#kalthanen

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver x OC [Chapter Six]

{WARNINGS: adult language, fantasy violence, woman owning her sexuality and her body, woman using her sexuality and body as a weapon, woman saying “fuck emotions i’m scared”, manipulation mentions, toxic main character but she learns, toxic parents, self-harm in the form of self-poisoning, self-hate, fucked up family}

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four 

Chapter Five 

        Arya took Lord Middleditch's hand, noting the lack of callouses and the way his cuticles looked almost as nice as her own. He was a man who not worked for anything. A man who had never held a sword in his hand. He'd be so easy to play with. It had been far too long since Arya had been able to play her favorite game. Playing with the heart of men had been a pastime since she had first realized that she was something more than beautiful.

        She was sensual.

        She would seduce the man, sleep with his wife or betrothed, and then she would watch as he struggled to pick up the pieces. She had a habit of creating insatiable lust. She had a habit of becoming someone that no one could ever have. She was an untouchable woman. 

        She just had to keep reminding herself that it was safer to play the game than to be played. Dorian Havilliard had been the only man who had ever come close to breaking her heart. A heart that she wasn't sure she even had.

        Thomas' hand was stronger than she expected, his hold on her waist was tight enough to entice her. She fought the urge to smirk up at him. She wanted to make this last longer than it probably should. Seducing him within moments would only make the game end before she had her fun.

        As the two danced, she could feel a gaze on her. It caused an unfamiliar heat to rise in her stomach and spread across her chest. She knew without looking that Galan was watching them. She wondered if he realized that he had no claim over her. Just because he had been nothing but a gentleman since they had met meant nothing. Princelings often thought the world belonged to them. Any beautiful woman was theirs. Any possible thing they could wish for was theirs for the taking.

        Arya would never let that happen to her. She didn't care if she had to stab him to make her point widely known. Although, stabbing him would bring attention that she did not want. It seemed as though the princess was bound to make a terrible decision when it came to Galan Ashryver. It didn't matter what she wished.

        "I must say," Lord Middleditch's voice drew her out of her thoughts. His voice was a seductive drawl, deep and dark like the ocean's abyss. "I didn't expect you to show tonight."

        "And why is that?" One of her brows rose just slightly as she watched the smirk grow on his face. He was handsome enough. The worst part was that he knew that he was. That was bound to cause trouble.

        "Our prince is many things," he started, thinking over his words for a moment before continuing. "An idiot just happens to be one of them."

        "Is that so?" Arya tried to mask the amusement in her tone. "I thought he was quite revered. He fights for his country and is quite dashing. Surely that garners some respect."

        "Only an idiot would fight on the frontlines. Galan thinks he can take on Adarlan by himself."

        "Careful," Arya said before Thomas dipped her gently. "He happens to be my closest friend here."

        "Is that why you've been avoiding him all night?" So he was perceptive. That would have to be taken care of. Arya didn't need anyone seeing through her nor her plans. If he managed to find out that she was just trying to find a husband and steal them away to Kalthanen, who knew what would happen.

        He might decide he was the best man for the position. He might assume he'd be the best king for Kalthanen. She would never let that happen.

        "I have no idea what you're talking about," Arya gave him a demure smile. This man was sure to be someone who she watched for. He wasn't playing the same games that she was. "All I've done was dance with a few men. I'm allowed to do as I please. Free will is man's one true strength, wouldn't you agree?"

        The smirk on his lips chilled her to the core. He looked like a member of Kalthanen's court. The snake-like eyes, the handsome features that masked a horrid heart. She wanted to be sick just looking at him. She took a breath through her nose, knowing that she was being oversensitive. He didn't know anything about her. He would never know anything about her.

        No one could see behind any of the masks she wore. No one ever would. Hell, Arya did not know who she was. How was anyone else supposed to figure it out?

        "I would," Thomas spoke, twirling her just before the song ended. "You seem to have a choice to make." He stared over her head, watching someone nearing the two of them. "You can either spend the rest of your night with me or you could continue to give our prince hope."

        Arya did not glance behind her. She did not listen to the pull in her gut telling her that this was a bad idea. Her instincts normally protected her. She had made a habit of listening to them rather than anything else. She would get into trouble otherwise. But this was a decision that needed to be rationalized. She couldn't just listen to a stupid little pull in her gut. She had to think about what was best for her. What was best for Kalthanen.

        "Lead the way," Arya didn't know if she was going to regret her decision. She didn't think she cared. 

        Thomas took her by the arm, leading her out of the ballroom. As they slipped through the door, she turned her head to see Galan. A look of hurt on his face.

        Her stomach seemed to knot itself but she said nothing, did nothing, as Thomas walked her to the gardens.

        "I find it easier to think out here," he explained as they exited the castle through large, glass doors. The gardens were beautiful in the daylight but in the moonlight they were exquisite. She wondered how hard Galan had worked to make it that way. Had he even noticed it? 

        She didn't know why she was thinking of him. 

        "Yes, it's quite lovely," she said as they passed whispering couples and one who seemed more inclined to fighting than intimacy.

        Arya took it upon herself to note who was nearest them. In case anything happened, she wished to know who she might be able to rely on for protection. 

        It seemed as though the Fae had preferred the gardens to the crowded ballroom. Two Fae couples stood in the gardens, one just along the eastern wall. The woman was small, petite against the man's large frame. Her hair was the deepest ebony and she looked up at the man with the light of a thousand stars in her eyes. The man did not appear to be swayed by her otherworldly beauty. His tanned skin seemed to glow golden in the moonlight, shadows playing around him. He looked as though he was ready to destroy everything and everyone. But his large hand held the woman's smaller one and he appeared almost content. The other couple stood beside the hydrangea bushes just to the south of Arya and Lord Middleditch. The man's face held a tattoo that she could not make out, his white hair flowing down his back and a dark glare on his face. The woman's golden hair was braided in a crown on her head, an impish smile on her face as she said something that Arya couldn't hear. The tattooed man's face grew darker.

        "Don't let them frighten you," Thomas told her with a slight sigh. "They think just because the Ashryver's have Fae blood that they're allowed here. It's quite disgusting if you ask me."

        "I didn't," Arya stated as they sat down on a bench just outside of a maze that was filled with roses and jasmine. Arya briefly wondered how they managed to keep the jasmine alive in Wendlyn. She allowed herself to think of the land back home, where the jasmine grew wild and where she had spent hours in her youth laying on the ground and watching as the flowers bloomed around her. Arya truly loved Kalthanen, even if she knew it could be a horrible place full of equally horrifying people.

        "No, I suppose you didn't," he said with an amused chuckle. No warmth was in his laugh nor in his eyes. "Now, Arya, tell me what you're doing here."

        "Kalthanen needs new trading partners," the lie slid off her tongue easily.

        "Don't lie to me, Princess," the lordling said. "I know better than that. You and your dearest cousin are here for a reason. Now, I can be of service to you, or we can keep lying to each other about our intentions."

        "And what exactly are your intentions?" Arya looked at him, her eyes filled with boredom. She would not let any man get under her skin. She wouldn't allow anyone to tell her who she was or what her plans were. No one had any right to try and control her. No one would ever be that important to her. She had known that from a very young age.

        "What else would they be?" Thomas questioned, looking down at her with a raised brow. "I intend to sweep you off your feet and leave Wendlyn as far behind me as I possibly can."

        "You have faith in yourself," she almost snorted before remembering herself. "I don't intend to give anyone my heart, my Lord," she said the title with more venom than anyone could have mustered.

        "I didn't say anything about stealing your heart," he shrugged his shoulders once as he looked down at her. "Make no mistake, you're beautiful. Any man would be lucky to have you. But we both know that you don't want Galan. I assume that you didn't manage to snag Dorian Havilliard. There are few princes left in this world."

        "There are several island nations left." Arya pointed out.

        "Yes, but what would they do for you?" Thomas questioned, taking her hand in his. She didn't quite hate how soft they were. "They wouldn't strength Kalthanen. If anything, it would just weaken your country. No, you need something better than islands. You need someone from Wendlyn or Adarlan. Since a prince won't do, a Lord would be the next best thing."

        Arya didn't correct him. How could she? He had read her mind.

        "Besides, we can take over from your brother and your cousin in due time. For now, we would be playing the happy newlyweds."

        "What's in it for you?" He was offering too much. There had to be something he wanted. No one was this eager to marry someone they did not know. Briefly, thoughts of Galan went through her mind. What would she do if he found out? What if he learned that she was marrying someone she didn't know despite the way he looked at her? Despite how he made her stomach knot and her heart hammer.

        It was for that reason that she was considering this whole, stupid mess. She didn't want to think about Galan anymore. Didn't want to think about the task at hand. He was offering her a chance to get away from here before she lost some integral part of herself.

        "I'd get off this miserable rock," he stated as he turned his face to look at the stars. The moonlight bathed his skin in silvery light, causing his golden skin to glow. "I'd be able to lay about in a palace by the sea, have a beautiful woman in my bed, and never hear my father's voice again. The potential to become a king consort is also quite tempting."

        "Power and escape," Arya's voice was soft as she stared at the maze in front of them. The twists and turns of the hedges matched by her train of thought. This couldn't be this easy. It made no sense for anything to be as painless as this whole thing. "Do not expect me to love you."

        "As long as you expect the same from me," Thomas said, his gaze turning to her. His eyes were black in the moonlight. She could not tell what was iris and what was the pupil. Did it even matter? She wouldn't be falling for his eyes. Wouldn't be blinded by the fire that blazed within them.

        "Allow me to think on this." She didn't need to think on anything. It was the best she could ever do. He would be the one she would be able to take back to Kalthanen. They would marry and she would kill him after they were crowned.

        "Of course," Thomas stood then, taking her hand as he did. The fluidity of his movements made her wonder if perhaps he had some Fae in his bloodline. He brushed a kiss to her knuckles before releasing her hand and disappearing into the night. She didn't know if she was grateful to be alone or not. 

        She could hear the couple fighting from earlier. The man telling the woman off for hiding a weapon in the lining of her gown. Arya was almost impressed that she had managed it. The woman seemed to think it was nothing. Their voices drowned out the sound of footsteps coming from behind her.

        "You disappeared," his voice caused an unwelcome chill to go through her spine. Her hands gripped the bench, her white knuckles hidden by her voluminous skirts.

        "I needed air," lying came so naturally to the manipulator. The would-be-queen knew that she didn't need to lie to him. But it was easier than admitting to what had just transpired. "The gardens are quite beautiful at night. I don't know why you hadn't thought to bring me before."

        "I saw Lord Middleditch with you," he ignored her words. Arya bristled at that, but he continued before she could say anything. "You can't trust a word that man says. He's the closest thing to evil I know."

        "Careful, Galan," she refused to look at him. "You almost sound jealous."

        A sharp intake of breath came from him. Arya wanted to look back and see his expression but she did not allow herself to. It was none of her concern what Galan Ashryver thought of who wanted to know her.

        "I doubt I have anything to be jealous over," he said as he moved to sit beside her. "You have better taste than him."

        "You don't know me well enough to know that," Arya spoke softly, still refusing to catch his eye. She didn't want to see the grin on his face. Didn't want to see what the moonlight did to him. If it made Thomas look beautiful, she was certain that Galan would look ethereal. Those Ashryver eyes would surely be brighter than stars, his smile would look as though the gods themselves had blessed it. It was too much for her to take. "I nearly married Dorian Havilliard. That should tell you everything about my taste."

        She felt him stiffen beside her, his arm tense where it brushed against hers. She knew that it was not due to the muscle that had been built up by years upon years of training.

        "Then I know that you deserve better," his voice was soft. Barely a whisper. Goosebumps rose along her skin at the very tone of his voice. She hated it. Hated how she reacted to him.

        "You don't know what I deserve, Galan. You barely know me," she stood then, clenching her fists to avoid him seeing how her hands were shaking. She didn't want him to ever see her as weak. She didn't need that from him. "Don't pretend to know me. It will only lead to you being dreadfully disappointed."

        "Nothing you could ever do would disappoint me, Arya," he stood with her, taking her hand in his. She hated how it felt. His calloused hands were bigger than her own, rough and ready to fight at a moment's notice. Without his crown and the way he carried himself, one would never realize that he was a prince. She wished he was more like a prince. Like some pompous ass who she would sooner put a blade through than bed.

        "He asked me to marry him," Arya nearly winced when Galan's hold tightened. It did not hurt. It had just been unexpected. The look on his face, however, was not.

        Galan's easy smile had been replaced by a wounded look. Though his square jaw was set, his lips thinned, and the tendons in his neck were showing he did not appear to be angry. His eyes burned with a fire that told her the truth. He hated to think that anyone else would ask her for the time of day. But what right did he have? What right did any of them have to expect anything from her? 

        "Did you say yes?" She hated how his voice didn't break, hated how he could sound so solid despite his eyes betraying him. It made everything far too easy and yet also made it the hardest thing she'd ever done.

        "Yes," another lie. All she had ever done was lie to him. Their entire relationship was built on the fact that he couldn't trust her. That no one could trust her. "We'll leave for Kalthanen soon enough."

        Galan dropped her hand, staring straight ahead at the maze of roses. "Stay, Arya. You ... You should stay. At least until the season changes and it's safer to sail."

        Arya stared at him for a moment, shaking her head slightly. "I should go. It's growing late," her voice was strong despite the fact that she wanted it to break. She wanted to be able to show that she felt something. But she couldn't. She didn't. She'd been trained for years to avoid anyone ever seeing her. From anyone being able to touch her in a way she didn't like.

        She slipped away from him, avoiding her chambers and Calanon. She walked down corridors that were filled with laughing couples and sconces blazed with warm, friendly light. She passed them as though she were a ghost amongst them. She didn't want to be one of them. She had always wanted to be the one who rose above everyone. She wanted the power, the responsibility. She wanted to change the world. To protect Kalthanen from every bad thing that would ever happen to the island nation.

        Even if it meant selling her soul.

        Arya caught sight of Lord Middleditch as she passed by the ballroom. Her feet ached, her chest felt as though it was breaking, and she could barely keep standing. He, on the other hand, looked as fresh as a daisy. His smile was radiant, his laughter hollow as he drank from a golden goblet.

        She walked back into the ballroom, her chin held high and her back as straight as she could make it. She didn't care anymore. This whole mess with Galan needed to end. The looks they sent each other, the way she felt when he was around her. She couldn't handle him. Couldn't handle what she felt around him. That was why she needed to do the one thing she was sent for.

        "Lord Middleditch," the name fell from her lips as easily as a lie. They would, after all, be spending the rest of their lives lying to everyone. "Might I have a word with you?"

        "Of course, Your Highness," he gave her a small bow before he excused himself from his friends. Arya led him towards a small alcove that overlooked the high windows at the back of the room. Moonlight poured through them, giving the appearance of a sanctuary.

        "I've thought over your proposal," she knew it had been too fast. She knew she should have waited until the next day to speak with him. But Galan had left her flustered. She never wanted a man to leave her flustered again. She was supposed to be the one in control. She didn't care if Calanon was angered by not knowing of the plan. She didn't care what he did to her. Luna would take care of him if he became too much of a problem.

        "And?" Thomas looked at her curiously. His dark eyes were not just a dark color. They were black. She wondered if it was a warning sign of sorts. But she was beyond thinking clearly.

        "I accept," she didn't bother to smile at him. Didn't bother to pretend to be happy about their betrothal. It was business not pleasure. They both knew it. They could pretend for the rest of the world, but she would not pretend with him. It would be stupid to let him think she would ever care for him.

        As soon as he was no longer useful, he would cease to breathe.

        He lifted his goblet then, a grin on his lips. His teeth were straight, blindingly white. A sinking feeling filled her gut as he stared down at her. Had this been a good idea? Would she grow to regret it? Arya didn't allow herself to think of this. She wouldn't question her own choices. Not when there had been nothing else for her to do.

        "Long live the queen."

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver x OC [Chapter Five]

{WARNINGS: adult language, fantasy violence, woman owning her sexuality and her body, woman using her sexuality and body as a weapon, woman saying “fuck emotions i’m scared”, manipulation mentions, toxic main character but she learns, toxic parents, self-harm in the form of self-poisoning, self-hate, fucked up family}

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two 

Chapter Three 

Chapter Four

The ball came too quickly for Arya's preference. It seemed as though she had slept once and then was being woken by her maids to prepare. There had been no time to prepare a conducive plan. She was rather anxious that things were going to go horribly wrong before the night was ever over.

        She did not know how she was supposed to handle the night. Dancing in front of whatever fae representative would make her look ridiculous. But the art of seduction had always relied on a dance for her. Dance and then ignoring her partner for the better part of the night. 

        "Settle down, miss," Miliana huffed as she pinned a thick red curl to the back of her head. "I don't want to restart your hair again."

        "The dress is ridiculous," Arya seethed as she reluctantly quit moving about. She had never been so anxious. She found it hard to quit repositioning herself, to quit tapping her fingers against her thighs. This one night would determine the rest of her life. She felt rather sick to her stomach.

        "It's beautiful," Genevive smiled kindly at her, her hands busily folding linens. She'd already helped Arya to dress and had done her makeup. "You look like a queen."

        "Yes, but not of Kalthanen." Arya stared at her reflection in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. Her lips were not painted in the normal shade of red, instead opting for a brown-toned nude lip paint. Her eyes had been lightly lined with kohl with a gold shimmer on her eyelids. Her imperfections powdered away, color brought to her cheeks by heavy pinching. Her gown was not of Kalthanen design, but one of Wendlyn's. Heavy skirts, a tight bodice, sleeves of lace that felt trapping. Luna and Nox would not be coming because of this. She did not want her darlings to be against anything that was not her skin.

        Arya did not feel like herself. Everything that had made her Arya had been stripped and polished away. But that night she was not supposed to look like herself. She was supposed to be anything other than the woman she had become.

        Wendlyn's lordlings would fall in love with her. The perfect princess they couldn't have. Whoever hated Galan would do whatever they could to get her on their arm. Yet, those were the men that would need to be avoided. Unless their hatred made them biddable. Oftentimes, men were blinded by the hate in their hearts. They would do whatever was deemed necessary to combat whoever had made them feel that way.

        Arya just didn't think anyone could hate Galan. She had certainly tried. He was too ... Likeable. His sharp edges did not exist. He was charming, full of warmth, he could make even the bleakest days bright. She wanted nothing more than to despise his bleak optimism. She hated herself for not hating him.

        "Once this is all over, you'll be the queen we all deserve," Genevive assured her, a kind smile on her face. "I just know it."

        It seemed more people in her life were dripping with optimism that she herself did not possess. She wondered what it was like. How did it feel to see the bright side of life? To look at things and just know it was going to work out? It didn't seem as though it was a good way to live one's life. 

        Life was not butterflies and rainbows. Life was harsh, bleak. There was never anything that mattered. Just going from one goal to the next. Arya just needed to find what mattered to her. Something that wasn't just Kalthanen and the throne. She knew that was not all that she could hope for. 

       After all, even she was not heartless enough to kill her own brother. She could perhaps convince Calanon to do it, but the guilt would eat her alive. The only thing that would keep her sane was knowing that Kalthanen would thrive under her hand. Even if she would never get the throne. She'd have bigger challenges than just her brother.

        "We'll see," Arya spoke softly as Miliana finished her hair. Half of it had been pinned up, the rest curled and falling past her waist. The long, red locks would look like fire in the warm light of the ballroom. They'd be perfect to capture attention.

        She dreaded feeling Galan's fingers in her hair. Dreaded knowing how it would feel, dreaded dreaming of it. There was absolutely no reason for this stupid little princeling to be the reason she failed. He didn't matter in the long run. He was just a distraction. Someone who would cost her a kingdom and perhaps her sanity. She wasn't someone who he could love. She wasn't worth it.

        Arya had always known it.

        She stood slowly, the skirts of the dress falling gracefully as she did. They seemed to envelop her in a mountain of silk and taffeta. She hated every second of it. It was too bulky, too big. There were far too many layers if she wanted to bed someone or run. It was no wonder Galan had been drawn to her scant outfits and the sight of her bare legs. 

        Her maids did not follow after her as she headed towards the door to her chambers. Despite her anxiety, her hands did not shake as she reached to open the door. 

        Just as her hand brushed gently against the knob, a soft knock sounded.

        Arya took a soft breath through her nerves, painted a smile on her face, and opened the door. Galan stood there. His fist still raised from the gentle knock, an amused smile that made his blue eyes brighter was playing on his lips. She tried to ignore the way it made her stomach knot. 

        "You certainly don't waste any time," he teased as he moved to bow gracefully to her. It almost felt as if he were asking her to dance with him already. "You look beautiful, Arya."

        "Why thank you, Galan," her smile reached her eyes for the briefest of seconds. At least until she realized she was not faking that smile. "I assumed Calanon would be waiting to escort me."

        "He was," Galan's cheeks turned a shade of pink that would have looked sickly on another person. The heat in his face highlighted his high cheekbones, the upturned corners of his lips. It made him look alive in a way she had never been. "I told him he could take the rest of the night off. I thought that we'd be more comfortable without your chaperone."

        One of Arya's brows rose slightly.

        "Not that I think we'll be doing anything improper," Galan quickly stammered out, his cheeks turning more red instead of that lovely pink flush. "I just meant I thought we'd be able to speak without worrying. I meant no offense."

        "None taken," she told him, offering him her hand. 

        He took it gratefully, his smile coming back in full force. He seemed as though he was nervous for this whole ordeal. She didn't understand it. Galan was, by all counts, handsome. His thick, brown hair hung just to his shoulders in waves that she wanted to run her fingers through. He looked strong. His shoulders were broad and his arms filled his tunics rather nicely. He was a prince from a fairytale.

        That night he looked especially promising.

        He wore a crisp white shirt with a cobalt blue jacket and black leather breeches. His boots went to his knee and were polished enough that the torchlight reflected off of them. For the second time, she saw him wearing a small crown. The gold matched his hair rather nicely, making it appear almost brighter. Arya hated herself for thinking of how beautiful he looked.

        "Shall we?" He asked, nodding his head once to her. 

        "We shall," Arya looked up at him. Despite being a tall woman, he seemed to tower over her. Far more than Dorian had. More than any man ever had. 

        She prayed that it was a common trait for Wendlyn men to be tall. Maybe then he wouldn't stick out as much in her mind. Maybe then she could ignore him and the way her heart pounded when he smiled at her.

        It was ridiculous that a boy was wrapping his way around her. There was no reason for it. He wasn't any more charming than Dorian had been. Nor was he better than anyone she'd ever spent time with. He was no different than the boys she had already taken to her bed. Yet, something felt different. Something made her want to be beside him. That something needed to be squashed.

        By the end of the night, she hoped it would be. Praying would do no good. The goddess had already betrayed her.

        "So are Wendlyn balls any fun?" Arya found herself questioning him as they headed down corridors and down staircases. She never realized how far her chambers were to the ballroom. It gave her time to quell the roaring anxiety.

        "Are Kalthanens?" Galan responded, one brow rising slightly.

        "Perhaps you'll find out one day." The smile that graced her features was more sultry than she had meant it to be. It sent another flush through his cheeks. She wondered if it was so easy to make him blush for anyone else.

        She didn't need the answer.

        "Perhaps," he told her as the sound of violins began to reach them.

        The light coming from the ballroom was bright and warm. Already she could hear laughter and the gentle music of a soft waltz. The scents in the air were of pine and cinnamon. She would have assumed they were winter scents but it was only early fall. Still, the air had begun to turn chilly. The scent was enough to remind her that things could still be wonderful despite the cold.

        Arya knew this was silly. She didn't care about scents or sweets. She cared about her throne. Her kingdom. Without her at the helm, Kalthanen would surely fail. She didn't trust anyone else with her home. With her crown. Galan was just someone who was in the way. She could not worry herself over any silly boy. Could not worry herself over what might happen if she did break his heart.

        He deserved it. She just was unsure why. 

        It must have been because he dared make her feel anything. No one was supposed to get inside of her head. No one was supposed to make her feel as though they were enough for her. She was supposed to be better than that. But with Galan ... She felt as though she wasn't. She felt as though she was another silly girl who would fall for any boy with pretty eyes.

        "Presenting His Royal Highness Crown Prince Galan Ashryver of Wendlyn and Her Highness Princess Arya Nostariel of Kalthanen," a man in the Ashryver livery called from the balcony. 

        All eyes fell on the two. This was normally where Arya shined the brightest. She adored having attention placed on her. Loved it when she knew who she was tricking into submission. Although, this was an entirely different battlefield. It was harder when she felt unlike herself.

        Galan did not release his hold on her, a bright smile crossed his features and made him appear every bit the handsome prince. 

        "Friends," his voice carried over the ballroom despite the fact that he had spoken at a normal tone. It was clear he commanded respect in a way that she had never known. She just had to figure out how he did it. "Thank you again for coming to the celebration. I know this has been a hard year for all of us. Adarlan continues to attack our borders, we have only Doranelle as an ally. But we have made friends with Kalthanen."

        He looked to her, raising her hand while he spoke. His eyes shone in a way that made her heart hammer and her palms sweaty. She knew for a fact that this was untrue. Galan was likely hoping for a friendship. Or something else entirely. She had no clue of his intentions.

        "We will be able to hold off Adarlan and keep our borders closed to those who would do us harm. I promise to keep your sons safe. Now, enough discussion of politics and war. Please, enjoy the festivities." Galan lowered their hands then. Before he began to lead her down the steps and into the ballroom proper.

        The lights seemed to glitter as they bounced off of ladies' jewels and men's shining cufflinks and other subtle hints of their wealth. Only a few in the back seemed untouched by the lights. But they gave off something of their own. A power that she had never felt before that was paired with almost ethereal beauty. She did not have to be told who they were. 

        "Would you care to dance?" Galan asked her, his breath gently caressing her ear. She almost shivered.

        "I would be delighted," she spoke honestly as she looked up at him. Arya had never been one for balls, often finding the dancing tedious and repetitive. But it was quite challenging not to want to be enveloped in his strong arms. She felt quite stupid for thinking so.

        Galan's smile radiated far more than any jewel in the room. He looked nearly as ethereal as a Fae when he smiled. It was wide enough to show the dimple on his left side. That stupid dimple made him more handsome than any man she'd ever laid eyes on. How dare he be beautiful.

        He led her to the dance floor. His left hand found her waist while his right took hers. He brought her close enough to remain proper but she could still feel the heat of him. She could smell the scent that clung to his skin. The breeze of the sea, the winds that had swept salt into his hair, and the musk that she found clung to many men. She hated how much she loved it. 

        As the music began to fill the room, Galan swept her into a dance. He was the perfect partner. Calm, gentle, a smile always on his face, yet strong. He would not let her fail. She found that it was too easy to let go of her determination to lead. She would let him have this moment. 

        "You're a beautiful dancer," he broke the spell that had been cast over her. 

        "You're not so bad yourself," Arya told him with a gentle smile. "You fight alongside your men, you know flowers, and you dance. Is there anything you cannot do?"

        "I promise you my faults outweigh my accomplishments," he chuckled softly.

        His laugh was beautiful. Soft like a Kalthanen lullaby. She found herself wishing she could sing him one while running her fingers through his stupidly perfect hair. 

        "Mhm," Arya mused as they twirled around the room. "I'll believe it when I see it."

        "Then I pray you never see the weaker parts of me," Galan seemed to be watching her carefully. As if he truly cared what she thought of him. That or he had seen past her own disguise.

        "I assure you, I've seen much worse." She had been much worse. She wanted to be a good person, wanted to make things better for her people. But she couldn't do anything without a crown. Getting the crown would mean being able to change the world. For now, being someone who everyone else would hate was her only course of action.

        "Perhaps you'll see those parts of me later," his hand tightened just slightly around hers. She could feel how clammy it was. "If things go well."

        "Do you see things going well?" Arya rose a brow as she peered up at him. 

        "I'm not a fortune teller," despite his words his cheeks were flushed. She was rather amused by it. "But I can certainly hope for it."

        Arya laughed softly as he spun her out, the music thankfully overwhelming the awkwardness of the conversation. She had no idea how to tell him it could never be. He hadn't spoken of intentions to court her prior to this. It seemed as though he did have a flaw. Not knowing when to bring up a certain topic. Falling for the wrong girl. 

        She didn't want to hurt him. She knew that as she looked into his warm blue eyes. However, she wouldn't give up the crown of Kalthanen for a silly boy. Even if he was a Crown Prince. How was she to help her people if she ruled an ocean away? How was she to keep her parents' respect if she went against them?

        "Thank you for the dance, Galan," she spoke softly as she parted from him.

        "You're very welcome, Arya," despite the smile on his lips he sounded almost hurt. She ached to dance with him the whole night but she knew better. It would cause a rumor of some sort. One that she would not be able to easily dissuade.

        She gave him a low curtsey before slipping away from him. She managed to disappear into the crowd, her gown allowing her to blend in with the other Wendlyn nobles. She hated how easy it was. To be forgotten, ignored, unseen. She wondered if she would live her life in the shadows. If her family would keep her from becoming the woman she was meant to. All of it seemed arbitrary.

        Arya found herself at the edge of the crowd, breathing as deeply as she could with the damned corset. She had never understood the appeal of them. 

        Calanon was on the dance floor, a beautiful woman wrapped in his arms. He at least looked as though he were having fun. If anyone was to have a good time, it was Calanon. He didn't have to worry about his parents' wrath. Nor did he have to worry about upholding a legacy. All he had to worry about was which plan to kill his cousins would work.

        She looked away from him after a moment, knowing that jealousy would do more harm than good. Besides being jealous of Calanon was like being jealous of a gutter. He was nothing to her, nothing that she could not one day soon be rid of. She just had to play her cards right, despite knowing just how difficult that was.

        "Excuse me," a voice from behind her brought her out of her thoughts and contemplations. She turned her head, peering over her shoulder with a raised brow and a demure smile.

        "Can I help you?" Arya questioned.

        The man's face was nothing special. He had a broad nose that looked as though it had been broken before, thin lips, and watery blue eyes that she did not wish to look at. His golden hair fell to his shoulders and looked nearly greasy. He was no where near what she wanted.

        "I was wondering if you would like to dance with me?" He sounded hopeful. Arya almost felt bad for him. She knew better than to spend her time leading on men who would not be welcome prospects.

        Yet, she found that she could not deny a man who was smiling at her as though she was his last chance. Despite the bitterness within her soul, she could show basic human decency. Kindness was not completely unknown to her.

        "I would love to," the smile she offered him was kind. One that she had not yet used on Galan.

        The man appeared relieved, as though no other woman would have done so. Or perhaps he just did not yet have the nerve to ask the woman he was truly interested in. She didn't know nor did she really care to. He looped his arm through hers and led her back to the dance floor.

        He was a fine dancer. Yet it was not nearly as remarkable as when Galan had held her in his arms. She didn't feel anything as they danced. Nor did they spend time speaking. He seemed more concerned about where he was placing his feet.

        She could feel someone's gaze on her as the dance continued. She assumed that it was Galan.

        She wanted it to be Galan.

        That alone was cause for trouble. She should have wanted Galan to ignore her. To want nothing to do with her beyond some slight flirtation. Galan was to be someone else's. Someone who actually deserved him.        

        Not a woman who was fighting tooth and nail to protect her own crown. 

        The dance ended soon enough, the man bowing gracefully to her. She curtised in response.

        "You dance beautifully," the cool indifference of the voice made her turn. It was not Galan who had been watching her after all. 

        Instead, it was a man who was nearing six feet tall. His cheekbones were sharper than Galan's, his eyes dark and filled with a cold fire that matched her own. His nose was thin, his lips the same. Yet, his skin was golden as though he spent most of his time outdoors. He carried himself as though he were a prince, despite only being a lord. She could tell by the fabric of the black brocade he wore. It was not nearly as nice as Calanon's.

        "Thank you, sir," Arya trailed off, expecting him to give her a name.

        "Lord Thomas Middleditch," he gave a stiff bow before standing. "Might I have this dance?"

        Galan was watching now. His Ashryver eyes darkening as he began to approach the couple. The way he was moving swiftly towards the pair was the only reason for her answer.

        "Yes, you may."

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver - Chapter Two.

{WARNINGS: adult language, fantasy violence, woman owning her sexuality and her body, woman using her sexuality and body as a weapon, woman saying “fuck emotions i’m scared”, manipulation mentions, toxic main character but she learns, toxic parents, self-harm, self-hate, fucked up family}

The dining hall was filled with bright light. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the entire left side, facing the sunrise for early morning breakfast. For the dinner service, lanterns had been hung along the ceiling creating the warm glow of stars on the brightest of nights. It went beautifully with the flags of dark blue and cream that hung along the walls. The limestone walls seemed to be filled with light. It was enough to make the Kalthanen nobles wondered if it had been embedded with magic.

        Arya held Calanon's arm as they entered the dining hall. She had changed from her blood-red gown into one of the deepest blues. So dark that it was almost black. It nearly matched the flags that hung around the room. Gold bands wrapped around her arms where Nox and Luna had been just hours before. The snakes had needed a break from their recent traveling. She had almost declined the invitation in order to care for her pets herself.

        Calanon had informed her that would go against her parents' wishes.

        Her head was held high as they stopped at the end of the three tables. The high table with the royal family was the only one sitting horizontally, the courtiers' tables were vertical so they could be watched under the careful eye of their sovereigns. She dropped into a careful curtsey, her eyes not leaving those of the princeling.

        She wouldn't marry him. But he could be a fun plaything. At least for a few days.

        "Your Highness," Galan Ashryver spoke, a smile gracing his handsome features. "Please, sit with us." He gestured to the seat that was left open beside him. It seemed as though Calanon would be sitting with the courtiers.

        Her cousin pinched the inside of her elbow. It was a warning that she would not be getting away from him so easily. She ignored it. He had done much worse to her and she did not doubt that he would do worse during their time in Wendlyn.

        "Of course, Your Highness," she gave the princeling a winning smile before she released her cousin. She strode over to the high table, almost floating on air. She was nowhere near as graceful as the Fae that lived in these lands but she carried herself as though she had already been crowned queen.

        Galan stood, pulling her chair out for her. He helped her to sit, holding her hand as she sat. She didn't notice the tingles that had gone up his arm. Nor did she notice the look on his face as he gently pushed her chair in.

        Galan Ashryver sat down beside her, his hands clammy and his heart jumping in his chest. The perfect prince had experience with women. But none like Arya Nostariel.

        "How did you find your journey?" He asked as the first course was set in front of them. It was a simple soup, filled with vegetables and chicken that was perfectly spiced with the imports from Kalthanen. 

        "Long," Arya gave him a gentle smile before she took the daintiest bite that Galan had ever seen in his life. She didn't fail to notice the slight smile gracing his lips, but she knew better than to mention it on her first night. "I'm afraid my Nox is even more temperamental than normal because of it."

        "I was wondering about the snakes," he admitted, that slight smile broadening until it captured his eyes. She didn't want to think about how nice it was. "Do you always travel with such ... interesting companions?" He seemed to struggle with just what to call her lovely pets.

        Arya looked at him with an amused smile, a perfectly manicured eyebrow-raising ever so slightly. "I hate being away from the darlings. They get so testy without me."

        His left eyebrow rose. She did not fail to notice that there was a small scar just above it, as though he had been knicked by something at one point. It was not the only scar on his face. He had several small ones scattered along his face, mainly small and easily unnoticed. She doubted she would have ever noticed them had he been anyone but the Crown Prince. Arya was destined to be a queen. Even if she knew for a fact that this time, she would not get what she wanted. 

        "How long have you had them?" She hated that he was the first man to ask her such a question. She hated that she felt a rush at being asked such a simple question.

        She felt just as useless as most of the women in the courts. It disgusted her.

        "Nearly three years," she admitted, giving him the smallest hint of a smile. They could flirt, she could tease and taunt him as much as she wanted. But she wouldn't allow anything to come from it. Not when there was so much at stake for both of them. She knew that her parents wouldn't take kindly to her ignoring their commands. Even if she did manage to marry into a royal family.

        The king and queen of Kalthanen were critical of their children. They often made the decisions for their children, giving them no room for disobedience. 

        Arya had been on her best behavior her whole life if only to keep from being disowned. Her sisters had not been able to do the same. Two would-be queens gone before Arya had ever been born. Aragorn had been six when their eldest sister had been sent overseas to live the life of a peasant. He'd been eight when it had happened again. Eight years old and scared to death that he would be the next to lose his family and his crown.

        Aragorn had made sure Arya knew the difference between doing as told and pretending to. He had made sure he wouldn't lose another sibling. But all he had done was make a political enemy. Arya had grown up in a cutthroat environment. She had grown up knowing that the only thing that would ever matter was being the one who wore the crown.

        She just happened to look damn good in one.

        "They certainly make a nice accessory," he admitted as their dishes from the first course were taken away and soon replaced by a platter of roast chicken that smelled deliciously of herbs and garlic. A small serving of potatoes laid underneath, covered in a rich gravy that Arya was certain would make her stomach turn.

        "Oh?" She asked casually as she cut a small bite from the chicken. Wendlyn's food was heavier than she had anticipated. Kalthanen meals were kept light, made to be enjoyed outdoors with the sea breeze and a light, white wine. She had not expected dense flatbreads, heavy wines, and meats. It reminded her disturbingly of Adarlan.

        "Yes," Galan laughed lightly as he spoke. The sound sent a chill up Arya's spine that she found annoying. "I thought my mother was going to have a heart attack when you stepped out of that carriage." 

        She hid her smirk by taking a bite. Her gaze drifted for a moment to some of the lower lords who had joined them for dinner. She wondered what they would have thought of her arrival. Maybe someone else had a similar reaction to the queen. It would not have surprised her. Arya had always enjoyed making a scene. Having attention on her was a drug that she would never in her life get used to.

        "It's fortunate that she didn't," she said after swallowing, her gaze now back on Galan completely. For a spoiled prince, he was quite pretty. She supposed most spoiled princes were. Dorian Havilliard had been in any case. "I wouldn't want to be executed upon my arrival. I'm certain that would put a damper on things."

        Galan laughed again, crinkles forming by his eyes. She ignored it as best she could. Counting it as an imperfection. If she could find those imperfections then she could paint a picture in her head of an imperfect prince. She wouldn't be nearly as tempted to disobey her parents if he wasn't perfect. She had standards after all. No one less than perfect would do for her. 

        The truth of the matter was that she did not want to give up her crown. She knew her cousin would sooner get the throne but with a dash of hemlock in his wine he wouldn't be a problem. She would not kill her brother for it. She'd allow Calanon to do that for her.

        Calanon was dumb enough to.

        "I wouldn't have let anything happen to you," he brought her out of her thoughts with a promise. One that nearly made her smile. "Besides, I was nearly in the same boat."

        One of her perfect eyebrows quirked up. "Oh?"

        "I've never seen a goddess walk on land before."

        Arya rolled her eyes, glad that he had said something so absurd that she would never be able to look at him in a romantic light again. 

        "What I mean is," Galan quickly tried to fix what he had said. Clearly, he was almost as embarrassed as she was annoyed. "I've never seen anyone handle a serpent that way before. Even the Fae don't bother keeping them as fashion accessories," he shut himself up with a piece of flatbread.

        "It's not normal in Kalthanen," she told him with a very slight smile. 

        "Then how did you come across them?" This was a safe topic for both of them. She didn't have to worry about revealing too much about herself and he could keep himself from making a fool of himself.

        "I wanted something that most people didn't have," she shrugged her shoulders slightly. "I thought they would be more intimidating than hounds."

        Galan nodded his head once almost as though he understood what she meant. "They do capture attention."

        It was Arya's turn to laugh. She had not done so in several years. The tension of being what her parents had wanted and her failings recently had been enough to crush any sense of humor she may have once had. 

        "Yes, I suppose they do," she watched as servants took away the main course and brought out dessert. 

        The King of Wendlyn stood then, gently hitting his glass with his spoon to gather the attention of the rest of the court. "Friends," he said once he had gotten everyone's attention. "We are honored to welcome Her Highness Arya Nostariel of Kalthanen to our table. She has traveled a long way to grace us with her presence. This visit shall be the beginning to a long and prosperous alliance with our neighbors."

        The King sent a kind smile over to where she sat, raising his glass to her while he did. "Should you require anything, your highness, please only say the word."

        Arya bowed her head in thanks, raising her own glass with a dainty hand. "You are far too king, Majesty. It is no wonder my parents speak so highly of Wendlyn royals."

        Her parents did not say a kind word about anyone. Not that Arya had ever heard. Still, she knew how to play the games. She knew what was expected of her and what would gain her entrance anywhere. 

        "To Arya Nostariel! And the future of our two kingdoms!" The King drank from his class, his court following suit.

        Galan's cheeks were a light shade of red, his eyes on his father. He said nothing as a plate of rich, luxurious chocolate cake was sat in front of him. It was his favorite dessert. A similarity he shared with his cousin.

        Arya did not mind the silence. In fact, it gave her more time to think. She knew that they didn't expect her to be here to find a suitor. If they expected anything it was another trade agreement or maybe they wanted to create a military alliance. Either way, they would not be daft enough to think of marrying Galan off to her. Kalthanen was a strong kingdom but it was small. Whatever they gained from Kalthanen would not be worth having a Nostariel sit on the Wendlyn throne. 

        The sound of quiet chatter and the clinking of forks was enough like home to make her feel on edge. While she loved the country of Kalthanen, she did not love the court setting. She was made to rule, built for brutality and violence. The courts had made her this way. So on edge that she didn't dare break the perfect mold her parents had made of her. That would be showing weakness.

        If there was one thing that she did not do it was show weakness. 

        The uncomfortable silence was broken when Galan cleared his throat, his plate looked untouched but his wine glass was now empty. 

        "I didn't know he was going to do that," he admitted, his cheeks still stained red.

        "I did," Arya did not find it to be that big of a deal. "I'm shocked he waited until after the main course."

        "He probably wanted you to be impressed with us first," he admitted with a slight smile. "We don't get many visitors. Not human at least."

        "I suppose the Fae have their own way of doing things." She lazily ran her fingertip over the lip of her wineglass.

        "Well, yes," he said with a slight shrug. "They're not ones for all this formality. At least, not the ones I've met. They seem to prefer getting in and out."

        "How can they be sure they've gotten what they wanted?" 

        "Magic would be my guess. That and they're better trained than we are. They could wipe us out if they pleased."

        So Wendlyn had a Fae problem. She had known that they lived in close proximity to the magic users but she had not thought it would be such an issue. Surely they had come to some sort of understanding. How could they live so close without some kind of peace? Of course, the same could have been said for Terrasen and Adarlan. She knew how that had turned out. How it was still turning out.

        There was war brewing on the continent. One that she was glad she would be far from. Adarlan had terrified her, even before she had ensnared Dorian. Getting out of there had been the best thing she could have done. Even with the harsh punishment she had dealt with.

        "I think you're giving them far too much credit," Arya almost made a show of looking Galan over. One she was sure he was very aware of. "If everyone in your military looks like you ... Well, I would be afraid if I were one of the Fae."

        The red staining his cheeks deepened. She almost smiled. She loved it when she could get her way. She had been a temptress for a long while. The game of cat-and-mouse amused her more than it should have. It kept her busy when she was worried about something, mainly what she would do if she were to be the next outcast.

        "Lucky for you, not everyone in my military has my physique." He watched her carefully, noticing how the corners of her mouth tried to quirk upwards before she stifled it. He noticed the green of her eyes and how it had deepened just a bit. He noticed everything and yet nothing at the same time.

        "Yes," she mused thoughtfully. "Lucky for me."

        She picked up her wine glass then, draining it of its contents. Galan watched the way her throat moved when she swallowed.

        "If you will excuse me, Your Highness, it's been a long day. I should retire for the evening," Arya said as she moved to stand. Galan stood with her as if he were on a string that was connected to her.

        "Allow me to escort you to your rooms," he bowed his head politely. The perfect picture of the perfect prince.

        "I'd be honored," Arya told him before she bid his parents a good night. It nearly killed her to have to drop into a curtsey before them. She hated bowing for anyone. Hated knowing that she didn't hold all the control, all the power. One day, she would be the one people bowed to.

        She'd be the one they feared.

        Galan offered her his arm, a warm smile on his handsome face. She took it without a second of hesitation. She wished that she could have just walked alongside him, head high and acting as herself. Yet, none of this would work if she didn't come off as a demure princess. The one every man would wish to bed, the one that she could never be.

        The two left the dining hall, the murmuring of voices becoming quieter as they passed. She could feel Calanon's eyes glaring into her back. 

        Let him be angry with me. Let him feel like the fool. Arya didn't care how Calanon felt about her leaving without him. She didn't need a keeper. She could protect herself from whoever caused her trouble. She had been trained for years to be the best, to be a queen. It was not up to her cousin to decide if she was ready for that or not. It was not up for anyone to decide that. Arya was her own woman. The only one who could ever decide her fate. Her family may have liked to believe otherwise but ultimately, Arya was in charge of her life.

        At least, she hoped that she was.

        "I haven't told you," Galan's voice was soft, a whisper compared to the ceaseless chattering of the dining hall. "You look beautiful tonight."

        Arya nearly laughed. Of all the things he could have commented on. "Thank you, Your Highness."

        "Please, call me Galan. This Highness stuff feels stuffy," he admitted with a soft smile. She noticed how much lighter his eyes became when he smiled. She tried not to notice the warm, fluttery feeling deep in the pits of her stomach.

        She'd only ever felt that stupid flutter once before. That morning when they'd first met. It was completely asinine. He was just a silly boy. Easily manipulated, easily fooled, and breathtakingly beautiful.

        If only she was here to play with a princeling.

        "Are you certain that's wise, Your Highness?" Arya spoke after a moment of consideration, although it was mainly to keep herself from laughing. "It may make some think we're a bit ... Familiar."

        He didn't say anything for a moment. Perhaps thinking of what that would mean. Or he was thinking of how the silk of her dress would pool above her hip, how it would feel in his hand. She would not have put either thought past him. She didn't truly know what was in his heart but that didn't mean she didn't know what other lordlings had thought of her.

        Maybe a princeling was different. But she doubted it.

        "I think it would show that we're friends," he said finally. "I don't think there's anything wrong with being friends. Do you, Arya?"

        The way he said her name made that fluttery feeling come back. It sounded as though it were a song that she'd never heard before. The 'ahri' was less harsh when he said it, the 'yah' soft and delicate. It was almost as though he treasured the name, treated it like one of the poisons she so lovingly mixed together. There was something about it that just made her cheeks flush.

        She hated him for it.

        "I think we must remember why I'm here, Your Highness." She kept her head high, her emotions were carefully hidden in a little box inside of her mind. So little that she could barely remember where the latch was.

        "Why are you here, Arya?" He was not as stupid as he looked. This alone should have shocked her. "I'm not stupid enough to think Kalthanen has suddenly decided to give us military support."

        "I'm surprised. It took Adarlan far too long to realize that," she slipped her arm from his, sauntering on ahead of him.

        "What?" 

        "Mhm, that fell through. Don't worry, my parents aren't stupid enough to throw in their lot with a madman. They just wanted to see how mad he was." More lies, more deceit. She wouldn't tell him that she had been vying for the throne of Adarlan. He didn't need to know any of that.

        "So why are you here? To spy on us?" Galan caught up with her quickly, his legs were a few inches longer than hers. "Or is it something less threatening?"

        Arya gave him a charming smile, stopping just at the door to her bed chambers. "My parents wish for me to marry. I'm here to find a lord."

        He looked at her then, really looked at her. No one had ever just stared into her eyes like that, no one had looked into her very soul before. She kept her head high, didn't break his gaze for a second. She wouldn't let anything scare her. Not even a would-be-king.

        "No, you aren't." Galan shook his head once. "You strike me as the kind of woman who would sooner lead on her own."

        "I wouldn't worry too much, Galan." She kept her eyes on his as she spoke. "My parents will agree to the military alliance, our trade agreements will stay in place. All that has to happen is you allow me to do what I need to do."

        It was as though he were making a deal with the Valg. She knew this. She knew that he probably wouldn't go for it. He looked as though he wanted to argue with her about it. But he clenched his jaw and nodded his head once.

        "Very well," he said. "But I still expect to be friends with you. After all, you called me Galan."

        The princeling gave her a sliver of a smile before he walked away from her. Already, plans were forming in both young sovereigns' heads. Wendlyn would never be prepared.

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver x Arya Nostariel - Prologue

He stood in front of her, eyes clear for the first time in weeks. The look on his face was enough to break her.

The unbreakable woman broken by a single gaze. Her parents would be so proud.

"How could you do this?" The Crown Prince's voice was strained, his expression tight and a glimpse of silver in his eyes. "I trusted you, Arya. You betrayed me. You betrayed all of us."

"Dorian, please," her tone was soothing as though he were no more than a petulant child. "You know that isn't true. I love you, darling."

Even as she stared at him, even as his expression began to break her she knew that this was not true. She had never loved Dorian Havilliard. He had been nothing more than her mission. One that she had so clearly failed.

He would never again trust her.

She would never be allowed into his heart. 

She had failed and she could only begin to imagine the torture that her parents would put her through. Kalthanenians did not fail.

"Leave Adarlan. You're never to set foot in my kingdom again." His knuckles turned white as he made fists. She wasn't sure if it was to control himself to keep from hurting her or from showing how much she had hurt him. "If I ever see you again, I will have you killed. Leave on the first ship. I don't care what you do then."

"Dorian, you can't be serious. This is all a misunderstanding," she didn't move to step close to him. Didn't even try to show him that he was truly wrong. She knew that she had failed. She knew that he had seen through her clever disguise.

Dorian swallowed as he looked at her, blinking back his tears of frustration. "You should leave before I change my mind."

"They'll kill me if I go back." Her left hand began to tap a gentle beat on her thigh. Her eyes going from his sapphire eyes to the piles of books beside his bed. He was always reading. It had been hard enough to pry his attentions away from those damned books. He didn't read anything interesting either. Nothing about poisons or politics. Just stuffy old history and romance.

"I don't care." He said as he stared at the door behind you. "Get out."

She knew she would never be able to convince him to allow her to stay. She knew she would never have a chance to make him see things her way. 

She did not bother to bow as she strode from the room and down the tower steps.

The last image that Dorian Havilliard had of her was the long scar on her back and the red silk of her dress clinging to her creamy thighs.

[oohnoniall]

No one asked for this but here’s a rundown of all my ACOTAR & TOG ocs

ACOTAR

Ariawyn Yelmaer - resident of the Hewn City, married to a man she hates, likes to bake bread, gives cassian major heart eyes but refuses to leave her husband bc duty comes first dammit, no specific magic

Caeda Loraric - daughter of two winter court nobles, has an easy smile and grace about her, young and laughs a lot, can create snow, her heart eyes going to Tarquin, and yes she does move to summer court for him

Cariaru Vanthrya - spring court resident, spy for the night court at least until after she realizes how shitty rhys is, double agent perhaps???, chirp is her best friend he is a green finch who was once a high fae but is now trapped, chirp hates azriel but aru does not, speaks to animals

Lyriel Chaeren - bastard soldier from the winter court, mommy and daddy issues, the court turned her into a soldier but her parents gave her the silence and wit to be an assassin, too many knives, future high lady of the spring court (tamlin she does bite), ice is in her veins

TOG

Arya Nostariel - princess of kalthanen, poisons and weapons are her best friend, human, thinks everyone is an idiot, silk and satin only, Dorian almost got her but she went for Galan instead

Cassiopeia Blueblood - she’s a witchy witch, questions everything except the goddess, loves her wyvern more than life itself, gets flustered easily around pretty girls, GAY, asterin blackbeak makes her head spin

Maewren Gwalithe - fae, innocent as hell, traumatized after her father went missing, easy to manipulate, grows into having a mind of her own, cairn lied about being her mate to keep her away from her actual mate, cough lorcan cough, home girl can make flowers bloom, transforms into a monarch butterfly

Meldramiriel Godelief - Demi-fae secretly, the quiet type but she knows everything, cares too much about people who don’t care for her, fell in love with a human captain, then fell in love with a queen, queen-consort of terrasen she has a crown of daisies, healer

Mirima Floros - fae, Rowan whitethorn’s nightmare, stubborn as all hell, genuinely thinks she should be the first woman in the cadre, “shut up Rowan!”, burnout central, uncontrollable water magic, uncontrollable temper, aedions best friend, Rowan drives her mad she loves him so, transforms into a sparrow

Raina Haeos - worked with lysandra, is neither on Adarlan or terrasens side, only wants what is best for her son, working off her and her husbands debts, loved archer Finn so much it still hurts, family disowned her, fiercely protective of lysandra and her son

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver x OC - Chapter 3.

 {WARNINGS: adult language, fantasy violence, woman owning her sexuality and her body, woman using her sexuality and body as a weapon, woman saying “fuck emotions i’m scared”, manipulation mentions, toxic main character but she learns, toxic parents, self-harm in the form of self-poisoning, self-hate, fucked up family}

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

       A week had passed. One of fifty-two previous weeks. How in the hell was she supposed to find a man worthy of her time and affections in a year? She felt as though time was slowly slipping through her fingers, falling into a pit that would soon take her down. 

        Needless to say, Arya was concerned.

        A gentle knock on her bedroom door caused the princess to shoot up from her sleep. The silken sheets pulled close to her chest as her maids silently slipped into the room.

        ”Good morning, Your Highness,” Miliana spoke, her voice bright and cheerful despite the early hour and the glare on Arya’s face. “How did you sleep?”

        ”Very well, thank you,” she kept her voice clipped as she spoke with the girl. Her mother had made damn sure that she knew better than to fraternize with the serving girls. Her back still twinged when she thought about being kind.

        ”I’ll draw your bath, miss,” her maid bowed her head once before slipping into the bathing chamber. The other two focused on their own tasks.

        While Adina prepared her clothes for the morning, Genevive began preparing her daily poison ministrations. Small doses, each larger than one person should even ingest at once, of several different poisons found in all the known realms. This was not something anyone knew that she did. It had been kept secret from everyone but her maids. Had her parents known what she was doing they would have put a stop to it.

        But it had kept Calanon from successfully poisoning her several times by that point. There had even been rumors back home that the Goddess must have blessed her with intolerance. If only they saw how sick she got each day, how weak she felt.

        "Thank you, Genevive," Arya spoke softly as she slipped out of the silk sheets. Her long legs were bare, milky flesh that had been out of the sun for too long. The only thing that covered Arya's body was a simple nightshirt. One that should have belonged to a man. It did at one point.

        Dorian Havilliard's sleep shirt fell to her upper thighs, the arms baggier than necessary and despite several washes, it still had the faintest scent of him. It was a reminder. Never to get that close to someone. Never to fail her parents again.

        "Of course miss," Genevive stepped away, her large eyes focused on her mistress. If anything should happen, she would have felt as though it were her fault. Never mind the fact that Arya had a habit of upping the dosages before her body could take it. Never mind the fact that the princess refused to see a doctor when it became too much, instead having Genevive or Adina make the antidotes herself.

        Arya sat at the vanity. Instead of her cosmetic oils, creams, and powders, it was filled with small bottles full of tonics. Tonics filled with her daily poisons. There was also a small, silver dish filled with berries. Berries that were not to be eaten by anyone but the princess. Or her enemies.

        She released a small breath as she picked up the first bottle. "Goddess save us," she murmured before she gulped the liquid down. Her body wanted to reject her. Her stomach clenched as it felt the oily liquid, her body shaking slightly. It only got worse as she drank the next four. 

        Sputtering coughs raked her body. Blood dotted her lips. But still she did not stop. 

        She drank down five more bottles, tossing the last one onto the floor. It broke with a loud crashing noise. She had thrown it harder than she had thought. Her body did not feel like her own. She was shaking, her skin clammy. Too hot, too cold. Her muscles clenching and unclenching of their own demand. Her head fell backward, rushed prayers to a goddess that she did not believe in falling from her lips as they did every single morning.

        Some would say she was insane. The amount of poison that she ingested daily would have been enough to kill men twice her size. Yet, that was why she did it. She needed to be prepared. For anything.

        "Carry her into the bath," Adina's voice was the strongest of the three. She had been there the longest, had turned into the one that Arya trusted the most. 

        Miliana and Genevive quickly gathered the girl into their arms. She shook harder, making it nearly impossible for them to carry her. But they did. They sat her down in the tub, her body crashing against the hard marble. 

        A knock sounded on the door, causing the three coherent women to look at each other in alarm. 

        "Genevive, watch her," Adina hissed as Miliana quickly rushed to answer the door. Adina locked the bathroom door once she had escaped. It would be easier to appear normal without two maids helping Arya bathe.

        Genevive gently slipped the nightshirt off of Arya, tossing it aside as she got onto her knees. "It'll be okay, Your Highness, it'll be okay." As she spoke, she placed her left hand on Arya's lips. They quivered as she mumbled her prayers and occasional nonsense words.

        As Genevive kept their princess from being discovered, Miliana opened the door. The youngest maid dropped into a curtsey, her head bowed as she breathed out his title.

        Galan Ashryver looked resplendent in a white shirt, his navy pants the only source of color. While it was just casual wear, it still seemed quite princely. Perhaps it was just the man who made the outfit, not the outfit that made the man. A bright smile crossed his lips as he looked at the maid. 

        "Good morning, Miliana," he nodded his head once, allowing her to stand straight. "Has Arya woken yet?"

        "Yes, sire," despite the fact that Arya was currently fighting the poisons in her system they knew it was better not to lie to the man. After all, he could have them all executed. So far, Wendlyn had been nothing like Kalthanen but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Royals were still royals after all.

        "May I speak with her?" His eyes were alight, the bright Ashryver blue nearly enough to cause Miliana to become wistful. Nearly.

        "She's currently bathing, sire."

        "I see." The light in his eyes dimmer just slightly. "When she's finished, please escort her to the gardens. I'd like to walk with her this morning."

        "Of course, sire." Miliana knew better than to tell him that she would try. Arya was not one to be told what to do. Even when the orders came from a handsome prince.

        One who was much more handsome than Dorian Havilliard had ever dreamed of being.

        Galan bid the maid a goodbye, giving her a polite bow, before he took his leave. Miliana shut the door behind him, leaning against the heavy wood with a relieved sigh. That had been far too close. If anyone had caught sight of Arya in her current condition they would all be sacked. Possibly hung.

        "Ginny," she called out as she and Adina quickly headed into the bathroom. "How is she doing?"

        The bathroom reeked of vomit as the door opened. Genevive was hastily cleaning the floors, her eyes darting to Arya and back as she did.

        The princess's head rested against the cool marble lip of the tub. Her breathing had evened out, her skin still pale and clammy, but the look in her eyes was more alert. She knew where she was and what was happening at least.

        "It lasted too long that time," Arya sighed, her voice husky and raw. "We may have to cut down on the Belladonna." 

        Slowly, Arya pushed herself into a sitting-up position. Her arms quivered as they rested on the sides of the in-ground tub. It was as though she were laying in a crater. It made things quite comfortable, although she wasn't sure that was the actual intention of the design.

        "Easy now," Adina was the one who spoke, gently resting her hands on Arya's bare back. She was careful to avoid the scar that went from the left shoulder to the right hip. They took great care not to speak of the scar, nor to touch it unless it needed healing tonics in the winter months. The colder weather always gave the princess pains. "Take your time."

        Arya nodded very slightly as she took a ragged breath. The poisoning could have been worse. It should have been worse, if she were being honest with herself. They were on new and untested shores. Calanon was with them. There was no telling who would try to kill her. Or if anyone would even go to the trouble. A week was not long enough to discern if she was to be safe or not.

        Adina helped Arya to bathe. Adina focused on washing her long, red tresses while Arya's hands shook as they attempted to clean herself with the soaps that were scented of heady hyacinth. While most would find the scent overwhelming, too luscious and green, it had been Arya's scent of choice since she was young.

        Once her hair had been rinsed, Adina gripped her arms in a gentle, yet firm, way. She stood from the bath, her legs feeling of jelly. She could hear the sounds of knobby knees banging together. The sharp angles of her knees had always been a distinct feature that she had tried to hide. If only to prevent more people from realizing how deer-like she could appear.

        She was supposed to be a mountain cat. Not a deer.

        "That's it, miss," Adina's words were kind, yet they made the princess see red. She shouldn't need this much help. She should be strong enough that the poisons no longer affected her.

        Science be damned.

        Arya said nothing, letting her rage at the weaknesses in her own mind. Her maids did not deserve that. They kept silent, they told no one of what she did to herself. They just cleaned up her messes. She did not deserve their allegiance and yet, they had given it to her willingly.

        Adina helped Arya sit back at her vanity, taking a position behind her in order to work on her hair. The motion of the brush through the long tresses was calming, soothing to the point of lulling her into a sense of security.

        "His Highness was just here," Miliana spoke up, breaking the silence that had seeped into the room. Normally, no one was brave enough to break that silence. No one wanted to risk Arya falling back into the sickness. Even if no one was sure that could actually happen, they did not want to risk it.

        "Oh?" Arya stared at the curly-haired woman through the large mirror on the vanity. She watched as her fingertips ran across the gown that had been chosen for that morning, smoothing out every wrinkle in the silk. "And what did Galan Ashryver want?"

        There was shockingly no venom lacing her words. Normally, when she used a person's full name it was because of spite or some form of hate. With Galan, it almost seemed wistful. Wistful had never been a word in Arya's vocabulary.

        "He wanted you to join him for a morning walk," Miliana almost seem overjoyed at the thought. "You may have an admirer."

        "No, I have a boy who wishes for conquests. He's nothing more than a bored boy who thinks he has a chance with a queen." She did not miss the look that Miliana and Genevive shared through the mirror. Her eyes darkened, a forest on fire. "Kalthanen belongs to me, we all know my brother is too much of an idiot to rule."

        "Yes, Miss," Miliana nodded her head once, just to avoid another long rant that would get them nowhere.

        Adina finished Arya's hair, using golden pins to hold the braids in place. Her hair had been braided to form a crown around her head, not nearly as elegant as the one she would wear to state dinners or other social events but it was beautiful nonetheless. "No more talk of this," the woman sighed softly. "Just meet the poor boy in the gardens. He could be quite fun until you find whomever your parents will approve of." 

        Someone bloodthirsty no doubt. Nothing would suit Kalthanen's court more than a bloodthirsty lordling.

        Arya had no clue if her future husband would come and live in Kalthanen. She had no idea if she would ever be allowed home again. She hoped that she would get to come home. She wanted to see the red sand of the beaches, feel the warm sea breeze on her face. She could smell the jasmine and hyacinth when she concentrated hard enough.

        "Yes, I suppose," she sighed as she stood, her legs still quite shaky. She did not bother with privacy as she slipped on her underclothes. Her maids had seen her with the most horrendous injuries. They could see her naked form. Besides, modesty had never been a quality that Arya had possessed.

        She slipped on her gown, two sheets of royal blue silk. The bodice was fitted, the sleeves off the shoulder and giving her enough room for Nox and Luna to be comfortable while also giving her an airy feel. The skirt was enough to cover her bum and her sex all while allowing her legs to be seen with the two large slits. Only the very top of the scar on her back could be seen. 

        If men were allowed to carry battle scars, she was allowed to show the world that she would not be killed. Not easily at least.

        Adina helped her with the straps of her shoes, they came up to the mid-point of her calf and were often unbearable for her to attempt on her own. There was a reason why she had never complained about her maids helping her to dress.

        "You look beautiful," Genevive breathed out, her eyes aglow as she took in the sight of Arya.

        Arya offered a slight nod of her head in thanks. "Watch over my babies. Nox is beginning to shed, poor darling." As she spoke, she stepped over to the two large tanks that had been set up for her pets. She cooed gently to the snakes, making sure they knew that she loved them before she disappeared. 

        She could have taken Luna, but she hated the thought of leaving Nox by himself. She didn't want them to be apart unless it was necessary. Sentimental, yes, but it was something she could afford to be sentimental about.

        The princess took a breath through her nose as she murmured a soft goodbye to her pets, giving her maids a quick nod of her head, before slipping out of her bedroom. Two guards stood at either side of her door, another two stood across from them. She could hear the clanking of armor just off to her left, more guards waiting for someone to attempt an assassination. Or perhaps they knew how dangerous the Kalthanen royals could be. Perhaps they had heard the rumors.

        "I believe that Prince Galan wishes to see me," her voice bordered on board, yet it was still that gentle tone that they had come to expect from her. Arya thought it was stupid to sound like a simpering fool, but it made men more trusting. It made people more willing in a way. If they thought she was a flower, they would assume she could do nothing but smile prettily.

        One day, those people would learn that she was a flower with thorns. 

        "Of course, Your Highness," the guard that stood on the left side of her door spoke. "I can escort you to him."

        She smiled at him, allowing it to reach her eyes in the way her governess had taught her. In the way that her mother had never trusted. "Thank you for your kindness."

        The guard offered her his arm and a kind smile. She took it, lacing her arm with his. He led her through the castle, through passageways lit with torches and filled with laughter that spilled from other rooms. So unlike Kalthanen. So unlike Adarlan. What in the hell was in the waters here? How did they manage to be so carefree when war was brewing? Perhaps this is what happened when the people actually cared for their rulers.

        Perhaps this was what happened when the rulers actually cared about their people.

        Arya said nothing as they left the castle. The sun was not high enough in the sky to cause the heat to bear down on her. It was barely above the tree line, barely enough to break the early morning fog that still rose from the sea. The grounds were sprawling, not as large and grand as Adarlan's but large enough.

        He stood in the middle of a courtyard, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. The gentle breeze ruffling his light brown hair, ruining the way it had been styled that morning. She wondered if he even noticed. 

        "Your Highness," the guard released her arm as they stepped behind Galan.

        The prince turned to them, his face splitting into a bright grin. One that seemed to make the sky just a tad bit brighter. She wondered if he had magic, like many of those fae that she heard wondered the continent.

        "Thank you for escorting her," Galan said warmly, giving the guard a slight bow of thanks.

        The guard nodded his head once. "Of course, sire." He stepped away then, not far from the two but enough to give them privacy. He would watch the pair, just as the two sets of three were as they casually strolled along the courtyard gardens.

        Arya slowly made her way over to him, her head held high and her eyes staring into his. She would never back down. Not from any man. Not even a princeling.

        "Are you alright?" One of his eyebrows rose, marring the warmth of his smile. His words were filled with concern though. More than she had ever heard from anyone before.

        Aragorn had never cared if she lived or died. He'd been too used to loss by the time she had come around. Calanon had just wanted her dead. 

        "I'm quite well," she lied easily. "Why?"

        "You look a little sallow," he admitted, his cheeks turning a slight tinge of red. "But it does nothing to distract from your beauty, Arya."

        "Galan," her lips quirked into a smile, "you're quite the poet."

        "Not quite, but I could attempt it." His eyes sparkled, causing heat to flutter in her stomach that was rather uncomfortable.

        She pushed it down. Far down into the pits of herself. Galan Ashryver was not the goal. He was not the prize to be won here. While he was Crown Prince, there was nothing that she could give him. She was searching for a lower-class man. Someone who her parents could mold into someone worthy of Kalthanen should her brother come to an early grave without an heir.

        "Would you like to walk with me, Arya?" The way he said her name was like a song. She had never heard anyone speak it so softly, so melodically. Yet, she knew that it was yet another thing she would have to ignore.

        "I would love to," the gentle breeze carried her scent on the air. His pupils seemed to dilate for a moment, as though he could smell it. As though he knew everything that she was hiding from him.

        He didn't. That would have been ridiculous. 

        Galan smiled at her as he offered her his arm. She took it, resting her left hand on his bicep. She tried not to think of how the muscle felt under her fingers. She tried not to think about how it would feel to have it wrapped around her, holding her close and making her feel safe in the dead of night.

        Those thoughts would only lead to danger.

        Galan seemed not to notice how Arya's thoughts had shifted as he began to lead her through the courtyard. Instead, he focused on the way he was breathing and on a topic of conversation.

        "This is my favorite place," he admitted as he led her past the rosebushes. "It's the one place I can always come to clear my mind."

        "It's beautiful." She did not have to lie this time. The flowers were in bloom. Everything from daisies to roses, beautiful and vibrant.

        "My mother used to work down here every morning," he said with a gentle laugh. "She taught me all about planting."

        A gardening prince. Now she was certain that she had seen everything. No one in Kalthanen's royal line would have ever gotten on their hands and knees to play in the dirt. Not even for the prettiest of roses.

        "Oh? So I take it these are your personal gardens," her words were teasing, the hand that was on his bicep gave it the tiniest of squeezes to show it. She didn't trust her own voice at this point. Arya knew she could be ... Difficult.

        Galan laughed, the noise stunningly beautiful. Like bells ringing, ones that would hang from an old church. Loud, clear, clanging from the statues that were casually spread out in the middle of the courtyard. "Yes," he said after a moment. "I suppose I would."

        He smiled down at her, a fact that she found almost annoying. Arya hated to be shorter than anyone. Yet, there was something about the way that he did it that left her breathless. 

        "I should thank you for showing them to me," she swallowed once. Her mouth still tasted of blood. 

        It was enough to bring her back to the reality of her situation. Either she found someone who would be a good fit for Kalthanen, or she returned a failure. This game that she was planning with the princeling was not worth it.

        It didn't matter how pretty his smile was. Nor how many butterflies she felt when his fingers brushed against her bare arm. She would not fall for a man she could not control.

        She would not fall for a man.

        "You don't have to thank me, Arya. It's what's friends do." He told her softly, moving to stand in front of her. "I was serious about wanting to be your friend."

        "As was I." She would have to break him before it was too late.

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver - Chapter One

{WARNINGS: adult language, fantasy violence, woman owning her sexuality and her body, woman using her sexuality and body as a weapon, woman saying “fuck emotions i’m scared”, toxic parents, self-harm, self-hate, fucked up family)

She despised traveling by boat. Sailing made her stomach churn and her head ache. The smell of the sea was enough to make her wish to gag. The salty, briny, fishy mess was enough to make anyone's head spin.

       Considering that Kalthanen was an island nation, one would assume that the Crown Princess had spent most of her life on a ship. That was not the case. Arya had spent most of her life in the training rooms, wielding a blade and learning her poisons. She had the scars to prove it.

       Aragorn had spent more time on a ship than anyone. Yet even he would have found the two and a half week journey to be torturous. He also would have been the one to complain about it.

       Arya fanned herself with the book in her hands. She hadn't bothered to read it in the nearly three weeks she had been on the voyage. It was filled with Wendlyn's genealogy. She had not bothered to check out who she would be trying to get a marriage from.

       She was no longer trusted to secure anyone with a crown. The lordlings in Kalthanen had heard too much about her shame and she would rather kill them than see their smirks. She would rather remind them that she was to be feared, respected. So Wendlyn had been the next best thing.

       Even if the journey was ridiculous.

       The sun glittered off the sea, a beautiful sight that she was used to waking up to every day. Her bedroom back home overlooked the sea. Her heart ached for Kalthanen. For the wet heat and the airy fashions. Already she could feel a chill on her bare legs and her cleavage.

       "Your Highness," a man said from behind her, keeping as far from her as he possibly could. A good idea considering that she had been known to strike out at whatever man surprised her. She had already wounded two sailors in the short time aboard the ship.

       They'd begun calling her a demon. It was a fitting description.

       "Captain," she said as she turned to face him, a bored look on her features.

       The captain was a tall man with broad shoulders and a face that had not been shaved in days. He smelled of brandy and the sea. A scent that was only adding to Arya's nausea.

       His smile was crooked as he peered down at her with small, watery eyes of dull brown. He thought he was handsome and clever. "We will be docking shortly, ma'am."

       Casually, she began to stroke the head of the snake wrapped around her left bicep. The snake was pitch black and had a nasty temperament. He had a habit of biting anyone that was not Arya. Aragorn bore the most scars as he couldn't leave Nox alone. Her brother seemed to think that he should be able to have his own pet snake. "That's good. My poor little babies haven't been able to properly stretch out," she didn't bother to look at the captain as she continued to stroke the blue-back snake.

       The captain's Adam's apple bobbed once as he looked at the snakes wrapped around Arya's biceps. The crew firmly thought that the princess must have some type of magic in order to keep the serpents tame enough to be a fashion accessory. She would never confirm nor deny the claims. It was better to keep them guessing.

       "No, I suspect they haven't." The man said after a moment, his head nodding once more. "Shall I have your things brought up?"

       "Yes, Captain. Make sure my ladies know I'll be needing them the second we dock."

       The captain took this as a dismissal and left without a word.

       Arya had that effect on people.

       If only she had the same effect on her traveling companions. She had brought her lady maids with her, although it was not out of the kindness of her heart. They had not been allowed to tend to her in Adarlan and she had found it dreadful, to say the least. She had needed someone to help her with her dressing and making sure she was presentable. Not to mention administering her daily poisons had been more difficult when she was doing it herself.

       Her cousin, Calanon, had also been ordered to travel with her. Her parents had said it was for her safety but she knew the truth. Calanon was there in case she failed. He was to be judge, jury, and executioner should she not find a good match within the time frame she had been given.

       One year.

       One measly year and then her life would be forfeit.

       Her parents had already rid themselves of two daughters. They had Aragorn. There was no need for Arya and her failings. It was a miracle they hadn't done anything already.

       She took a breath through her nose as Wendlyn slowly came into view.

       The ports were lively, she could hear people calling out to each other from her place on the ship. She could see the small shops along the docks becoming clearer. Most sold items fit for sailors. There was also a small pub that she assumed most of the crew would be quick to visit. If only to wipe the memory of her from them.

       The sailors on the ship moved around, laughing joyfully as they prepared to dock. She had no clue what was happening. Another one of my many failings, she thought bitterly. If she had spent more time on ships perhaps she could have helped.

       But learning how to fight had been expected of her. Not learning how to sail.

       The ship docked with a slight rustle, her feet nearly going out from under her. Her hands gripped the railing tightly, knuckles turning as white as the snake on her right bicep. Luna was her angel, the sweetest creature on the planet and the deadliest. One bite and whoever had pissed Arya off would sleep forever.

       Her ladies quickly filed over to her, fixing her gown and hair. They made sure she would look every bit the exotic princess. One of her maids made sure to secure her tiara perfectly in place, braiding the ends into her hair.

       "I suppose you think you'll eat them alive, cousin." Calanon appeared from the shadows, swinging a blade lazily.

       "It's what I tend to do," she replied without once looking at him.

       "Oh yes, I suppose you do," Calanon laughed as he stepped over to her. He dismissed her maids with a lazy wave of his hand. She glared at him as he did so.

       If it had been anyone else, her maids would have told him very kindly to fuck off. However, Calanon was known to harm anyone who remotely pissed him off. The slightest joke at his expense could result in someone losing a body part. One they liked particularly well.

       Calanon offered her his arm as the gangway was lowered. She didn't look at him as she took his arm in hers, her fingers gently resting against his forearm. Nox hissed once, slithering further up Arya's arm in order to get further away from Calanon.

       She cooed soothingly at her favorite pet, before steeling her face into a sea of a calm, icy ocean. No one would ever get past her defenses. She knew it better than anyone.

       Arya kept her head held high, carrying herself as though she were a queen, as she and Calanon made their way down the gangway and toward a cream and blue carriage that waited for them. The seal of the royal family of Wendlyn was painted on the doorway.

       A nice touch that she hadn't gotten from Adarlan.

       Considering that the King of Adarlan had not wanted her around, it seemed only right that Wendlyn already seemed more welcoming than Adarlan ever had.

       "Your Highness," a footman bowed to her and Calanon before opening the carriage door. "His Highness wishes to welcome you to Wendlyn."

       Arya gave the footman a winning smile, already playing the game that she had tried in Adarlan. "I hope Prince Galan will find the time to welcome me himself. Give him my thanks for this beautiful carriage."

       The footman seemed relieved as she stepped into the carriage with her cousin's help. It was lucky for Calanon that she did not close the door on him and make him walk with the servants. She would have done so had she not worried that he would take it as an excuse to go ahead and kill her.

       There was no trusting her cousin. Ever since they were children he had been a thorn in her side. She had to deal with attempted poisonings, him using sharpened swords during training sessions where they were supposed to use only dull blades, and worst of all his tongue. Calanon was perhaps the one person in this world that Arya truly hated. Not even the King of Adarlan had felt her hatred. Nor had that annoying Champion of his.

       "Remember cousin, you're not here for the princeling," Calanon stated as the carriage began to make its way to the castle.

       "Yes, I know. Father made sure I knew," she snapped at her cousin. She didn't look at him as he sat across from her. She didn't want to be reminded of her own features.

       The royal family of Kalthanen all looked somewhat similar. Even Calanon, who was the king's brother's son. They had hair the color of fire. Calanon's was styled in an upwards manner, as though he were hoping it would give him a few extra inches of height. Arya was nearly three inches taller than him, a fact that made him mad. The pair also shared the same sky blue eyes. The same color of a lazy summer sky, where the clouds were sparse and the sun wasn't as intense as it could have been. However, Calanon's face was sharper, his jawline coated with the faintest beard and his cheekbones high enough that one would assume they could cut a diamond with his face.

       Arya's features were softer than most of her family. Her chin came to a soft point, her jawline was just a bit softer than the harsher lines of her parents and brother. Her features made her appear almost innocent. The small nose and the gentle lips of a smiling princess made her more approachable. It was her attitude and her actions that kept people afraid of her.

       Just how she wanted it.

       She preferred having a chance to wear several different faces. She could play the damsel in distress or the evil queen. Nothing was too extreme for her. As long as it suited her agenda.

       As the castle came into view, she couldn't stop comparing it to Adarlan's infamous glass castle. She still didn't understand what idiot decided it was a good idea to build a palace of glass. It was surely going to explode one of these days. She was just saddened that she would not be around to see it fall. Instead of glass, Wendlyn's castle was made of beautiful white stone. It was larger than the airy, open palace of Kalthanen and smaller than Adarlan's glass castle. It was perhaps the perfect size.

       The royal family was obviously powerful. They just didn't feel the need to tell the world this with the size of their palace. It was a smart move on their part. One that she greatly admired.

       The turrets grew larger as they came closer to the palace. Arya's nerves began to build as well. She had never been a nervous person, always having found that she was in control of herself and thus could take care of whatever situation at hand. If that was with a cunning tongue or a slip of poison, she could command a room or a man.

       The Havilliard situation had caused her to doubt herself. That stupid little princeling had gotten away from her. She'd lost her chance at securing a perfect political alliance and thus had thrown away any future she may have had. She'd never forget the look on his face when he had found out that she had betrayed him.

       She hadn't loved Dorian. Not really. But she had grown to respect him. He wasn't as stupid as she had been led to believe. Perhaps that was yet another reason why her exile had hit her so hard.

       She tried not to think of this as they entered the castle's large, ornate gates. The crest of the Wendlyn royals was made of curved iron in the middle of both of the gates. She didn't see how they had ever stood up against an invasion.

       Calanon snorted at the sight, his expression full of distaste. "They think highly of themselves, don't they?"

       "We can't all be as restrained as you, dear cousin." Arya crossed one bare leg over the other, the deep ruby panels of silk kept her modesty but just barely. The fashions of Kalthanen were made for comfort and ease of movement, as well as to keep the heat from being paralyzing.

       Calanon rolled his eyes at her as the carriage rolled to a stop. "Put that pretty little smile on. We have a show to put on."

       She nodded her head once as the door of the carriage opened. Her cousin stepped out first, leaving her in the carriage by herself for a moment.

       You are Arya Nostariel. You are a weapon. No one controls you. You will not fail.

       She repeated the words to herself over and over again as she took Calanon's hand in hers and allowed him to help her from the carriage.

       The red silk hit the ground first, her golden high heeled shoes did not make a sign as she stood to her full height. The sun behind her made her look like a dream, her snakes seemed to enjoy the warmth from it as well. They brought their heads up, forked tongues coming out to smell the air and see if there was anyone they could sink their teeth into.

       Her eyes scanned the crowd on the steps. Most were servants, as made apparent by the crisp white shirts and stiff cotton dresses. Three people stood in front. It didn't take the crowns atop their heads for one to recognize them as the royal family.

       Arya dropped into a curtsey, hating every second of it. Bowing before any man-made her feel sick. But one that she wasn't even trying to seduce? That was enough to make her see red.

       "Please, you're our guests here," the king smiled down at her and Calanon. He was an older man. His hair had turned grey, but she could still a subtle hint of the brown it had once been. His eyes were surrounded by lines, smile lines and laugh lines were among the various wrinkles on his face. His eyes were those of the Ashryver family. Blue-ringed with gold.

       Arya stood before her cousin had a chance, a maid cringed at how much skin she was showing. Just another reminder of how different their cultures were. "The pleasure is ours, majesty. I have always found Wendlyn fascinating. I am excited to see it first hand."

       Pretty words, pretty lies. All that Arya was ever gifted at. She would always try to charm her way into the hearts of those that she needed to like her. She didn't think that she was enough otherwise.

       Her eyes drifted to the man standing between the king and the queen.

       Dorian Havilliard had been a beautiful man. With his raven hair and sapphire eyes, he had managed to catch Arya's eye. Despite his crown, she would have still gone after him. Yet, the man standing in front of her could put Dorian's looks to shame.

       "Your Highness," the man sank down to a bow, going down to one knee as he did so. He gently took Arya's hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles. She would have blushed had she not had as much training.

       His eyes were the same as his father but his skin was a few shades darker. Tanned from long hours outside, possibly from training with his men. His face was untouched by age, where Dorian had the slightest of wrinkles from the stress he had been under. The smile on his face reached his beautiful eyes, causing an uproar in Arya's stomach that she would later chide herself for. His hair was neatly held back by his crown, although she could tell that it would fall in waves of light brown around his face.

       "It's a pleasure to meet you," Galan Ashryver stood then, taking a bit too long to release Arya's hand. She didn't know if he had not thought about it or if he was just the type of princeling who thought he deserved whatever he wanted. While he had not looked at her body, she wouldn't put it past him to believe he owned her. Princelings were annoying like that.

       "Likewise, your Highness," she stated with a slight smile. Even if he was a beautiful man, more so than anyone she had ever seen before, she would not allow herself to fall for his charms. It wouldn't do.

       "Jefferson will show you to your rooms," he said as he gestured to a man who was standing just a few feet away from the royal family. The man was much bigger than the average butler. He was built like a warrior, with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. Muscles that would crush her if they wrapped around her at all.

       His head was clean-shaven and he was dressed in the same crisp white shirt and plain black pants of the other servants. However, he also had a sharp navy jacket that showcased his superiority to the other servants.

       Arya nearly smirked at the realization that they were getting a superior servant. She liked knowing that she was getting everything that she deserved.

       "Thank you," she said with a slight nod. She and Calanon linked arms again as Jefferson nodded his head towards them and headed inside the palace.

       Calanon kept his head forward as they walked, Arya turned to look over her shoulder. The princeling was looking at her.

       She raised her hand in a flirty wave, ignoring the jab in her ribs from Calanon. Her cousin would be certain to keep her from enjoying the prince in any manner of the word. She wouldn't allow him to make all of her decisions for her but she would attempt to keep him from becoming cross with her. Arya knew better than to piss him off.

       It would only lead to her destruction.

       "Your Highness," Jefferson turned to the young princess with a slight smile. One that was as kind as Galan's had been. "These are your rooms. My staff has already escorted your ladies, they should be here to help you prepare for dinner."

       "Thank you, Jefferson," Arya nodded her head once before she slipped into her chambers. She shut the door before Calanon could step inside.

       She rested against the door, a soft sigh escaping her lips. This was sure to be one of the hardest things she had done in her life. She knew that she was supposed to find a lordling. One she could whisk away to Kalthanen. One that she could tease and torment.

       The prince being the most beautiful man she had ever seen was not something that she had expected. She had assumed he'd be some snotty brat who didn't know who was really in charge.

       Galan seemed nice. But that didn't mean anything. After all, Arya seemed nice enough. She just wasn't. She was the monster that Adarlan's prince had destroyed. The monster that he had vanquished and then had been set loose on Wendlyn's shores. She was almost disgusted by what Dorian thought of her.

       Almost.

       She was just doing as she had been told. She was trying to bring her kingdom the security it needed. Kalthanen had only been missed in Adarlan's conquering because it was such a tiny kingdom. Although it was the whole world to Arya.

       The princess opened her eyes as she heard her ladies moving in the closed-off bedchamber. She stood in the foyer of her chambers, where there was a small fireplace and a place for entertaining visitors. She didn't know how many visitors she would receive but she wouldn't complain. The chambers in the Wendlyn palace were perhaps the closest thing to Kalthanen she would get for a very long time. She would have to make the best of a situation that she didn't want to be in. She would have to play the role she had been born to play.

[oohnoniall]

Queen of Serpents || Galan Ashryver x OC [Chapter Four]

{WARNINGS: adult language, fantasy violence, woman owning her sexuality and her body, woman using her sexuality and body as a weapon, woman saying “fuck emotions i’m scared”, manipulation mentions, toxic main character but she learns, toxic parents, self-harm in the form of self-poisoning, self-hate, fucked up family}

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two 

Chapter Three 

        She'd been avoiding him since that day in the garden. It had been easier said than done. Galan had been called away to the coast. She had not been informed of the reason why. There was no reason to alarm the foreign princess. Not when the war was not her business. At least, that's what the king seemed to believe.

        It seemed rather stupid to keep her in the dark. She had sway with her parents. Kalthanen could be an ally in this war. Yet, they were overlooked. The small island nation was often overlooked. They were too far from Adarlan, too far from anything save the elements. With their overbearing summers that bled into the winter months, it seemed that they had pissed off an ancient sun god at some point. Yet, despite this, the country had a relatively nice-sized navy. 

        She just would not provide the information without first having an alliance in place. Arya was not a fool. She knew better than to give. Knew that she needed something in return. Something that her parents would find worthwhile.

        A basket filled with chocolates and books was not worthwhile.

        'Please accept this as an apology for abandoning you for the past few days - Galan.' The note almost made her smile. Almost. That boy had the audacity to assume that she was troubled by his not being there. He had to assume that she was charmed by his smile, the dimple that came out, and the way his eyes sparkled when they looked down at her.

        Arya scowled to herself as she began to tear the note into very small pieces. She was going to ruin this whole thing. He was looking for nothing more than a girl to tumble, to have his way with, and then throw aside. How many times had she seen Aragorn and Calanon do the same thing?

        "Careful, cousin," the devil spoke from behind her, amusement clear in his tone. "One would think you find His Highness aggravating. We can't have that ... Can we?"

        If there was one thing she hated most about her dear cousin it was that he was right most of the time. She hated that he would make a good advisor should she ever take the throne. Otherwise, she would have had him quietly killed long ago. She would have done it after he had mutilated her. 

        Once his use had run out she was certain Luna would find her way into his bed.

        "No, we cannot," she said after a moment of hesitation. "But we can't have the poor boy believing that he can get everything he wants. Surely we should keep from spoiling him."

        "Currently, he's your best chance at a husband." Calanon took a sip of spiced wine, his fingers lazily spread over the glass. She knew those fingers would curl around her throat at first chance. "You wouldn't want to upset your parents. Would you?"

        A demure smile graced her lips as she looked at him. The fire in her eyes did not match it. Calanon did not get the benefit of her masks. Not now, not ever. "You of all people know Mother and Father want someone they can control. Aragorn is still without an heir or a queen."

        "If you marry Galan, you'll never have to worry about Aragorn finding a bride."

        "Mhm," Arya moved gracefully to the chair her cousin sat in. She stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "And then Kalthanen would be yours, if you could manage to rid the throne of Aragorn."

        "Arya, I only want what is best for you." She could hear the smirk in his voice, her fingers twitched. Her pinky brushed across a pulse point.

        "Kalthanen will never be yours," she whispered in his ear. "I'll cut your throat before I ever bow down to you, dear cousin."

        Her nails dug into his shoulders, drawing blood through the silk fabric of his shirt. To his credit, he did not show the pain. Did not make a sound or move. He just sipped his wine and stared at the basket of gifts the prince had sent her.

        "If you're so deadset on letting go of a crown, who am I to stop you?" He swallowed the last of the wine, setting down the cup and snapping for Miliana to refill his glass. "What do you plan to do about His Highness?"

        Arya stepped away from her cousin, perching on the arm of the chair across from him. Her left leg crossed over her right, her hands clasped around her knee. A small smirk on her features. The picture of sophisticated grace.

        "The ball celebrating his birth is at the end of the week." 

        Calanon's eyebrow rose, the scar she had given him eight years ago rising with it. She could barely see it now but just knowing it was there filled her with a deadly sense of calm.

        "Every nobleman in Wendlyn will be there. Supposedly, there will even be a group from Doranelle. It should be easy to pick one."

        "And you'll be the most ... Daring one of all." He laughed, the sound brutal. Goosebumps rose on her arm at the sound, it still haunted her nightmares at times.

        "I always am." Arya did not falter, did not waver once. She knew the plan wasn't one that would go ... well. But she did know that she could not afford anything else. The ball was good timing. The fact that she would only have another fifty weeks to convince a man to love and wed her was enough to make her balk. 

        She would have to be her most charming. She would have to seduce and please without ever laying a finger on the man. She would make damn sure that whoever she wed would be wrapped around her finger. She would have a plaything, not a husband. But it would be better than anything else she would have.

        Arya was a queen. She was supposed to rule Kalthanen, supposed to make it a force to rival Adarlan. She couldn't do that with a man who had a will of his own. She needed someone who craved the attention, the ideal of what being a king was. 

        After she got her throne, after she was certain that Calanon would take the fall, she could kill him. She could rule by herself. There was no law against it. No one would have seen it coming. The Crown Prince of Wendlyn seemed to be ruining her plan though. 

        A knock sounded on the door, bringing Calanon to his feet. Arya slipped into the chair, picking up a book that had been left open on the table beside it. She made herself look docile, like a woman born to be a housewife, while Calanon opened the door.

        "Your Highness," Calanon bowed to the man as he opened the door. 

        Arya sat the book down, a bright smile painted on her features. "Galan!" It was not hard to put the enthusiasm in her voice. Anything was better than spending the rest of her day with Calanon. "I was beginning to think you'd be gone until the ball."

        She stood as he neared, taking the hand that he had offered. He brought her hand to his lips, placing a kiss on her knuckles. She allowed herself to blush, to let the prince see a princess being wooed. The worst part was the flip of her stomach. She had not scripted it, could not have. 

        "I feared that would be the case," he admitted, staring down at her with amusement. Or was it something else? Something that made his cheeks tinge pink and the gold stand out in his eyes. "I was hoping we could speak about that actually."

        She wanted to pull away from him, wanted to stiffen at those words. But she did not. Years of practice had kept her from reacting as instinct told her. She did not listen to what her body wished to do, instead cocking her head just slightly to the left, widening her eyes just a bit to appear curious.

        "Of course, Galan. What is it?" Arya's voice was soft as she looked up at him. The role of the princess who was desperately in love with the handsome prince. It would have been a fairytale had she not known the truth of the matter.

        Galan Ashryver was a strong, foolish man who would be king. Arya would never marry a man like him.

        "I was hoping we'd be able to speak alone," he glanced once at Calanon. 

        "That wouldn't be proper, sire," Calanon interjected. He had a harder time keeping the glee from his tone. "You'll find I am quite discreet."

        Arya didn't like the smile that had quirked onto Calanon's lips. She didn't trust him, didn't think he had anyone's interests in mind. He could play the doting cousin as much as he liked. He could fool her parents, Aragorn, everyone on the council. But he would never fool her.

        "Of course, Cal," his smile faded as Galan spoke. "But I assure you, Arya will be safe with me."

        The look on Galan's face was not one that she had seen before. He looked unconcerned yet his eyes blazed with a cold fire. One that showed that he would get what he wanted. He was a prince, a soon-to-be king. A man who had been to war and back. One who knew his enemies, one who knew just how to get of problems.

        It sent chills down Arya's spine. She had to fight to keep the smile off of her face. There was no reason for it.

        She had never been attracted to strong men before. Had never wanted a man who would dare think he could control her. Dorian had been weak, easily toyed with. She was a pretty face, he had needed a queen. That was when she could afford to leave Kalthanen. She could've controlled all of Adarlan without ever putting it at risk. Now, she couldn't control anything. Except for her beloved Kalthanen.

        Calanon's left eye twitched slightly as he stared back at Galan. The two stared at each other, one full of anger and the other full of that cold fire that left her wanting more.

        Her cousin looked away first, his spine straighter than her own as he slipped out of the receiving room. She knew he had slipped into the hallway. She had to fight to keep from smirking. She quite enjoyed seeing Calanon being made into a fool. He needed to be brought back down to earth more often. Otherwise, things would end up very badly for him.

        "I'm sorry about him," she said as she brushed a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "He has this horrible habit of trying to protect my honor."

        The fire in his eyes fled as he turned to look at her, a smile taking its place. She quite enjoyed how bright the blue could become. She hated that she did. Galan Ashryver was nothing to her. He needed to be nothing to her. She needed to be stronger than girlish fantasies of love and storybook endings. Arya was not destined for one.

        She had known that since she was a child.

        "He loves you," he told her. "I think it's admirable. Even if he is somewhat annoying."

        His expression fell slightly, as though he was worried that she would take offense to it. She only smiled, hoping that her eyes shone with amusement.

        "If you think he's bad now, you really should try growing up with him." 

        "Are the two of you close?" Galan sounded interested, as though he had not had the experience himself. Arya did not know much about his family save for the fall of Terrasen. She doubted he'd ever had another child growing in the castle with him.

        "He's like a brother." It was not quite a lie. Calanon had spent enough of his life giving Arya hell. She supposed that was the most brother-like quality a person could have. Aragorn had been far too ... Stupid to do anything to ensure her love or her hate. "I feel as though I am closer to him than to Aragorn at times."

        "I understand," he said with a small smile. "I always wondered what it was like to have a sibling." 

        She noticed that he was playing with his fingers, that he seemed less sure of himself than he had just moments before. What was happening in his mind? What was making him pop his knuckles in an almost constant fashion? Did he even notice that he was doing it? Or was it just habit when he was in the presence of a woman?

        "Might I ask why you needed Calanon to step out?" One of her brows rose as she shifted in her seat. She leaned forward, resting her elbow on the arm of the chair, her chin casually on her palm. She did little to conceal her cleavage. It was amusing to see the blush rise on his cheeks, to watch him become less certain as she peered up at him.

        "I wanted to ask you something, privately," he cleared his throat once. He did not look at her for more than a few seconds. Those few seconds he kept his eyes on hers. It was more respectful than she had expected him to be.

        "What is it?" She ignored how her heart was pounding in her chest.

        Galan Ashryver should not have any sort of effect on her. She should not feel like some silly girl when he was around. She should have better control over herself. Maybe she just needed more time to herself, more time away from the bastard.

        He swallowed, the motion causing his Adam's apple to bob slightly. A part of her that she wanted to strangle briefly thought about what it would be like to kiss it. Galan could very well be an easy source of fun for her if things did not turn out well. 

        "I was wondering," he cleared his throat once more, an almost shy laugh escaping as he did so. "Sorry, what I mean to say is that I was hoping that you would be ... Free to attend the ball with me."

        She did not bother to conceal her shock at the question. She had known that the two were spending far too much time together. The basket filled with chocolates and books had been enough to show that he had some sort of feelings for her. She had just assumed that he was lonely. That he needed a friend.

        This was a disaster. Yet, it was also quite a good opportunity. She could gain attention by being on his arm. She could break whatever hold she had on him as well.

        Arya knew that it was wrong of her to play these games with him. He had been kind. Kinder than she had deserved. Yet, he had been stupid enough to embrace a falsehood. He didn't see her for who she was. Why should she care if she broke him? Why would she ever care about his feelings?

        It was not the Nostariel way to care about a chess piece.

        "I'd love to," she had not meant to say that. Her mouth had betrayed her, offering her salvation that she did not want. She knew that it would be harder to seduce other men if they thought she belonged to him. That was the disastrous part of being on his arm. Yet, the attention would be good. 

        Arya had always thrived under the spotlight.

        A bright smile lit Galan's face, his eyes twinkling like the sea on a warm, summer day. His complexion was less red as the blush began to leave his face. He looked like a young man, instead of the future king he would become. She hated that she liked it. She hated that she could imagine him in her bed, laughing at some stupid thing that had been said.

        It was not the future she would have. Not if she wanted to be who she was destined to be.

        After all, she doubted that he would ever allow her to make decisions. She doubted he'd ever want her if he knew who she was behind the girlish mask she put on.

        She was a Queen. One that would make Kalthanen the powerhouse it was meant to be. They deserved to be more than just a small, overlooked nation. They deserved as much as Adarlan. She would kill the Havilliard family as a declaration of war. It would serve them right. Dorian should never have made a fool out of her.

        She never should have loved him.

        Perhaps that was why she fought so hard against whatever it was she felt for Galan. They were not friends. They were not anything. Yet, she felt calmer around him. She felt as though she could be whoever she wished around him. Even though she knew that would never be the case. Arya could never be who she was. Dorian had made sure she knew that. He hadn't exactly liked the real her, she would never show that side of herself again. Not to someone she genuinely thought she could care about at least.

        "I was certain you would say no," Galan brought her out of her thoughts with a nervous laugh.

        "And why was that?" Arya questioned.

        "I was sure someone had already asked you by now," Galan shrugged his shoulders once. The blush that had so recently left had started to creep back up. She watched as it stained his cheeks, spreading across the bridge of his strong nose.

        "Do you have so little faith in me?" Arya teased, her smile bright and more real than it had been before. A few men had asked her, but it had been easy enough to look down her nose at them and tell them no. No remorse, no care. If they had the ego to ask a princess, they weren't the type to be easily controlled. Or they were. It would just take too much simpering and batting her lashes for Arya.

        "It's not you that I'm worried about." The fire blazed in his eyes again, as though he were imagining whatever man had been stupid enough to encroach on the prince's territory. She would never be any man's territory. Never would she be anyone's property. Although she would not be able to say this to him. Not when he hadn't made any sort of move to suggest that she was.

        "Then what exactly were you concerned about?" Arya's brow rose as she looked up at him. He was only inches taller than her. 

        "I was concerned that you would think I waited too long."

        She hadn't expected him to be so honest. Hadn't expected the fire in his eyes to be towards himself. Towards the idea that he had done something wrong. It was rather intriguing. Did he really think that he held that much sway in her mind? That she was waiting for his beck and call?

        Or did he just hope to impress her?

        Arya didn't know. She was unsure if she even wanted to know. The answer was not something she was sure she could handle. Arya could handle whatever he threw at her. Unless it was something stupid like attraction, love. The wish to know her, to see her.

        It was frightening. More so than any punishment her parents had ever come up with. More than when Calanon had sliced open her back. Feeling her blood flowing out of her and her life dripping away had been far less scary than thinking what some idiotic boy might think of her. Might want her to be.

        Arya Nostariel would not be afraid. She would be the weapon she had honed herself into. The poisoned queen. The seductress. Anything but a failure.

        "I wouldn't have thought that," she moved to take his hand as she spoke. His hands were rough, filled with callouses. He was not the boy king that Dorian Havilliard had been. He was a warrior. Brave and filled with strength that she did not know could exist. "I would have waited for you."

        Pretty words. That's all they were. Pretty words that she never thought she would mean. But did she? Did Galan Ashryver mean a damned thing to her? She didn't know.

        The not knowing was going to kill her.

        A knock on the door caused her to drop his hand, almost as though it had burned her. Calanon popped his head in, an amused smile on his features. The slimy cretin couldn't keep himself from showing his hand. How he had ever gotten one over on her was a question she'd never have an answer to. 

        "Excuse me, sire," he said, trying to wipe the smile off of his face. "But your guard has informed me that you're late for a meeting."

        Galan cursed lightly under his breath as he moved to stand. "I'm sorry for leaving so soon," he told Arya as he looked over at her. The smile on his face could light a fire. "I'll make it up to you, I swear it."

        Galan took Arya's hand in his, brushing a gentle kiss along her knuckles. Her cheeks heated without her wanting them to. She didn't understand what he did to her. It was ... Horrifying. 

        He nodded a quick goodbye to Calanon before he slipped out of the room. Arya did not watch him leave.

        Calanon took Galan's chair, a smug smirk on his lips. The lanky man did not turn the simple leather chair into a throne as Galan had. He was dwarfed by it. 

        "I see things with the prince are going well."

        "Too well."