Pure Exhaustion

Yavanna was too stunned to react. Her mind went blank with what she assumed was fear as he slowly pushed his lips onto hers. She had no idea what to do. What was this? Her shock overruled any other emotion that could've possibly entered her mind.

She felt him slowly warm and his body pressed closer to hers. Her breathing became shallow as heat permeated her body. It was a heady feeling; his lips brushing and pressing against hers, through the fabric but the friction of it was what made her heart race. Her breath hitched and she felt his own breathing stop before he shoved away from her, pushing hard against her shoulders.

She groaned and clutched at her throat when she remembered that she was injured. She'd completely forgotten the pain during their kiss. Their kiss! Her eyes stared up at him, wide and terrified. He was still straddling her, using the back of his hand to wipe his lips. The disgust in his eyes did not go unnoticed; it practically radiated from him.

She couldn't speak a word, the flushed feeling was still pooling in places of her body but she fought to concentrate. She needed to get out, she needed to get away from him. He'd attacked her, the same as Velio had and she could no longer call him her husband for appearance. She would not do that.

She scrambled out of her bed and walked across the room, her back never once facing him. Once she was hindered by the wall she braced herself on it and clutched her head in her shaking hands.

Mirella. He had said Mirella wanted to see her. Her heart pounded so loudly and painfully she felt faint and ill. How? He used her name like he knew her. Did he? Oh, she needed answers, she bemoaned.

She raised her head and a strangled scream escaped her throat when the king stood mere feet from her. Tears sprang to her eyes at how sore her throat was. She was so tired of being mute. She had to tell her family about her poor treatment, somehow.

But no… Maxwell along with her other brother would likely demand she be sent back, the king would likely let her go back. But she needed to stay. It would be humiliating if she left because she couldn't handle the stress of being queen; despite that not being why she needed out.

It wasn't fair to be mistreated this way; she was queen and wife to the king. But she supposed no one's life was fair.

"How did you do that?"

She blinked up at him, his blue eyes glaring down at her once again. How did she do what? Kiss him? She thought, her eyes flaring with frustration while her ears burned in humiliation. She hadn't kissed him, he had kissed her, against her wishes.

"Answer me,"

She rolled her eyes internally, "If you men would stop ruining my voice, I would be able to. But alas, I cannot.' She stormed away and to her desk to retrieve parchment and her quill. She bent over her desk to write and when she turned to him her expression had shifted to soulless. She felt so tired and spent. And used. She felt used for some odd reason.

She had written, "How did I do what? Where is Mirella and why does she wish to see me?"

He read it and glared at her. She simply stared through him. He fisted the parchment and she mentally sighed, almost feeling his hands on her again. He took a step towards her and she closed her eyes resignedly, "You used magic just now."

"I didn't." She wrote back.

Disgust was etched into every part of his being, she swore she could see smoke billowing from his ears from how red his face was turning. Why was he so angry? She could see an outraged question in his eye and she simply turned and walked to her bed. It was nearing dinner and she wanted to rest her tired body.

A hand grabbed her wrist and she closed her eyes, expecting his grip to worsen or a harsh blow. But he simply released her and left the room. Her limbs trembled and gave out. Sitting on the floor she thought of nothing but of how miserable she felt. She was sore and tired and empty.

Wolfgang, who had been hiding beneath the bed, walked over to her and began nuzzling her sweetly. But she only began crying silent tears accompanied by the occasional choke.

~~~~~~~~~~

Once Amory was outside of her room he vanished and appeared in Clark's room. Where he evidently had company.

"Leave." He barked out and the two women scampered off. Clark merely shrugged and began to pull on his trousers and a robe.

"Well, that was very kind, Amory. You couldn't have waited a few more minutes?" He said sarcastically with a hint of annoyance in his eyes. Amory ignored it, his mind was troubled. She had been telling the truth, yet it was impossible. She had used magic on him, somehow. Yes. It was all just a ploy of hers; getting him to believe he enjoyed kissing her so that—so that—

Amory shook his head, "It is early, Clark. You'll find another wanton to warn your bed, soon."

"Now I don't appreciate that. These women happen to be very respectable." Clark defended seriously. Amory gave him a look of doubt to which Clark rolled his eyes. As he walked to the closed curtains, he asked, "What can I help you with?"

Amory didn't answer at first and only stared at the carpet light as the dimming daylight began shining on it. He wasn't quite sure how to word what was bothering him. Eventually, all he could bite out was, "I kissed her."

"You what? Why—why would you do that?" He asked, upset as he spun away from the window.

Amory's thinking had been that since she had used magic when Velio had kissed her hand, and since she had a dislike of both of them, she would therefore have the same reaction. But she'd somehow enchanted him so that—he growled and looked at his fisted hand when he felt that the parchment was still in his hand. Her clear handwriting was still written there on the wrinkled paper, "I didn't." He hadn't sensed a lie from her, but it was impossible for her to not have. It was impossible for him to have felt desire from the kiss, through a veil, and for her. Impossible.

"To test something."