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s e v e n t e e n
It's a blur of wind, and fast movement amongst the woods, the thick trunks of trees all beginning to meld together in one solid colour. Her hair billowed behind her, and the air's movement hit her face harshly, cold tinging her features a pale pink.
Alden's fur is warm and thick beneath her grasp, fingers curled tightly and not bound to let go anytime soon. His form is smooth as he paws across lycan grounds, and her face nuzzles into him, fear beginning to flicker in the pits of her stomach.
She didn't know what was happening, and the wolf was beginning to shrink into herself.
The general skids to a smooth stop, and her eyes peel open, vaguely recognising the clearing that they had held the barbecue in, not at all far from the main courtyard of the palace.
Her fear begins to grow, especially when the beast slowly nudges her off from him, movements gentle as to not hurt her.
Ember wasn't scared of vampires. She hadn't encountered them before, but they held no threat.
It was the scent, that horrid and grotesque scent that sent her head into havoc. Ember was sensitive to scents and smells, and now that there were vampires nearing her, her nose burned and her throat began to swell.
It was different to when Orion – the lawkeeper- had been here. Orion didn't have a scent, because he'd given up most of his vampire characteristics to be a lawkeeper. And then, there were a hoard of strong lycan males around Ember, and that was all she could smell, their strong and primal musk.
It was sickly sweet, so sweet to the point where nausea would build. Her head would begin to throb with a sullen ache, and she'd begin to feel faint. The nausea would build and imprison her stomach, until eventually the bile would rise and she'd be sick all over.
She hated the smell, and her body already had a weak stomach, so it was already taking a toll on her. Her throat felt dry, and her thoughts began to feel clouded.
The more the figures began to near, the stronger the smell got. Her stomach writhed, and her breakfast was beginning to threaten to spill from her mouth, throat welling. She's hot, body temperature raising with a sudden fever, and it's like she can't breathe. There's no more oxygen left for her, except for the scent.
It wasn't just her body that took a hit from it either.
Her head flared up with things she had locked away for so long.
The beta used to flood her room with the smell, make her stew in it for the darkest hours of the night, have her throw up and then have her sleep in her sick. She'd throw up until the contents of her stomach were empty, and then she'd have to suffer through the weight of nausea falling over her, the body wanting to rid, but having nothing left to give up.
He wouldn't let her clean herself up, making her sleep in it until every inch of her smelt foul, and the surface of her skin was covered in it's dried contents. It was only when light dawned, when she was allowed to get up and rub her skin raw from it, and eventually wash the sheets over and over again, to not rid only her own mess, but the scent.
Her room would linger in it for days after he chose to do so, and it would always leave a small trace that she'd have to bear. She always felt faint headed in the room he had given her.
He didn't do it all the time, but Ember dreaded it whenever he chose to do so. He found amusement in the fact that she couldn't hold herself together, that all it took was a mere smell to have her insides become her outsides. He liked feeling her humiliation, in having to sleep in soiled sheets and skin, and liked hearing embarrassed cries.
The wolf feels deathly sick, and now her head is haunted by things she doesn't like to remember, to see. It was too much for her, breaking and unable to call out to Alden.
The male paced across the border of the clearing, form tense and canines and claws ready. He was completely in his defensive and protective mode, beast unhappy that vampires had come without an invitation.
The Lycan Kingdom were on good terms with the Vampire Kingdom, but even so, this was out of the blue and they didn't know what intentions the bloodsuckers had. It was always best to assume the worst, and Alden's concentration is too adhered to them.
Growls lapse from the lycan's throat, front faced towards the direction the unwanted figures were nearing.
Ember's head hurts, throbbing hideously, and her stomach swirling uneasily. Her eyes prick with tears, memories from what the beta had her endure, and her lower lip trembles.
The smell infiltrates all of her, like a poison and she feels revolting, inside and out.
Her body moves unconsciously, feet padding backwards with no direction, just wanting some distant and to have the scent leave her. There must be quite a few vampires, because it's overwhelming and her head builds with pressure.
Tears spill, rolling down to the soft curve of her jaw. Feet are slow, stumbling back and tripping over a large hoard of rocks that were stumped into the ground, and in the process grazing both her knee and elbow hard enough to have skin lifted, and blood pool from fair skin.
The wolf can't focus on the stinging of the small wounds, amber hues latching onto the figures finally emerging. It was so strong, and it's a groan that comes from her, pitiful. She scuffs back on her backside, moving further and further away until her form hits the cold bark of a tree.
Knees are pulled up immediately to her chest, her head resting on them and looking below, dipped down and trying to breathe, but to no avail.
The female hyperventilates, the smell triggering something really dark, and she doesn't want it in her head anymore. She wants it all gone, and it just isn't leaving her. Why won't it leave her? Small hands are placed at the side of her head, fingers treading through the roots of her hair, breathing hard in and out. She's trying to shut everything out. Her chest rises and falls constantly.
Alden's head snaps back, brown orbs finding her before curling worriedly once falling onto the small female, her cries soft.
But the movement before him captures his attention once again, and his eyes find the creatures blessed with skin like the surface of the moon, white and derived from colour, with a hollowed glow. The skin shimmered, and features were hard, marbled. Skin was cold, hair was fair and lips were devilish in colour.
The general is angry, blood boiling within him at the fact that they reduced his little wolf to the state she is now, even if they were unaware of what they did.
His form is pranced, leaning back and about to jump to have his canines sink into a teeth.
"Alden," it's a bellow, hard and clear. The male retracts in submission, still unhappy.
Ember's head picks up with the voice of her half, amber hues looking through shed tears and landing on him. She rubs her eyes, before her stomach clenches uneasily. Her head dips back to the ground, trying to prevent herself from being sick.
Her head hurts, but the wolf inside has managed to heave it under control, lock it back in place, and have the human only to deal with the physical effects. The wolf is drained from having to do such a thing.
"Teeth away. I have no desire in spurring a war with the Vampire Kingdom over the death of their people. Regardless of the fact they turned up uninvited on lycan soil, they are still King Lance's people. There will be no blood spilled," he warns the general.
Alden tucks his tail in, heading over to Mekhi and Micah, who were both in human form, and three other shifted males. Micah throws Alden some shorts, and he's into his skin form quickly.
Teal hues assess the situation, but he can feel her before he can see her. The bond leads the King to her thoughts, which were brittle and fragile, on the verge of snapping. He can't make much out, it's vague and all mushed together. The wolf is covering a lot of it from herself too, but he can pick up it's to do with the vampire scent and the beta.
He doesn't need to know more, not wanting to push something she hasn't told him willingly.
The priority is his gift first. The King is to her side immediately.
Large hands pick her up from her sides, sitting down onto the ground and pulling her up to his lap. She doesn't say anything, not lifting teal hues. Instead, she's underneath the material of his hoodie, pressing a damp cheek to his warm torso, and having the hoodie engulf her in his scent completely, blocking out the sweet and sickly smell that was burning her.
She doesn't move, and he doesn't either, letting the female do what she had to. Mekhi's a little scared, feeling the havoc wreaked in her head, and how her form quivers. His mouth settles into a hard line. He doesn't say anything, strong arms around her and shielding her as much as he could.
Micah knows Mekhi will be with his female, so he stands forward, prince folding his arms with a hard expression. He didn't know what was going on with Ember, and his only presumption is that these vampires had scared the little wolf bad.
None of these lycans appreciated that, watching with harsh expressions and lifted lips.
Micah vaguely recognises the vampire general.
"King Lance hasn't mentioned an arrival from his people, neither did we ask for your presence on our lands. That is considered trespassing, and we can only assume the worst. I suggest you explain yourself," he demands attention from all of the vampires.
The vampire general stands forward, clearing his throat.
"My prince, our apologises for such an entrance. Our intention isn't malicious, you have my word. We were merely here already on some business-,"
"What business?" Micah asks, brow raised.
"King Lance had some issues with the Law. We ventured here to resolve them for him. That is all," Micah meets Mekhi's facial expression, eyes sharing a look.
The King's ears were alert, even if his every fibre was dedicated to consoling his female.
The Vampire King was the only King that Mekhi could stand conversing with and was probably the closest to. Lance had lost his own mate a year into their relationship, and the males bonded over that. Mekhi has a small inkling to what Lance's business was with the Law, but he turns the thought away.
Lance was playing a dangerous game with the Law, and the matter wasn't his business.
The lycans wait patiently.
"We came here afterwards, as it we can hit two birds with one stone practically. King Lance wants to invite King Mekhi over to the Vampire Kingdom for a celebratory dinner. For his mating with the wolf," the vampire general speaks, almost warily with eyes dipped low, a little shame at what they had done to Ember.
"The wolf? For fucks sake, do you even see what you've done to her?" Alden growls, beast het up that his Queen as shaking so hard.
"Alden enough," it's a snap from Mekhi, and Alden reels in with the commence once more, beast still aggravated.
"They didn't know of their wrongdoing, or how it affected my Queen, but I take that they will not make the mistake of crossing my lands without a message beforehand, for the next time it occurs, vampire blood will colour these grounds. Be thankful my general didn't take your throat. Is that understood?" Mekhi's tone is calm, teal hues dangerously glaring.
"Quite right sire," the general nods, head dipped low.
"Right," Micah's tone is clipped, eyes narrowed in. Mekhi makes no move to make a response, stroking Ember's hair, who has retreated out of his hoodie, arms around his neck and face pressed into the crook of it, hardly breathing.
"King Mekhi will get back to you on the matter. Thank King Lance on our behalf for such an invitation," is all Micah says, features not friendly.
"Alden, Micah. Make sure these vampires are off our grounds by the next hour," is all Mehki says, before picking himself and the female from the grass.
"Sweetheart?" it's a murmur as the group leaves, and he heads back to the trail leading to their home. She hums in response, still not lifting her face from him. Her brows are curved, lips pouted and eyes dewy and wet.
"I don't think you should go to that appointment today," he murmurs, brows creasing. Whatever had happened in this instant, obviously wore her out, and he didn't want her to have to expose herself even more, when she was already in such a vulnerable state.
She nods in agreement, curling a little harder.
"I don't like the smell," it's a cry, but Mekhi knows it's much deeper than that, and he just presses a kiss to her head, following back the path.
The male carries the female back to the palace, her form having tired out, eyes begin to lull against the rhythmic stride of his walk, face pressed against his neck.