The pixie stood in the doorway of Leana's human apartment, daring not to speak. All he could think of was how fucked their lives had become over the last week. His best friend had been captured and was now being tortured at that very moment, the woman before him had given her own life to save him, he was now without a court - a fugitive of the queen whom he had once served. From folded his arms and sighed, shaking his head at the ground. How did it ever come to this?
A moment later, Leana walked in, this time un-glamoured, his eyes widened. When he had last seen his best friends lover, she had been on the verge of death, sweaty and bloody but now, he could see just how stunning she was. She looked like a queen. He knew that this woman was not going down without a fight. The pure power radiating off her caused him to stiffen in her presence. The goddess lifted a sealed letter to him. "When I'm gone, give this to the humans I was with. Their names are Katherine and Sam," she looked away. "There's an address written on the back; think you can find it?" She asked trying her best not to look at the general out of shame. Dronolas nodded and carefully took the letter, folding it in his gloved hand and placing it in his pocket.
Leana shifted, the skirts of her gown rubbing against each other. "We should go," the woman began to move but Dronolas stopped her, taking her wrist in his hand. Leana gasped for a moment. Not only was she surprised that this man was even willing to touch her being Unseelie and all. But she had never been touched by a pixie, no Unseelie creature would dare touch someone of her standing. When she looked up at him, the man dropped to his knee before her - he was bowing!
"Miss, thank you," Leana was dumbfounded. "It took a lot to give up what you did. He's the only family I have," Leana thought for a moment just how similar the words Keomie must have said to Jehovah would have been. There truly was no difference in the courts. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she stood straight.
"No one will hurt him, I swear to you," The pixie nodded and stood. The man had agreed to walk with her, a silent walk to the palace alone would have driven her into madness, it was good to have the company. Once they had reached the gate, Dronolas shivered from the stark change in temperature, lifting his hands to his arms. Leana only shrugged used to the cold.
The rest of the walk was in silence until they reached the treeline when Leana turned, placing her hand on the pixie's chest to halt him. "You should go. If you ever wish to see Jehovah there's an old escape hatch where the moat used to be on the west side of the palace," She nodded in the direction, his eyes followed. "You might have to wade around in mud and shit for the first few times but you'll find it," He nodded. Taking the woman's hand in his own and lifting it to his lips. The pair said nothing else as Dronolas slipped away into the trees and out of sight. Then came the dreaded ascent of the palace steps.
When she reached the top of the stairs, Leana stood in her gown, looking every bit as regal as a queen should. Alistair's eyes were fixed on her, he would not dare look away – she deserved every scrap of respect in his body. After a quaint nod, he threw open the doors for Leana to face the great beast before her. He sat, ready to play this game which he had set in motion. Smirking as his eyes scanned every inch of her, he realised that she had made the first move. If he was to crown her Queen of the Unseelie, she would act as such. She would not bow down and live in his chambers like a meek little consort should, she would lead, now with the power to challenge him in his own home. "You came," He purred, shifting on his throne.
"You doubt my honour?" Leana raised a brow as she placed her hands in front of her, shoulders back and head high. Her face spelled boredom but inside she was screaming. Every instinct in her was telling her to dash to the dungeons and cradle Jehovah's undoubtedly broken body to her own. To whisper to him sweet lies of freedom and happiness.
"Not at all, great lady," The king dipped his head with a hand on his chest. Even he knew that this woman commanded respect and if that's what it took to make this whole arrangement go smoothly then he would certainly comply. The king stood, brushing down his trousers and extended a hand. "Walk with me," Leana scoffed as she examined her nails.
"I think not," The corners of Deploma's eyes twitched at the defiance. "I wish to see him. To make sure that you have made good on your word," She had no doubt in her mind that Jehovah was alive, without him there was no way to secure her entrapment here; he was the bargaining chip.
"Later, my queen. I promise," He purred with a seductive smile. Leana simply rolled her eyes, she was done being afraid of him.
"Alistair," She barked, the giant came bounding in, bowing lowly. "Please escort me to Jehovah Seral's cell," The giant grinned under his shaggy blonde hair and stood tall.
"As you wish. My queen," Emphasizing the last part making sure that Deploma knew the power that he had given Leana. Realising that he had lost this round, he waved his hand in dismissal and began plodding down the steps of the dais, his boots clacking on the marble floor.
"There is no need, giant," He slurred, Alistair looked down in shame as Leana tensed at the disrespect. "I shall escort the queen myself," The blonde looked to Leana for approval. She nodded, assuring him that she could take care of herself before the man bowed and left to return to his post.
The walk was mostly silent, the only sound was the clicking of their heels on the floor. "For a moment, I feared you would not come," The king interrupted the therapeutic silence as he continued to bound down the hall a few paces in front of her.
"I am no coward," She replied coldly. She could almost see Deploma's reaction. Biting his lip, thinking over the choice he had made.
"No, that you are not," No one spoke again until they reached the dungeons, passing rows and rows of cell doors until they reached the only one that had been opened in at least fifty years. With a quick glance to his side to his soon to be bride, as if to make sure that she was still as cold and hard as a stone carving, Deploma flicked a ring of keys from his pocket, selecting a long thin one and inserting it into the lock. He pushed open the creaking door, holding out his hand in presentation. "As promised," the king declared.
At first, Leana had intended to remain cold and unfeeling in front of him, but at the sight of Jehovah's bleeding and broken body, she crumpled. Tears already filling her eyes, she threw the king aside, rushing to her dying lover, dropping to her knees as her skirts flied frantically around them. She took his head and placed it tenderly in her lap. The only signs of life were his chest slowly and raggedly rising and falling in rhythm to his weak heartbeat. His hair was matted and stiff from a mixture of sweat and blood which she hoped was more of the former than the latter. Wincing, her eyes moved further down. She was trying not to stare at his nose but she kept finding her eyes diverting to the bloody mess that had been a perfectly ordinary, even beautiful, nose not forty eight hours ago. One of his eyes were blackened whilst the other, his left, had a sleek red line of a dagger slash raked across it; the wound would scar.
Blood stained his quivering lips. She dared not even look to his body where she would have been shocked if there was a single bone left undamaged. He began to shake from the cold. Removing her cloak, she draped it around him and raised her own trembling hand to gently stroke his face. "He can't hurt you," She cooed. "Not anymore," It was as if the sound of her voice woke him from his coma-like state. Even the king, who was now leaning against the cell wall completely uninterested, raised a brow in shock that he had even mustered the strength to open his eyes.
When she caught a glimpse of those beautiful emeralds, she relaxed realising that the cut to his face hadn't been deep enough to damage his eye. "Lea," He gasped as he began to slowly regain consciousness. Her tears jerked him awake as they fell onto his filthy face. "Lea, what are you doing here?" He called as he struggled under her as if he was trying to get up to put himself between her and the monster who was now standing right behind her.
"Its alright, its alright," She cooed as she stroked his face again. The conflict in his mind burned. He desperately wanted to stand, rip the dagger from Leana's thigh which he could feel under his head and run the bastard through, but his body gave up once more as he fell into a coma-like sleep once again. Grinding her teeth as she watched him slip into sleep, she tenderly placed his head on a folded section of the cloak before standing and squaring right up in the face of the demon before her. He was at least a head taller than her and far larger than her but she refused to be intimidated by him. Not now. Not after everything that he had done.
Leana raised her hand in a fit of rage and brought it down right on the king's cheek, sending his face sideways from the force behind the impact. The slap was as loud as a clap and stung his face instantly. A red welt began to form where her hand had connected with his skin as well as a small cut where her sapphire ring had torn the skin where a single drop of crimson blood trickled from. Deploma raised a hand to his cheek, he hated to admit it but she had genuinely hurt him – she was not weak by any stretch of the imagination. He couldn't help but think that if he wasn't so shocked in the moment, this would be one of the most erotic moments in his life. The pain, anger and desperation caused his blood to run south. "I want Keomie down here within the hour. He will be nursed, fed and put to bed in the servant's quarters. Do you understand?" Deploma didn't answer, still paralysed from shock. "Good," Leana breathed before gathering her bloody skirts and storming out past him. Deploma stood in the centre of the cell, Jehovah's unconscious body laying almost lifeless next to his feet. Never had Leana struck him. He took his hand away from his face, a small splotch of deep red blood tipped his finger. With a smirk, he placed the tip in his mouth and sucked it clean, turning to storm out, leaving the door open for Keomie to come in later on.
Leana stormed down the hall, curling her stinging hand at her sides, pure rage plastered on her face. Even the members of Deploma's personal guard – men that she should command by title though never bother to associate with – cleared her path, unwilling to face her rage. She could kill a man in that moment. She dared one of the guards to test her, knowing that it would take only one swift movement to disarm them and one more to slit their throat.
She slammed her door shut, throwing her body against the wood and sliding to the floor. She looked up at the image of her father hanging above the mantle. What would he say if he saw her now? Crying and spluttering, broken and defeated by that monster of a man – he would be ashamed. Standing, she strode over to the vanity as she quenched her tears, opening her large jewellery box. Gently, she reached out her dainty hands, now staring at the large sapphire framing her finger. Carefully, she lifted a lid of one of the compartments to reveal a beautiful, jade necklace. An engagement present given to her by Ariana on the night that she grated the betrothal. A necklace made for the Unseelie Queen. She was the queen of the Unseelie court; the wife of Deploma Dondarion. He had made one fatal mistake in his plan to dominate her – he had given her the power that she needed to best him; to destroy him and his court from the inside. Lifting the necklace to her chest, she fastened the clasp behind her head and viewed her reflection in the mirror. If he wanted a queen, she would give him one that would rule his nightmares.