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bookish-rival · 1 year ago

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Kiss under the gevran Mistletoe

Art by the amazing @gessueter and commissioned by the lovely @StardustSteph(Twitter) aka @leiaamidala

A short fanfic of Wren x Alarik from the books Twin Crowns, Cursed Crowns and Burning Crowns by Catherine Doyle & Katherine Webber

Pairing/Ship: Queen Wren Greenrock, King Alarik Felsing

Trope: Enemies to Lovers, Rivals To Lovers, Fluff, Angst

Warning: Mention of characters death, cursing

Summary:

Queen Wren needed some fresh air during festivities held at Grinstad Palace, hosted by Royal Family of Gevra. While taking a stroll through the quiet hallways together, Wren and Alarik noticed a Mistletoe hanging above them. Wren is given a choice. To either kiss her mortal enemy (once again) or walk away, ignoring her growing feelings for him.

WARNING! This story takes place after the second book, so HUGE SPOILER ALERT FOR BOTH BOOKS!

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Hi!

This is my first EVER story I’ve written and posted here. The Twin Crowns series has captured my heart for some time now, and only after reading the second one did I start imagining my own stories for these characters.

The books are absolutely amazing! I cannot wait for the third and final book of this trilogy.

I therefore tried to come up with my own little scenario.

A few things in advance: This is my first fanfic I wrote and English is only my second language, so there might be a lot of mistake in there. I also used exact parts from the books to fill in the flashbacks, so if some parts sound familiar than that’s because it’s 100% copied from the books hahaha.

I also didn’t know how to set the scene and mood correctly, so it starts of with a fast summary of the books (so big spoilers) as it explains why Wren happened to be in Gevra once again. There’s a big jump into the story as the two were already walking together. I didn’t know how to start off, so if it feels a bit rushed I’m sorry.

Please show more support to the authors of this series and I hope that you will enjoy this little oneshot.

Have fun!

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The Christmas season is coming to a close and every year the royal family of Gevra holds a huge feast at Grinstad Palace to celebrate.

This year however, the Twin Queens of Eana, Rose Valhart and Wren Greenrock, as well as their best friend and strongest ally King Shen Lo of the Sunkissed Kingdom, have been invited as honorary guests by King Alarik Felsing of Gevra himself.

The cold hearted King of Beasts invited them after a long exchange of letters with the Queens.

Their last meeting included the second death of the King’s younger sibling, Prince Ansel.

After he died in Eana, Wren was forced to bring him back with forbidden blood magic which caused him to return as a living corpse more than a real resurrected human being.

After multiple attempts of warning King Alarik and his sister, Princess Anika Felsing, about the dangerous outcome, they later agreed on letting their brother rest in peace.

The Felsing siblings asked Wren to perform her healing magic to send Prince Ansel’s body in a peaceful slumber, but it didn’t work when she tried.

Later, her sister Queen Rose took on the task and gave the Prince the peace he wanted, and his family the peace they needed.

The exchange of letters with the Gevran King also involved a specific evil witch, that holds a dangerous threat to both their kingdoms. The festivities are a perfect chance to talk about forming an alliance to fight this threat together.

That’s why, even though the twin Queens feel a chill running down their spines just thinking about traveling to Gevra, they still accepted the invitation. Hoping to officially bury the hatchet with the icy realm and additionally, build an alliance between Gevra and Eana, as a gift to their people.

*End of Summary*

The King of Gevra, and the Queen of Eana left the noisy ballroom behind, as they walked through the hallways of Grinstad Palace.

Alarik suddenly stopped under a door arch, as he noticed something on the ceiling. He looked up amused.

“What’s so funny?” Wren said as she looked up suspiciously, trying to see what got the frost-hearted King’s attention.

At first she didn’t realize what she saw, but then she remembered the Gevran tradition, Princess Anika told her about. The so called ”Mistletoe”, saying two souls whom stand beneath one, will have to peck their lips or be cursed for life.

Wren mumbled swear words while nervously looking around if anyone can see them, hoping, even a tiny bit, that their privacy will be interrupted and her complicated flame of desire for the ice cold king wouldn’t develop and confuse her any further. Dammit. That’s exactly the reason, why she was avoiding private moments with him.

Suddenly, her head got clouded in the memory of the first and last kiss they shared.

The time they made out in the middle of her self made blizzard, outside of Grinstad Palace.

She remembers the moment Alarik smiled into the kiss, not being afraid of the witch in his arms or the blizzard at his back. Both trying to find release from their own grief, and finding it, in each others embrace.

She shock her head, trying to get rid of those memories before they overtake her actions.

Only after gazing back at the King’s face did she realize that she must’ve looked absolutely pathetic, looking around for people, turning all shades of red trying to distract from the mistletoe hovering above them.

“I am not kissing yo-“

“Too bad, it’s tradition.” King Alarik stepped foward, cutting her off. She immediately looked away trying to hide her red face.

Wren couldn’t take it, she was looking like a fool in this moment. Trying to get the upper hand in this, she took a stride towards him, facing him directly.

“Where’s your mother? I’d rather kiss her.”

A chuckle escaped his throat. “That’s very low. Even for-“

“A witch?” Wren crossed her arms.

“-you.” Alarik finished.

“Same thing.”

Another low chuckle. “You may be a witch, having your own kind of spells…”

Alarik glided even closer, making Wren tilt her head to look in his shining blue eyes.

“But……if you break a Gevran tradition, you’ll end up being cursed for life. Is that what you want?”

“….Are you blackmailing me right now?”

“Perhaps.”

“I feel honored, your Majesty.” Wren said while sarcastically curtsying to him.

“But with all my, none existing, respect for you… I will NOT be kissing you.”

A smirk came across her lips, thinking she finally turned the conservation around.

Alarik hummed in response.

”Oh don’t worry, your Highness…” His sarcasm mirrored her own.

”I never said anything about you having to kiss me.” He said while slowly decreasing the distance of their bodies, causing Wren to retreat backwards until her back hits the wall of the arch.

”W-What?” Wren hated how intimidated her voice sounded. Alarik was so close that she could feel his breath on her face.

”What made you think…” His right hand caressed her silvery strand of hair, until he reached her cheek. He wasn’t touching her cheek, his hand was just levitating beside her face. Wren could only feel a light touch, because her trembling would cause her face to slightly brush against his hand.

Her eyes darted to his left hand that had found itself gently placed on her waist, his thumb soothingly drawing circles over her skin, sending even more shivers up her spine.

”…that You will be the one initiating the kiss.” He whispers, almost afraid that someone will hear them, even though it was obvious that they were completely alone.

Wren’s eyes met his, immediately getting trapped in his gaze.

Once again the memory of their past kiss slipped itself into her mind.

She knew Alarik Felsing can kiss. His quiet ferocity to his passion, the way he held her tightly against him, how he angled her head to claim her mouth and the way she let him back then. The moment his lips seizing hers, the spark being ignited and them being consumed in its fire.

The Gevran King closed the distance further, pulling the Queen out of her thoughts. She slammed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the feeling of his soft lips against hers once again. Deep down feelings of uncertainty and guilt creeped up. But the touch of his lips never came.

She opened her eyes again, trying not to let any signs of disappointment from her gaze betray her feelings to him.

Alarik‘s eyes weren’t closed. They were mainly focused on hers, like he never closed them in the first place, making it seem like he never intended on kissing her at all.

Her confusion grew with every millisecond the King wasn’t moving.

The Gevran King, Alarik Felsing, was a powerful, selfish man. He could get everything he wanted, he could’ve captured her lips right then if he so desired and yet, here they were. Not kissing.

Just staring in each others eyes, as his hands continued to ghostly hold her waist and hair, not daring to capture her with more force. And additionally, Alarik didn’t show any interest of wanting to close the remaining distance. He did not move, and he was not going to move.

The Witch was held loosely in the embrace of the Icy King, free to step away from him and leave any building feelings for the King behind, or capture his lips herself, if she so desired.

Wren couldn’t believe it. Was he messing with her?

Was it all just a game? Finding the perfect time and spot to make her vulnerable and then mess with her? Slowly, but surely, the old feelings of anger and disappointment towards the cold-hearted King of beasts returned. Deep down Wren had a feeling that, sooner or later, Alarik would tease her about the heated kiss they shared in the past. It was obvious that he was gonna be the one who’d bring it up again. He enjoyed it, for some sick reason she doesn’t really wanna know.

But she didn’t enjoy it. She never wanted to kiss him. She hated him. They hated each other.

The blizzard of her confused feelings clouded her mind mind that day, she wasn’t thinking straight. The kiss was a mistake.

Her now furious eyes flickered at his gaze, trying to find some truth in his annoyingly shining blue pupils. Then, a sudden thought overtook her mind. The moment she threw herself at him in the heated moment, appeared before her.

It was snowing in the courtyard as they held each other, both screaming at each other, as Wren’s new magic created a snowstorm around them, pushing them closer, due to her emotions raging inside of her. Snowflakes landed all over their clothes, hair and a single one stopping on Alarik´s bottom lip.

“I hate you!“ Wren hissed. “I hate you more than anyone I’ve ever met!“

“And you think i care?“ Alarik sneered. “I hate you too.“

“Tyrant.“

“Brat.“ He shot back.

“Wretch.“

“Witch.“

“So what?!“ Wren’s gaze fell to that single snowflake on his lip.

Alarik held her face in his hands. Trying to hold her still and stop the blizzard going out of control around them.

“Wren.“ He said with a serious tone. “Stop. It.“

“Make. Me.“ And then, they were kissing.

Wren didn’t know why she licked the snowflake from his bottom lip. Or why he opened his mouth to seize the kiss. But it happened.

She initiated the kiss.

SHIT. She kissed him.

If not for that damn snowflake on his impeccable lips, it wouldn’t have happened. But it did. And now it was gonna happen again.

This time, however, she was thinking straight. She’s able to stop the kiss and the forming of any more complicated and uncertain feelings for the man infront of her. Guilt, grief, anger, frustration, disappointment. Those feelings were just a few snowflakes in the blizzard of suffering roaming inside her, at this time. Wren couldn’t stop the blizzard now, nor ever, she feared. But she is able to keep someone else from getting drawn into her storm.

She had to stop this. To protect herself, and him, from more complications between each other. To protect them both from another mistake.

“Too close…” Wren swallowed as she looked into his eyes.

She was sure that deep inside his gaze, was a spark of hurt and disappointment, before his eyes turned to an understanding look, as he slowly retreated his face from hers. Giving her space. When his hands left her body, she trembled from the lost feeling of his closeness.

This happened before.

She was broken. Too broken to see someone else’s feelings. Too broken to see her own feelings.

To see, to feel, what she really wanted, what she needed.

After failing to heal Prince Ansel a few months ago, she ran away, breaking down in her room. She couldn’t do to. She couldn’t heal the Prince’s soul and give him the peace he desired. Wren couldn’t. No matter how much she wanted to. And she did, want to. She wanted to fix her mistakes. By using forbidden magic, she poisoned her own soul.

She cursed herself. She was broken.

”You are not broken, Wren.”

Alarik’s voice reached her memory. She wasn’t alone with her grief, that day. There was someone else next to her.

It was Alarik. He ran after her that day. He saw her in her weakest moments. In her most pathetic moment. And yet, he had no intention of making fun of her.

“You are not broken.” Alarik said.

“Yes, I am! What the hell do you know?!”

“I know that if you can bring yourself to care about something beyond yourself, you are not broken.”

He raised his hand, curling a strand of her hair around his finger.

When he lifted it, Wren saw that it was bright silver.

“See how much you care, Wren.”

Alarik traced the single black strand in his summer wheat hair, which developed after his fathers death.

“My father once told me that to know grieve is to know love, and you cannot love something if you’re irretrievably broken.”

Back then she was staring at the King, trying to figure out where this version of him had come from, or if perhaps it had been there alll along, hiding beneath his icy facade.

“You once told me that love is a horrible business.” Countered Wren sobbing.

“It is.” said Alarik “But why does that have to change anything?”

Her shoulders sagged under the weight of the truth.

“I can’t fix Ansel, I can’t even fix myself.”

“You don’t need to be fixed. You just need time to heal.”

Wren closed her eyes, feeling his grief as her own.

He stepped back.

A small, wayward part of her wanted to reach for him, at that moment.

To curl herself in his embrace and distract herself from the crack in her heart.

“Go home. Find your healing witch.”

She’ll never forget his soft and fleeting smile. The way a moment of peace in a lifetime of war was given to her, by the man she called her enemy.

He stood back then, and the moment slipped away. He stood back now too.

”But…” Wren’s broken and timid voice reached Alarik in a second, as he once again searched for her eyes. She looked at him, her vision slowly decreasing as tears developed in her eyes.

Wren let the last moment to slip away. But she wasn’t gonna let this one slip away.

She grabbed his belt and pulling him closer, his nose inches away from crashing into her forehead. Her hands were trembling while holding onto the fabric of his shirt, almost turning white due to her fierce grip.

”But…” Her eyes slipped a little further down and land on his lips once again. “…not close enough.”

”Wren...” Alarik whispers, softly, before she pressed her lips against his. Immediately, he melted into her.

Different than their past lip debate, this was a different sensation. Sweet, not hasty or needy. Soft, tender, sincere. Things she never expected from the Gevran King.

This time, the kiss didn’t develop into a fierce battle of emotions, it stayed as a diligent touch, lingering long enough for both of them to adapt their breathing until their chests were heaving in synchronization. Alarik gently moved his right hand though her hair, while the one on her waist continued to massage her tender flesh. It made her lightheaded, forming an empty space in her mind with no room for doubt, grieve, or any other feeling other than….this.

Once again, it was the selfish and fierce King with an ice block as heart, that gave her even the tiniest bit of peace in the battle she was fighting, the one in her country and in herself. This second of vulnerability from both her, a witch queen, and the gevran king, made her feel at peace. Even if it didn’t hold long.

Her feelings were just as confusing and complicated as the man she was embracing. Alarik was a complicated man indeed. Last time she discovered new side of him, it that twisted her stomach. Wren didn’t like how it cast Alarik in a different light, not as a brutal king but as an ordinary young man. She didn’t want to think of him like that. Every time she spares a thought for him, good or bad, it gets intertwined with guilt. It would slowly start to eat her from the inside, until she couldn’t tell if it’s right or wrong. She didn’t want to feel too much, she didn’t want things to get mixed up and grow more complicated. After all, the only person who gets more insecure about their own indefinite feelings, is her.

Due to her thoughts, the young Queen unintentionally squirmed in his hold, which caught Alarik‘s attention. As if he could read her mind, and feel her building doubt, he slipped his tongue through her lips, surprising her so much, that a squeal and moan escaped her at the same time.

She broke away from his hold, trembling more with embarrassment than fury.

“You slipped a tongue in there, you fuckin-“

“Well, you were making weird noises so clearly you enjoyed that.” He joked, showing off his canines. She offendedly pushed him backwards, so her back wasn’t pressed against the cold stone wall anymore.

“This changes nothing. I still hate you.”

“Didn’t seem that way a second ago.”

“I-“

“You kissed me.“

“Shut up.”

“That was-“

“That never happened.“

“Wren, I don’t think this ego lift is ever going to fade.“

She attacked him with a punch. Like he saw it coming, Alarik caught her wrist and pulled her into his chest, holding her hand against his heart.

“Still hate me?”

“Definitely.”

“Just as much?”

“Hmm…maybe…” she reached her other hand infront of his face. Her fingers pressed strongly against each other, not leaving a gap between the tips. ”This…less.”

Alarik smirked, distancing himself once again as he lead her hand towards his face.

”I’ll take what I can get.” He pressed his lips to her hand. Wren silently gasped as the feeling of his lips left her skin.

”I need a drink.”

”What’s the magic word?” Alarik said, jokingly.

“Oh, yeah nevermind. I’ll get it myself.” She scooted past him, hearing a faint chuckle erupt from his mouth.

Together, they made their way back to the festivities, shoulders brushing softly with each step, as the sound of their footsteps, just like their feelings of distrust towards one another, slowly quiet down.

The End.

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