Helion of the Day Court lounged back in his seat at the head of the map table, listening intently to his generals and counselors.
The war with Hybern had ended seven months ago, and all of the courts were struggling with recovery and rebuilding.
While Day had received minimal damage, there had been extensive damage to the armies, and thus families were in mourning and new recruits already being selected for training.
However, the most difficult work came from assistance to other courts and the lands between.
Tensions were still high with Spring and Autumn, Day and Dawn being the two most neutral, and so had been tasked with in between errands.
Forces with food and supplies were being sent across the Myrmidons and through court boundaries every day, but Helion's resources were running low and, as his advisors and informants had now explained, their main path out of Day and into both Summer and Winter was blocked.
No troops of healers and supplies were making it through for at least a month, perhaps more.
Helion sat forward, still listening and gazing intently at the maps, studying the ranges and plains in hopes that he would miraculously find a solution. When his eyes began to swim he stood, bracing his arms on the table.
His Head of Agriculture, Amun, stopped speaking mid sentence.
Helion looked at each weary face, all of them just as worn and tired as he.
"The meeting is adjourned. Rest, and we will continue next week."
He could almost feel a sigh of relief as he saw his friends and advisors' shoulders droop with exhaustion.
They collected their papers and plans, which were most likely all long shots, and filed to the great golden doors.
"Thank you," Helion called.
"You've all done excellent work."
He felt a weak acknowledgement from them and waited until the last one left and the gold doors fell shut.
A muffled thump sounded as they sealed once more, the lions and snakes and scarab beetles carved into them staring coldly back.
Accusingly.
Helion slumped back into his chair, elbows on his knees, scrubbing at his face with his hands.
His white, thin clothes that wrapped up in a shendyt and a loose, open vest like article became constricting and choking, the weight of all his responsibility after the fighting was all said and done overwhelming him.
Absentmindedly, he reached a hand across to his arm and rubbed the thin, serpent shaped arm band around his bicep.
The yellow metal warmed at his touch, and the action calmed him if only a little bit.
Had his mind not been elsewhere, the scent of a crisp fire and a cool wind would have swept by his nose and alerted him to a familiar and generally unwelcome presence.
But when the doors swung open, he was woefully unprepared, if only for the servant who stood there.
"My Lord Helion."
Helion immediately corrected his posture, standing, and inclined his head to the youngling who bowed deeply at the waist.
"My lord, there is an Autumn Court denizen who wishes to speak with you. She claims urgency."
Helion straightened, his bones locking.
Autumn court.
Beron.
A growl threatened to break from his throat but he held it back and his face grew cold, his mouth turning up into a cruel smirk, his eyes growing calculating and jaded.
"Send them in, then."
Now he could smell her.
The smell of the fresh autumn air, of a crackling fireplace, of pine trees and apples, and the swift, cold mornings that froze and warned of coming winter.
That scent drowned out any other, and by the time she stepped through the threshold of the room, past those Goliath doors, his heart had calmed from years of practice controlling it.
He was the second oldest high lord and he would not be made a fool.
"Greetings, Lady of Autumn. I am much obliged."
There was no heart, no feeling in his words.
Nothing but ice.
And yet the brilliant red of her hair pinned up hair, which was now dull and weak set his heart ablaze.
The alabaster of her skin which had grown sallow and sickly made him want to roar.
The curve of her body beneath a velvet gown of emerald green, now thin and breakable. So fragile.
It broke him soundly.
But it was no different now than any other day in which he met with Beron and his dearest wife.
She curtsied deeply to him, lowering her head.
"Lord Helion."
Helion's face was schooled.
"Arabella. And where is your master hiding, my lady?" he was all smugness and impropriety.
She stood, still near the doors, a thin stalk of dark grass blatant against the bright gold.
Though she was dressed as a proud lady, her hair wound up properly, bell sleeves sweeping and draping down her sides, heavy skirts pooling in a small train, a belt of hammered copper disks at her waist, her amber eyes remained down and subservient, shifting nervously.
"I..."
"I have come alone, Lord Helion."
Her voice was small and meek.
Her mouth, her pretty lips... they hadn't smiled in a long time.
Helion almost didn't know what to say.
She had not been here alone in centuries.
Nigh on half a millennium.
He licked his lips.
"Then what message has dear Beron sent you with, Arabella?"
Aloof.
Disinterested.
Unimpressed.
Disrespectful.
He had to be all these things, had to remember, had to force himself to remain the Lord of Day with a heart of stone and ice and cold things.
It all left his head when her small voice said,
"My lord Beron did not send me, Lord Helion."
Her small hands clenched at her sides, twists of rich fabric clenched between white knuckles.
"I came to... I came to tell you that my husband is.... has passed."
The sound of rushing water filled Helion's ears.
My husband has passed.
Helion's facade crumbled.
He sat back heavily in his chair, eyes not leaving Arabella's tense figure.
His right hand rubbed at that arm band, but it did nothing to calm the raging winds in his mind.
"Beron is dead?" He breathed.
Arabella's eyes remained down cast, but a small shudder wracked her thin shoulders.
Helion was on his feet in a moment, and they took him to her side.
There was a startled look in her russet eyes as he gently reached behind her to shut the doors.
Helion had to fight the urge to pull her into his arms, to take her hands in his.
"How," he asked quietly.
Quietly, but with fire and venom there in his voice.
Quietly, because if he was not quiet he would roar from the mountains that his vengeance had been taken from him so cruelly.
Arabella's face crumpled and her lip quivered, eyes growing bright with silver.
She cleared her throat.
"My... my eldest. He... I have been traveling to all the courts to bear the news that Eris is High Lord of Autumn now."
Her voice was painfully soft.
So Eris had killed Beron for the throne.
Helion sighed and raked his fingers through his hair.
He murmured, mostly to himself,
"I expected it, but I never thought he'd actually do it..."
When Helion met Arabella's eyes again, he saw her tremble, saw those tears spill over and trail down the too sharp lines of her face.
This time, he refused to resist pulling her close, and wrapped her small body in his arms, pulling her against him tightly enough he was worried she might break.
But she sank against him and wept quietly in his bare chest, white hand gripping his vest.
His hand cupped the back of her neck and he held her there, letting himself remember those nights all those centuries ago when she had been his, when they had loved each other so thoroughly despite her pairing to that sadist. Let himself breathe in that familiar, lovely scent of apples and bonfires.
He knew that the tears she shed now were not of mourning for Beron.
He knew they were tears of relief, of helplessness, of fear at what would come next.
So he stroked her pinned up hair and savored the feeling of her, and let his rage at Beron that had grown throughout the years bleed away until Arabella was all that existed and mattered.
When her trembling calmed and her hands laid flat against his chest, Helion pulled gently away, cupping her face in his hands.
Her skin was cold, but he remembered a time when the fire in her veins burst forth and warmed her more than the sun could ever warm him.
"Arabella-"
She recoiled and pulled away into herself once more.
"Forgive me, Lord Helion. I know not what came over me."
Helion's brow furrowed and he raised his chin.
"Never apologize to me, Arabella. You never did before."
Again, he reached for her and rather than pull away, she lowered her head again.
"These are different times, my lord," she whispered.
Helion gently pressed up with his fingertips beneath her chin.
"Look at me, my lady."
Slowly, her eyes rose to meet his.
He had meant to say something to her, but the rushing pain of emotion filled his chest again, sparking through his body.
Arabella must have felt something similar, for when he rushed to kiss her she met him with the same passion.
Her thin fingers dug into his shoulders with the same bruising force that he held her with.
He pressed his body against hers, an arm wrapped about her waist, bent over kissing her with fire and passion and the repressed love that now exploded throughout them both.
It took no more than thirty seconds before she gasped and yanked herself away, but Helion followed and placed gentle, quick kisses against her lips, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and every other place he could find.
When he buried his face into the crook of her shoulder, her hands raised again to his back, lying flat and cool against his skin.
"Lord Helion..."
He growled softly at the formality.
But he refused to pull away.
Not when her hands still touched him so fondly, not when her pulse beat so quickly beneath her skin which had begun to warm.
His left hand still grasped her waist, wrapped tightly about it, while his right hand wandered up to the her bound hair, to the cold copper and emerald combs that held her fiery hair in its clasps.
Helion felt Arabella's breath catch and her hand flew up to stop his finger from removing those combs.
"My lo- Helion, wait."
A purr raised in his chest that she had forgone titles at last.
He smiled against her skin.
"I like your hair better down, lovely Arabella."
She flinched against him and he slowly pulled away, fingers dropping from her hair.
Her eyes were lined with tears again, but this time it was dear and discomfort on her face.
Helion's heart clenched.
He asked her quietly.
"Why do you wear it up? You never did before."
But he knew the answer before she said it.
"Beron... after everything he wanted me to be proper. To look... to be reserved. It is- improper to wear my hair down as a woman of my former status."
Helion let his sadness display upon his face as a garment, and smiled gently.
This time Arabella did not stop him from reaching up to pluck each comb from her heavy hair.
The whole length of it tumbled down her back, dull compared to its former splendor, but still beautiful.
A flash of red flame framing her face and draping across her like the richest of clothing.
"Stunning," he murmured.
Red stained her cheeks, but her eyes remained on his.
He contemplated whether he should kiss her again, but simply extended a hand in offering.
"Will you sit?"
For the first time, a small, sad smile lifted her lips and she nodded, taking his hand and sitting in the offered seat.
It was an effort for Helion to move, to remind himself not to stare at her in wonder for the rest of eternity.
There were so many things he wished to tell her, to ask her, to confide in her.
But she was so fragile.
Beron, had MADE her fragile.
The only thing Helion would have wished different about that male's death was that it had been at his hands, slow and painful.
But Eris has surely not spared his father any discomfort.
And that eased Helion's rage.
So he sat beside Arabella, turned towards her, leaning forward in an attentive, unlordlike manner.
Her hands remained in his.
"Tell me everything."
So she told him all since the end of the war with Hybern.
They had arrived back in Autumn with a greatly reduced people and a trashed court, and Eris had begun turning the already discontented peoples against Beron.
It had taken only months before Eris slaughtered Beron in his sleep.
The eldest son had taken care to keep his mother far away from the carnage.
They'd found Barron in the morning, his throat laid open among dozens of other gaping wounds.
Eris had unsurprisingly ascended during the night.
And now here they were.
The widow of one high lord and mother to the new one, come back to her former lover, now the oldest High Lord of Prythian.
Helion listened intently, fingers locked together with hers and elbows on his knees.
When Arabella finished speaking, silence grew between the two of them.
Much had changed.
Much would never be the same, and much was to be determined in this moment.
There were many hateful things that bubbled up in Helion's throat to say about Beron.
But there was uncertainty, instability, fragility in Arabella's beautiful amber eyes that stopped him.
She'd had enough violence, enough abuse, enough talk and feel of pain for an immortal lifetime.
So instead he asked her.
"And you, my lady? What of you?"
Her eyes guttered like a flame wondering whether or not to spark.
"I am to mourn my late husband and assist my son in his duties. Beyond that..."
She trailed off, and Helion gripped her hands tighter.
Her eyes penetrated his soul so deeply he felt he would break.
Despite it all, they were still warm with a mother's love, still fiery with the passion of the young noble's daughter with a powerful flame, still fierce like the lioness that had shared his bed and his heart all those years ago.
But Helion shook his head.
"Arabella, I don't give a damn what Prythian expects from the Lady of Autumn."
Surprise flirted across her face at the assertiveness in his voice, but she said nothing.
"What do you want, Ari?"
Her mouth opened and Helion could hardly keep from kissing her again.
And then she gave a small little laugh.
His chest caved at the breathy sound.
"Helion, no one has asked me that in five hundred years."
Five hundred years ago she had visited him for the last time.
And had never returned.
Five hundred years ago he had asked her if she wanted to run away with him, even though the both of them knew it was impossible.
It hurt him to hear her say that.
His voice was thick and the words came with great difficulty.
"I'm so sorry, Arabella. I'm so sorry."
For the first time he heard a hard edge creep into her voice.
"No, Helion. Don't."
Helion opened his mouth again but shut it as she shook her head.
"I... you can't blame yourself."
But he did.
Oh how he blamed himself and tore himself to pieces and whored himself to forget his failures and what they had cost her.
She pulled her hands out of his, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching towards her, if only a little.
A quiet whimper left her throat at that, but she stood anyway.
Helion watched her, and then got to his feet as well.
Their bodies were so close he could feel the whisper of her velvet gown on his skin.
But Arabella pulled away and began to walk slowly towards the door before she stopped.
"I must go."
Helion's heart sank and he reached out for her, taking her hand in his once more.
"Stay."
She shook her head but before she could speak he brought her hand to his chest, just over his heart.
"Please, Arabella. Stay."
Her face grew sad.
"Helion, I can't. Eris-"
"Eris is high lord for a reason, Ari. He doesn't need your help. Not yet."
A tear fell down her face.
"I can't let him become his father."
Helion gently pulled her closer, away from the door.
"Eris is not Beron, Arabella. You know that better than all of us."
The pain in her face was tangible.
Helion wondered with a flare of rage if there were still fading bruises on her body from Beron's hand.
"From what I've heard, Beron was not always as we knew him to be."
Helion snorted.
Beron may not have always been a sadistic bastard, but he'd always been a sniveling, conniving rat.
He told her as much.
Arabella sighed.
"Eris was always the best of them."
Her voice broke and tears welled once more.
Helion wondered once more how long it had been since she'd been able to freely weep.
"I loved him despite his father... and I got my way with him in the early years. Taught him up in the right ways but his brothers... my boys..."
She covered her face with her free hand and cleared her throat weakly.
"Beron saw weakness and kindness in Eris and knew that the others couldn't be the same. He... took them from my breast and-"
Arabella let out a shuddering breath.
Helion finished for her.
"He turned your sons into monsters."
She sobbed and buried her face into his chest, and they were again in this embrace where she hid in his arms from the world that had hurt her so deeply.
"Eris has led the world to believe him to be cruel and sadistic like his father but... he's the best of them," she said, stumbling over the words, struggling to remain composed.
"Of Beron's sons, he is the best of them."
Helion stroked her hair gently.
"And that is why he will be alright without you. At least for a time."
He pulled away this time, holding onto her too thin shoulders.
"Stay, Arabella. Stay because I need you here."
He paused.
"Stay because you need it."
And then she was kissing him again, and he lost all control.
His hands went to the neck of her dress, pushing down at the shoulders, slipping his hands beneath the rich fabric that so shamefully hid her body.
She hungrily worked her lips over his, tasting him for the first time in five hundred years, tearing at his loose vest and throwing it on the ground.
His skin glowed and grew molten.
Before he could finish pushing the loose cut dress off of her shoulders, his impatience had him unclasping the copper belt and dropping it to the stone floor with a loud clatter that neither of them paid any mind to.
His hands wandered over her, slipping beneath her dress at her shoulders once more and pushing down as he felt her skin, savored it, wanted it.
Her breathing hitched when his lips and tongue trailed down the column of her throat and back up to nip at her earlobe.
Helion discovered that Arabella still made that sound that drove him wild when his teeth grazed across the tender skin beneath her jaw.
And as he scented her arousal, he felt himself grow harder.
When her velvet dress at last pooled at her feet, Helion pulled back to look at her.
Before he could, Arabella's hands left his body and covered her own.
What he beheld there broke his heart.
Here was a female whom he loved, who he would forever have a deep desire for.
And yet her body was thin and waifish from the years of malnourishment in Autumn, and she hid herself from him.
"Arabella," he growled, angry at Beron, body still coursing with desire as he reached for her arms to lower them.
His lips captured hers once more, and she returned his passion with a new sense of hesitation.
Helion's fingers slid down her bare body to her core.
He worked the wetness there against her swollen bud, and she let out a strangled moan, writhing against him, hips rolling into his hand.
And her inhibitions were seemingly gone, her forehead pressed against his shoulder, letting out whimpering moans, clutching and clawing at his back.
A flash of pleasure rolled down Helion's spine and into his belly, and he grew painfully hard.
A groan left his own lips at the noises Arabella released from his ministrations.
She breathed his name desperately.
"Helion..."
He could've finished just from that.
But then she said it again, and along side his name was the pushing against his chest with her hands.
Away from her.
"Helion... I..."
She was breathing heavily, her hair in disarray, her pupils blown.
But there was shame, too.
She hid her body once more and quickly bent to pick up her gown.
"I'm sorry."
She wasn't ready. Wasn't comfortable.
He understood.
He respected it.
As much as his own... predicament pained him.
He saw her eyes flick down to the quite obvious problem and guilt filled her eyes, as well as a blush on her cheeks.
They were both breathing heavily and the scent of them filled the room thickly, like oil.
Helion only cocked a short smile and chuckled.
"I'll be fine."
He desperately hid his disappointment.
"Let me show you to your chambers, my lady."
Arabella's lips lifted if only a little, and she quickly dressed once more.
At her behest and his great complaint, he turned his back while she did so.
When they opened the golden doors, she left without so much as looking to retrieve those copper combs.