#oc: yraegor velthoes

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

not exactly a “wish you would write this fic” but any tidbits for Yraegor and Eliadah? (hope I spelled their names right 🤞🏽)

I've written super minimally for The King’s Game, a side effect of it mostly being a pile of lore & OCs who have anything ranging from A Plot to Just Vibes. I did whip up a little something though, just for you 🩷. Can't let the one Eliadah & Yraegor enjoyer go unfed, lol.

Barely proofread & minimally edited. Quick cw for murder, blood, & implied SA

Her lips were soft, and they were pliant as he kissed her, but Eliadah did little to return his enthusiasm. Yraegor paused, his mouth only a hair's breadth away from hers, and when she made no moves to get him to continue he pulled back. Her blue and gold eyes, almost alarmingly piercing, carried the same intensity they always did. It was not bad, but the lack of change was unnerving.

“Is something wrong?”

“Why would something be wrong?”

“I would expect a little more…excitement before fucking someone.” He prompted, trying to get to the root of her apprehension. Without word or warning, she palmed him through his smallclothes, the only thing that still remained on him.

There was only the smallest glimmer of satisfaction on Eliadah’s face. “You are excited, that is all that matters.”

There were a myriad of things Yraegor would have liked to say. How this business with prophecy and dragons and returning glory was all from her, the insistence on having his child being a thing that had also come from her, all the wonderful and flattering things she told him, questions on if he was just bad at kissing, proposals of coming back to this later; they all died on his tongue as he bucked against her touch. His teeth sank into his lower lip, and he bit down hard enough to draw blood when the door to Eliadah’s chambers opened. Before Yraegor could yell at the woman who opened the door, Eliadah was getting off the bed and ordering the slave woman about as if she hadn’t just been in the middle of bedding him.

Shock and confusion saw him staying frozen in place, impotently watching as a second slave, a rarely encountered man within Eliadah’s home, stood meekly behind the woman who had dragged him in by his bound hands.

Yraegor didn't know what the women said in the strange, pitchy and sharp sounding language of Asshai, but it didn't matter. There were certain lines he could draw about this place's customs–or lack thereof in some cases if all the rumors of about the city were true.

“I did not sign on for an audience,” he practically vaulted off the bed as his voice finally found him, “or extra participants, or whatever this is!”

“You did, Yraegor.” Eliadah rebutted blandly, speaking in the common tongue once more. His eyes followed her as she practically glided across the floor, the trailing crimson silk of her robe concealing her footsteps and barely ruffling with her movements.

“You never mentioned this!”

“I did not need to,” Eliadah's tone remained impassive as she sorted through the items on the table in the far side of her chambers, “you said you wish to play your part, and now what must be done for it will happen.”

“Eliadah, what are you talking about?” Anger welled up to cover the confusion, blazing dragonfire overwhelming everything else with its heat until it was suddenly snuffed out. Yraegor watched Eliadah's reflection in the large, round mirror that sat atop the table as she lifted a knife, long and thin and curved to have an upturned point. His blood ran cold, uncharacteristically so, but he could not dwell on it. The bound slave who had been led in spoke finally, his words just as lost to Yraegor's understanding as the women's had been, but the panic and fear were unmistakable.

When Yraegor turned to look at him again for the first time since Eliadah went to her dressing table he was struggling against his bindings. He no longer stood passively accepting of whatever he'd been purchased for, he now strained and fought, body arching uncomfortably as he tried to free himself from the hook on the ceiling beams his bound wrists had been tied to. The man begged and pleaded, face pale and dark eyes desperate as Eliadah gave further instruction to the slave who had brought him into the room.

“What-what are you doing?” Yraegor could barely tear his eyes from the struggling man, his gaze flitting back and forth between him and Eliadah.

“What must be done.” Her words were accompanied by a scraping across the floor as the slave woman dragged a basin across the floor from its spot near the dressing table, ever closer to the center of the room where the poor man was strung up to the ceiling.

“Eliadah–”

“Only death can pay for life, and you are needed for the dragons. I saw you. So, this will provide what is needed.” She motioned towards the struggling man with her knife as she spoke, indicating that he was ‘this.’ A jarring contrast to the desperate sincerity of saying she saw Yraegor in her ritual fires, although it was more the sincerity that was jarring. Even with all her sweet words and talk of prophecy from before this moment, she had never sounded more genuine than with that one utterance that was cushioned between the detachment he'd come to expect from her.

There were questions, too many of them, and they all raced in his mind as fast as the dragons she promised to bring back for his House. They stuck him in place with the horror that had dawned on him too late, the horror that clawed at the man until the knife plunged into the soft flesh just beneath his jaw.

Blood poured from the growing wound as Eliadah sang the words of some spell, life spilling from his neck and into the basin that had been dragged in front of him. Yraegor staggered backwards as some dark, unholy energy cracked through the air. It felt like it was seeping into his bones. He needed to leave, he needed to go back home. He had been gone too long, and he would rather return to Amethyst Keep without Silencer and be shamed by his grandsire than endure this. He should have never listened to a word she said, he shouldn't have even listened to the tales that saw him abandon his quest in Volantis and go further east.

Eliadah shrugged off her robe, a heap of crimson at her feet to match what she now smeared over her arms and stomach. She seemed pleased with herself when she turned back around to face Yraegor once more.

“What have you done?” He felt stupid for asking. He'd just watched her kill a man, cast some spell with his blood; and for what? The fossilized eggs? She only had two here, she wanted the one at Amethyst Keep too. She said she had seen three.

“Ensured there will be king's blood to wake the dragons.”

“King's blood?”

“Your family were kings once.” She said, pushing him so he fell back onto her bed and staining him with that man's blood as well.

“Now, we must work quickly. This will not last forever.” Eliadah continued.

“I don't want–”

“Then just lie back.” She pressed hard on his shoulders as she interrupted him, her eyes boring into his with that same unnerving intensity they always carried.