"Phantom fingertips
Brush against my skin
Shaking with desire
Thinking bout
what if?"

Don't Wanna Say - Lauren Jauregui

Spice - o - meter: 🌶️ kinda. Lol.

🥂

Where cowardice thrived, sheer impulsivity would make up for it.

And two glasses of the finest merlot she'd smuggled from her reserves.

"Let's go to our impatient prince, shall we?" Jimin rolled his eyes, holding out his arm for her.

He had just finished tying up her dress for the evening. It was a new piece she had acquired from their castle, and very much unlike the dressings of their territory. It had a very classic corset style bodice of the purest white. Sleeves puffy and skirts loose around her legs.
Pearls decorated the entire piece, silver weaved in, reminding her of the ocean and the set of the moon above it. It shown bright against the glow of her skin, almost a haze of light around her. Eyes glittering with anxiousness and unknown, lined with kohl. Making the silver stand out like the irises of a wolf, dipping into a frost bitten lake.

Ethereal. Unreal. Goddess like.

Finally, she felt what others saw.

Otherworldly.

Leila hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. As much as she wanted to leave, she couldn't get her feet to actually move with her. Stuck to what she was known as, the pariah in her far off chambers. Once people thought of a person in one way for too long, it was hard to break from it. Because no matter how different she became, they would still hold on to that old image of her. The princess in her tower.

"Hmm, or maybe we can stay up here? Have the night to ourselves." The advisor muttered suggestively, his lips curling at the side. Deviance in his dark, crescent eyes hidden beneath the delicate angles of his ivory face.

Leila smiled ferociously back, warning in her eyes as she grabbed so harshly onto his arm, he let out a yelp, "Don't worry, you'll find a nice, much more interested girl to fill your evening. Like Setareh. Now let's move along."

The man shook his head, eyes flattening, "You wound me, dear sacrifice."

The twenty-two year old rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Always a flirt, and never serious. They walked out of her room, hearing chatter at the bottom of the palace steps. She rolled back her shoulders, using Jimin's arm a little much more than usual due to her dalliance with wine. He decided to drop his hand to her waist, the other holding her arm.

As they made it to the bottom, she turned to thank him.

But the prince was right before her. In all of his obsidian glory.

Dressed in a midnight blue rainment, Taehyung overtly represented his territory. A stormy sea against a black night. His black, wavy hair curled over his ears, touching at his tan skin. His hands were dazzled in jewelry, and Leila was close enough to see he wore a silver hoop with a chain attached to the upper part of his cartilage.

A purple crescent charm hanging from it.

He's beautiful.

Her stomach churned at her desperation. Her inability to separate his prettiness from what she needed to do. For a second, her heart ratcheted against the hollow of her chest, waiting for his appraisal. Anything to show she was not the only one lost in attraction.

Then at least they could perish in shame together.

"You look," Taehyung started, his mouth parted as hesitation colored him, his eyes dropping to Jimin's arm that rested around her waist, "nice."

The princess sucked in a breath, lips pursed. Nice? He could've said the same thing to Elder Fareena, and it would've sounded more obscene being said to the old woman.

"Thank you friend." Jimin answered with mock grace, bowing his head lightly as he let go of her waist. Touching a hand to his chest as he did so.

Both Taehyung and Leila ignored him. Though Taehyung let out a disgruntled scoff, his gaze remained on the princess of the moon. Stare searing into her, remaining on her face and not traveling to her bodice or necklace that dangled between her collar bones. He looked frustrated? The woman hadn't even been downstairs for a minute, and he already wished he could be taken from her presence.

"You look fine. I would've preferred something more elaborate." She lied, stepping past him so her perfume would drift across to him.

Not looking back to see his reaction.

Leila smiled, walking through the open columns of her palace into the night air. Hearing the swift steps of all the men trying to catch up behind her. The jasmine air breezed across her lips, her hair, calming the rapid beating of her chest.

The wine finally settling into her bones, and lifting away some of her worries. The night was beautiful, a wide blanket of the moon and night sky littered with stars. The sand and mountains cutting across the region, a deep royal purple. She could smell the pit fires blazing, the deep sound of drums lifting to her hips. People in the distance, dancing flames as they shouted and clapped.

Her mood couldn't be ruined. Not even as the prince and the advisor caught up to her, as she made her way to the open festival.

"Did you get what we needed?" Taehyung asked, his head dipping close to hers.

She shivered, not realizing just how close he was. The front of his chest warming her right shoulder, that wore no cloak. The warm notes of his deep voice made it seem like he was whispering something naughty, enticing. Not asking about a damn scroll.

"Yes." Leila said in a breathy, amused whisper.

She missed the way Jimin and Taehyung looked at each other in confusion. They had never seen her break away from her usual reserved shell, or under the influence. Taehyung fought hard to hide his smile.

Jimin quickened his pace, rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves, "I can't wait to have a drink. The aura here is dark. Their blo-"

"Jimin." Taehyung's voice was terse, as he prevented the advisor from saying more.

"Right." The man coughed, nodding his head in apology at the prince.

Leila shook her head, walking ahead of them as they made it to their destination.

The three with the guards behind stood at the edge of the festivities. Close enough to see about sixty of the younger adults of Leila's origins, talking in smaller circles, some dancing, and others throwing more wood into the flames. The fire pit was high enough that it spooked away the night chill, and brightened the entire radius.

The princess swallowed harshly, some of the liveliness dying down as she stepped inside the circle of stones that marked the outside ring. Finally allowed in, though still not wanted. They had been told so many times as children to avoid her because she was different, that now they believed it. She garnered a few looks of pity. Some people shown with fear, moving in their small groups away from her. Most of all, dislike permeated with whispers that mimicked crickets in the open air, eyes glittering like crystals.

"Pariah."

"What is she wearing? It's not of our territory."

"Too bad she's a mute, look at her husband."

"Why is she still alive?"

"I wouldn't mind if he bit-"

Leila did not wish to hear the rest, she thought, her eyes seeing things clearly for the first time. It was different, being here. Seeing it in front of her eyes, instead of a half mile way from her palace window. Hearing them spout nonsense.

They felt free to do it, because they believed she didn't care.

But she did.

Every one of their words was a sharp reminder she'd never been accepted here. That they would've been much happier if she never came back.

They all wished her dead.

But then again, other than Taehyung, who didn't?

She hadn't even realized she'd been staring back, her chest starting to move rapidly in panic. Every single person she tried to remain eye contact with looked away in fear, or laughed.

It seemed the only night she'd find comradery in the women she'd known growing up, had been the night they sent her away. Swaying around the open fire in the temple of Mah. Now, they could not bare to witness the person they ostracized.

She felt a hand brush against hers, a tingle going up her wrist. The young woman turned to see Taehyung staring at her, his mouth slackened with disappointment. He didn't say anything, but she swore she could feel what he was thinking. His eyes urged her.

'A proud flower that refuses to wilt, will surely make a fool out of the surrounding weeds'

The daughter of the moon turned away from him, focusing on slowing her breath. She would not wilt.

The prideful brunette lifted her chin, walking closer to the fire. Ignoring everyone else around her. She found a cozy spot, one that was close to a table that held pitchers of wine. She gestured for both Taehyung and Jimin to follow, the rest of the guards dispersing to join. Eventually, the normal chatter resumed.

"Nicely done." The prince commented warmly, his dark eyelashes shading his irises.

Leila wanted to fan herself. Between the fire and his appraisal, she very suddenly felt overheated.

Jimin groaned, wanting to rid himself of the absolutely obliviously deprived pair beside him, "I need to make an escape. I think I spotted both of your sisters. I need another woman, quickly."

He walked forward, looking around the open space. The prince and princess watching with veiled merriment.

The advisor had his eyes locked on a girl with long wavy dark hair similar to her own, and flirtatious brown eyes. She recognized the young woman, Cyra, who had never once outwardly been rude to her. She seemed just as intrigued by the foreign man looking at her, twirling a lock of her hair as she stared back.

"Excuse me, I'll be gone for a bit." Jimin said, smirking as he clapped Taehyung on the shoulder  and went directly to the girl.

"It definitely won't be for long." Leila remarked, seeing as the man was already pulling the girl away from her friends and into the shadows.

Leaving the prince and her alone.

The quiet, chilled air now felt charged. The prince stood taller than her, hands placed casually in his pockets. Taking a step away from the poised prince he performed as.

"Would you like to grab a drink?" Taehyung offered politely, despite the muted expression he wore. Again, his eyes never dipped below her own stare.

Leila shifted on her feet, looking around the avoid the prince's attention. They had rarely been in each other's space in a casual setting. He was either tutoring her, or they were arguing.

This was unchartered territory.

The prince held out his hand, letting her walk over the drink table first. Clutching it to his body as she walked in front of him, careful not to touch her skin.

I'm not sure if I could handle the feel of him.

"Has your sister always talked to you that way?" Taehyung asked in his usual withdrawn manner.

The man lifted the amphora full of red wine, pouring for her into a golden cup. His arm muscles strained against his sleeves, causing her attention to dip. Silver ring a sparkle on his capable fingers. The only sign of ire being his harsh grip on the wine, and the tenseness of his body.

Subtle signs she'd learned to read about him. He rarely showed his true mood. But from the way he defended her earlier, she knew he felt how she was treated was unjust.

Leila took the cup slowly, looking at him through her lashes. Fire and moonlight creating shadows of darkness across his aristocratic visage, "Yes, but it was rare we ever really saw or spoke to each other. It could've been worse."

"She's cruel to you. Unfathomably so." His tone grew harsher, brows lifting as he poured himself his own drink.

He then leaned on the table with one hand, feigning causality. But even Leila, the social pariah, knew in this moment he was hiding just how much it bothered him.

The princess wanted to laugh in his face. Ever since she'd met him, he'd told her he did not want to get too close. He did not care to learn about her, and that he would not ever make the mistake of worrying for her.

Wine emboldened her, as she took another sip that made the world a little more hazy. And her mouth a little more loose. She lifted one brow, "And I thought you didn't care? You are neither my friend, nor my confidant."

He was her fate. Her adversary. Her opponent, nemesis, and her eventual ruin.

(A/N: that was a fucking BAR!)

What kind of enemy defended his unfavorable wife at every turn?

But alas, the prince nodded, eyes tightening at the corners. Not denying what she had accused him of.

"That is true. But I also told you I give out respect. You are willing to forfeit your life for people who are begging for your death. I could never imagine doing so for my kingdom if they did not show fealty. It looks like weakness to me." Taehyung's voice was proper in his indifference, but his fingers meddled with the top buttons of his doublet. Not connecting with her.

Oh. He did not care. He thought Leila lacked in dignity, and that reflected back onto him and his rule. Taehyung cared of their reputation.

The young man's bronzed, ring-clad fingers undid not one, but two. Showing off more impossibly velvet skin. Her response was frozen in her throat, unable to look away from his elegant movements. The desert breeze playing along the fabric, mussing his raven locks.

Leila bridled, breathing harshly from her nose. Her lips pursed, vision a lot more clear than it was seconds ago. Taking him in, for his harsh words and pretty face that never seemed to match.

Yes, respect. Given to her by the prince. Was it wild and untamed that she wanted him to lose his tempered control? To show her disrespect in ways he could not fathom.

Respect felt like indifference. It was to him. So that he could keep her exactly where he wanted her. It bothered her deeply, setting in her bones and causing an ache in her lower stomach. And she hated that it had absolutely nothing to do with the curse.

She desired him.

Gods. She wished the admission away. It clawed at her, making her sip more of her drink as she glared at the prince over the golden rim. But her mind was too gone to hide it, even from herself. The feeling exhilarating and dangerous all at once.

To accept.

If she would eventually die, she would want to experience him first. Whether or not it marked her closer to severing the curse. And gods, it would bring her deep satisfaction as she met her untimely end, that she beheld him in all ways possible.

"Leila." Taehyung practically purred her name in warning, causing a warm feeling to flood her navel. His eyes narrowed into her, seething as his veined hand gripped harshly onto his cup. The flakes of gold brighter in his dark depths.

He spoke her name like a sonnet. A sweet nothing, found under sheets and within sorrows. Like his lips were gracing upon her skin. Leila swore that if the sun ever came but, his voice would be the rays of gold that touched upon the surface of the earth. Sweet and penetrating all at once.

The man stepped closer, his jaw clenching. Leila stared up at him, her lips parted slightly, panic seizing all movement.

Has I said something out loud? No, of course not. I wasn't that drunk. Or stupid. Or desperate.

Fuck. Even the depths of hell could not scorch her enough to admit that out loud. Or once she sobered up. Soon, she would wrap up her lust in a bow of anger and call it hatred. For hatred brought clarity and allowed the passion of something more to be stoked freely.

She hated that she did not hate him.

Even though it was written in the stars that she should. Even though he made his disinterest and resentment of her clear as the evening.

"We both have destinies that we can't escape." The young woman bristled, giving the prince a non-answer to his own inquiry.

But he would understand. He had to. She hoped that she hid his effect on her well. Returning his uninterested and aloof gaze that he so often bestowed upon her.

Taehyung nodded, taking one step back. His expression softened, as his eyebrows pinched in the middle of his forehead. A pained expression, for someone who wanted to appear untouchable, "There's something I should tell you."

The words shocked her. Information given freely from him? It seemed like a farce, "I thought we had to wait until we got back home-?"

Thoughts slipped out before she had time to correct them. Leila stopped mid sentence, placing her fingers over a mouth that betrayed her. She watched, the prince's own shock at what she said was palpable. His curved lips parted as he moved a step closer, reaching out his hand. Eyes soft in a way that scared her. Expression more unreadable than she'd ever seen it.

Fuck. احمق. For saying too much and thinking too little.

For it was not her home. But a cage. And she was about to be reminded that, by a prince that pitied his own captive.

"May I speak with my sister?" Azita said, loudly interrupting the pair.

Leila let out a breath she'd been holding, grateful to hear her sister's voice for the first time in a while. The pair had been so entranced, neither had realized the other's arrival.

Taehyung did not remove his gaze from her, dark eyes drinking from her. A look, that Leila know their conversation was only over, for now. The man crossed his arms, not leaving. Azita wore a wide, faux smile that was probably screaming against the muscles of her cheeks. Attempting to look warm for the prince in her drunken agitation. The young woman could smell honeyed mead harshly from her breath, even from that distance.

Azita shifted awkwardly in the silence beside them.

"Ignis?" The man questioned her, eyebrow raised. Tone unimpressed.

Leila understood. He would not leave, not if she didn't want him to. But she was tired of running.

"Yes, it's alright." She responded, nodding as well. Telling it was okay, without the words to say it.

The prince waited for a moment, nodding back. His dark gaze flickering to Azita. After several pauses of his glare, she stopped smiling.

"Stay, we will leave." The light haired brunette offered desperately, holding up her hands at the prince.

The prince ignored her, leaning back on the drink table more lazily. Taking a large sip from his cup, that showed off his cut jaw line.

Azita sputtered out of nervousness, her eyes growing harsh as she focused back on Leila. Smoothing down her deep emerald dress that was wrapped around her body, embroidered with gold thread and flowers, she started to walk away.

Leila lifted at the front of her dress, following her sister to the outer corner of the gathering. As she passed, people hushed their conversations. The surveying whites of their eyes visible from Leila's peripheral vision, staring at her as if she were the devil himself.

Back from the grave, a ghost. Not a human to them, but a dear sacrifice.

Leila had not even noticed her sister had stopped before her, as she ran into her back. The elder zipped away from her, brushing at her back and skirts fervently as if she'd had run through silky spider webs, her face dripping with a scowl. They were to the right of the circle of people, closer to the houses that lined the village. Partially concealed by deep shadows. It was quiet, away from prying eyes, but close enough people would be able to spin a tale of the two sisters with fairly decent accuracy.

Leila felt once again the child that looked up at her older sister's vexation with confusion. She understood it, but it was not warranted. The only difference now being that Leila cared too little then to hurt her sister.

The more she cared, the more violent her thoughts became. She had come to the conclusion that it was not hatred that drove humans to war, or to murder, or to cause any type of pain.

It was love.

Her sister's despise did not falter. No, it only increased, as Leila stood seemingly unaffected. Offering the same unchanging look she would unnerve her siblings with as a child. After a minute, the twenty-four year old's eye was twitching, her lips white from pressing them together. Rage making the area around her irises pink.

"You," Her sister bit out, a terribly barren whisper in Farsi, "Why did you come back?"

From the way Azita was still and collected, a picture of supposed strength, down to the way her posture never fell, showed Leila everything she needed to know. If her sister thought her to be so terrible, she wouldn't have the nerve to stand before her. It was because Leila never used her power and magic against her own, that Azita felt comfortable enough to even attempt this foolish line of questioning.

Azita wanted her to be terrible, to justify her hatred. Without her own delusions, she was just envious and vile without reproach.

Leila cocked her head to the left, remaining mostly still, but situating her feet in the sand, "We wanted to visit. You could call it a honeymoon, if you so desired."

Azita laughed, a terrible broken thing. The laugh sounded so strange, Leila thought for a moment her sister would cry instead. The large diamond dazzled earrings she wore shook with her. Her eyes were glassy as she righted herself, stepping closer to her sister.

"The man who is supposed to kill you, is taking you on a romantic get away? You're delusional. Or a liar. Which is it?"

It was a blow to her chest. As expected as the breeze, but as finely tuned as a blade. Confirmation, that people other than Elder Fareena knew the correct lines of the prophecy.

Everyone did. It shouldn't hurt. Leila didn't want it to hurt. But it did, and the pain was so great she wanted to inflict it back ten fold.

I knew it. And yet? Blood poured anew with every step forward.

Leila let anger slip into her external mask. She moved closer to her sister, whose eyes widened as she did so, not used to the proximity. Even as Leila stood shorter, she felt much taller as she looked up at Azita. Baring her soul and finding so many wounds.

The princess revealed her veracity, her voice deadly calm, "I wouldn't call myself a liar. It is you, and everyone else in my life who told me differently. Who made up fables of me having to kill my betrothed in order to save you all. All I have done, is fulfill my obligations. Which allows you and Setareh to prance around in your elaborate dresses, and abundant jewelry without having to work a day in your lives."

Subconsciously grabbing at the necklace she wore, Azita narrowed her gaze. Emboldened lip starting to quiver. But Leila did not stop. She would not pretend anymore that she deserved this resentment, for things out of her control.

Azita would just have to take her unjust anger up with the gods. And did the gods delight, watching as Leila relished in her sister's confounded expression? Wondering how her stone-faced sibling had managed to speak with a tone that was not flat, or a spark in her eye?

See me. Hear me. I am of flesh and blood like you. I hurt. I cry. You've made me cry. I am not sure I've loved. I've hated. I have felt nothing, and everything.

But she had a feeling her sister would not listen to her heartache, but instead would find comfort in her despair. So shame, is what she would feel instead. Leila continued to speak, grim tone commanding, "That necklace that you're wearing? Those leather bound shoes? The food and drink served constantly at the palace? It's because of me. Because our family decided to call upon the blessings of Mah, and had a child on the day of the black sun. You have never known what is like to suffer. And I'm glad you are ignorant to it. But I didn't ask for this. You didn't either. You could, at the very least, pretend to be fucking grateful."

It was silent, as Leila's heart pounded. The air felt thick in her lungs, as quiet blanketed around them. A thorn bush, ready to prick and paw at whoever moved. Azita was still, so still Leila wondered if she was paralyzed. That was the most she'd ever said to her. Ever. It was a real, raw response to the terrible things her sister said to her. And the eldest sibling did not like it.

Azita's cheeks blazed red, her eyes widened in a manic sort of outrage. And conceit fueled her next attack, even as she clutched at her neck. Grasping on all the things she was given just for being the sister of the daughter of the moon.

"I prayed and celebrated the day you left, because I thought I wouldn't have to see your bastardly face ever again. There was always a murderous gleam in your eyes. You were different from the moment you were born, did you know that? Mother and father don't even claim you as their own. They believed you happened upon them with dark magic. Even when you were a babe, and you ran into the kitchen table. You hit your head so hard, and I ran to help you. Until I saw that damned streak of silver leak out of you. Like mercury, like starlight, and forged from the pits of hell. Unnatural."

Her words were thrown like weapons, spat out and yelled into the night air. Several people looked their way, but did not walk over.

Leila wanted to cry. Let the tears pour and carry their saltiness into her sister's hands.

'Look!' I would say, 'they are as clear as any humans. Not silver. Just tears.'

But desperation was weakness. She'd learned it from that prince, that even if she gave all of herself she would receive nothing in return. Leila willed the lump from her throat to relax, from the sadness that threatened to swallow her. Instead, replacing it with the numbness that always sat at the back of her mind, ready to make decisions for her.

Numbness did not care of feelings. But lived to create chaos.

Leila took one more step towards her riled up sibling, practically toe to toe. Training her face to not reveal an ounce of hurt. Only wanting to watch the flimsy bit of arrogance flee from Azita's eyes. Smiling softly as she said, "I could kill you right now. And I wouldn't feel a thing."

It must have been convincing.

Because her already fairer skinned sister paled, her lower lip quivering. Her dark, pit-like eyes furrowed as she stumbled back a step. Genuinely surprised her sister decided to threaten her. It made the princess laugh, causing her sister to trip over a lump of sand before whirling around angrily.

The woman raised her voice, waving her hands around frantically, "See? This is exactly what you are. A monster. A-a witch. A-"

Leila sauntered to their left, her eyes filled with a soft mischief. Her smirk as languid as the white skirts that trailed behind her in the sand. Once again, finding control. Voice light as she answered, "I was joking Azita. I can make them too. Even though you all acted like it was impossible. For me to laugh, to feel."

The dark haired brunette let her voice trail off, after loudly saying the statement. Causing flares of whispers to start up behind them. Azita looked over her shoulder, spiraling. Not wanting her sister to take the one thing she always had over her; friendships.

It was almost sad, to see her overly confident sister fray at the edges. Almost. Leila turned to walk away, satisfaction coloring her. Not seeing anymore a reason to stay. Leila learned everything she needed to know about her old life, no mysteries left.

But her sister was not finished.

Azita laughed breathlessly, "There is something wrong with you. And surely I don't know what the prince sees in you, but soon enough, like everyone else, he will be content in your death."

The princess rounded back at the sad attempt of instigation. A charged smile spreading across her face, threatening as she prepared her assault. Once again, the airy feeling in her head, the beat of her heart, and the alcohol swimming in her veins triumphing over all reason.

It was the wine, of course, that possessed her into wickedness.

"Oh, he won't. He enjoys the pleasure I can give too much. Don't you know witches are better in bed?" Leila asked, her voice superfluously high in sardonic inquiry.

Placing her hands behind her back, and letting her long, flowing hair fall behind her. Just so her sister could see the remnants of the love bite he left upon her neck. The bruise, long ago formed, but still clinging to her skin like the memory of him wished to stay there. The exact area where Azita had arched herself towards the prince, begging him to be interested.

Leila inwardly cringed, thinking of the prince's reaction if he had heard what she said. Thinking of how he practically forced her from his bed.

But Azita didn't need to know that.

"Demon." Her elder sister spoke one more time, without remorse. Straightening the harsh line of her shoulders, and fixing her glare.

No ounce of apology, or regret in her eyes. She was tool lost in her pride, and her entitlement. Needing to see Leila as something other than, so that the guilt didn't eat away at her.

The princess of the moon landed a final, fatal blow. Knowing that these could be the last words she ever spoke to Azita, she chose them carefully. Making them barbed, so they would enter her sister's skin, and remain there.

"Tell me, which is more devious. To be born a demon, or to envy it?" Leila pondered, voice saturated with accusation.

Azita stayed silent. Her long, light brown hair floating behind her in the breeze. Fairer skin, and dark eyes glassy as if she'd swallowed poison. The green of the dress turning her skin gray, the color leaching from her altogether. Only a small, unamused smile tilted the corner of her lip. Her eyes empty as she stared at her sister.

Then, without another word, she stalked off. Slinking back into the crowd, and hiding from which she could not look at anymore.

But Leila was not finished. She wanted to hear her older sister admit she was a hypocrite. That she wanted everything Leila had, because being ordinary and being loved weren't enough for her greedy soul. Wanted to torture the answer out of her untrained limbs.

She followed her sister's coward surrender, weaving through people and faces she recognized but would never truly know. More and more people got in her way, the warmth of so many bodies unusual. Feeling fevered and tenacious, she moved through the drunk mass. High off her own hysteria and the sway of bodies.

Just when she thought she caught sight of Azita, a hand wrapped around her arm. A larger, slightly heated hand. The coldness of his rings biting her skin.

The prince.

Leila scented the mahogany, the deep cedar of him. Deciding that it could be no one else besides the prince, she allowed the perpetrator to keep his hand.

"What?" She barked out, turning to the prince.

Had he been watching? Even worse, had he heard the exchange? But the annoyance of his interruption had ruled out any possible embarrassment for the time being.

His grip on her did not loosen. The raven haired man peered down at her, meeting her silver glare with his own frozen mask.

"I saw your sister stalk off. And I'll let you continue on your war path, again it means little to me if you seek vengeance. So be it. But answer me first, was it always like this for you? The constant stares as if you're some-" Taehyung frowned, his eyes shifting to the people beside them who had already been glancing openly.

They returned their stares to their own companions, voices growing softer as they avoided the prince.

Leila placed her hands on her hips, finishing for him, "Witch? God? Sacrifice? Is there really any difference between all of that and what I am?"

The princess hated how pathetic she sounded.

Her voice a rasp, a question instead of a rebuttal. The prince once again softened, the ice in a lake between them. He bit at his lower lip, cherry stained with merlot. A sort of finality cascading over his expression, and lithe body.

One that Leila truly did not recognize.

Taehyung stepped closer, his glass full of wine the only thing preventing their chest from touching. His eyes glanced from her necklace, making a final siege to her moonlit eyes.

Deities, save me.

Arresting her breath, he spoke as stubborn ruler trying to prove something. Giving one final scowl at the people surrounding them, and watching their every foreign move.

"Then, let's give them something to stare at. We can show them just how human you are."

Leila shivered, her heart freezing. The stone-likened man lifted his hand, palm facing up. Open, inviting even. A twinkle in his eye as he took in her shocked stillness. He took a sip of wine as he waited for her acceptance, his lip curving over the gold.

The man, who had tricked her. Who had been forced to collect her as a wife. Who would not return the sun. Who did not pretend to have a likeness towards her.

Wanted to spite everyone with her? The prince was undeniably acing in her defense with his proposal. Or maybe, he just liked playing the adversary.

It was clear the alcohol was taking an effect on him too. Countenance less guarded, shirt slightly ruffled, and hair a victim to his restless fingers. He must have been confused. Because the notion of touching her was one he usually rejected unless necessary. And the thought of it right now was making her heart leap to her throat.

"Taehyung, I thought I didn't like to dance." Leila deadpanned helplessly. Recalling his words from the full moon feast.

Unable to find any other excuse not to fall into his arms.

His lips twitched, eyes brightening as he moved even closer. Her breath hitched as the rim of his glass pressed against the middle of her chest.

"I thought you just hadn't found the right partner?" His deep voice swooned around her, keeping her in a circle of warmth as the night continued to grow with chill. Not taking back his words, or changing his mind at the last minute.

He was being serious.

And to say the idea did not intrigue her, would be a lie.

The princess called upon her magic, willing it to enter her bloodstream. A burst of needed confidence entered her over the pounding of her heart. She stared back at him through her dark, sooty lashes, wrapping her hand around his golden cup and pulling it to her own chest. He let go of the metal freely, watching her closely. So closely as she remained eye contact, and lifted his cup to her own lips.

Letting the last sips of red wine pour down her throat.

Taehyung's eyes lowered, irises half shaded by lash and lid. His chest lifted slowly, and fell like the sea. His chin dipped lower to fully look upon her, expression darkening.

So subtle. But had the wine created a crack in the armor he put up? Was this the beginning of a reaction?

Leila wasn't entirely sure, but already adrenaline flooded her veins at the prospect. She needed more. The small dose of venom was enough to keep her wishing, prying for more. More and more, until Taehyung was not a prince, but simply a man falling before her.

She placed her hand in his open palm, his fingers closing around her. And yet, they did not feel like shackles. The sound of music and laughter roared around them, but Leila had never experienced a more quiet night. His eyes of arabica and embers kept her grounded upon the sand, even as the thick blanket of night shrouded his head in stars and deep blue. His skin was calloused, yet gentle underneath her own. Every scrape of hardened skin sending shocks up her arm, and to her thighs. The ache that seemed to always grow around the prince seemed to overflow in its gluttony.

He was careful with her, as if she were made of glass. Never too harsh, or too suggestive. As soon as they were closer to the large bon fire, he placed her in front of him. Taking one final breath he let go of her hand, the limb falling back down to her side.

The pair stared at each other wordlessly. Taehyung remained unreadable as ever, jaw tight as he ground his teeth. His hands fisted at his sides. Leila's heart pounded in reckless abandon, and she wondered if it was louder than the drums and stringed instruments that moved the crowd around them like puppets.

"I hate them, Taehyung. All of them." Her voice carried, a strained whisper. But it reached him, his hands balling up so that the veins showed at his wrists.

Leila felt her head swim with wine. With the concoction of him, mixed with the tonic of everlasting rejection. She did not want to dissect her words, or him to notice that she did not include him in her hatred.

She just wanted to be heard, if only for a moment. Even if that person was her rival.

Taehyung's lips parted, eyes narrowing. Unable to speak, air leaving him instead of words in a quick exhalation. He lifted his head to the skies, a silent prayer, before training his intense gaze on her. The man drifted forward, determination winning above all else. Leila held her breath, until he placed himself right before her. Tips of his boots brushing against her own, his face so close she could count the locks of hair that fell in waves in front of his eyes.

It felt like a dream, when he finally placed his right hand on her hip. The weight of it, so light she surely imagined the touch. He pursed his lips, eyes connecting with hers in question, as he used his grip on her to pull her forward. She let out a gasp, as the front of her lay flush against his solid abdomen. Their noses almost brushing, as she lifted her head to him, his face shifting slightly towards her. His left hand fell across her hip, fingers twisting into the fabric. The touch reverent, but restrained. They were intertwined, like the night of their wedding. A feeling she had chased for so long, and yet it was not enough.

I want more.  

The prince waited, not moving beneath her. Their wine-stained breath mingling, blaze of fire burning at their right side. It took everything in Leila's body to not arch into him, to not close the gap and satisfy her curiosity of his mouth.

Taehyung caught her focus, dipping his head to her ear, lips careful not to brush the flesh, "Pretend there is only us."

The princess held back a groan, his voice so low it dipped into her soul. Knowing that again, this was a terrible, stupid idea. And that with every touch, she lost more control in which he absorbed.

But all reason was lost on her, but the feeling of his hands around her waist and hip. His voice caressing her ear, and the scent of pine shrouding them. A heat building in her stomach, throat empty with anticipation.

The prince moved his head back, so he could look into her.

With his guidance, they started to move to the beat of the seductive, lively music that soared over the gathering. Her lids fluttered, the prince's hands guiding her hips and waist in a slow gyrating motion. His gaze darkening as she moved with him, against him, the feel of him decadent and all-consuming.

Finally.

Leila felt him, muscles tensed, white teeth biting harshly into his lip. She fixed her expression, fighting to appear tranquil and experienced. She started to move without his help, but his hands continued their agonizing approach, fanning out onto her hip bone and dip at her waist. His eyes glanced at the motion, then back up into her eyes.

The untouchable, brooding prince was dancing. He was good at it, too good.

This was nothing. A way to scorn the people who ostracized me. A bit of easy, simple fun. This was nothing to a man who has bedded countless women, and danced with a thousand more.

He moved up her waist, fingers gracing along the pearls of her bodice. Watching her intensely as he did so, still swaying in time with her. Leila's lips parted, staring up at him and falling apart at the trail he left with his touch, a whisper of what he could do.

"You listen to me so well, when you want to." The prince said, a ghost of a smirk on his sculpted face.

Attempting to break the impending shroud of daze that made their dance a little too serious, a little too frightening.

But the words did the exact opposite of their intent. The raging storm within her stomach only furthering into a hurricane at his words.

Why did everything he spilled from his perfect lips sound suggestive?

"Enjoy it while it lasts, it won't happen again." Leila warned, keeping her distance from him.

The man rolled his eyes, tongue in cheek, now tracing across the gems that laid around her neckline. Never touching her skin, her chest. Pointer finger drifting across the lines, a smile found on his face as Leila glared at him.

Great. He was drunk, and he liked pearls.

Touch me you fool.

The princess deepened her frown at her own desperate thoughts. Ones she could never show, and never voice aloud.

He didn't need to know that it was undoing more of the thread of her sanity. Just how much she liked the feel of him, and would mourn it when it was gone. She tried to find something, anything to distract from the overwhelming sensation of him. Turning her chin to peer away from him, a flash of white caught her attention.

By the fire, the outline of a man in a cream colored suit, only a few feet away from her. Jimin.

The man's hair was mussed, showing signs of what transpired before he made his way back to the pair. Though he did not look pleased, his nostrils flared and a sneer found upon his plump mouth. The fire turned his cheeks harsh. He grimaced at her from a far, his hand reaching to wipe what seemed to be a dark wine from the corner of his lip. Placing it into his mouth.

She narrowed her gaze, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, when she felt the prince's strong hand turned her head back to him. Leila was stunned into submission, his thumb carefully pressed into her cheek, the rest of his fingers cradling her chin.

Taehyung's eyes burned fiercely into hers, that inferno found within their depths. Gleaming wildly with an unnamed emotion overtaking his unafflicted manner. A look that showed her once again why he was a ruler that no one contested with. Her curved mouth was forced open, only able to pant as he used his thumb to tilt her head even more, and direct her focus onto him.

"Only. Us." He hummed, tone light but grip stern. A reminder to her, his wife in front of so many wandering eyes.

Holy fuck.

The man waited, other hand bringing her somehow even closer to him. She was unable to move her head, and it all but crumbled the last vestiges of her dignity. It felt unreal. His hold on her, the coveting nature in which he did so.

A show, but she would enjoy the performance.

He would not have to tell her twice. She only saw him, even when he was not in her line of view. In her wake, in her dreams. If only he knew just how much she thought of only him, he would have to send her into the dungeons.

She nodded stiffly, still in his grip. He let go, thumb accidentally grazing across her bottom lip, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Taehyung fell back only slightly, swaying with her once again. His eyes alight, and yet his expression almost blank after his brazen show of marital possession.

Just a simple brush against her lips, and she was done for. Needy and agonizing, for she needed him to replace his thumb with his lips. To finally satisfy her cravings and dark impulses.

Kiss me.

Leila was tired of his careful control. But she would not beg, would not succumb to his rule.

Burn me.

The princess smiled seductively, letting her long waves fall across her collar bones. Taehyung narrowed his eyes in suspicion at her expression, but did not protest when she turned away from him. The girl pressed her entire backside onto his own form, letting her hips sway to the drum beat. Feeling his entire body tense, she attempted more with drunken confidence. Leila weaved into him, running her bronzed hands down his forearms and down the front of his chiseled hands. She grabbed onto him, lifting his hands once again to her rolling hips. Feeling his limber, yet strong strong thighs hold up her body weight through her dress. He remained still for a moment, before again fisting his hands into the white fabric of her skirts.

Moving once again, in perfect time with each other. The feel of him, all smooth muscle and velvet skin, was akin to a show of faith. His body and motion her new religion.

"Leila." He whispered out her name again, desolate. Making her soar into the heavens.

There. His heart quickened its pace. She could feel it between the blades of her shoulder, the faint butterfly of reaction. And then, a deep swallow within his throat. His body moving along with hers as she danced into him. She felt his quickened breath on her shoulder, the warmth of it spreading a blush across her neck and chest.

Could it be, against his better judgement, that he felt something for me too?

Taehyung's next words came out between stolen breaths, "Look at them now. Look as they envy your power. That you can dance, and marry, love, and fuck if you want. Just as easily as you could turn your village to dust and make them all but a meager memory."

Leila pulled away from the prince, her chest heaving. The roughness of his tone making her sick with want. A pitiful thing she was, when all he wanted to do was piss off spectators.

The truth of his words pouring truth into the meaning of his touch. Sobering her up. The dance feeling macabre as soon as he reminded her of his intentions. To incite envy in others. To remind them they were Dimidium, and they, simple humans.

Nothing more. His touch meant nothing more than a petty instigation. 

Or else, he would've pulled her back into his arms. That's what the love interests in her books did. Once they had the woman they wanted in their arms, they never let go.

She looked up, finally noticing that everyone had pretty much had stopped to look at her and her husband. Music still running through the mass of people, just new expressions found upon the men and women. Lust, jealousy, and stupefaction. Maybe regret, and still the undertow of fear.

Taehyung was right.

But they did not matter anymore. Their approval, or their belief in her spirit.

No, all she seemed to feel was the the dismissal from him.

The princess once again stood tall, a bold smile on her face. If this were the last time here, they would be forced to witness her happiness. Her tolerance. Her display with Taehyung aroused them, fascinated them. But she would always be a spectacle.

Whether she was revered, or avoided.

"Let us return to the palace." Leila spoke into the night air, not turning to the prince.

(A/N: girllll, why did you do that. Your own worst cock-block stg.)

She could not. To see his disinterest after she felt so overtaken, would turn all her credence into shame.

You only want me when it's serves a purpose.

Taehyung did not object to their leave. Falling behind her as she moved out of the gathering, which each step the temperature dropping. His footsteps were quiet and slower than hers, as she practically raced ahead. More footsteps joined their silent walk back, the guards following behind their royal highness.

When she made it to the palace, she immediately went to her room door. Gripping the frame as she  tried to catch her breath. Alcohol swaying her, thoughts bombarding her.

The feel of him a phantom on her skin.

Why? Why did I run?

The entire night she had been strong. Facing Elder Fareena, her sisters. Going to a gathering that she had been banned from.

And the mere thought of the Prince using her sent her spiraling back to her room, the caged princess she did not recognize anymore.

Her heated hand wrapped around her doorknob, groaning as she thought of the abhorrent dreams she was going to have tonight. Ones that centered around the prince's hands dipping into her bodice instead of tracing around it.

Shit. My corset.

Leila let out a loud, droning groan as her forehead hit the cold wooden door. How in Mah's light would she take it off herself? Sober, with a lot of twisting, she could've done it. But now...

"Where is that despicable nuisance of an advisor when i actually need him?"

A deep laugh sounded to her left, forcing her gaze to turn. Head still pressed the hard door.

The wrong man in front of her.

"What is so amusing?" Leila seethed, shame rusting her cheeks.

The monster of yearning reared its head, making an appearance in her stomach and navel. Reminded of them only a few minutes ago.

The prince opened his mouth, not answering. His dark clothes were still mussed from her dancing on him, his hair disheveled. Looking every bit of the rambunctious ruler she wanted to see. It was an absolutely devastating sight to behold, the uninhibited version of himself.

"Jimin ran off to bed drunk, taking the only other room. And locked the door." He answered slowly, a hint of embarrassment layered under amusement.

Leila's stomach lurched, as she thought of all the rooms. The palace was not as large as his kingdom, which probably held 500 rooms. Hers was more of an estate, with only twenty rooms. With forty guards, Jimin, and her sisters, they were left with only one.

One room to share.

Another strange sight. To see the prince unsure of himself. His usual assuredness was nowhere to be found, as he attempted at poise. Using the wall to hold his drunken self-up. Training his expression so that she could garner no true reaction from him.

The advisor probably did it on purpose.

"That awful bastard I could-" The brunette started, pulling at the waves at the front of her head.

Taehyung held up his hands in surrender, eyes wavering, "I make my party do it. I do not trust Tenebris. Or your people, despite our agreement."

Leila was drunk as well, but she noticed the slip of words. She had been correct in her assumption that there was some formal truce between the two territories. One that was probably defined years before she was shipped to his kingdom.

But she understood. She did not trust them either. Instead, cursing the advisor that decided to fuck someone and then leave the gathering early.

"Fine, he is still an idiot."

Taehyung's lips quirked, his hands falling casually to his sides as he pushed away from the wall.

"That, I won't argue."

At his amusement, the princess faltered. An expression of approval, of intrigue, and she already forgot herself. She did not share in his amusement, quickly opening the doors to her chambers and ushering inside. The man walked in finitely behind her, meandering around as she locked the doors quickly behind them.

She turned, resting against the wood. Silently watching as he perused, just as he done so at his castle in her designated chambers. Leila did not understand why she got so shameful. Her childhood bedroom was barren of true personality. Mustard yellow comforter, surrounded by lime and gypsum walls. Ornate rugs on the floor, and a large gold mirror. Her favorite things being the large open window across the room, lined with a little nook and comfy pillows for reading. A small bookshelf she secretly dig out underneath.

Shamed maybe, for the desolation she lived in before.

Serenity blossomed between them. The breeze from the open window making the sheer canopy lift and wave over her bedframe. The jasmine smell of her room mixing with his mahogany. She did her best not to inhale, to lose her senses once again.

The taller prince walked closer to her bed, his fingers brushing against the fabric. A frown formed across his heart shaped face. His mind somewhere else as he spoke to her without looking, "Are you sure you're fine with this Leila?"

No. Yes. Maybe.

The fact you are hear is making my mind combust, and my heart cease, and my lungs constrict.

Leila turned a blind eye to her visceral reactions to him, speaking normally as possible as she moved away from the door. Setting herself in front of her golden framed mirror, and turning. Inspecting the crisscross of strings from her corset that was making her nauseous just thinking of undoing it.

"I mean, where else would you go. On the floor? Azita's room."

She winced. The end of that came out much more bitter than intended. She strained her arm, trying not to grimace as she looked for a corset string to grab onto. Finding the end, to only have it fall back out of her grasp again.

"I'd rather drown." The prince deadpanned without missing a beat. His voice lethal, bearing his dislike for all to see.

The brunette laughed, skepticism rising, "You know you have a very strong reaction to the people that have hurt me. It's strange, coming from you, if I'm being quite honest."

Fuck this corset!

The young woman let out a frustrated huff, forgetting to look demure in front of the prince. She moved all of her hair onto one shoulder, maneuvering her arm as much as she could to get to her back.

So lost in her exasperation, she didn't realize Taehyung left his position near the bed.

The princess straightened, a gasp leaving her as warm hands wrapped around her own. Her wide eyes connected to his own, expression unreadable as he let her hands fall slowly back near her thighs. Her breath was shaky as he worked at the strings at the bottom of her bodice, lifting a piece up and out to untie the bow at the small of her back.

This is not how it felt when Jimin did it.

Like every breath took effort. Like she could feel every piece of him even though he did not touch her. His presence, a tingling wall of warmth she wished she could lean into once again. Like he was unraveling her bit by bit, the thread to her heart.

A husband undressing his wife at the end of a long night.

His eyes left her own, focusing on his hands at work. The bridge of his nose regal as his head lowered, lips relaxed. Her shoulders remained tense, as he undid each loop of fabric. His tone casual as he answered her, "I will not claim to be a good and right person, but I believe in choice. They always should've given you a choice."

Taehyung worked quickly, her back already half unlaced by the time she got her brain to work again. Her mouth moving to its own accord, "You didn't give me a choice when you married me."

His hands paused, a grimace fracturing his elegant face. Her captor brought his eyes up to her, and for once she saw the broken man underneath the disguise. Pain filled his eyes, and regret. Another, more saccharine emotion that Leila did not have the tools to place. His hands continued to unweave her, more slowly. More merciful.

I wounded him.

As much as he pretended, he was not proud of his deceit. It was a dagger in his mostly honorable, yet dark heart. The one he guarded from her with his life, keeping away his true intentions. He had always been so vague, so aloof when she asked why she was taken to him. Why he kept her alive.

Was it as simple as guilt?

She thought back to their wedding night, to what he said to her before their vows.

"The prince of night stealing the moon. Keeping the world in eternal darkness."

Could she have misread his cynicism as pride instead of forced accordance? Something was wrong, off. The prince had not made this decision out of cruelty, despite his attempt at making her believe so. She'd find out why.

Later. She sighed internally, as he made it to the final row of string near the top of her neck. His bronze hand paused, knowing that when he pulled, her top would fall forward, and expose her undergarments. Through the mirror, the dark eyed male traced along her sharp collar bones, across the chain of the necklace he bestowed her, her stomach erupting in butterflies as he grazed across her cleavage.

The spell of him broken as he turned his head, closing his eyes, and schooling his features into passivity. Leila's heart dropped, realizing he did not like what he saw. Not enough. He pulled, causing the corset to bunch forward on her chest. Letting go, so that she could step out of it herself.

His head still geared towards the bed, as he spoke gingerly, tone fueled with dignified remorse, "That's why I am giving you your choice, everyday thereon after."

The young woman stepped out of her dresses, quickly grabbing onto the nightgown that hung loose on the mirror. A pale, rosy pink. Pulling it over her feverish body, and attempting to swallow the thickness of his words. The cavernous meaning behind them, and the genuine grief they revealed.

Leila wished she could have taken it back. Despite all his failings, he had given her choices. She had known of their betrothal, even though it was under false pretenses. He had said yes, even though he knew she was being told that she had to kill him. He had given her a choice at their wedding when he kissed her cheek, and later at night they did not share a bed.

Here, now. He had taken her previous home.

The princess turned around, facing the young man. Once an impenetrable stranger. Now, he was like an art piece. The closer she got to him, the more she enigmas she discovered. Near as they were, he was far away. He made his way back to her silver irises, noticing her shift in position. Realization settled in, as the Prince grew weary. His expression hardened, but his eyes avoided her shyly. He started to fidget under her solid gaze, clearing his throat.

If she wanted, she could overpower him now. Run away, and never return with him as he slept. And he would be unable to do anything about it.

He was giving her the freedom to make the choice.

And it was more than anyone had before. Her husband, her captor.

"I choose you, for now." Leila responded, hoping to lighten the mood and alleviate the tension. She rocked back on her feet, placing both hands at the small of her back, offering her best attempt at a friendly smile.

An apology, for speaking without forethought.

But the prince did not seem to join in her jest. He jolted away from her as if he'd been bitten, face scrunched with contempt. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of her as he refused to meet her eyes again. His footsteps echoed as he traced over and over her maroon colored rug.

"You take the bed. I will sleep on the floor." He grumbled, resting his hand over his mouth and nose.

The tide was drawing back in. But Leila was the moon, so she willed the waves back to the shore.

"Motevajeh nemishavam! Sorry, I mean I don't understand. We are married for deity's sake. We are both adults. We can share the damn bed!"

The man looked unconvinced, his eyes faintly shifting between her and the bed. His voice was deep, sinking its claws of refusal into her as he murmured, "I don't know ignis, I much prefer the floor."

Leila scoffed, placing her hands on her hips. The name he gave her said with spite. Licking at the cherry tasting wine that remained on her lips, indignation making her timbre metallic as she retorted back at the moralistic man.

Was she really that repulsive to him?

She stalked towards the male, sizing him up through her daze. Forcing him to stop his pacing, and anchor onto her.

"You mean, you much prefer to be as far away from me as possible. Afraid I bite?"

His answering smile was dazzling, dangerous, "Not at all. I am just not sure you can handle it. With your visions and all. I might wake up with you clawing at my-"

Leila practically choked while letting out a growl of frustration, placing both hands over her temples. He clearly was not in danger of being ravished by her, not if he kept bringing up the fucking dreams she had. She interrupted him, barely able to contain her mortified rage as he smirked at her, self-satisfied at her outburst.

"Oh for fucks sake! Well, if you don't sleep on the bed, I will sleep in the bathtub. It is only right that we are both equally as uncomfortable. For being stupid enough to just not stay in the very plush, supple bed."

Several pauses ensued. Her stubborn nature not relinquishing. She would sleep in the bath, just to prove a point.

The prince of the eclipse clenched his jaw, swallowing harshly.

"Fine." He gritted out in defeat. Shaking his head at her after he did so.

"Perfect." Leila yelled back, painting on a fake grin.

Taehyung stood next to the bed, a statue as she moved around the room blowing out all the lamplight. She could've done it with her magic, but she needed something to distract her. She heard him removing his heavier shirt, the material rubbing loudly against his skin, ignoring the heat she felt in response.

Soon, the room was enveloped in darkness. The only sound, their quiet intakes of breaths. Moonlight filtered in through the open window, but it was barely enough for her to see in front of her.

She walked over the bed, hearing the man lift the sheets and slide in. In her bed. Possibly shirtless. Hopefully wearing pants.

Sweat started to form around her hairlines, chest pounding.

Maybe the prince has been right. The floor seemed like the superior option, the less hazardous one. But she was no coward.

Leila took a deep breath, feeling around in the dark for the corner of her comforter. Feeling much better as she slid into the sheets. In the dark, it should've been easy to pretend the prince wasn't there. The area was big enough.

But she could feel him. Always. An electrifying zing that felt like magic flowing through her veins. The same potency as she had felt during her Latheera. She laid flat on her back, attempting to control her breath. The flame of his skin drifting across the space between her.

The aching in her did not dissipate in their quiet. Only flourished. Knowing he was so close. Torture, it was pure an utter torture.

The prince sighed, a sound that sent her into more flurries.

Will I survive?

"Did you love Aera?" Leila blurted, saying the first thing that came to mind.

The bed groaned beside her, the sheets tilting between them. Taehyung had turned towards her, his scent much closer to her now. The mattress dipping beside her.

"Absolutely, bloody, what?" Taehyung growled out, obviously taken aback by the question. His voice much closer to her now.

Oops.

The girl continued tentatively, losing some momentum, "Aera. She was the one betrothed to you, before I. Did you love her?"

The man sighed, muttering something about how he should have never let Lily act as her servant. Not even bothering to ask if his assumptions of who told her were right. This time, he was much more calm as he answered. Still standoffish, but much more deferential.

"No. If I did, I would've married her. The only people I've ever loved are my mother and Jimin. I'll throw Lily in to be nice."

Leila did not know what to make of the ocean of relief she felt at his words. The dam breaking, and flooding her with snide gratification. She could hear the veracity of his statement, his vehement and quick denial.

The man did not ask why she inquired of Aera. And she was grateful, for she would not have known how to answer him. So she continued her line of questioning, curious about those the prince loved. She was surprised he even admitted to feeling the vulnerable emotion to her.

Leila wanted to know what that was like. To love people, instead of nature, the weather, and words on paper.

"Not your father? And you didn't love me, but you married me."

The wind sent a chill through the room. The desert night showing no mercy to the princess. She pulled the cover tighter over her body, and up to her chin. Taehyung rustled again, warmth spread further to her.

"I know you have no reason to trust me. I've given you no reason to, nor reassured you of my intentions.  But still, listen, and judge with your intelligence. I would have not married you, if it were not the most humane choice." His deep voice echoed around the room, cocooning her.

She'd been lied to for so long. Omitted from life, and from the truth. How could she trust him, when she was blind?

"For your kingdom?" She nudged, wanting to uncover more.

"No, for you. I made a promise the other day. When we get back Leila, I will tell you."

Anticipation rose in her throat, as suspicion waged war. It seemed too easy. Before, he had told her she was in such a position to him he would never divulge his secrets. What changed?

"Why? Why are you choosing to tell me now?"

The prince cleared his throat, an edge of retreat turning his voice cold. Morphing into the prince she knew before they left, "You gave me valuable information. The first half of the prophecy that I didn't even know existed. It wouldn't be fair to not give you what you want in return."

It was the stillness of the dark that filled her with enough confidence to speak. To voice herself to the prince who often gave her no inkling of impression of interest. Even if her conjecture fell to the void, she would not go silently.

"That's not very enemy prince, captor, and monster-like of you. You painted yourself all of these things when I first arrived. And even still, you show glimpses of uncaring, unabashed hatred towards me. Like my existence is but a mere nuisance, and you wish to see the world suffer because of it. But, I'm starting to believe you are not all of those things. They are all but a shield to hide the goodness underneath."

"You may not think so when you find out the truth." The prince remarked wistfully, words twisting a final blow to her gut.

Leila should've felt afraid. Closed-off. Warded off by possible betrayal.

But no, she didn't. The cold prince had let the outer shell melt in the darkness of her room, if only just a little. Roses had thorns, that bit into skin and tore at flesh. But they were still pretty things that people collected and cherished, gardening for more and more.

If he was a monster, Leila was perturbed to find she would not care.

No.

The thought thrilled her.

A shiver ran down her spine, at his warning and his proximity. If she turned over, they might've been nose to nose once again. The soft sound of his chest rising and falling, as her teeth chattered. She rubbed at her hands, folding her legs in.

"You're cold." Taehyung remarked, his tone pragmatic.

Leila shivered fiercely, pulling the covers tighter, "No, I'm fine."

"I can feel it." Taehyung whispered, his voice trailing across her.

Leila almost squealed, as he moved closer. He slid, his heat right in front of her. His outline was darker than the rest of the room, only a glint from his eyes visible from the moonlight. His breath fanned out across her face, minty and deepened from merlot. She craned her neck towards him, already feeling her chatters cease from his proximity.

"You know I can help."

Another wave of mahogany and pine hit her.

Mah, give me strength.

"Do you want to help?" Leila challenged the prince, fighting even as her body screamed not to. She sounded weak though, even to her own ears.

Even though it was pitch black, she knew he rolled his eyes out of irritation, "Does it matter? Just come here."

He was frustrated. And only doing it because he felt pity, and probably wouldn't be able to sleep to the sound of her teeth clacking. And still, Leila drew closer.

The brunette heard his intake of breath as she placed herself against him. Her arms resting on his chest, which to her luck was still covered in a shirt. He was so solid against her, immovable.
Strong. Much more so than the average prince, especially one who was pretty slim.

It made her mouth water.

He lifted his outer arm, placing it loosely around her as he used his magic to keep them warm. Her heart pattered like horse hooves. She kept her hips away from him, knowing she would be encroaching on dangerous territory, hoping he couldn't hear her embarrassing reaction to touching him.

"Happy?" Leila spit out, hoping to conceal her nerves with sarcasm.

Her fingers twitched, wanting to run along the material covering his chest. Staying deathly still instead.

He had not moved since she had sidled up against him. Speaking hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure of his own voice, "Your hands are ice cold. Put them under my shirt."

Fucking hell. He was trying to kill me. Then he'd laugh over my body, and make fun of my fantaisies about him.

Leila laughed nervously, the sound too loud in the quiet room. Wondering if he had fallen while she had been talking to her sister, and maybe hit his head.

'I'm not your friend. Don't mistake my respect for interest.'

This act of humility, would surely be her end.

"What about the no touching agreement?"

"We have never made one."

"Oh."

The man shifted closer, his hip bone pressing into her. Feeling the line of his abdomen as he graced himself upon her. Taehyung's face was about a breath away from her, the edge of her curls tickling at his cheek more than likely.

His voice, a frustrated symphony. Toiled with pent up emotion, as he dangled himself n front of the deprived daughter of the moon, "Just stop talking and do it. I would like to sleep before the long journey tomorrow."

Leila nodded, though he couldn't see her. Mustering up the courage that seemed to sap out of her as soon as she was alone with him. Running her hands down his chest, memorizing every inch, for she was not sure she'd get the opportunity again. His breath hitched in the dark, and she paused, hoping she didn't acquire his aversion.

When he didn't protest, she continued her path. Her hands icy as December as she made it to the hem of his cotton shirt. Gently lifting underneath the fabric, feeling the man shiver as she traced her finger nails up to the middle of his chest. Placing her palms on the smooth, velvety skin she longed to feel under her. Embroidered with a heat so acute, she felt it in her entire body.

"Your heart is beating very fast." Leila remarked breathlessly, feeling the erratic pulse flutter under her finger tips. Desire coursing through her once again.

Did her touch capture his veins? Turn his heart into a puddle, and light fire to his soul? Did he feel her in every bone, every pore. Every part of his being, though fate wished it naught?

"It's because I am frightened." Taehyung's voice trembled, showing himself.

Disappointment caved in on her chest. Everyone was frightened of her.

I thought you wouldn't be, for you are the most like me than anyone else in the world.

But that was her destiny. To be alone.
And his, in companionship. He had a life before her. Friends. Love.

Squandering all evidence of her grievance with a painful attempt at humour, her voice rasping with self-pity, "The prince of the eclipse, frightened of me?"

The man laughed, an addictive sound. One that rumbled against the pillows they shared, and bloomed in her chest. Feeling it settle in his hard chest. Making her forget the pain of his trepidation.

He was not so scared that he couldn't share the same bed, something she had never experienced before him.

And that was enough, it was more than enough.

"Goodnight, ignis lunae." Taehyung conceded faintly, groggy with exhaustion. A hint of a smile still found in his voice.

The little name he'd given her was honey on his tongue. A sweet melody, when he was not attempting to incite her frustration.

It would lull her into the throws of sleep, and carry her peacefully into the dreams she usually wished were reality.

But, in this fragile and unspoken time, reality felt a bit sweeter.

"Goodnight."

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(A/N: hahahahha I keep playing y'all its too much fun. LONG CHAPTER WHOOP WHOOP. We are getting closer and closer to what y'all want to see hhahahahha. But when?

OML This chapter was so fun to write. I hope you can see the absolute turmoil Taehyung is going through. THE TENSIONNNNNN!

😍😍😍 this is the vibe we are talking about.

Also yay more Tae and Leila backstory. Taehyung again wants Leila to dislike him. He thinks he can get close to her, without her feeling the same way about him. WHY? You'll find out, or maybe you have theories. He def thinks her and Jimin like each other though, I hope that much is obvious.

If you have any questions, let me know. Usually I answer a bunch of common questions on comment threads in other chapters so if you really get confused, always check.