the things that would make a castle person faint as they read it.

He needed this war over—he needed to come home.

Though he was proud to say that he did think he changed during his time in that house.

His longing for her was insatiable, and he knew that there was no escape nor any kind of relief to his agony.

As to why, when he can be rid of the shackles he’s built around him, he can tune into his own chambers….and write.

With a pen in his hand, he glides the words over. It felt like a memory he’s lost long ago and he wondered why he ever stopped.

He loved the art of expression.

He so dearly loves writing more so now when he’s deprived of her presence.

Warner rolls his neck, eyes staring at the ceiling, then to the window that showed the stillness of the moonlight. Oh, how did it all come to this? As his eyes scoured his room yet again, he can feel such hollowness that he can never fill. At times, he will feel his eyes water and all was wrong in the world.

But now…

His head straightens, a strand of his hair obstructs the sight of his left eye. 

And yet, there it was.

An unknown light, staring at him from his open window.

Then now…

All made sense in the world.

“SIRE, THE CASTLE IS UNDER ATTACK!”

 

—

 

“AH!” The man splutters blood, staring at the prince commander in horror. 

The sword deepens into the boy's stomach, and Warner could not be bothered by such slowness to die. He uses his foot to push him out of his sword, grunting in annoyance at this war now costing him.

The first thing on his mind was to locate the King, and he wasted no time. His steps never once faltered, even when he slaughtered 2 more men that were all too eager to stop him and rid him of his plans.

Marching through the grand of the orphanage, his steps halted when he felt a sword near his shoulder, pushing through his skin in such a slow pace made him turn his body and face the person who dared to scar him. 

His eyes caught three more on his side, then he let out such a laugh when he turned to see four more men.

“Why are you in this country?” He raised his brow and pulled his head to look at the man in front of him, the one who spoke with such a dialect that he knows he cannot mistake it—no—it had been far too distinct, too familiar for him not to notice, when only highborns in this country are the ones who have it. 

“Prince Vraldin.” Warner smiles softly, feeling such steel inside his veins.

The prince raises his head, the swords still pointed towards Warner’s neck. “How respectful of you.” His voice flattens. “Again, why are you in this country?”
How?

What could be the answer for that? Is it to get away from his dread of how his family would know of his affair? Was it because his lover—his niece—had urged him to leave? No, nothing! There was nothing at all in his head! Warner had no clue and he found it so funny to be asked such a thing in the middle of an intimidation stand. It was as if it was a question of a deeply spiritual historian.

So he can only sigh. “Think of me as… a helpful humanitarian.”
“The kind that kills many in every war, I’m sure you are.” Vraldin interrupts.
Warner’s smile widens. “A selective one, yes.”

At that, Vraldin’s eyes narrowed. "You're fighting the wrong side.” He seethes, pointing the sword to dig into his chest, making Warner hiss. “My brother is not a good man. My father had eight children—EIGHT! He could have had Alec be his heir during the time where his breath was still on his body and yet he did not, why can you not understand! You are providing him with help that he should not be given. If only… Oh, Gods! If only! I could tell you all about his deeds! He is not a good man! He is corrupted, he is sinful!” He shook his head, emotion deep in his eyes. “No one can love someone like him, even if he forces it… father never gave him the throne because of who he is. A man so polluted with hatred, with so much corruption in his soul…and he made it seem normal. This…did not have to happen to you…but it has. Heed what I tell you and save yourself, do not stay for his war. A tyrant.”
Warner’s eye twitched, his jaw clenching.

Ah, yes.

A good ruler makes a kingdom. 

If a kingdom was brought into with an excellent leader, it shall never be on the path of dreadful poverty and debt. Warner Caelthrone understood all of it and knew that what they were saying to him was of true matter.

And yet…

Everything was once again amusing.

For…who was a ruler that had not indulged in the devil?

One naive fool this prince was.

A fool! A mere puppy in the world full of angry men. 

Warner nods, raising his shoulders then dropping them again. “I only chose to pick sides as I was tossing my coin up in the air. I do apologize if that seemed unfortunate.”
Vraldin’s eyes contrast in disgust as they look at the prince that lives beyond the sea, looking quizzically at him as if he was dissecting what the being in front of him could ever be. A monster perhaps? A beast that wanders in a disguise that can fool even the strongest of witches?

He lowers his swords, eyes once again searching him, now head to toe. “Is it true?” He hids a smirk.

Warner tilts his head.

“That you fuck your niece?”

The blade digs into the floor, the fist that holds them clenched. 

Warner’s eyes narrow, head angling towards him in a challenged stance. His chest beats like a drum and he could feel his breath with rage under his seething skin.

What?

Vraldin shook his head, laughing. “My… I do not need your answer any further, I know.” He shook his head, showing him a view of his face that suddenly contorted into pure evil, when he had thought he was a simple man!

How fooled was he! Oh, it was all a mistake, that much was obvious now! 

“You see this man!” He called out to the comrades that surrounded him. “He fucks his niece, his own skin and blood! Saw her grow and yet his cock—” He points. “—thirst for her young sweet cunt—Ah, it would be wise not to!” Vraldin shouts as Warner’s eyes widen—resembling a tiger that’s being presented with a lamb—stepping forward to him without a care in the world. “I merely stated the truth. And with your arrogance, I know how I can be able to break it.” Vraldin digs his sword into her shoulder. “I want for you to know… that I’ve sent men to go on a trip, to voyage to your kingdom….”
Warner felt his body freeze up.

He felt it all.

Most of all when he had been filled with such revolting, weakening, and mindnumbing fright.

He needs to kill them all.

He will relish in killing them all.

“I shall make them find that little princess and make her suffer!”

And at that moment, he finds his feet moving forward to swing.

Vraldin’s eyes widened in shock, seeing how Warner moves with such lightness even when he was indeed a colossal man. The men around jumped and readied their swords the same. With a stumble in his step, Vraldin blocks his blow, their faces now close to see…

Just how much of a monster Warner could be when it comes to her.

“I will take your head.” Warner’s eyes were blown, staring down at the prince. “The triumph of killing you is for your brother, but I…” He puts his shoulder’s weight into his sword, pressing closer to the prince’s face. “I will take the delight of desecrating your battered corpse!”

Vraldin’s eyes flickered. “Kill him!” He shouts.

And everyone moved.

Again, Warner can never be sure of how he could have survived such an attack on him. He would deliver blows on his opponents that would send them stumbling, he would also kill two men that sought to deliver more wounds to him—the kinds he could not feel, even when they sliced towards his side, his shoulder, his back, behind his ear, and his leg. Nothing. Heavens, nothing! He could feel nothing.

He could feel nothing!

But his eyes could see Vraldin turn his back, leaving—but no.

War will now be inevitable.

Warner smirks.

That fight will be sure.

He swerves from the sword that aims to decapitate him. Taking advantage of his swing, Warner took a hold of his arm, to plunge his sword deep into his side. Warner then moves away from him as he drops, pulling his sword. 

Then he could feel it.

His side was bleeding heavily, he was to die.

No, he cannot.

Allise is expecting him.

“Die!” The soldier charged at him, aimless. He dodged his attack, and placed his boot on his back kicking him down, in which Prince Warner attacked and raised his sword, for it to be blocked by the soldier as they turned just fast enough to keep Warner from cutting his head out of his body.

The other remaining soldier charges at the commander prince, screaming like a lunatic behind his back.

Warner’s eyes turned to him, brows furrowed, looking at the ghost of a man.

How did he not see him?

Gods, how could he not have seen him, they were the only ones left. How could he not remember? Has he lost his mind? Had he really not remembered his scarred face? How could he not. How could he not! How could he not!

No.

Please.

He will be slaughtered.

For once, he felt most frightened.

For the first time in his life, he felt his hand tighten, he felt his stomach drop, he felt his whole soul tremble in fear at the hands of these men. He feared for his life and yet he detested to show it, but he is. Oh, no one understands. HE FEARED to die, why can they not hear his mind? Why was no one hearing him, he’s frightened.

Someone help him.

“Prince Warner!” 

An arrow shot through the eye of his charging opponent, shaking him from his trance. 

WIth the man below him looking at those who came, he swiftly plunges his sword into his neck—a symphony that Warner was relieved to hear. 

It was not him. He can never die.

He cannot.

But…

He had collapsed on the floor.

 

—

 

“Please, sire.” The woman spoke. “You have not been fully stitched, please let me work.”

Why would he not let her? That was preposterous!

“Prince Warner.”
He has been meeting such peculiar people these months! Why, of course yes! Stitch him up, cover him, heal him! Yes, of course you must do that. He defended your kingdom, why will he not let you!
“SIRE, LET GO OF ME!”

Warner then jolts awake, intaking such a deep huff of air into his stilled lungs.

Then his body seemingly remembers and he winces, holding onto his side.

His eyes looked towards the woman with the needle in her hand, she was clasping her wrist, looking at the prince with a frightened look. The kind of stare you would see at a lone dear when faced with a bear. 

He must've been holding her too tightly. “I…apologize, I did not mean to hurt you.” He spoke, his voice raspy from lack of use and clearly, moisture. His eyes wandered through his surroundings and noticed that he was at his chambers in the palace. Tasting the roughness of his mouth, he spoke. “Where’s the King?”

Regaining her composure, the physician nods, giving a sigh of exhaustion . “He’s retired to the north wing.” She spoke, continuing to sew his wounds. “He barely let me tend to him and rushed towards that tower. I hope you can ask him if he’s well when you see him, your grace.”

Warner nods, letting her tend to him in peace.

And at that moment, he had everything drown out.

He let himself recall every bit of it. Every single moment that occurred in the hours that passed. How his own life had been threatened, how they never saw the attack coming…

And…

The way they spoke of her. The love of his life, the fire in his heart.

He then discovered the meaning of true fear.

And as much as he wanted to aid Alec in his fight, he knew within his own soul that he needed to go home. He needed to see her, he needed to hear her, to smell her, to feel her and know that she was safe from any harm that could ever befall her. 

He will keep her safe, he will never leave her side.

Yes, he knew that his beloved will not be grateful for his yet again overbearing presence. Alas! He did not care any longer and he refused to drown in so much guilt again. No more hiding.

Gods be damned.

Ties can go on and be broken.

 

—

 

Clutching his side, Warner tried his best to walk.

He can feel the breeze on his face, traveling from his face then to his back.

It was something that he cannot admit, but the air here was much more different. It had the warmth of home, the feeling of freedom that could seldom be felt in the middle of the battlefield.

He will be missing Deniatz.

“You are in such deep thought, my friend.” Alec spoke, looking at him with such a quizzical look.

Warner looked towards him and found it all the more amusing that he felt such fondness in his chest. 

Alec was his first friend.

His only friend.

It was amusing to know that a man with many secrets, a mind that’s twisted as his is… someone he can trust.

Stepping on the hill, he faces the horizon—seeing the vastness of his estate. He detested leaving this place, but he yearns for Allise. 

Maybe he can take her here, someday.

“You will always have a place here.” Alec adds, looking at his estate, then to Warner. “If you decide to come back, know that Deniatz will be more than grateful to have you. Nothing…I truly mean nothing can happen that…will make me say otherwise.”

His brows are drawn, then he nods. 

Warner did not need to ask, but he knew what he spoke of. 

And it…placed such comfort in him that in the time of need, he can always turn to Alec and Deniatz for absolution and redemption. 

Warner smiles, and nods. “I fear that there will indeed be a day that I shall take you up on that.”

And he can worry about that fact, but he felt nothing more than excitement now.

It was time to come home.