"That isn't an excuse to not drink Juli," Alexander swivelled the beer in his goblet, bloodshot eyes fixed on the warlord sitting across from him.
"Oh! Wait wait wait...," he sputtered, "because the putiful writer will be sleeping in yo bed? You plan on being sober so ya don't accidentally knock her up?" his laughter died down as he raised the goblet to chug down another shot.
"I have more important work than fathering illegitimate kiddos, and don't you dare call me Juli again," Julian snorted, bringing a beer cup to his lips but not drinking.
"Ansa me first asshole," Alexander growled.
He filled in a deep breath and let go, shoulders hunched down,
"Yes, something like that. I don't intend to keep my head in my junk while I sleep next to her," he rubbed a hand over his face, a never-been-there anxiousness tickling him constantly.
"Wanna take it slow with her, huh? Don't have more important work, Juli?" Alexander teased.
"Have I asked about your concubines that you're hellbent on knowing mine Alexa?" he spat, tired with his drinking sessions. Alexander's calling him Juli was a sign if he'd drink anymore, he would pass out.
"Ah! Ask away haha I'll tell bout her," he banged the goblet down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Sop, she... is this really hot, you know hot right, Juli? Really hot piece of human, hotter than yo.. yo putiful gurl-"
"Spit already,"
"Mhmm... Lola," he sighed dreamily, "Seems like the perfection of a woman."
"Then you better be off to her," Julian raised from his seat, steadying the Macedonian general, who was lost in the thoughts of his newest concubine.
"Yep, right thing. I will sleep in the concubine's assassin tonight," he mumbled. "Lemme see what's that Lola made up of!"
"Its association," Julian grumbled, finally able to drag him out of the camp and away from his drinks.
The said concubine was startled when he pushed the drunk general into her room. It was a good thing they assigned her a drunkard during her selection.
He had seen women like the concubine Alexander had chosen, but it didn't surprise him. His blue-eyed fantasy was much sweeter.
Since when were you prowling for sweet women? he scoffed at the voice inside him.
True to that. He had gone insane, unexpectedly changing his choice of women.
He walked back to the camp area. Checking the surrounding once again, he trudged back to his camp. Heart beating an erratic rhythm.
"The fuck's wrong with me," he touched a hand to his chest, rubbing it continually for the uncooperative feeling to go. It was happening for quite a time, and he couldn't figure out for his Hades sake what was wrong with him.
Initially, he had thought if it was because of the drinking sessions with Alexander. Had he drunk too much that his heart was on its way to a massive attack? He was panicked by the thought of dying so soon and had quit drinking all at once.
Despite that, the shitty feeling won't go.
Entering the camp, he shook out of his boots and fetched a cistern. Pouring water in his hands, he splashed his face, weaving a wet hand through his hair.
When he relaxed a bit, his eyes landed on the sleeping figure of his blue-eyed fantasy.
Her slender body lay crouched on the bed, facing away from him. The even movement of her back told she'd slept long after he was gone.
With the metal balls chained to her ankle, it was almost comical to see how she'd climbed the bed. When he had offered to pick her up, she had chickened out a great deal.
"T- They are not that heavy, I can get on," saying, so she had turned her head to the side, refusing to look at him.
He had chuckled and left.
But hiding behind the camps was a good idea.
He had watched as she picked a metal ball with great difficulty and lowered it on the bed. When one of her legs was stable, she had pulled the other ball causing her to stumble back on the bed, sprawled.
As if it were him who had pushed her down, ready to devour her to the very soul.
Shaking his head at the thoughts, he went to the corner of the camp where the torch of fire burnt brightly. He extinguished it, letting the moonlight engulf every corner.
Walking back to the bed, he sat beside her sleeping form. The moonlight entered the little opening of the ragged cloth wall, gleaming her skin to a milky shade. The thud in his heart resurfaced.
Now he was certain she was the cause.
The linen wrapped around her was loosened since the last time he saw. She must've done it for the ease of sleeping.
Without disturbing her, he reached for the metal balls and unchained it from her delicate ankle. He sighed in relief to see there weren't any injury marks.
Injury marks.
He remembered when she had bent a little to read her book, only to wince at a pain that probably came from her back.
How badly he wanted to raise her from the ground and onto the bed, to check where it was hurting her.
But he'd restrained himself.
It was a good thing she was sitting down. That way she didn't see how hardened his jaw was, how tight his knuckles were, to stop himself from showing sympathy to a woman he barely knew.
Reaching for the loose linen draped on her lower back, he carefully undid it slightly to see dried blood sticking to her skin.
"What the-," he looked at the white linen stained red due to the wound.
"When did this happen?" he whispered to himself, mad at the person behind the cause.
Mad at himself.
Fetching a clean cloth, he dipped it in a cistern filled with fresh water. Wringing it, he gently patted the wet cloth on her wound, removing possible dirt and dried blood.
She stirred a little, back arching slightly at the discomfort. He froze momentarily, paranoid that she noticed his little tenderness towards her.
When she was back to her even sleep, he leant forward to see her eyes closed. Slight snoring heard from her side.
He exhaled heavily and continued his work. After the wound was cleaned, he got up to take a few leaves he collected daily.
The medicinal leaves.
The ongoing wars had too many recurring wounds from swords and spears. Moreover, he didn't have time to sit back in a camp and get treated when he could kill a bunch of dumb warriors.
In view of that, he kept these leaves with him, to crush them till their juice dripped and applied it to his wound.
Taking the leaves in his palm, he crushed them, causing a green fluid to accumulate on his fingers. Collecting the sap on his thumb, he applied it slowly to her wound, until it seeped inside her injury.
He covered the wound back with her linen and laid beside, keeping an appropriate distance between them.
Closing his eyes, he tried to sleep, but in vain. Sky-blue eyes weren't leaving his mind. The urge to see them only grew inside him.
He tilted himself in her direction with his head resting on the upright elbow. Being way larger than her small frame, he easily leaned over her head, easing his hands through her hair.
He continued to trace her body with his eyes. A slim back dipping just the right amount at her waist, proceeding to her lush thighs.
There wasn't a doubt she entranced him.
Not to mention, he was sick of having his concubines. This one seemed a pleasant distraction from his usual path at taking women.
He stopped moving his fingers abruptly through her hair when he felt a minor bump on the back of her head.
It was his fault.
When she was using her smart mouth while still tied to the wooden pole, he had advanced towards her in anger.
But his fury knew no bounds when the awkward twitch in his heart had emerged in her vicinity, making him grip her head so hard, it resulted in banging on the pole.
Now he was feeling utterly guilty about his manhandling.
"It wasn't intentional, Mila," he whispered, softly rubbing the bump on her head.
Taking the extra linen that lay loose around her shoulder, he blew hot air over it and pressed lightly on her head.
His conscience reminded him of another damage he had done. It was when he had tilted her head backwards, way too much.
He reached for the back of her neck, massaging it gently.
Hoping to ease the ache she never complained about.
"Just how much pain do I have to give you," he tched, feeling absolutely miserable for his harshness towards this soft beauty.
She mumbled something incoherent, hands moving out that were initially folded below her cheek. She turned around, head landing on his arm that was spread out.
He stilled.
Her unconscious self began to feel his torso, fingers that moved up his tilted frame, up till his biceps. Her small arm was now raised completely to reach his muscled one but still left off an inch, not able to get a grip.
He closed his eyes in bliss. This was too much to take.
The softness, the gentleness of her actions, the feel.
He felt as if he was basking in heaven under her touch.
Her brows creased in unease when she couldn't get a proper grip. Hands unknowingly continued to feel through this chest when she got a hold.
Julian came wide awake as her arms looped around his neck. She inched her unaware self closer to him, the warm air of her breath now fanning softly over his chest.
He looked down, completely dumbstruck at what to think. Her head lying over his arm weighed nothing, the legs that had also made a comfortable position over his.
How he wished all this had happened when she was fully awake. When she would do it on her own, knowing what she was doing, instead of in her sleep.
He gently unclasped one of her hand from his neck. Taking her wrist in his hands that were slightly bruised due to the ropes, he kissed it tentatively, keeping it over his chest.
The thud in his heart lessened for the first time in the night, under her warm palm.