THIRD POV:
A few days later, the roaring fires of the Northern Stronghold's feast hall seemed to dance with more fervor as the night wore on. They were secretly prepared by leaving themselves vulnerable and unprotected.
Captain Araleth, ever the agent of chaos, had made it her mission to see Ardelle's 'real' side.
She looked at her, her gaze softening into something deceptively sweet.
"You look so tense, Ardelle. This Northern air is too heavy for those who aren't used to it. Here."
She reached for a heavy stone pitcher and poured a dark, honey-colored liquid into her cup.
It smelled of spices and something sweet, hiding the sharp, fermented bite of mead perfectly.
"Drink this. It's a specialty of the Fortress." Araleth said with a wink, "It helps with the... awkwardness."
Kaldric watched the cup with suspicion, but before he could intervene, Araleth raised her own.
"To the King's victory and the Commander's patience!"
He didn't think much then and continued forming tactics and discussion but his eyes were glancing at Ardelle from time to time, checking her.
Ardelle took a sip. Then another. It was sweet, warming her throat and settling in her belly with a pleasant, fuzzy hum.
She didn't realize that the drink was taking its toll and since she wasn't used to it, it was too strong for her.
As the third cup was filled, the walls of the fortress began to feel a little less cold, and her courage began to rise, filled with the desire to thank every little thing.
By the time the moon was high, Ardelle's hollow sadness had been replaced by a dizzying, warm haze. She was drunk, barely in her senses at this point.
"Thank you for existing." She thanked the apples first, giving them a respectful bow.
Kaldric watched from the high table, his expression darkening with every silver-toned laugh that escaped his bride's lips.
Because she was thanking the apple, but NOT him.
Sir Aldwin sat nearby, his face soft as he listened to Ardelle's mumbling because it was his turn to be thanked.
"Sir Aldwin!" She chirped, stumbling slightly as she reached him. She grabbed his forearm, beaming up at him.
"The hero! The savior! Did you know, Aldwin... you're like a golden lion? Thank you, thank you so much for being here."
Aldwin flushed, glancing nervously at the Commander, "My Lady, you are kind, but perhaps the mead—"
"No, no," Ardelle insisted, giggling a little, "You saved me from the ice. You're the only one who looks at me like I'm a person. A real, breathing person. Thank you." She whispered, flashing a beautiful smile, holding enough charm to catch everyone's attention.
"Where is Commander?"
"No, no!" She giggled again, patting his chest playfully.
"The Commander is too busy being a… Commander. You... you actually listen. You're my favorite hero."
Kaldric's hand tightened around his chalice. The jealousy wasn't a slow flame, it was a burst, a burning ember that tightened his jaw.
He stood abruptly, the screech of his chair against the stone silencing the nearby knights, distressed at his level of fury when he marched towards his senseless bride.
Before Aldwin could stammer a reply, a heavy, gloved hand clamped onto her shoulder. Certainly not a gentle touch.
It was possessive, with a suppressed rage that made the nearby guards suddenly find their boots very interesting.
"Aldwin,"
"Commander, I—"
"The Lady is retiring," he announced in a low, dangerous tone, his eyes already darting towards Ardelle who was staring into the air, the shining smile still plastered on her lips.
Before Ardelle could protest, he seized her arm, firmly, but with a hidden desperation, and hauled her from the hall.
Araleth watched them go, a triumphant, wicked smirk playing on her lips. Her commander glared at her, well aware his impish captain must have done something.
"Oof, you, Araleth."
"What? What did I do?"
Kaldric pulled her into a cold, secluded corridor.
He spun her around, pinning her against the wall roughly with the weight of his body unknowingly pressed on her.
His arms caged her in, his face inches from hers, his breath unstable, holding a blatant trace of jealousy.
"What was that?" he hissed, his hand landing on her elbow with a tight grip, his silver eyes flashing with a territorial fire he could no longer hide.
"You sit at the King's table and sing the praises of a subordinate? You humiliate the Commander of The Obsidian Pillars by doting on a knight like a starstruck girl?"
Ardelle blinked, the world spinning in beautiful, blurred colors. She looked up at him, not with fear, but with an amused-eyed curiosity.
"You are a fool, Ardelle," he continued, his voice rising in frustration.
"You have no idea of the danger we are in. You are to act with dignity, not stumble around and drape yourself over Ornstein. If you think for one moment that I will allow my name to be dragged through the mud because you can't hold your drink—"
Slap.
"Will you just stop barking for once, Kaldric?" She whined, her lip pouting as she looked him dead in the eye.
It wasn't a blow, but a soft, warm palm landing directly over his mouth, staggering the man.
Kaldric froze. The scolding died in his throat. He stared at her, his heartbeats suddenly rising with weird sensations.
Ardelle leaned in, her body colliding with him, eradicating the barely recognizable gap between them, sparkling with a boldness she never would have possessed sober.
She leaned toward his ear, her breath warm against his skin.
He looked at her hand, then back at her face, the great Commander was silenced by a tipsy girl and a single palm.
"Bark, bark, bark," She muttered, poking his chest with her other hand.
"You're so loud. And you're so handsome when you're not talking about duty. Why can't you just be... quiet?"
Kaldric's breath caught in his throat. He was a man who had faced down charging cavalry without blinking, but the feel of Ardelle's thumb brushing his lip was a piercing sensation he had never experienced in his entire life.
His first instinct was to be offended, to remind her of her position and who dominated the very air.
Her other hand rose, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw with a light touch. "I like you better like this,"
But as she looked at her, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with a daring he had never permitted her, the irritation died a sudden, quiet death.
It was replaced by a treacherous, simmering amusement.
He didn't pull away. He watched her intensely, my heartbeats and thoughts slipping from his authority and focusing on the piece of art before him.
"When you are just a man. When you are silent and good. It makes me happy. It makes me go beyond and… have you." She breathed out.
Holding his chin sternly, inspecting his face before dragging her eyes all over his body with a desire she never dared to openly express ever in her entire life.
"And your body," she continued.
Her palm pressed harder over his mouth as her other hand dragged down, palm over his rapidly beating heart, the bulky body and dropped lower.
"Gods forbid... how enticing it is." She bit her lip seductively, "It makes me want to kiss it. Everywhere."
"Tell me, Does this handsome body only know how to dominate the battlefield?" she murmured, the seduction dripping from her caught the stone-like man off guard and his face flushed, holding her wrist.
"A-Ardelle!" Kaldric stammered, his face erupting in a shade of crimson. The Commander of the Realm was actually stuttering.
"Hmm? What?" She leaned closer, her nose grazing his.
"Do these hands only know how to hold a weapon? What about a woman?" She giggled, challenging him.
"Or is the Great Pillar made of nothing but cold, unfeeling stone all the way through?"
The jealousy, the guilt, and the months of repressed hunger finally surged to the surface. Kaldric let out a low, rough growl, his silver eyes darkening.
"Careful, little bird," he rasped, pinning her to the wall. His hand firmly on her wrist and used the other hand to lock it possessively around her neck.
"You speak of kisses and entice me with such bold words... but do you have any idea what you are inviting?"
He lowered his head, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the pulse point of her wrist. She let out a small, frustrated whine, her body arching toward his unknowingly.
"But you are only talk," she complained, her boldness fueled. She looked up at him with a challenge that made his head spin.
"You don't teach me my letters... and you certainly don't teach me intimacy."
"A soldier knows many ways to secure a victory. If I were to truly lay siege to you, you wouldn't stand a chance."
"Is that a threat, My Lord? Or a promise?" she giggled.
"It's a warning,"
Before she could respond with another jab, Kaldric's patience snapped. In one fluid, powerful motion, he scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder.
"My Lord! Put me down!" she shrieked, though it was followed by a peal of delighted, drunken laughter and shaking of legs to fake struggle.
"You wanted to know what these hands can do," he grumbled, his stride long and purposeful as he marched toward their bedchambers.
"I'm taking you where you can't cause a scandal in front of the King's entire vanguard."
Kaldric glanced at his woman, a dark, hungry smirk coming to his lip and spanked her, making the woman gasp and giggle.
"Oof!" She was clutching him tightly.
The sensation was thrilling, pumping his blood and the unkempt longing her usual concealed behind his vow and armor.
His fingers urging him to rest the palm longer on that perfect arse. His breath hitched at the thought itself, and looked down at her.
She wasn't terrified, she was giggling behind his fingers, her eyes dancing with a playful, drunken light. She reached up and poked his cheek, and kept poking it.
"Lord," Poke. "My lord," Poke. "Mine." Poke "Ardelle's"
"Yes, yes, woman. Yours. Now stop that." He growled, kicked the room to their room, his body no longer in control, his mind blinded with a fiery spark of concupiscence.
"Please be gentle, My Lord," she whispered when he lowered her on the bed, "Do not break me. I am but a fragile fairy, remember?"
"You are a menace," He sighed, shaking his head.
The room was bathed in the orange glow of the dying hearth. As he set her down on the edge of the bed, his hands trembled when he reached for his tunic.
He let it slip, left only in his bottoms. The air was thick, charged with a tension he had resisted for an unspoken time.
"Oo! Fascinating." Ardelle cheered, her fingers reaching and tracing a line on his chest. His body shivered, he held his breath back for a moment.
Allowing the heat of her palm to travel to his core before shifting on top of her, removing her bodice with a fatal precision.
For a Knight as himself, gentleness or sweetness was least to be expected. He had no senses or regards for the exchanging of kisses or promises.
He was prepared and wrapped her leg around his waist.
But as he reached out to cup her face to set her focus on him before he claimed her, the playful fog in her eyes seemed to lift for a fraction of a second, replaced with a confusion.
She looked at the bed, then back at him, her fingers knotting into the furs.
"Um, Lord Kaldric?" she whispered.
"What is it, Ardelle?" He hissed, lowering his head into her neck, "Don't tell me you want to back away now."
Her voice suddenly baffled, leaving behind the girl who had known nothing but the harshness of the streets.
"No, but why have you kept my legs like this?" She asked, genuinely curious, her hand all over his exposed body, considering the touching as consummation.
"How... How exactly does this work? I have never... I do not know what is required of me."
"What?" Kaldric blinked.
"How… how… I saw them take their clothes off … Do I take my clothes off too? And then? Are you to kiss me everywhere?"
Kaldric froze. He was right over her, all prepared to release his lust and show her an entirely different form of pleasure.
But his heart stopped at the question. He let go of her legs instantly.
The reality of the situation, of her vulnerability, and his own terrifyingly loud feelings, slammed into him.
What the hell was I about to do? He snapped back to his senses.
Of course, she grew up on the streets. Mother died when she was young, she lived as a shadow. Away from the filth.
She was innocent– too innocent.
He began to back away, "You are... you are not in your senses, Ardelle," he said, his voice shaking.
"You've had too much mead. We will speak when the sun is up."
"No. No, no, no, no." She wined, trying to hold his forearm but he had already worn his tunic back, "Did I do it wrong? Are you angry?"
He couldn't do it. The Beast may have been hungry, but as a man, he could not take what she wasn't fully conscious to give.
"No, I am not. You… you are not in your senses, Ardelle."
He stepped back, "And you are tired. You do not know what you are asking."
I turned toward the door, my jaw set so tight it ached. "Rest. I will... I will find a guest cot in the barracks."
She didn't understand what she did wrong.
All she wanted was an intimate moment with her husband.
His warmth, his kisses, his touch. His closeness but had no idea what she was inviting at the same time.