The Witch (Part 1)

Yavanna had done her best to get away from him. Whoever he was. But in the end, she had lost and gained a dizzying head wound.

She shivered in disgust when he tried to kiss her lips again, his tongue like a lifeless slug as he trailed it along her tightly shut lips. Yavanna could feel her consciousness fading but she couldn't let it go. Heavens only knew what he might do once that happened.

"Come now, your majesty. We both know his majesty hasn't been taking care of you. Let me in, I can show you everything." He whispered against her chilled neck.

She just wanted him off of her. His slimy saliva felt thick on her skin and she shivered at a cold draft. The library would evidently never be a safe place for her.

Her head was getting heavier and she felt his cold, absurdly soft hand trailing up her calves, but her strength was already gone, draining like her blood was from her head.

"That's it, your majesty. I'll take good—" His words were cut short and she refocused her dimming eyes to see the familiar silhouette of the king, his blue eyes shining in the faintly lit room.

"You won't touch my wife. She is not yours to have." He growled and the last words that drifted into her mind were too quiet to be remembered.

~~~~~~~~~

Yavanna groaned. Her head pounding fiercely. What had…? Her throat seized and she attempted to sit up but something kept her down. Panic gripped her and a ragged whimper tore from her throat.

"Sit still. You're fine." She stilled at the familiar, rough voice. Her eyes stung with tears. What had happened?

She swallowed, "What—" She coughed, her throat still raw, "What happened?"

She heard a rough exhale and felt more movement along the crown of her head. What was he doing? "I rescued you." He snarled, his tone biting. And she felt shame climb within her and root itself firmly in her stomach, making it churn in nauseating swirls.

She attempted to blink her eyes open, only to find that her eyes felt sealed shut. Silence lapsed between them while he continued to work along her scalp. She assumed he was patching up her head wound. Maybe that was why she felt so drowsy. Her veins felt like they were thrumming with life and heat and breathing was difficult, like the air itself was thick.

When Yavanna clenched her hands she felt magic. Her magic. Flowing powerfully through her veins; thrumming and beating as alive as her own heartbeat.

"Who was he?" She asked quietly, when she grew used to the sense of thick air and living veins, and when enough of the incident had returned to her.

"Nothing but a courtier." He answered. She wanted to ask why he had touched her and why he had slid his tongue over her. But the words wouldn't come out. She twitched slightly at the memory of his wretched touches.

When he finally finished she felt him slide out from behind her and she realized that she'd been resting against his chest. 'So that sound had been his heartbeat.' She'd thought it had been the magic beating rapidly behind her spine.

After his body warmth completely left her she thought he was gone. But she was sorely mistaken. In the next instant she felt a large body over her and her breath caught in her throat.

"Wake up." He snapped and she felt the tears burning in her eyes again, tightening her throat. He was going to touch her and pin her just like the nameless courtier had. He growled and his presence left.

Forcing her eyes open—she had to see what was going on—she saw a room that was not her own. The king's room? As her tired eyes scanned the large chamber that was her only guess. Before she could observe the intricacies of the dim but lavish room, the king drew her attention away from the warm light of the fireplace.

"What did you do?" He asked, his lips curling in distaste.

She watched him with a pensive look. Was this her punishment for trying to be strong for a day? Was this what she got?

"From the first day, I haven't been able to touch you, to taste you. Yet something…" He cut his pause with a growl.

Her brow furrowed from his words. What did he mean? He had…wanted to touch her and t-taste her? What did that mean? Taste her as in his curse? She shivered and pulled the heavy red blankets closer around herself.

"So, what did you do?" He asked, training his cold gaze on her. But like always, she didn't feel it. Not like she did with Velio or with Rune. Amory had never elicited such fear from her. She had only learned to be wary of him, but her instincts had never warned her of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She whispered, doing her best to treat her tender throat with kindness.

"Yes you do."

"I don't. Your majesty." Yavanna answered, staring into the fire, "Amory, I don't know what you're talking about. Believe it or not, I can't read minds." She finished. It felt strange using his name, but he used hers. And they were married. As strange as that truth was.

He growled and she closed her eyes sharply. Trying to shield herself from the abrupt pain pulsing through her, mingling with the magic.

Pain. Blinding and violent. Stabbing her behind her eyes. She bit back a scream and gripped the blankets. Her skin burned and she felt something clawing, growing beneath her skin. Her stomach tossed and she heard a scream before her vision blacked out and she was lost in the dark.

She breathed into the darkness and heard a deep cackle that sounded like it was her own. Her heart stopped when she heard herself say, "Finally. You've let me out to play."