Chapter Text
His hair seemed soft, or rather, well kept. Once a light lavender, as he aged, the locks had deepened into a rich shade of purple, accenting his violet eyes nicely. One might have considered him handsome, or in some cases she had even heard, ethereal.
The princess snorted to herself at the thought, finally moving her eyes forward to the main road ahead. The Captain led her horse by the reins, his strides steady, vision always on the move for potential threats. Their conversation had been shallow since they left town, most likely due to the days of travel, the blazing sun, and the princess’s impending marriage to the neighboring Prince.
Their visits throughout the Kingdom had been merely for show, demonstrating to the people that their Highness was joyous, and of course, eager to wear a ring on her finger. Well into her second decade of life, she was used to the theatrics. She could have cared less about her future husband, the man had done nothing but cause her grievance after grievance, and she’d never even met him. But, the crowd could never tell.
Her eyes drifted to Rafayel once again, and she sighed, hoping to get his attention. She fought the smirk that threatened to lift the corner of her mouth when his head subtly tilted towards her, and she could see him looking over her form from the corner of his eye.
“Princess?” he inquired with an amused lilt to his tone.
“Nothing,” she mused, and tugged at the hem of her cloak. The fabric was worn and musky. “Just wanted to make sure you were still alert.”
“You wound me,” he responded as he grasped his chest as if shot by an arrow. “Are you by chance bored, Princess?”
Her boot found his side for a second, tapping him as a scolding. She knew the answer, she could tell by the way he pushed her boot back to rest against her horse. The man is in the exact same predicament as the princess.
“So,” she began, her tone casual. “What’s a kiss like?”
If she hadn't known him since they were young kids, she would have easily missed the falter in his step.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “We’ve always told each other everything. Do you know how disappointed I was to hear through maid gossip that you were courting the Blacksmith’s daughter at some point?”
His next chuckle was seductive, not a single tint of shame. Her thighs tightened against the side of the horse, an involuntary reaction of muscle. It was rare when his voice deepened, when she caught a glimpse of what past lovers may have experienced. While it was true they mostly told one another everything,their romantic escapades were never mentioned. Well, in her case, the lack of them.
“Raf,” she tried one more time whilst leaning over to poke his shoulder. When that didn’t work, she pressed her finger lightly to his cheek. He stopped.
The look she received was one of mischief. The fluid turn of his head had his nose merely an inch from hers. Unsure where to rest her eyes, his gaze held hers. When his stare made it difficult for her to think, let alone swallow, was hard to identify.
“Since when did the babble of maids interest the Princess?” he avoided, his warm breath tickling her dry lips.
She licked them.
His eyes dropped quickly on a sharp inhale, then his gaze slowly, ever so slowly, dragged back up. Tortured. That’s how he looked.
The princess’s lower back ached from the awkward position she held, her fingers clenching around the soft mane of the horse. The shuffle of hooves was loud, interrupting her thoughts as she returned to her previous position, sitting straight. She cleared her throat, and rolled her shoulders. The weight of his gaze was heavy.
“What brought this on?” was his question, his voice abnormally serious. She still didn’t look at him, but she felt her horse begin to walk again.
“I’m nervous,” she confessed truthfully. “The Prince is scheduled to visit next month. Negotiations are to begin.”
He hummed, acting as if he already didn’t know this. Rafayel was the Captain of the Guard, no one made a move without him knowing. The princess was sure he already had it planned where each Knight would be stationed the minute the Prince arrived. Hell, he already knew where the Prince’s personal guards would be staying.
“At some point, the Prince and I will need to . . .” she trailed off, her eyes back on Rafayel’s hair. She swallowed. “There are duties I need to fulfill.”
The clenching of his fist upset the leather of reins. He had always been protective, critical of any suitors that came before her engagement. The Kingdom’s future was his justification. When she was younger she truly believed such words, now, her chest warmed at his poorly disguised jealousy.
Rafayel was bold with his actions, confident in his words. He stood tall, and his subordinates held him in high regard. His expertise was masked by a facade of arrogance and sarcasm leading his enemies into a dangerous assumption. They underestimated him.
“If it’s a political union, sharing a bed, let alone a kiss, isn't required,” his voice brought her back to the present, and she turned just in time to see his hand wrapped around her covered ankle. He removed her boot gently from the stirrup and replaced it with his own. With a grunt, he lifted himself onto the horse behind her; the front of his thighs molded to the back of hers. Her feet hung loosely as he nudged the horse into a steady canter.
“Gotta move a lil faster,” his words were rushed, informality sneaking its way through his usual proper speech.
She nodded, suddenly attune to every breath she took. Could he feel her heart through her back? Can he feel her trembling? His scent enveloped her, rich and clean, a mix of the leather that protected him, and the ocean in which he came from.
She was aware of every inch of his body, every taut muscle that begged her to touch. She’d harbored such feelings for years, since her late teens, when she first spied his body drenched in sweat, a thin white tunic stuck to his skin, his forehead littered with strands of purple hair. A princess wasn’t allowed on the sparring grounds, where Knights trained and bled. No, she was required to remain safe, clean, and proper. God forbid a speck of dust from the training ground’s sand sullied her dress.
She had snuck out that day, eager to find Rafayel. The night before they had escaped in the middle of the night to a town festival. She had her first sips of alcohol while Rafayel cheered her on with a wide smile. They always got into trouble, his way of supporting her dismissed curiosity, yet they were never separated by castle personnel.
After the warmth of intoxication had worn off, the night chill assaulted her skin. Always a Knight, Rafayel had offered her his overcoat, which she had taken without hesitation. She had come to the grounds simply to return it. Something she thought at the time couldn’t wait.
She hid behind the side of the barracks, unaware he was not alone. His shoulders were rising and falling rapidly, accommodating his harsh breaths. His fingers were wrapped tightly around the hilt of his dagger, the sharp metal gleaming in the unforgiving sun. The fact it wasn’t sheathed told her he was sparring with a full-fledged Knight.
Pride had risen in her throat at that time, proud he was moving his way up the multiple ranks. Such innocent thoughts had vanished when he had dodged then rolled, landing in a crouch. One hand supported his weight in the dirty sand, while the other holding his dagger lifted to wipe the sweat off his forehead with his wrist. Everything shifted, her eyes focused on the sharp V of his loose tunic, suspended, exposing his chest. She even found the way his legs strained and his boots dug into the sand interesting. She was suddenly curious about things she shouldn’t be. More specifically, how he held his weight over someone.
The corner of a mouth touched the shell of her ear, and she gasped, her gaze focusing on the path cutting through the forest. The horse walked now, the sun low in the sky as day transitioned into night. They were near the castle gates.
“Relax,” he whispered, and that soft sound made sensitive skin tingle. “You’re trembling.”
“Cold,” her voice was just as light as she imagined leaning back into him. It was a lie that protected both of them.
“Sure,” she could hear his amusement. Regardless, he scooted slightly closer. It was enough for the fabric of his clothing to brush against her shoulder blades. It would be dangerous for him to get any closer, especially as they neared the guards standing by the gates.
Green, transparent wings glistened behind the back of the guard standing to the right of the gate. His pointed ears were hidden under a dark hood, the tips created two, small bumps underneath the cloth. She didn’t remember the guard’s name, but he looked at her, weary.
He nodded his head to Rafayel, and opened the gate, allowing them to enter. Rafayel led the horse to the stable while the princess grew restless. Her time away from the castle had allowed her to bury any worries, to live in a fantasy where Rafayel and her solely existed as equals.
The Captain dismounted first, his hands clenching at his sides as she then dismounted on her own. Just a few days ago while they were traveling, his hands had held her waist to help her land. They had lingered, too. The air around them was restricting, the soft pitter patter of rain echoing off the roof as a light drizzle started. Torches were being lit by guards with the full absence of the sun. These guards were the unfortunate ones, the few who spent all night awake, stuck with a shift all should dread.
A stable hand grabbed the reins of her horse. The boy clicked his tongue, nodding to the princess quickly before leading the tired animal. The black horns atop his head were prominent against the light blonde of his hair. A dragon, if she didn’t know better.
Quietly, Rafayel led her through the castle halls. He walked a few paces ahead of her, much slower than his usual stride. He was exhausted, that much was obvious. It was only the beginning of his watch, he wouldn’t be able to close his eyes until morning tomorrow.
Laughter echoed in the main hall as nobles conversed. The door was closed, but she could clearly envision men and women drinking from crystal glasses, crimson red wine dark and plentiful. The bodies of these nobles were absent of what they would call abnormalities.
When the Captain and princess reached the door to her chambers, Rafayel turned to open the door for her, gesturing her in. He didn’t enter, nor did he say anything. His eyes looked to the ground as he waited for her to cross the threshold.
She reached and pressed her hand gently to his cheek, brushing her thumb lightly over the skin just below his eye. He leaned against her palm ever so slightly, breathing out slowly. As his eyes closed, his features relaxed, and she knew he wished nothing more than to sleep.
Any person could understand the misery of loss of sleep. She frowned and removed her hand, stepping into the chambers and closing the door. Her body fell slightly to lean back against it as she heard Rafayel take his post, right outside her door. There he would stand till she awoke.
She slid down till she hugged her knees to her chest. Mythical creatures were the ones who worked through the night, giving nobles the luxury of rest so they may rise the next day while those seen as inferior could finally sleep. Nobles could converse and socialize, meet with loved ones, and aid in running the Kingdom without the presence of a creature.
The princess’s head tilted to press the back of it to the door. She wouldn’t be seeing Rafayel until the next night. It wouldn’t take much to open the door and invite him in, aid him in removing outer wear so he might have laid his head down on her lap and rested. But he wasn’t allowed such a thing.
She thought back to the memory of him sparring. His opponent had bested him, and in a rare fit of anger, he had flung his dagger to the ground as he walked harshly into the barracks. Unable to help her herself, she followed, his overcoat in her hand. With his back to her, Rafayel had pulled his tunic over his head, throwing it onto a nearby table. His shoulders were tense, and his hand was running through his hair repeatedly.
She stopped just outside the door, leaning against the frame. Flecks of blue were on his neck, small patches of scales making their home against his skin. Without seeing his face, she already knew there were more clusters on his upper cheeks. The sound of her next step alerted him, and he whipped around.
“Silly girl,” he chastised, eyes darting behind her to make sure no one was around. Once he had confirmed they were alone, he met her stare.
And no matter how many times she had seen them, those blue eyes of his were stunning.
Yet so . . . defeating.
While beautiful, they had reminded her of what he was - a Lemurian. If he wanted, his legs could fuse into a tail, and his life wouldn’t stop underwater. She had seen it once when they were kids, when they didn’t understand he would be seen as something below her, something forbidden.
“So scandalous, watching me undress. Didn’t know you had it in you, Princess,” he had said with a smirk, sauntering till he stood in front of her, forcing her to raise her chin.
Not only were princesses to remain safe, clean, and proper, they were also taught to obtain whatever they wanted.
A bead of sweat trailed from his scalp, down his cheek, and curled over the bump of his jawline to slide over iridescent scales. The overcoat was on the ground, and her fingers were suddenly stopping the droplet, eyes fixated on her soft skin against the hard growths.
His hiss was sudden and heavy. Emboldened, she had pressed harder, outlining them with her finger. Rafayel, who usually had the advantage, was putty in her hands. He took another step closer, his fingers wrapped around her wrist to guide her touch.
“I like that.”
The blue in his eyes had grown stronger, hypnotizing just like his breathless tone. He wouldn’t let her look away, pulling her wrist past his scales to the nape of his neck, where the ends of his hair flared out. On instinct, her fingers grabbed, pulling strands between her digits gently.
She watched his reaction, his soft groan revealing teeth through parted lips. His canines were slightly sharper, dangerous. Their ability to bestow a mark, or maybe more, tempted her thoughts. As his head tipped back to relish in the feeling, he looked down at her, gaze so dark and inviting. She could see it in her mind, his back arched, eyes on her as she ventured further down.
“Rafayel,” she whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, their breaths intermingling. The composed princess was losing control, anxious but equally curious.
His hands found her upper arms, holding her in place. “You started this.”
Gods, his voice. She nudged even closer, the tip of her nose touching his. She wanted more. Her other hand rested on his neck, where her thumb could absently trace his jawline back and forth. She realized she could stand like this for hours, feeling his heat, allowing his breath to warm and moisten her lips. Imagining his lips on hers seemed even more delicious than the act itself.
“Whatever you want,” he nuzzled his nose against hers, his voice guttural, desperate, filled with restraint. “You can do whatever you want to me.”
“But what do you want?” She opened her eyes to meet his. She didn’t want this if he felt obligated due to her status, or his undying loyalty.
His nails dug into her arms, hands pushing her back till she hit the cold, stone wall. His hand found its place against the wall above her head, positioning him even closer. He parted her legs with one of his, resting his weight against his knee. His other hand gripped her chin, tilting it up so he could look down at her. His blue eyes, almost pulsating, narrowed.
“Sure you want to know?” It was whiplash, the change in his demeanor. That reflected him, though. One minute he would be impatient and pouty, the next sly and cunning. “I’ve spent years, Princess, years imagining us. Where would you like me to start? Should I tell you about how I can be a good, honest Knight, or a commanding Captain?”
She couldn’t tell what heated first, her cheeks, or her ears. His eyes roamed over her face, the corner of his mouth revealing a confident smirk. The princess was so easy to read. “Or, are you interested in both?” He asked.
Both, definitely both.
Before the words could leave her mouth, however, the sound of a sword sliding into its sheath signaled the entrance of another Knight.
The blue in Rafayel’s eyes receded, and she could see his expression change from one of intrigue, to one of an alert protector. The room they were in was around the corner from the entrance to the barracks so they were fine, unless the visitor rounded the hall. To be caught in the same room as a shirtless merman, would most certainly ruin the princess’s reputation.
Mind already working fast, Rafayel looked back to the princess. Her eyes were worried, but her skin was still flushed, and her lips were slightly parted as small, rapid breaths escaped her. It was enough to tempt his hand that held her chin, to lift, so his thumb could slide over her full, bottom lip.
Her response was her jaw relaxing, her mouth opening a little wider.
This couldn’t happen again.
His hand left her, lifting to remove her touch from his neck and lower scalp. Once there was space between them, he bent to lift his overcoat and threw it over his shoulders. He hid his smile as she still stood there, leaned against the wall, eyes following his every move.
“Careful, your Highness,” he adjusted the collar of her dress, the fabric slightly askew. “Stare any longer, and I might think you find me handsome.”
The usual fire returned to her eyes, and with a defiant huff, she found her feet again. She waited for his direction.
“I’ll keep him occupied,” Rafayel decided, his demeanor calm and comforting. “You get out of here while you can.”
She nodded, determined. Their shared moment faded, but the tension remained. And it would, for years to come. Constantly on the edge, always teetering to ignite. However, never satisfied.
That’s what she thought about as she sat against the door. How long she had recounted that memory was unbeknownst to her. Her mind lingered on the past sensation of his touch, his presence.
How would it be different now? Back then, in their late teens, they were both unsure of not only their situation, but themselves as individuals. She had no doubt he was probably even more sensual now, even more of a tease. His grip would be tighter, and he would only budge if he wanted it. Rafayel was toned and lithe, fluid like water.
His scales and Lemurian eyes hadn’t appeared in years. He had learned to reign in his emotions, only a flash of blue here and there, perhaps it was a trick of the light.
She could only guess that late in the night, when candles burned, and harsh breaths mingled, his eyes might change.
She shot up, grasping the skirts of her dress as she paced her rooms. Those thoughts were dangerous, and the right thing to do would be to stop. But they were also oh so delicious. Her delusions were fed every moment she saw him, his gaze only confirmed them, when she saw he fought to keep it off her mouth, when his touch remained for a few seconds too long.
It was all consuming.
Her hand found the handle to her door, and without hesitation she opened it. Rafayel leaned against the wall, his arms folded over his chest. A look of shock covered his face as he looked at her, eyes wide.
“Princess-”
“You never answered my question,” she declared, exuding the air of a royal, of a future leader of the Kingdom. Inside, she was unsure. “From earlier.”
When he didn’t answer, she still didn’t falter. They both knew what she was referring to, but neither pushed. Instead, Rafayel stood and faced her, the tips of his boots touching the threshold of the door. One large breath from either one, and their chests would touch.
His hands came up to grasp the sides of the entryway, caging her in her room. It was a casual stance, but it made him seem that much bigger. Ah, she was right, he wouldn’t budge unless he wanted to give her an enticing illusion. Judging by the tug of his lips, he too realized they’d be in a constant push and pull.
He couldn’t help himself. He winked. “It’s rude to leave a man such as myself in suspense.”
“A kiss, Rafayel,” she paused, “what’s a kiss truly like?”
In truth, she had some ideas. She had read enough literature and listened to enough gossip from maids to know the gist. Some nobles were never patient enough to wait till they reached their chambers, either. She may have taken a peek from time to time.
“Depends,” he answered, and she felt her heart sink. So it was true then, the blacksmith’s daughter really had gotten to know him . . . intimately. Well, luckily she wasn’t in the market for swords any time soon - “or so I’ve heard.”
The princess’s look of shock was so sudden, Rafayel snorted, reaching forward to flick her forehead. “Such a cutie,” he mumbled, then pinched her cheek. “I know, I know, it’s hard to believe. But being the Captain and all really takes up much of my time.”
She covered her mouth and giggled, partly relieved, partly due to the shrug of his shoulders at his confession. An insecure Rafayel was a rare sight. She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his torso and pressing her cheek to his chest. Her weight pushed him back a step, but he caught himself. He called her a cutie, perhaps it was the other way around.
Rafayel pressed his nose to the top of her head, nuzzling gently. Hugging wasn’t anything new for them, it had happened since they were young kids. The princess had cut her finger on a small shell, and to ease her pain, he had hugged her. The last thing he wanted to see were tears staining her cheeks. Whenever anything had gone wrong, no matter how slight, he had welcomed her into his arms. Over the years he had begun to savor the feel of her body, her scent.
His princess deserved nothing but the best.
With a deep breath in, he began. “It should feel good, real good,” his lips pressed to her hair, and he looked past her into her chambers. Deeper within was another door, one ajar that revealed her four-poster bed. His hold on her tightened. What would happen if he told her he could hear her pleasure when she thought no one could? He nearly groaned, “so good, nothing gets you close enough to him. He should make you breathless, desperate, unable to keep that sweet voice of yours contained.” At that thought his mouth moved down to rest next to her ear. “Fuck, you would sound so good, Princess.”
Her nails dug into his back through the leather of his overcoat at the same time a small gasp escaped her. She felt as if her heart was in her throat, his last words sounded as if they were painful.
Slowly she pulled back, her hands sliding down his back to rest on his hips as she looked up. Flushed cheeks and parted lips filled her vision. Her eyes wandered lower to his neck, where his Adam’s apple dipped with every swallow. She wasn’t familiar with mythical creatures and mating, let alone if merfolk partook in such customs, but she knew exactly where she wanted to bite.
Her eyes traveled back up, and were caught. His own were full of yearning and unfulfilled desires, yet offset with something tender. Whatever it was led her to stroke down his cheek with the back of her fingers. The sensation of scales teased her skin, so small and strong.
She may not have recognized what was deep in his eyes, but she was certain of one thing.
Like waves crashing against one another, they were a raging blue.