Takes place a month prior to "The Harvester of Dominion", before the imprisonment of Denathrius
The trading of rumours via note was a long-standing tradition in Venthyr courts. A whispered word could be overheard, but a note...
They were slipped from hand to hand and hidden up sleeves, subtly read while sipping from a glass, then passed on for the next guest to peruse. It was a practice as old as Revendreth itself, and one Prince Renathal detested. And this rumour - his eyes widened as he read the note's contents - this one left a particularly sour taste in his mouth.
Have you heard the latest about the Prince and the Maw Walker? It is said they're-"
Renathal dipped the scroll idly into the nearest candle flame, held it out, away from himself, watching as it burnt to ash. And then began seriously to brood.
Had the Maw Walker seen it? Of course she had, she had brought it to him after all, but had she read its contents first? Her demeanor as she slipped him the folded paper left no indication one way or the other, her face as expressionless as always. Renathal was getting better at reading the little tells in her smooth, lavender face - blink, a tilt of the head, a quirk of the mouth - but it was still occasionally difficult. Venthyr faces were always expressive, if rarely sincere. Reading the Maw Walker was a challenge, and one he usually relished. But now...
Turning casually, as if contemplating the offerings of the terrace, Renathal searched for the Maw Walker's purple glow, something he found himself doing often during Ember Court sessions. There she was - refilling the Countess's tea cup at the furthest cliffside table, her face as generically pleasant as ever. No discomfort could be detected at this distance. He watched as she attended the table's guests: the Countess, her coterie of fashionable Venthyr socialites whose names escaped him, and "Picky" Stefan, chatting away in a voice loud enough to carry across the terrace. "Ah yes, the fragrance reminds me of my many years in the Banewood! Have I told you-"
The Maw Walker had just straightened, turning as if to leave, when the Countess murmured something Renathal couldn't hear under Stefan's chatter. She and the Maw Walker debated between them for a minute before the Nightborne nodded politely, filled another cup, and took the seat at the table behind it.
Instantly, Renathal's hackles were raised. A scandalous rumor and the Countess present at the same court? He knew this Harvester of Desire too well to believe it a coincidence. If the Countess hadn't written the note herself, she had certainly encouraged one of her entourage to do so. And now she would try to trick the Maw Walker into giving the truth away.
Not that there was any truth to it. Which bothered Renathal almost as much as the existence of the salacious rumour itself.
He had been grappling with his growing feelings for the Maw Walker for several weeks, debating the various practicalities and possibilities of initiating a more... intimate relationship with her. Bedding the realm's champion did hold the potential to complicate his rebellion, but Renathal had decided he could overlook this. Partly because he really wanted to, and partly because he trusted the Maw Walker completely. She was practical and loyal, unlikely to abandon his cause if their hypothetical affair ended poorly, not to mention she was an exceptionally private person when it came to her personal life.
Which was exactly why a rumour such as this might offend her, before he ever had a chance to make it a reality.
Renathal glanced again at the Maw Walker, searching for potential clues. She was listening to Stefan wax on about the tea, while the drink in her own hand remained untouched. She leaned fully against the high-backed chair, seeming, for the moment, entirely relaxed. Hardly the posture of someone incensed by slander, but then, the Maw Walker was generally unflappable.
Renathal sighed. There was only one way to find out what she knew and what she was thinking, and that was to ask her directly. He glided over to the Countess's table at a carefully dignified pace.
"My friends, I do hope we are all enjoying ourselves?"
The Maw Walker glanced up at Renathal's approach - but it was only her familiar, focused look that indicated she was assessing his mood, determining whether anything was amiss. He made sure to comport himself entirely at ease.
"Oh, assuredly," replied Stefan, to whom the question was really the least addressed. "I always appreciate the opportunity to slow down and savour the moment. The last two courts have been far too full of chaos and mess for my taste."
"There is certainly truth to that," Renathal acknowledged. "But our Maw Walker proves once again she is capable of anything, including arranging a most relaxing soiree for a change."
"Oh, it is ... quite relaxing," the Countess inserted languidly. "Possibly too relaxing. One might even say... dull." She dropped the word delicately into the air like a fallen parasol she fully expected someone else to pick up. And sure enough...
"Dull?" The Maw Walker perked up instantly, setting down her undrunk tea. She did take the discontent of Ember Court guests as something of a personal insult, thought Renathal fondly. "And what might be done to liven it to your taste, Countess?"
"Hmm... well, let me see..." The Countess tapped her chin with a finger, feigning thought. Renathal was not remotely fooled. "Well... Kassir could not stop talking about the dancing that went on the last time he attended the Ember Court. He said it was lively enough to rival any castle ball..."
"I remember that," chimed in Stefan. "Yes, quite fun, I'm sure. I've never been one for dancing myself but certainly entertaining to watch. I'm afraid the refreshment at that court was not quite-"
"I was told," the Countess cut in smoothly, "that our own Prince and the Maw Walker made a particularly striking pair dancing together."
The Countess turned her head minutely as she spoke to observe Renathal's reaction, but he had spent too many centuries with this harvester to be caught off-guard. His face was a mask of impassivity that could rival the Maw Walker's.
"Ah, yes..." Renathal said slowly, as if dredging up this memory from some deep recess instead of replaying it behind his eyes every night....
The way the Maw Walker had leant into him as they moved together, allowing him to lead her through the crowd of dancers, surrendering herself entirely to his grip on her hand and waist. The dress she wore to court revealed far too much flesh to be appropriate for Revendreth, but Renathal had appreciated the chance it gave him to stroke his fingers over the warm, bare skin of her lower back. And the way she shivered deliciously when he had, canting her body closer to his as if on instinct....
"Yes... I believe I remember the court you refer to," Renathal continued thoughtfully. "As I recall, we were all of us rather caught up in the delightful music. The Lost Chalice Band can have that effect on the soul."
"The Lost Chalice Band?" queried the Countess. "Why, they're here today, are they not? And yet they do not play! Your guests are forced to entertain themselves as best they can with tea and..." She cast a haughty glance at Stefan. "...the dullest of conversations."
Stefan, for whom self-awareness was never a strong suit, missed the insult entirely. He set his own cup down as if anticipating a change of venue. "Why, I'm sure our Maw Walker can easily arrange for dancing to be added to the Court's offerings. She is always so resourceful."
Renathal's eyes glowed briefly at the prospect of another dance with the Maw Walker, but he checked himself before the Countess could notice. Was there any harm in permitting it? It was obvious the Countess had orchestrated the conversation to ensure this exact outcome - subterfuge was always her special gift - but surely it would be more suspicious to refuse to dance, now that a precedent had already been established?
Additionally, it would make a perfect excuse to speak to the Maw Walker privately without seeming too obvious; determine whether she had read the rumour and establish how she felt about the idea. And, the truth of the matter was, Renathal had been itching to dance with the Maw Walker again for weeks now. Holding her against him for those few minutes had been a pleasure the likes of which he had not encountered for over an age, and he wanted more. The prospect of indulging his craving was too good to pass up.
"Of course, my dear Countess, if it would make the Ember Court more enjoyable for you," Renathal said magnanimously. "Maw Walker, would you kindly inform the Lost Chalice Band their services are required? I shall make the announcement to our guests."
Renathal allowed his eyes to meet the Maw Walker's for a moment, forgoing a wink lest the Countess should catch it, but allowing a spark of humour to shine in their amber depths, as if the whole thing was a joke between the two of them. The Maw Walker, on the other hand, looked strangely ... nervous? Renathal couldn't be certain. It was not a look he'd seen on her face before and it was gone in an instant, replaced by a carefully polite smile.
"I don't think that will be possible, Your Highness, Countess." She nodded at them each in turn. "I'm afraid Chiu has misplaced her lute, which is the reason the band has not played today."
Renathal raised his eyebrows before he could stop himself, but the Countess - busy watching the Maw Walker - did not notice.
"Oh, she's always losing it," commented Stefan. "One would think musicians would take better care of their instruments."
"One would think," the Maw Walker agreed.
"But surely they can manage without one player?" said a Venthyr socialite seated beside the Countess. "How essential can the lute be?"
"Apparently extremely," answered the Maw Walker, a note of finality in her voice. "And a band of only two could not hope to create the proper ambiance for a dance. Perhaps next time." She rose smoothly from her seat before anyone could protest further. "This has been a most invigorating rest, but I'm neglecting the court's other guests. Please excuse me."
She gave a small respectful nod to the table at large, then adjourned as quickly as propriety allowed in the direction of the ramparts, sparing Renathal not the least half-glance on her way.
"How unfortunate," declared the Countess in affected dismay. "I am most disappointed." A statement very much at odds with the glitter of triumph in her beady eyes.
"Your disappointment is a crushing blow, Countess," said Renathal idly, frowning after the Maw Walker.
The Countess was much more conscious of subtle undercurrents than Stefan, and, highly affronted by the insincerity in Renathal's tone, rose from her own chair haughtily and flounced away, followed dutifully by her entourage. Renathal knew he ought to have been more careful with his reply, ought to care more about garnering the Countess's favor; after all, her medallion was still outstanding. But he was too preoccupied with more personal concerns.
The Maw Walker had never denied a guest's request.
Renathal had seen her go to great lengths to please even the least important Ember Court attendee. He knew for a fact she and Temel had taken extra care with this particular court's preparation, conscious as she was of the Countess's potential to help or hinder the rebellion's efforts. And while it was certainly true that the Lost Chalice Band misplaced their instruments with quite unwonted frequency, the Maw Walker had always managed to locate them before. Renathal did not believe for a second she had simply resigned herself to failure this time, not with such a high-profile guest on the line. So why had she chosen not to? He could think of only one reason.
That bloody rumour....
The Maw Walker's distinct lavender outline could no longer be seen from the refreshment tables, so Renathal began a slow glide around Sinfall's center, stealing occasional side-long glances up at the ramparts. Clearly, she had read the note. It was the only explanation for her uncharacteristic refusal to accommodate a guest, and the obvious distance she was keeping from Renathal himself. Usually, they met toward the end of a court to compare notes on guest satisfaction and determine whether or not to let a session run long. Instead, the Maw Walker had purposefully removed herself from him as far as the space of the courtyard would allow. But ... was it to keep guests from reading some truth into the rumour, or because she was now uncomfortable in his presence?
Gliding up the steps to the tribute stage, Renathal surveyed the empty dance floor gloomily, remembering how very different he had felt in that exact place weeks ago...
At the end of their dance, when he met the Maw Walker's eyes and held them, watched their blue-white depths become oddly dark. She had released his hand almost reluctantly, dropping her gaze to hide a violet flush, and anima surged to his core as he smelled the distinct scent of desire...
In that moment, he had been so certain the Maw Walker was as drawn to him as he was to her. But... perhaps he had misinterpreted, mused Renathal. She was so damnably hard to read.
He cast a final glance around the courtyard, distinctly unhappy with the way this evening had played out. Being denied something he wanted was still a relatively new experience for the Dark Prince of Revendreth, and while he was sometimes able to appreciate the freshness of not getting his way, other times it was simply irritating. This was certainly the latter. In a fit of pique, he decided he would end the court early without consulting the Maw Walker, since she hadn't seen fit to reappear. He adjusted the drape of his coat, cleared his throat and opened his mouth, just as a scream echoed chillingly from somewhere behind him.
It was not the shriek of delighted fright that occasionally rang through court when nobles got too close to attacking manifestations or when sheltered socialites were surprised by the sudden appearance of Ardenweald fauna. This was a scream of genuine terror, and Renathal knew, with a sinking in his stomach, what he would see even before he whirled around.
The sky above the ramparts was moving darkly toward Sinfall, as though storm clouds raced in their direction. But Revendreth did not have those sort of clouds or storms, and the dark mass held the glint of red eyes and grey steel. The Stone Legion.
Renathal groaned; fortunately, the sound could not be heard over the courtyard's sudden swell of noise and chaos. Honestly, what else could go wrong tonight? he thought dismally, as he summoned his own magic and hastened toward the Bridge of Banishment. Rumours and the Countess and now the Stone Legion ... this was turning into the worst Ember Court yet.
Renathal's mood had not improved much even hours later; standing at the table that served as his catchall desk and, currently, valet stand, cleaning the dust, debris, and drops of anima from his armor. He could have ordered a dredger to do it - there were enough of them wandering around Sinfall now - but he was restless and needed something to do apart from pacing the room pointlessly, possibly kicking the scant furniture. It was a distinct and embarrassing possibility. Just at present, Renathal felt very much like a petulant child who has just been beaten at a game.
He supposed it had ended as well as any assault could. The Venthyr volunteer defenders, in a surprising twist, held their positions well, driving back the Stone Legion before they had a chance to claim a foothold. Personally, Renathal suspected the Legion's orders had been to sow chaos rather than carnage, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Let the defenders congratulate each other on a job well done, he had decided as he adjourned to his quarters. It would be wrong to force everyone else to feel as disgruntled as he did.
As he finished polishing the breastplate, Renathal paused, listening intently. After a moment's attention to the unbroken silence outside his room, he sighed and began brushing down one of his greaves, salvaging what anima he could from it and returning the metal to its properly shining green and gold.
And he had thought the Ember Court was doing so well... thought he was doing well. So many new contacts and support from other realms, and more Venthyr nobles each week. Renathal had been proud - perhaps too proud - of having the Maw Walker's power and unwavering loyalty at his disposal, not to speak of her affection. And now....
Denathrius had stripped him of his Court, and it appeared that stupid bloody rumour may have cost him his Maw Walker.
Renathal paused again, straining his ears to catch the sound of quiet footsteps making their way down the stone passage toward his rooms. But there was nothing. Not even an echo of the action he knew must be happening in Sinfall's main hall above. Whether the walls had been enchanted to prevent sound carrying, or the stone was just that thick, the noise of the other floors did not seem to reach to this deep corner of the structure, which was one of the reasons Renathal had requisitioned it. Usually he appreciated the privacy, but now it made him feel alone and cut off from his people. And it also meant he could not hear if the Maw Walker had come down from the courtyard.
It had been several hours since the Stone Legion's forces had been routed from Sinfall, but the Maw Walker had not yet appeared at his door to report, as she did almost every evening. Nor had he seen her during the battle. Renathal was beginning to seriously worry that she was avoiding him, a thought which bothered him even more than his dashed hopes of a second dance, or the tantalising thought of more. All his fantasies of future possibilities aside, the Maw Walker was a friend. A close friend. Dearer to him than many of the Venthyr he'd known for millennia, and the closest thing to a confidant he currently had. Everything seemed less terrible, more hopeful, in the light of her soft, lilac glow.
With a sudden indulgence of temper, Renathal slammed the greave he was polishing down on the table. It was too well made to be damaged by the wood, but it did send a shockwave of momentum up his arm hard enough to make him wince.
This was exactly why he so detested rumours, thought Renathal, rubbing angrily at his elbow. They manufactured momentary excitement out of someone else's far longer lasting discomfort. And if his comfortable relationship with the Maw Walker had been permanently altered by that damned note, he would find whoever had written it, Countess or otherwise, and have them condemned to a crypt for an epoch.
"Really, it wasn't all that terrible."
The Maw Walker's voice behind him made Renathal jump. He had been so busy brooding he hadn't heard her arrive. Dropping his still sore elbow, he straightened, trying his best to swallow his agitation before facing her, despite the display of temper she had already witnessed. It wasn't difficult. Just hearing her voice had already eased some of the tension in Renathal's neck and shoulders.
She wasn't avoiding him after all.
He made sure there was nothing on his face to reveal any of his former concern or his current overwhelming relief before he turned to face her... and started.
The Maw Walker was an absolute mess.
Renathal had seen her battle weary before, but always in the heavy robes that functioned as her armor. Today, she had been forced to fight in the rather skimpy dress she kept insisting to a tearful Lady Rovinette, the Ember Court Clothier, was considered a ball gown in her home of Suramar. Reduced to even less material than usual, the tattered ruins of the dress revealed nearly the entire length of both long, smooth legs; much of the midriff was missing as well. The pale, swirling tattoos shining faintly against the skin of her thighs were brand new information for Renathal, and he had a sudden, powerful urge to trace his fingers over them.
"Everyone is accounted for," the Maw Walker continued, oblivious to - or ignoring - Renathal's open stare. "No losses. Only six injuries of note, even those mostly minor. And none of them guests, so no harm done really."
She crossed the threshold into the spartan chamber that served the fallen Prince as office, study, and drawing room, kicking the door half closed behind her with a completely bare foot - she appeared to have lost her shoes somewhere in the fight - and limping to the dark velvet chaise she usually sat on when reporting to Renathal of an evening. Though, she did not usually bleed on it.
Renathal cleared his throat.
"And do you count yourself among that number?" he asked, rather hoarsely, now inspecting her leg more in concern than appreciation.
The blood was dripping from a shallow cut down the side of one completely bare thigh. It didn't look particularly serious, but the limp had not escaped Renathal's notice.
The Maw Walker's face twisted in annoyance.
"No." She glanced down at the cut with a grimace and tried vainly to hide it from sight with a torn bit of skirt. "That's nothing, hardly worth healing. The worst damage to me was from those ridiculous shoes. Trust the Stone Legion to attack the one time I let Lady Rovinette talk me into wearing heels. I tripped over my own bloody feet and twisted my ankle."
For some reason, Renathal found her ire over something so trivial supremely funny. He positioned a hand over his mouth as if in thought to hide the hint of a smile. The Maw Walker did not seem particularly upset or uncomfortable with him, but he preferred not to press his luck by laughing at her when she was so clearly annoyed.
"Anyway," she continued, pulling stray pins from the remains of her elegantly arranged hair. "The courtyard is a bit of a disaster, and the decorations will all have to be replaced. But I've told Boot it's top priority and I'll gather the supplies myself. So, we should have it all fixed up by next week."
"Next week?" repeated Renathal absently, watching her tuck hair pins into some secret place in what had once been the bodice of her gown and was now strategically arranged shreds of gauzy, purple fabric.
Noting his distraction, the Maw Walker stopped, and turned her full attention on Renathal for the first time since entering the room.
"For the next Ember Court," she explained.
Renathal blinked in surprise.
"My dear friend," he said slowly. "I fear we will have to discontinue that particular venture."
A few seconds of confusion ticked past as each looked at the other as though they were the one not making sense. It was the Maw Walker who finally broke the silence.
"Why?"
"You have to ask?" Renathal lifted his hands, allowing his distress to manifest as elaborate gesticulation. "Who in the realm will wish to attend after today's events? Now the nobility know Sinfall cannot shield them from Denathrius' forces, most will certainly decline their invitations. And as the Ember Court exists largely to gain their support, it is ... hardly worth the effort." He dropped his arms, abruptly drained. "No... Denathrius set out to prove to the people of Revendreth that we ... that I ... could not protect them. And ... prove it he did."
Renathal lowered himself wearily onto the chaise beside the Maw Walker and felt the now-familiar tendrils of despair start to snake around his chest. It was a feeling he had never known before the Maw, and it was proving far harder to escape. It lingered at the back of his mind, waiting for setbacks such as today's to weaken his steadfast resolve; allowing an opening for despair to creep through, tainting all his other thoughts. He rubbed his temples fiercely as if the action might push the dread back to his subconscious.
"I disagree," said Maw Walker. Her simple pronouncement made Renathal look up. "You did prove yourself to Revendreth. You proved Sinfall can withstand Denathrius' forces. You drove them back, you protected your guests. No one was lost, or even seriously injured. What more could they ask of you?"
Renathal gave her a grateful smile that did not meet his eyes and shook his head.
"I appreciate the show of support, but I am afraid-"
"Renathal."
Her use of his name sans title made him lift a startled eyebrow. Renathal had long ago granted her the privilege, but she rarely exercised it. He wasn't sure why.
"This was always going to happen eventually," the Maw Walker continued. "We can't hold court under Denathrius' nose and expect him to never strike out. We knew he would test his strength against us at some point. But...that was part of the reason for the Ember Court, wasn't it? To show people the strength of Sinfall, of the rebellion as a whole, and of you as its leader."
The Maw Walker reached out to grasp Renathal's hand where it lay limp against the chaise. Her tender touch ... the soft earnestness in her voice ... they were enough for Renathal's mouth to hang open slightly as she plead her case.
"The Ember Court has always been about displays of power and confidence, as well as hospitality. Tonight merely proved we can stand behind those claims. And with no casualties, the stories that spread about tonight will be about Sinfall's victory. Trust me, this time tomorrow the whole realm will be talking about how exciting a court it was. In three days, socialites will be bragging about being there, and everyone else will wish they were. You'll have Venthyr queuing up to attend the next court. To cancel it would be a serious mistake."
Renathal wondered if hope, like intellect, was a spell the Maw Walker cast with her touch. Already, he could feel the despair evaporating, unable to exist in the same place as the heat she sent rushing through him as she gently squeezed his hand before releasing it.
"Besides," she added with a wry smile, "if you cancel the Ember Court, you will have to break the news to Temel because I certainly won't."
Renathal's small snort of laughter was weak but genuine.
"That would be a fate nearly as terrifying as the Stone Legion," he joked darkly, and she giggled, a brighter sound than Renathal's and one which raised his spirits considerably.
Making the Maw Walker laugh was - he had discovered - something of a rare talent, and Renathal relished his ability to conjure the sound more often than most. He sat up straighter, angling himself to face her more directly.
It was not unusual for them to sit here together; many evenings, when their talk had drifted away from business, had found them both settled comfortably on this overlarge piece of furniture, probably intended for Denathrius. Although, noted Renathal as the Maw Walker shifted, she was usually much more fully clothed. He was conscious of how very easy it would be to brush against her smooth, bare leg and have it seem an accident.
Something of his dark thoughts must have shown in Renathal's face, because the Maw Walker cocked her head at him and said, "What is it?"
Renathal wondered if he dared broach the subject still nagging at him after such a thoroughly inauspicious day. Clearly the Maw Walker wasn't uncomfortable around him, whatever her actions during Court might have indicated. Perhaps the status quo was best simply maintained. But ... that urgent longing to have his hands on her again, to feel her lean into him, trust him to lead her body through exquisite movement... it echoed through him like a song he couldn't forget.
"Oh... it's nothing. Merely..." Renathal drummed his fingers against the arm of the chaise. "It was a shame that Chiu's lute could not be found today. Quite...unusual...for you to be unable to locate it..."
The Maw Walker blinked at him.
"Well, obviously, I could have found it if I looked. I thought it best for the band not to play today while a certain rumour was making its way around court."
Renathal met her eyes swiftly. "So ... you did read the note?"
"Of course," the Maw Walker confirmed. "I brought it to you, didn't I? I know your feelings on rumours, and seeing how this particular rumour might catch fire the more we were seen together, I thought it prudent not to give it any additional fuel."
It was such a practical, obvious explanation, Renathal silently berated himself for ever considering any other possibility. The Maw Walker was always so attentive to everyone's wants, especially his own. She had simply made the assumption he would take greater satisfaction in a rumour being extinguished than in dancing with her, which was a fair one. If incorrect.
"I see," he said carefully. As glad as he was to have the mystery settled, it still bothered Renathal inordinately to have the moment he wanted stolen from him.
The Maw Walker's eyes narrowed.
"Did I make a wrong choice?" she asked, inspecting him carefully. "You seem..." She cocked her head again. "...unhappy."
The way her eyes picked apart each piece of his face in turn, it was as though she were translating him from another language. It abruptly occurred to Renathal that they were two different species, however similar their basic body structure may be. Not that such a thing bothered him. Personally, he found the Maw Walker all the more attractive for how unlike him she was. But she wasn't obligated to feel the same.
"No, no." Renathal shook his head. "I'm sure you acted for the best." He swallowed. It was a gamble, but the Maw Walker was forthright enough that if she did not care for the idea she would simply say. "Only ... I was rather looking forward to another dance." He busied himself adjusting the fold of his cuffs. "And to be robbed of something so pleasurable on account of a rumour ... I confess, I was disappointed."
Silence met this admission. A silence of a few seconds, but they were impossibly long to Renathal who couldn't bring himself to lift his gaze until-
"So was I."
-her simple words ignited a tentative hope like a candle flame in his chest, infusing him with warmth. He met the Maw Walker's eyes, hers intent but unfocused, as though contemplating something. Before Renathal could think of the proper response, she had stood up.
"Come." The Maw Walker held out her hand, her lips quirked in amusement. "I don't want to be accused of robbing the Prince of Revendreth of any sort of pleasure."
It took Renathal a moment to understand. By the time he had, the Maw Walker was already grasping his wrist, pulling him to his feet. Anima pounded a rhythm in the most sensitive parts of Renathal as she placed his hand on her waist and hers on his shoulder, resting more weight on him than last time, presumably because of her ankle.
"What about your injury?" he asked tentatively.
"What injury?"
Renathal had half a foot of height on the Maw Walker, more without shoes, and she had to lift her chin to look him in the face. Her eyes sparkled with barely restrained mirth when she winked. Her high humour sparked life in his own, so sadly subdued all day.
"And... how shall we dance with no music?"
"Hmm ... that is a quandary..."
The Maw Walker assumed an expression of exaggerated thought, then took a deep breath through her nose and began to hum loudly. Renathal could not help laughing, and she smiled around her unfamiliar, slightly off-key song. He waited a moment to catch the beat before tightening his grip and beginning to move her across the stone floor in slow, easy steps.
It could only generously be called dancing. Between the Maw Walker's limp and her attempt at musical accompaniment, it fell to Renathal to support nearly all her weight. Fortunately, they could only go a few strides in any direction without hitting an obstacle - the chaise, the table, the scattered bits of rubble - so there was no room to attempt any more complicated maneuvres. Twice the Maw Walker tripped on a torn length of her own skirt, interrupting her humming with peals of laughter, and everywhere she limped, she trailed drops of red blood from the still-dripping cut on her leg. Renathal was sure they looked ridiculous and was equally sure neither of them cared.
"What is that song?" he asked, when her humming drifted away.
"Oh, just ... something from home. Suramar," she clarified as though Renathal might have forgotten. "It was popular when I was very young, played often at courts. I quite liked it. It always made me wish I had someone to dance with."
Her voice grew thoughtful, and Renathal held his breath. Whenever conversations turned to her homeland or her past, the Maw Walker tended to find an excuse to leave. This time, she merely sighed softly and settled herself more firmly against Renathal's chest. He was suddenly very aware he was dressed in only his shirt sleeves and trousers.
"Surely, you did not lack for partners?"
The Maw Walker huffed a little soundless laugh.
"I was always rather selective about my partners."
She tilted her chin to meet his eyes again. Hers were now several shades darker, and the surge of anima at the base of Renathal's spine made him certain he wasn't imagining the double meaning in her words. His lips parted as he searched for the best way to ask the question burning a hole inside him, but he only managed to say her name before -
"Maw Walker? Are you down here?"
Both of them jumped. The voice echoed from the hall outside Renathal's rooms, and now footsteps were audible, rapidly approaching the door. It was Sinfall's ceaseless refrain. Someone else with a task for the Maw Walker, calling for her aid, seeking her out no matter the time. And she always answered.
The footsteps stopped outside the cracked door, and Renathal grimaced. The idea of losing this moment was almost too much to bear. He groaned quietly, relinquishing his grip on the Maw Walker's waist and back, and was shocked when she tightened her grip on his shoulder in return. She glanced up at Renathal's visible confusement, mouthed Shhh, then waved her free hand in an arc in front of them. Instantly, the same blue mist she had conjured in the Maw sprang into existence, shielding them from sight.
The sparkling, opaque light made it difficult to see the door as it slowly creaked open, or clearly see the Venthyr who stood on the threshold. But it was obvious, as the intruder turned from side to side to inspect the room's corners, that whoever it was could not see the Prince and the Maw Walker standing practically on top of each other in the center of the room.
After a few moments, and another call of her name, the unknown Venthyr retreated back into the hall, shutting the door behind them with a muted snap. The Maw Walker maintained her spell for several more heartbeats - that Renathal could feel with the way her chest was flattened against his - before allowing the blue light to dissipate.
"Shirking your responsibilities?" he asked, but there wasn't the slightest reproof in it. For the Maw Walker to choose him over others, over her work throughout the realm, made him giddy.
"Not at all," the Maw Walker replied, replacing Renathal's hand on her waist and peeling herself from his body enough to comfortably move her feet without stepping on his. "I just think I'm best suited here at the moment."
She squeezed his hand, reminding him to move, and Renathal resumed their makeshift dance, now without any semblance of music and barely any discernable rhythm. It was no more than an excuse to stay touching one another, and Renathal was sure she knew it as well as he.
"Oh?" he asked, his voice pitched deeper.
"You need this." When she caught sight of Renathal's raised eyebrow, the Maw Walker continued, "You carry the weight of an entire world on your shoulders. You need to shrug it off sometimes. You deserve a moment to just ... enjoy something. And if this is what you want, and I can give it to you, then you shall have it."
The Maw Walker's voice was forthright, her tone business-like and unemotional, but there was an invitation there, Renathal was certain. It was in the rapid beat of her heart as it pulsed against him, and the way she shivered when he trailed the hand supporting her back slowly down her spine. He could feel his growing need for her, wondered if she could feel it too with how little clothing separated them.
"And what of you?" His voice was a low rumble, and the Maw Walker lowered her head to try and hide her violet flush forcing Renathal to speak against her dark hair. "You hold the fate of the entire Shadowlands. All of reality relies on you. Surely, you deserve to enjoy yourself as well."
The Maw Walker's hmm communicated disagreement. Renathal was unsure what she meant by it but that was a mystery for another time. At the moment, all that mattered was that she was wrong.
"You do."
He pronounced the words like a command, and they held a distant echo of the power of dominion, his for so many eons. Not even the Maw Walker could broker an argument. Renathal ended their stilted perambulation and removed one of his arms from around her. He tilted her chin up with two long, careful fingers, forcing the Maw Walker to meet his gaze as he uttered her name.
"What would you most enjoy?"
"Honestly ... I enjoy..." She closed her eyes as she admitted, "Being here ... with you. This is the most I've enjoyed myself in ... in a very long time."
The Maw Walker exhaled deeply as if the confession were a weight from which she had been freed. And Renathal could sense it distinctly on her now: the heady perfume of desire. He would know it anywhere, but from her it was flavoured differently. Whether because of her race or her arcane magic or the fact that it was filtered through her mortal body, he wasn't sure - but he knew he wanted to drown in it. He leant down until his face was close enough to hers to feel her warm breath.
"I also enjoy your company. Immensely. I should ... like to enjoy it more."
Renathal spoke as plainly as he could, mirroring the Maw Walker's forthright approach to truth he so admired. It made her smile.
"I would be amenable to that," she replied.
Her eyes flicked to his lips. And she was still smiling when Renathal kissed her for the first time.
It occurred to him again after their lips met - tentatively, exploring - that the Maw Walker was not Venthyr. Her lips were soft, her mouth as warm as the rest of her, her taste heady and unfamiliar. Renathal wondered what he felt like to her. He would be so much colder and sharper, he knew. But this wary train of thought evaporated as the Maw Walker's kiss grew more eager. Her hands crept delicately up his chest, skimming his face, threading their way through his long hair, and he allowed himself to sink into her.
Renathal was a master of control, but this was a temptation the likes of which he had never faced. The Maw Walker's warmth suffused him, starting at his mouth and leaving trails of thrilling energy everywhere she touched. He couldn't stop his hands clutching at her waist, canting her hips closer to him as she stood on tiptoe, trying instinctively to feel her heat against every part of him.
And if he thought he would be content with a dance, a kiss, Renathal had gravely underestimated the depth of his own desire. He needed all of her. Everything.
"Would it be considered ... bad manners if I asked you to stay?" he asked, voice ragged, when they broke for air.
"At this point," said the Maw Walker breathlessly, "I think it would be worse manners not to."
She tried to smile at her own witticism but it came out hungry, and Renathal could only growl his approval.
It was hardly the graceful seduction Renathal had been imagining. There was a rough scramble to remove clothes; her hands tugging at his shirt, his claws ripping off the remains of her dress. Every movement was full of an open desperation that would usually mortify him. Sex was as much an art form as anything else. And while he may not have the illustrious reputation of others in Revendreth, he had never allowed himself to be anything less than perfect in his various conquests.
But Renathal couldn't remember his body ever feeling so on fire. Was this how it was for mortals? Primal and necessary? The sensations were all-consuming at the cost of his focus. But if the Maw Walker was disappointed at the relative inelegance of his movements, she hid it extremely well.
Any further fears she might be uncomfortable with how different Renathal was from her own kind - the cold of his skin, the points of his teeth, the sharp edges of his nails as he dragged them down her naked legs wrapped around his hips - were soothed by her exquisite cries. He was shocked at the variety of sounds he could draw from the normally recalcitrant Maw Walker as he pinned her to the chaise and explored her body.
The nuance of expression ... the generosity of volume ...
Renathal had expected to have to work to discover what she liked. Every other aspect of her was always a challenge, and one he enjoyed. But here, underneath him, the Maw Walker abandoned all fight. She surrendered herself to him completely, giving his hands and mouth free reign of her body. It was so exhilarating, Renathal couldn't bring himself to hold back for more time, couldn't resist the way she opened her legs and offered herself to him. He could only give himself to her with equal enthusiasm.
Thought intruded just once when a sharp cry as he entered her made Renathal worry she might be hurt. He shook back his long white hair to inspect the Maw Walker's face with concern, but there was no indication of pain. Just open, panting lips and eyes, wide and desperate.
"Don't stop Renathal please," she moaned all in one breath, pronouncing his name like a prayer.
It made Renathal's head swim, his eyes cloud over in anima-fueled lust, but he mustered enough self-control to pause for a few seconds. The Maw Walker arched her back, crying out in exquisite anguish at the lack of friction, but this was essential.
Renathal leaned down to speak his words against her lips like a kiss: "Don't let me hurt you." And he could taste the smile around her own laboured breathing as she whispered back, "I'm not ... so delicate." Her legs locked around his hips as her body pleaded with his for more, and Renathal vigorously granted her request.
It had been centuries. Or more. Renathal couldn't recall precisely when he had last done this, and he knew however long ago it was it had never been quite like this. Which must be why he couldn't control his frantic rhythm ... why he couldn't contain himself any longer when she suddenly sobbed his name against his ear ... why he felt so entirely sated and pleased with all of reality when he finally sat back against the chaise, letting the dregs of swirling anima settle in his limbs. And why he felt almost immediately ready for her again as he watched her naked form roll off the chaise beside him and bend to pick up the remains of her gown.
Some of Renathal's general good feeling ebbed when he realised the Maw Walker was dressing - or rather, wrapping the shredded fabric strategically around herself to meet the bare minimum for modesty. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat, immoderately pleased when she stopped her work to let her eyes wander his own bare body distractedly. He stretched out an arm to drag her back to him and she complied, sitting astride his lap, moaning softly when she felt how much he still wanted her.
"Stay," Renathal ordered gently, tracing her pale, swirling tattoos. The Maw Walker shuddered at his touch.
"Surely tempting others is a sin."
Renathal chuckled, low and gravelly, and buried his face against her throat, speaking against her lavender skin.
"Not if it is an offer made sincerely."
The Maw Walker ran her fingers tenderly through his hair, and Renathal groaned softly. It had been an impossibly long time since he had known any touch so sweet, so careful.
And there were reasons for that, he reminded himself. But he refused to dwell on them now. She was not Venthyr, she was not of Denathrius. She was something entirely outside the Sire's control. And she would never betray him.
"I can't stay, and neither can you," said the Maw Walker, breaking through Renathal's thoughts." People will be looking for us in earnest by now, and it wouldn't be wise to worry them." Renathal reluctantly lifted his head, and she smoothed the hair of his goatee back into place with a smirk. "Unless you'd like the next rumour to be about how the Maw Walker absconded with the Prince."
"Mmm..." Renathal hummed unhappy agreement, tracing her teasing smile with his thumb. "Practical as ever."
With a small kiss to his palm, the Maw Walker pulled his hand away, withdrew from his lap, and drew him to his feet. She bent to fetch his clothes for him where they'd fallen, smoothing them out with a wink, and Renathal knew she was trying to force him to smile, knew she didn't want to leave him melancholy once again. He tried his best to look as relaxed as she did.
Renathal knew she was entirely correct; they had been unaccounted for far too long. It was actually shocking no one had interrupted them, since he had neglected to do anything so sensible as locking or barring the door. Although, he supposed, as he fastened his shirt, would either of them have noticed if someone had entered? He eyed the door suspiciously, still working at his buttons. It would not be a good idea for their tryst to become common knowledge in Sinfall - especially after all the Maw Walker's work to quash the rumour - but at the moment Renathal was finding it hard to care. All he was concerned with now was what came next.
The Maw Walker clicked her tongue in mock dismay as he missed the same button for a third time. She came to his rescue as always, moving his hands out of the way and fastening his shirt with quick efficiency. Something about the domesticity of it touched Renathal deeply, in places that had been abandoned for many ages. He fought the sudden instinct to draw her to him again, to refuse to let her leave...
He swallowed hard, and tried to mirror the Maw Walker's amusement instead.
"Thank you." Renathal gave his words an ironic edge and an accompanying mock-formal nod.
"Thank you," she replied with a wink. "This was exceptionally pleasant. We should do it again sometime."
His eyes widened slightly, and the knot forming inside him unraveled. Again. That was exactly what he needed to hear. For whatever reason, the Maw Walker had awakened something in Renathal he'd either forgotten or never fully known. An all-consuming hunger, a desperate need. And this moment, as blissful as it was, had barely whetted his appetite. Renathal had not had his fill of his Maw Walker, not by half.
The Maw Walker gave him a chaste kiss on his sharp cheek by way of goodbye, but Renathal snaked an arm around her waist once more to stop her. With the promise of more to come, he could feel his good mood and dark humour returning.
"Consider this part of your regular duties, then," he said with an arch smile, adopting her business-like tone of address. "After all, we are both very important, very put-upon leaders." He punctuated his words with a final kiss of his own, not quite so chaste, drawing out the time before he had to release her lips. "I believe our mutual satisfaction will prove quite important to the war effort."
The joy in the Maw Walker's full-bodied laughter continued to ring through Renathal like the echo of a bell for a long time after she finally left.