Razmyr stared into a mirror that was drilled into the inside of the mountain on its rocky interior walls. He twisted his upper half where nail marks ran all the way down his back to the base of his tailbone. He couldn't remember much about the dream from last night, only the woman's face; those capsizing blue-green eyes with the silver ring around their arises, paired with a voice that said his name like he'd pleased every inch of her body.
That wasn't exactly normal for marks to leave his dreams. He gave one last glimpse at the mirror and slid his tunic back into place, moving to grab his sword Rage from a rock ledge extending from the wall. He stared down the silver blade at the sigils that moved inside the metal work like magick he'd never seen before. Things like these weren't easily found, and when he had managed to get his hand on this weapon, he went through hell and back. Barely unscathed.
Sheathing Rage, Razmyr slid his pants on and left the open area, walking barefoot down the chilling halls. The ground shook and chunks of rock descended from the ceiling. There was something wrong. He had that gut feeling from the moment he awoke like an ominous cloud hovered over Death Cap Mountain. He climbed a hand crafted ladder once he reached the end of the hall and stared out an opening in the mountain's side, carved by one of his mages magick. Once upon a time ago it would've been Baeron but he was taken by the prince of D'treroh's father in return for the fact he took James from the castle. It was a swap as retaliation. The current mage wasn't a crafty or as skilled.
Staring out and down from the small rectangular opening, there were one hundred ships set ablaze. Fire rolled across the ocean's surface, scorching dead bodies which drifted further away from the wreckage. Razmyr's jaw tightened, watching as nearly two hundred soldiers wearing the king's armor and crests charge across the mountain base. He moved from the window and walked down the corridors of their hideout.
"We're under attack! Everyone to the meeting room." He hollered. Not even seconds later everyone was hauling ass to meet him there. His flags and mantles hung everywhere. Razmyr lowered in his seat.
"What the bloody hell, what do we do?" One man shouted.
James looked calm, a steaming cup of tea held firmly in his hand. "We already sent a letter. It isn't like we didn't expect this."
"We have children to care for and you're sending letters to the blood of his blood?" Everyone chimed in with the one yelling his retort.
A woman with a half shaved head pulled her sword out and stabbed its end in the table. "He ain't care about his blood."
The majority cheered at this.
"Dat is true. His son left the castle to rebel, but he might not stand for Razmyr's threat. What if he rebels later?" Pudge licked his rotten teeth while digging a hand in the crack of his ass and sniffing.
"Then we worry about that later. If we don't, we won't live to get to that point." Razmyr rose from his seat. "Hold the base until back up gets here."
"What if they don't come." The woman with the half shaved head said.
"Then we better put up one hell of a fight for our lives." Said Razmyr while looking down at Rage gleaming in his grasp.
"The lack of faith in my master is kind of insulting." Came a honeyed voice from the shadows of the room. Ray'ven stepped forth, an amused tilt to her lip as swords and other weapons were pointed in her direction. She raised her hands to show she was unarmed, Ja'ule's crest glinting gold against the tight black leather top of her corset, the dress hugging her waist like a second skin and stopping just below her thighs. Despite the knee high heeled boots she wore, her steps made no sound.
"No need for that. You did call for assistance after all."
Razmyr hadn't gotten a good look at the woman from how the shadows stirred around the area with only a droplet or crimson moonlight spilling upon the table they were surrounding. He could see the king's crest—well, her king's crest—and the corset that hugged tightly against her curves that practically made her breast look like they could pop out in the open any minute. He sat with his legs shoulder width apart, hand on the hilt of his sword as he leaned forward with a smirk dancing upon his lips. "I'm not sorry that I don't have faith in someone who couldn't keep his position as prince. All I know is, he doesn't have much strength since his power has been severed from the crown. And," A shrug of his shoulders.
"I sent that letter a week ago before I had a dozen men face down in the ocean with one hundred of my ships set ablaze. You're late, I'm sure you can see where I come from." Twisting his hand at the wrist, his sword flew into the air. He stood and without guidance, it landed inside its sheath. "Less talk about your master and more talk about preparing for the attack. We can't face them head on so we need to split into groups."
James was closer to Ray'ven in his chair, and he stood slowly. "Ray'ven?" His voice was gentle and his tea cup tilted, spilling hot liquid onto his foot.
Another man snorted. "Fuck you and your master, do what you were sent to-" His throat opened wide and Razmyr was now on top of the table, Rage's blade bloody and shimmering in the red moonlight.
"Respect my guest." Was all he said before flicking it clean.
Pudge cackled. "I respect those tits, so count me in."
Insult after insult. He must have been the one who wrote the letter. Ray'ven withheld the urge to scoff at him. "As long as your men don't slow me down, feel free to split whatever groups you wish." She drawled, stepping forward out of the shadows completely. She didn't even bother looking in the man's direction.
The sound of James saying her name however, did bring her pause. Any emotion she was feeling did not show on her face as her gaze met the blonde. She forced her throat not to tighten and shoved away the feeling of her stomach dropping.
Instead, she tilted her head with a lazy smile. "James. So this is where you've been hiding. What interesting company you keep." Her nose wrinkled at the sight of Pudge. "And you have your brother no less."
James didn't say anything, he just rushed over to her and threw his arms around her. "It's good to see you. And yes, he's been a pain in the backside."
Razmyr waved his sword around as he spoke. "You can come with me. Hopefully you don't slow me down. Someone has to keep an eye on you. God only knows what other ulterior motives you could have. Two of you take the east wing, James and the rest the south. Me and little miss corset will take the west wing by ourselves."
The moment his arms went around her, her whole body went stiff. It had been so long since anyone had hugged her so casually. Ray'ven was certain if James knew all she had done since he'd left, if he would still be so pleased to see her.
She wanted so much to wrap her arms around him, to tell him how much she had missed him as well. That after he had left everything became so much harder. That she has wished that he had stayed with her. Instead, she pressed her hand to his chest, pushing him away, ablight, gently.
"I ask that you not touch me so casually. I am here, after all, on business." She told him coldly, before turning her back to him.
Her eyes went to the supposed leader of the group, ready to give him a clipped remark only for it to die on her tongue as her brain recognized him as the man from her dreams.
Instantly, her face began to heat up before she shoved the reaction away, clearing her throat. "I can assure you, I am here only to assist. My master wishes for it and it will be."
James continued to stare at her a moment longer when she pushed him away and he only released a sigh. "I see he's gotten to you too, or perhaps even time." Tipping his hat to conceal his face, James went the opposite way as instructed with his brother.
The room was cleared out save for Razmyr and Ray'ven. He pointed the other way, where the halls lead to the place they needed to go. "Ladies first. Try not to trip because I won't help you up. Though something tells me you're used to falling without a hand to help. Toned legs, arms, and ass says you've disciplined well." He said snarkily.
Ray'ven felt as though her heart was beating in her throat as she passed him, scoffing to cover up her inner turmoil. The marks on her neck seemed to tingle as she got close to him, as she brushed her hair to make sure they were still covered.
"Do you notice the fitness of every woman you come about, Krestov?" She asked with a roll of her eyes. "I am not the one who is in need of assistance."
"You can't recruit someone unfit, attention is an important key for a leader." He followed behind her. Razmyr did notice the fact her backside seemed familiar, and he wasn't the type of person to remember a woman's body shape after he'd slept with them. It was an understanding that if it happened, it would only be once—even that once was rare.
Up ahead there was a crack in the domed ceiling, sending fallen snow down with icy rain that began to fall. Another explosion sent large rocks descending towards them and Razmyr quickly pushed Ray'ven, going along with her until they were both pressed to the wall. He was up against her with a few strands in his face, a hand on the wall while dust and debris floating around, rocks still falling heavily with the ground shaking non-stop.
Ray'ven stumbled as the ground shook underneath her, and she found herself bumping into Razmyr's chest and she flushed as her hands braced against the solid muscle of his chest. It was a familiar feeling and flashes of the dream before popped into her mind and the blush returned much to her chagrin. "I am not one of your recruits, ser. No need to analyze me. You think my master would have someone working for him who was a slouch?"
A scoff left his mouth. At first he was staring above but when he heard her words his head lowered down so that their eyes met. "You aren't my recruit. However, today you are technically working for me and taking my orders as your master requested. And," Those cerulean eyes lowered to her mouth which was just as familiar as her ass. It dawned on him that she was the woman from his dreams. But how was that possible. Her being real and the marks on his back. "And your master isn't someone praised. So I wouldn't put it past him to hire shitty people." His gaze flicked back up.
Ray'ven swallowed thickly, her eyes glued to his lips as he spoke. The very same lips that had ravaged her in her dreams were now so close. Gods, she knew what they tasted like, knew what they felt like against her skin.
Oh no, no, no. This was not a place her mind needed to be. How was it even possible for a man she had never met before today to even dwell within her dreams in the first place? What sort of magick was at play here? "I can assure you, I am not one such person." Her words came out breathier than she wanted them too and she shifted uncomfortably against him.