Jehovah had never been a morning person, but somehow, waking up entangled with Leana made it much more pleasant. For the first time, Jehovah managed to get a good look at Leah in her faerie form. This time, without a gaping wound in her side or Jehovah's own mind being flushed with endorphins. She lay beside him, leg curled around his own and sleeping soundly.
Her hair was spread across the pillows and even Jehovah's shoulder in a fiery purple mane; could something purple even be described as 'fiery'? He was sure that an indium chloride flame produced a beautiful indigo colour. Her face, even in faerie form was peppered with faint freckles that were only noticeable when you really squinted to see. They were beautiful and Jehovah found himself wanting to kiss every single one of them. Her eyes were hidden by her lids and protruding lashes that gently kissed her face as they twitched whilst she dreamt. He wondered what the Black Knight often dreamt of.
Ignoring her nakedness beside him, Jehovah managed to look deeper and see things that perhaps would have gone unnoticed. Her arms donned light marks where she had been healed but not quite enough. They were almost like scabs. Same with her waist where he himself had impaled her though that was explained. Likewise, around her neck were the remnants of bruises that were practically gone. Now he knew that they weren't from his hand! Not only had he been nothing but gentle with her that night, if they were him they would be almost fresh and no where near as faint. This was someone else.
Scowling, Jehovah slid from under Leana, carefully laying her down on the pillows as to not wake her, It took him record time to realise that he was completely naked! Stooping down, he found his pants and pulled them on commando, unable to muster the effort to search for his underwear. It was uncomfortable but it would do for the walk of shame which he was inevitably going to do at some point. He felt grotty… his wings were sore, his legs ached and his hair stunk of sweat. So this was 'the sex smell' that Dronolas had described in such detail to him.
He decided to have a mooch around Leana's flat; normally, he wouldn't feel good about snooping around another persons home but there was something about her that didn't add up. Bruises on ones neck don't come from injury training. Slipping into the living area, he thought that her apartment was pretty normal, well, as normal as the Black Knight of the Unseelie court's abode can be. Weapons, armour and all sorts of maps and parchments littered the place but nothing of much value. Except one map that was of Seelie territory! Good to know that the Unseelie have mapped their land – a frightening thought really.
Jehovah then moved to the hall, catching his eye was a new addition to the place, a fresh, unopened parchment laying in front of the letterbox. A messenger had been! Instantly, Jehovah froze at the thought that an Unseelie messenger had been as close to the home as the door. One wrong sound or if they had dared to enter, and the both of them would have been caught. Making a mental note to never let it get that close again, he stooped, picked up the letter and made his way to the kitchen for some water. He discarded the letter on the worktop and grabbed a glass from the drainer, filling it with the tap.
As he sipped at the drink, he began to think, mulling over all the possibilities in his mind that would explain all of the gaps in his knowledge on Leana, the missing piece that brought it all together. She's scared of men – especially in a sexual context, she has bruises on her neck and her arms have healing scabs. There seemed to be only one explanation; she had been assaulted. But by whom? It could be anyone and the likelihood that Jehovah didn't know the man was very high as they were from two different worlds.
Coming to this realisation, his eyes widened as he stared out of the window into the shielding greenery outside and his grip on the glass loosened. "Jehovah?" a groggy voice croaked. Jehovah jumped around, placing his free hand on the counter to steady himself. He felt as though he had been caught red handed in the middle of a theft or something. Did she know? Did she know that he knew? No! She couldn't. Relaxing himself, he decided to block the thoughts from his head for fear that she could somehow read them and focus on her.
Leana's hair was still a tangled mess and she had covered herself with her underwear and Jehovah's shirt that she must have searched for on the floor. She looked beautiful. "I know," Jehovah teased, placing down the empty glass and walked towards the table, pulling out a seat for her. "I should be gone by now, right?" He laughed. Leana scoffed as she took his offered seat and placed her hands on her chin, rolling her eyes.
"Human's," She dismissed. "Such an obsession with casual sex," Jehovah laughed as he began searching through her cupboards for some sort of pan – anything would do. When Leana noticed this, she raised a brow with a smile. "What are you doing?" It was strange that this man was delving into her kitchen cupboards. Jehovah craned his head to look at her mirroring her expression sarcastically.
"You want something to eat, right?" The man was going to cook for her! The only person who had ever cooked for her was Annette but that was her job to do so; no one had ever cooked for her because they wanted to. Blushing, embarrassed that she had questioned him, she rolled her hands into her lap and blushed as Jehovah pulled out a pan with a triumphant smile. "Bingo!" He called, turning to the stove after fishing in the fridge for some breakfast foods. He pulled out everything! Eggs, bacon, sausage, French toast the lot! As he worked, Leana watched the muscles in his back move. He really was a remarkable man.
In no time at all, a large plate of food was placed before her by a proud server. It looked amazing! Leana herself could barely cook anything, she had never needed to as a woman of her position; she had always had staff to cook for her. After Jehovah had taken a seat opposite her and they had both tucked into their food, Leana groaned from pleasure. "Where did you learn to cook?" She moaned as Jehovah laughed, chewing his mouthful before answering.
"I grew up on a farm not too far from the palace. My mother showed me when I was young," The image of a mother holding her child's hand as they cooked, stood on a small stool in a cosy cottage warmed her heart; maybe that's what her own life could have been like if Nydale and Olenna hadn't met such a tragic end.
"What about your father?" Leana asked as she shovelled in another mouthful of the heavenly food. Jehovah recoiled and stooped his head a little as if he was worried about upsetting her if he told her the truth.
"My father was killed when I was a baby," He told her. "By the Black Knight," That! That was where his animosity came when they fought. Leana placed down her fork and shook her head with a nervous giggle.
"No. No, Nydale Payne would never have killed an innocent man, let alone a father," She assured him. "He must have attacked him first," Jonathan nodded as he toyed with the food on his plate, suddenly at a loss of appetite.
"You're right. My father did attack him first," He revealed clearly knowing the story far better than Leana herself. "That bastard kidnapped a woman from the palace," Leana froze. Olenna. "He raped her!" Jehovah yelled, stabbing the base of his fork onto the table as Leana shook her head in denial. "He murdered her and his bastard daughter both!"
"No! He didn't!" Leana cried, tears now streaming down her face, unable to hear any more.
"How do you know that!" He yelled back, leaning forward across the table.
"Because I'm their daughter!" Leana screamed. The room fell silent. A breath stuck in Jehovah's throat rendering him unable to utter a word. He dropped the fork in his hand and Leana retreated into her chair. She shouldn't have revealed that so soon, but she was too far in to back out now. "Olenna and Nydale Payne are my parents," She told him as she found a loose thread on Jehovah's shirt that she chose to fiddle with to avoid eye contact. "My father did not kill my mother. Your men did," She spat shakily trying to hold back a tear.
"My father rescued Olenna from the burning palace and nurtured her back to health," She began to story, standing and clearing away the plates as she knew that neither of them were going to eat now. "They fell in love. A year later, I came along," Leana continued, throwing the plates into the sink after scraping the food into the bin. As she washed the dishes, she remembered the story. "Her people found out about us, so they sent nobles to kill us all," Jehovah felt faint, but he listened on. "My mother was too weak from birthing me, she begged my father to go and take me to his queen. Once he had made it to Ariana Dondarion – the kings mother, he gave himself up and faked that he had murdered me himself so that they wouldn't come looking for me,"
"Stop," Jehovah begged breathless. He could not hear any more. His hand was outstretched across the table as he tried his best to keep himself upright, staring, teary eyed, into the intricate designs of the wooden table. She complied. It was a lot to absorb that the people you had likely trusted your entire life had lied to you. "How do you know all this?" He asked eventually, looking up at Leana for the first time since her story began. Leana shrugged and leaned against the worktop, crossing her arms over her chest.
"We pieced it together, my father was a clever man and the queen knew him very well, my mother also kept a diary which I found when I went to the cabin where they had stayed. I snuck out one night from the training camp, it wasn't far," Why did he believe her? He had no reason to believe that she was telling the truth, he had seen no proof that she was Nydale Payne's daughter and the Unseelie were prolific liars! But he did, unconditionally. After a period of silence, Leana scoffed and turned away, grasping his attention. "I bet they lied to you about Ariana Dondarion's death too," She laughed sadistically.
"What happened?" He asked, not an ounce of a joke in his voice. "We were told that her son murdered her in her sleep," Leana scoffed and roughly wiped a stray tear from her cheek with a balled fist.
"Your men killed her,"
"How do you know?"
"Because I watched her die," Jehovah gulped. Another lie. What else was a lie? "I was engaged to the prince," She revealed as the dams blocking the onslaught of tears began to buckle. "Your queen couldn't stand the thought of my kind being happy," Leana's voice began to raise. "So, she sent three men to assault me, ruin me! So that I could never marry the prince, and another to kill his mother," There was the missing piece. Leana was assaulted by Seelie soldiers. That one fact alone made every word she said true. What made it even worse, was that Jehovah himself was in the army when queen Ariana died. The fact that he was only sixteen and had only been enlisted a few weeks was probably why he hadn't been brought in on the sabotage. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? His people had ruined this girls life! Soldiers that he most likely had called friends had murdered her parents and her future mother-in-law not to mention, assaulting her.
The pair remained silenced for a while before Leana's eyes drifted to the letter and she jumped. "When did this come?" She demanded, wide eyed and almost afraid.
"This morning, I found it by the door," He told her emotionlessly, still shaken from the revelation of finding out everything… what would Dronolas say? He would have to tell him, of course, but how? Leana began to shake and all of the relaxation and bliss that Jehovah had given her melted away the second that she saw the crest printed in wax sealing the letter. Though, when she thought about it, who else would send her letters? No one else other than Unseelie informants, the king and Jehovah knew where she lived. Trying to sit down without fainting in the process, Leana stumbled into the seat making Jehovah jump in anticipation for her to fall but he didn't say anything.
Leana's now frail hands peeled the letter open and her wide, tormented eyes began to read through the contents.
Leana Payne,
To celebrate Deploma Donarion's 21st birthday, you are invited to attend a masquerade ball the evening of Tuesday, June 9th.
Leana's entire body shook and she dropped her head into her arms with a groan. "I had no idea he was twenty-one already," She groaned almost to herself; she wasn't used to another person in her home to hear her complain out loud. She looked up at him with sad, heavy eyes. "I think you should go," She didn't want him to go, but she knew that if the king decided to pay her a visit, the level of danger in their affair would increase exponentially.
Jehovah wondered what could possibly be contained in that letter that could cause her to react in such a fearful way. "Leana," He began as he tried to slide his hand over hers. Fearfully, she instantly snatched it away from him and recoiled into her seat away from him as he backed off. Had he done something wrong?
"Please, just go," Her voice quivered as she fought to hold back tears, she couldn't cry like this.
He couldn't stay now, but just as Jehovah had figured out the missing piece in Leana's story, this invitation only deepened the hole. Why would she react like this to a simple 21st birthday party? Slowly standing, he held his hands up in defence, unsure of how much he could risk before she exploded and kicked him out herself.
However, what she did next, he never would have expected. She stood and collapsed on him. It was so sudden that he would have toppled over if he hadn't placed his hand on the table to steady himself. "I'm sorry, someday I'll explain. Just… not yet," She whispered into his chest. Respecting her privacy even though the desire to know burned throughout him, he raised his hands to hold her back and run his finger through her hair, shooshing her and planting a kiss on her forehead.
After Leana had mostly calmed herself, he took her shoulders and forced her to look him in the eye. "Leana, if you were in danger you would tell me, right?" Guilt flooded her entire system as she hoped that it didn't radiate from her face.
"Yes," She lied. With that, Jehovah nodded, not entirely believing her, and said his goodbyes; leaving the house, still only wearing his jeans. It would be one hell of a sight for any human who caught a glimpse of him though he intended on taking the scenic route where it was unlikely someone would see him. Even if they did, they would either assume that he was homeless or on the walk of shame – which he refused to admit that he was.
Once Jehovah was gone, Leana found herself turning the fabric of his shirt in her hands as if reassuring herself that it wasn't a dream. She had lied to him; straight to his face. Leana hated liars and she was willing to bet that Jehovah did too. But what else could she have said? The truth? Not likely! Collapsing on the chair where Jehovah was previously sat, she combed her fingers through her hair. Her life was a joke. Stretching her legs out, she groaned in frustration.
Leana wasn't sure how long she remained there when she was broken from her pit of self-pity by a loud knock at the door. Had he forgotten something? No, he wouldn't have knocked. No human knew where she lived, right? At the realisation that this was an unwelcome guest, Leana jumped from her seat, reaching for a bottle of glamour on the side of the kitchen counter and swallowing a large gulp. Her eyes never leaving the door, she rummaged in the drawer for a knife before turning to face the door where the person on the other side knocked once more – this time a little louder.
Her heartbeat quickened as she slowly approached the door. Knife at the ready, she placed a shaking hand on the handle and swung it open. When she saw the king standing there she momentarily relaxed, relieved that it was a familiar face. Even when she saw him, for a split moment, his face calmed her the way it had when they were children; when he didn't wear that wicked smile of his.
Leah sighed and leaned against the hallway wall raising her arm to rest on her head, knife still between her fingers. Deploma scanned her entire body, he had never seen her glamoured, as his eyes rested on her hand. "And what did you expect to do with that?" He asked with a raised brow though he didn't attempt to move against her.
"I thought you were a human," When she said it out loud, she realised just how much like the young king she really was when she was backed into a corner. Was she truly willing to kill a human just because they had stumbled onto her property? Deploma would. As a matter of fact, he was not glamoured himself, Leah wasn't even sure that he ever had been. For a moment, she wondered what his glamour would look like. Would he have dark hair or light? Blue eyes or green? Either way, he would be undeniably handsome. He knew that if a human spotted him in this form, the light would drain from their eyes before they could even gasp in shock. Regardless, he smiled – he was impressed at her ruthlessness. Once she had reined in her own thoughts, she cocked her head to look at him. "I don't suppose I can stop you from coming in?" The king smiled and gritted his teeth in the process, wincing mockingly.
"Afraid not, pet," The name made her shiver, and not in a good way. Sighing, she pushed her entire body off the wall and began to walk down the hall, hearing Deploma step into the house behind her and closing the door after him. There was something surreal about seeing a faerie king, dressed as such for once, with large beautiful wings and glowing with fantasy, standing in a human suburban hallway yet here he was.
"Sit," She offered with a gesture to the chair, placing the knife down on the counter but not back in the drawer – she wanted it to be close enough to grab if she needed to. The king pulled out the chair, turning it sideways to accommodate his wings and sat. Leah herself took a seat opposite him. He was here on business, she could tell, but then again, to Deploma, that meant nothing. The pair sat in silence for a moment, Deploma was enjoying the effect he had over her and Leah was focusing on not fainting from anticipation, once again, she began to fiddle with the shirt. Jehovah's shirt! The panic was short lived when she remembered that Deploma didn't think highly enough of humans to bother studying their cultures and therefore had no idea what genders clothes were even for. After a moment, the king looked up, studying the surroundings of the room, his nostrils flaring slightly as he sniffed the air.
"It smells like men in here," He said darkly in an accusatory tone. Leah's heart stopped.
"There's lots of men at the university," She saved. "I sit next to a human man most of my classes," The king hummed in response, believing her yet still suspicious. Of course, the man who had been there hadn't really been a man at all, he was a faerie, which Deploma was all too familiar with. Secretly, Leah hoped that he was already too drunk from bourbon to connect the scent – after all, he was no sniffer dog.
"Do you plan to attend tonight?" He asked quietly.
"Do I have a choice?" Leah scoffed, forgetting herself. He looked up to meet her eyes but said nothing. "I do," She rephrased.
"Do you plan to stay?" He questioned with the same blank tone as before. There was lots of moments like this in Leah's life where the king spoke to her in such a way where anyone onlooking would suspect they were a married couple and he was the desperate husband trying to crawl back into his lady's good graces. But she knew better and regarded every moment like this with a bitter taste.
Every time he spoke so softly, Leah regained a little hope in her heart that the man she had once loved was still in there somewhere, clawing to get back out. However, mere moments later, he would destroy that hope by some act of cruelness; a snake in the grass and a wolf in sheep's clothing. He made the devil quake in hell.
"I didn't,"
"Why ever not?" Deploma pressed.
"I have a class the next day, I can't miss too much otherwise they'll get suspicious," Leah lied and he knew it. There was another long pause.
The king grunted as he pushed himself off of the chair and made his way around the back of her; she felt so puny and defenceless in her human form. He placed his warm hands on her shoulders gently. Four years ago, this would have been one of the most erotic moments of her life, the desire and pure raw lust that she felt for the prince when they were children was incomprehensible however, now, four years later, she shook with fear. "How did the fight go? You never reported back?" He asked. "I was worried," Bullshit.
"Urm," Leah stuttered as she tried her best not to squirm and provoke him. "I lost. He stabbed me. I was recovering," Leah slammed her eyes shut, trying her best not to scream.
"I'm glad you're well," He wasn't entirely lying. He did care for her, even if it was in his own perverted little way. "What is it that you call yourself here?" He asked from behind.
"Leah," she told him. He had never asked her before.
"Leah," He repeated, the name rolling off his tongue perfectly. "Simple yet… beautiful," Deploma thought out loud. "I never thought I would find a human so desirable," From then, his hands started to slip further south. "Show me what that monster did to you," He cooed as if he was some caring husband of hers. Apart from that, she wasn't even bitter about the injury any longer; Jehovah was pretty good at apologising.
When Leah didn't respond to him, he made his way around to the front of her, dropping to his knees before her and placing his hands gently on her thigh. Slowly, he began to drag his hands up her legs and up to her waist, it didn't take long for his hands to press gently on the wound and instinctively, Leah gasped. A smirk crossed his beautiful lips. "There," He stated, hooking his fingers under the shirt, the cold iron of his ring sending shivers up her spine. He lifted the shirt to see where the wound had healed to near perfection. Admiring the amazing work that Keomie had undoubtedly done, he traced a gentle finger over the scarred flesh.
It was moments of gentle care like that that Deploma expelled that really did make her forget about all the horrible things he had done to her. It gave her hope that the man she loved was still in there somewhere. One day, she would wake up and he would be there, open arms; he would drop to his knees before her and beg her forgiveness. She wasn't sure if she could give it to him. When his hand brushed the most sensitive place, she winced, jumping up the seat and gripping the edges of the chair. He looked up at her and that was when she saw that dark look in his eye that he wore so easily, had returned. "Does that hurt, my love?" He asked, pressing his finger harder into the healing flesh. She cried out in pain and gripped his wrist with her left hand, digging her nails into his flesh herself as a tear dripped down her cheek.
"Please, don't," Leah gasped. Her act of retaliation only seemed provoke him further.
His eyes darkened with lust and violence. "I've never fucked a human before," He muttered almost to himself. For once, Leah felt more uncomfortable in the human realm glamoured than she would have otherwise. He leaned forward, pushing her into the back of the chair and kissed her harshly. He placed his other hand around her neck, gripping her roughly. Leah's legs shook under him in panic. She was still a little sensitive from last night and Deploma's less than attentive 'love making' wouldn't help that at all. As he bled more into the kiss, his grip increased in force. Leah's eyes closed and her head lolled, kept up only by the back of the chair.
Different scenarios ran through Leah's head. She could bite him, show her that she wasn't going to put up with his shit any longer, that she had found someone else to love and respect her. But no, fighting back would only increase his desires to a possibly dangerous level. On the other hand, she could sit there, like she often did, though it felt as though she was being dishonest with Jehovah. Hell! Of course, she was! She was sat here allowing another man to kiss her even though less than 24 hours ago she was tangled up in her bed with a different man.
Before she even had a moment to consider her infidelity, the king broke away realising that she was preoccupied. He raised his hand from her neck to stroke gently down her face. Only when he had removed his hand, she felt the pain on her already slightly bruised neck. How would she explain that to Jehovah?
"You're tired, my love," He observed, straightening his back, and collecting himself. Leah didn't move from the chair, frozen from fear that he may have figured out why she was tired that particular morning. Looking around the room, as if he was trying to figure out just what was different, as if Jehovah was hiding in the wardrobe waiting to be discovered. But, of course, he wasn't. "Rest," He cooed. "I will wait for you this evening," Deploma promised before exiting just as quickly as he had entered.
Still sat in her chair in the kitchen, Leah pulled her knees up to her chest and curled into a ball. She tried to picture what could have been that morning. Jehovah had made her breakfast, they would have finished their meal, perhaps gone for a walk around Manchester – Leah now feeling much more confident in herself knowing that Jehovah would be on her arm. Perhaps he would have stayed again, and they could have engaged in passionate, zealous sex all over again.