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Chapter Text

Rishe tucked a stray strand of her coral-colored hair back behind her ear as she hummed to herself, a bit tunelessly. Steadying a thin paper cone with one hand, she finished pouring the loose tea leaves through it into the simple, silver container that it was nestled in. She removed the cone carefully from the top, then tapped the side of the container lightly with one finger to settle the contents. This was an expensive blend she had just finished perfecting, and it would take too long to source the ingredients again if they were to spill.

Continuing to hum, Rishe screwed the lid on tightly and allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. There, all finished, she thought with more than a hint of pride. She enjoyed employing the lessons she had learned from her life as an herbalist, and this particular brew was one she had developed all on her own. Granted she had relied on a veritable mountain of previous research and experimental data, but still, in the end it was all hers . She worried the corner of her lip with her front teeth as her brows drew down slightly.  Rishe was very confident in her knowledge of the herbs and tea strains she had used, but perhaps not as much in the exact quantities or ratios. That had been a bit more guess work on her part, as testing this particular blend in advance wasn’t really something she was able to feasibly do. 

Just the thought of what testing implied elicited a small squeak from her, and she felt her cheeks flush with warmth. Squishing her fingers hard into her face, she tried to rub the blush forcefully off her skin. Stupid she thought. Don’t lose your nerve now. 

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her mouth, steeling herself for the conversation she was about to have. She’d rehearsed what she was going to say every night for a week, practiced answers for anticipated questions. Rishe was as ready as she could be. She took the container gently in both hands and protectively cradled it in front of her as she made her way out of the kitchen towards a certain second story office.  

Despite spending her morning in the small annex kitchen she had commandeered as her own, Rishe was still dressed in her normal everyday finery. Mixing and measuring dried leaves didn’t necessitate a mess nor a change into work clothes. Pale yellow silks billowed out from her in a soft cloud. The dress had a tall and tight neckline, one that covered everything up to her chin. She had started wearing more full-coverage dresses these past few weeks in an attempt to not accidentally acquire any strange tan lines or accidental cuts or scrapes.  Her wedding dress was, after all, rather open across the shoulders and back and she was determined to look her best in it. 

It was a little past the noonday bells, still in the early afternoon, and the detached palace was quiet as she followed the ornate carpet down the hall and up the marble staircase to the next floor.  Most of the maids were busy with cleaning up after lunch or getting the laundry aired, and there were only the bare minimum of knights standing guard at the most important hallway intersections. Arnold didn’t like to be distracted by too many presences hanging around, he claimed, but Rishe was privately convinced he also didn’t want to endanger his retainers any more than necessary. She was pretty certain between the two of them they could stop anything short of a small army from assaulting the building. They were, after all, the ‘monster couple’ as Raul had so affectionately dubbed them. She at least told herself it was affection.

Arriving at a large mahogany door, Rishe squared her shoulders and lifted her chin, gripping the silver container perhaps a little too tightly, trying to convince herself that absolutely not, her hands were not shaking. 

She gave a small smile and nod to the lone guard standing outside before raising her hand to gently knock. Someone she didn’t recognize or know the name of yet, a new recruit perhaps. She would have to correct that. But later. Mission first. 

*****************************************************************************************

Oliver greeted her at the entrance, flashing her a genuine smile as he wrenched the door open before she could get a second knock in. “Ah, Lady Rishe! It’s truly a pleasure, I didn’t know we’d be graced by your presence today.” He bowed his head slightly and tilted it in a bit of a conspiratorial way.  “My lord’s been in a bit of a foul mood, so I thank you for being here to distract him.” 

He looked pointedly out of the corner of his eye towards the copious amount of paper balls littering the floor by his feet. Recently, Arnold had taken to throwing wadded up bills and various messages he didn’t care for at Oliver’s head, as penance for allowing them to come across his desk, he said. Usually he missed on purpose. Usually. While it wasn’t the most princely behavior of all time, Rishe did find it a little charming that he was finally loosening up and letting himself act his age once in a while. 

She winced a little, but tried to grin back as brightly as she could. “Well, let’s hope I can help, although to be truthful I’m here to discuss something potentially…difficult with His Highness.” Rishe clutched the small container in her hands a bit tighter. 

Before Oliver could respond, a bored, flat voice called from farther into the room. “Let her in already, Oliver.” Another wad of paper came flying through the air and thudded into the wall mere centimeters from where Oliver was standing, falling and bouncing across the floor.  Rishe gulped a little. While Arnold could be a little hard to read at times, there was some nuance to his versions of the “I’m bored/ angry/ annoyed/ tired/ distracted” monotone that Rishe could pick up on now.  Even without the ability to tell that this was “annoyed-Arnold-flat-voice”, the paper would have been enough.

Oliver grimaced and silently mouthed “He’s all yours” to Rishe as he quickly sidled past her into the hall. She turned to glare at him as he swiftly shut the door in her face with a broad, toothy smile.  The click of the door latch falling into place echoed loudly across the now silent room.

Arnold Hein, crown prince of the Galkhein empire, coughed politely behind her, and Rishe jumped at the sudden sound, almost dropping the canister she was holding. 

She spun around just in time to see him covering up a small smirk by running his hand over his face.  Arnold was seated at his large desk, deep in the middle of a mountain of paperwork, pen in hand. He wore one of his various heavily-embroidered coats, buttoned up to his chin as usual, hiding the large network of scars that fringed the base of his neck. Gold vines and knotwork decorated the neckline and travelled down the center of the jacket, providing a stark contrast against the dark blue of the fabric. His mantle of office, however, was crumpled in the corner, messily thrown over a stool and halfway fallen to the floor. 

His eyes, pale blue as the northern icy oceans and fringed with the longest, darkest eyelashes she’d ever seen, were locked on her face, and his long bangs seemed a bit more rumpled than usual, albeit in an endearing way. She still didn’t think it fair that someone could be so unnaturally beautiful with clearly no effort applied towards it. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked back at the man that was soon to be her husband in just a few days time. He’s truly magnificent. I wish he could see what I see. 

She quickly stifled a small giggle as she noticed there was a small ink smudge above his left eyebrow…maybe he’d been rubbing his fingers there? It broke the carefully crafted illusion of danger and menace he was constantly trying to project to those around him. Couldn’t be too scary after all with ink stains on your face. She did allow herself a small smile, however, and she felt her gaze soften at the edges as she continued to look at him. 

“Rishe.”  The sudden sound of his soft voice cut through her thoughts and jolted her back to the present. 

“Hrk.”  

This time Arnold didn’t try to hide his soft snicker. “Well, I’m sure you didn’t just come here to stare at me. What is it?” 

I am NOT staring! …much.  

He gestured to the package in her hands with his pen, and one of his eyebrows twitched upwards. “Something you wanted me to see?”

“Ah, yes, Your Highness.” Rishe smiled and moved closer to the desk, stopping about a meter shy of the front edge. She brightened her smile a bit more, but could already feel a faint flush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. No no no no no don’t get flustered yet. Pull it together, what is wrong with you.  Arnold frowned slightly and his eyebrows lowered a fraction.

“What’s wrong?” He started to push up from his chair, his eyes never leaving her face, a small grimace pulling the corners of his mouth down.  “You don’t seem yourself. Did something - ?” 

Rishe quickly raised one hand in surrender and waved it frantically, tightly gripping the container so much in her other hand that her knuckles paled. “No! No, no, no, no, nothing’s wrong!” Her voice rose on its own until it was easily an octave higher than normal. She winced, and Arnold looked even less convinced now.  He shut his eyes and sighed, placing the pen down on the desk. He then rose completely from his chair, and walked, no, stalked around the desk towards her, his shoes making no sound against the carpeted floor. 

Gently taking her raised hand in his own, Arnold steered her towards the small seating area of his office. He had it furnished with a respectfully sized couch and two plush arm chairs, upholstered in a deep blue the color of the ocean at night, all of which flanked a low wooden coffee table. Plain, cream-colored throw pillows decorated the arms of the couch. Much like the other furniture in the room, it was all of fine quality but simple in style. Despite it looking inviting, Rishe was pretty sure the only people who ever used it were herself, Theodore, and Oliver. Arnold couldn’t stand to be around most other people for any length of time. Well, maybe Raul, but she was pretty sure that was only because Arnold enjoyed tormenting him. Rishe noticed that there were circular stains on the table as they drew closer to the furniture.  For someone so detail-conscious, how does he not own coasters?  

Distracted by her newly found coaster concern, she was a bit surprised when Arnold pulled her down gently to the couch and sat down next to her, never once letting go of her hand. His knee gently brushed up against her skirts, and his thumb began to absentmindedly trace the ring on her left hand as he continued to stare directly into her face. He had taken to not wearing gloves while at home, and she could feel the rough callus of his thumb as it brushed gently across her hand. 

Rishe found herself staring again, but this time at his long, slender fingers as they delicately supported her hand. She would never not be amazed at how his large hands could bear the impressive weight of his longsword one minute, but then have the lightest, most delicate touch the next. Rishe let herself become distracted by the passing thought of the weapon that had previously killed her in her former life. Where was it anyway? He wasn’t wearing it nor did she see it propped up in its normal spot against a potted plant near his desk. Oliver hated it when Arnold just threw it casually onto random furniture, which is why she was pretty sure he continued to do it.

Arnold let out a small laugh and lightly squeezed her hand, and then used his other hand to lightly ruffle the hair on top of her head. This was his other new favorite pastime, besides throwing things at Oliver. 

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad.” Rishe glanced up at his face to see a mischievous glint sparkle in his eye. “In fact, you haven’t been this flustered since that time in the chapel when I-”

“Chapel. The chapel. That time. Yes. Yes! That’s right. I mean, it’s related. Kind of. Sort of. Ungh. Stop looking at me.” She blurted out this word garbage and then squeezed her eyes shut in embarrassment. Smooth . Her carefully rehearsed introduction for the visit had completely flown from her mind. She hated being this flustered around him. And it was only him that did this to her.

Feeling his hand twitch, she opened one eye slightly to peer up at him. 

Arnold looked completely bewildered and blinked slowly a few times. He frowned, squinting, and leaned in closer to her face, so that his forehead was just touching hers. She sucked in a quick breath as she felt his long eyelashes bat gently against her own. Maddening. “Are you sure you’re not ill? You are after all a terrible judge of your own health.”  Rishe took quiet offense to that, but figured now was not the time for that argument. She filed it away for later.   

“Maybe I should call for a doctor, we can’t have you sick and missing your own wedding after all. Actually, are you sleeping en-”

“WEDDING. Yes. I’m here to talk about the wedding!” Rishe all but screamed in his face. She plastered a smile back on her face and hoped it was mostly straight. I want to disappear into a hole. What in the world is wrong with me? Maybe I am sick?

His face quickly fell into his signature impassive expression as he pulled back, his eyes practically burning holes into her with the intensity in which he stared at her. “Is there a problem? It’s in just a few days…” His voice was low now, dangerous.

“No, no problem at all! At least, no. There won’t be. Not now. Wait. Just…ungh …give me a minute.”  Rishe noticed that he still hadn’t let go of her hand, and had instead began to grip it just a bit tighter. Was he… nervous?  Pffft not likely. 

Rishe gently extracted her hand from his grip, which earned her another quick glare. Arnold leaned forward again, and she couldn’t help but feel a more ominous and heavy presence emanating from him.  “I thought I was rather clear before,” he began in a husky voice, “that I wasn’t going to allow second thoughts about this. I fully intend to make you my wife. You’re not getting away from me.” 

She just about screamed in frustration at this point.  “I KNOW.” Her voice echoed off the wooden bookshelves lining the room, fading into an awkward silence. So, maybe she did scream in frustration. Rishe silently hoped that Oliver was not outside hanging around in the hallway and had instead found something better to do with his time, unlikely as that was. 

Annoyed at how much this had not gone to plan, and furious with herself for not keeping her composure in check, Rishe slammed the silver container down on the coffee table in front of them so hard Arnold actually jumped at the outburst, his calm façade cracking ever so slightly. If she hadn’t been so wound up, this would have pleased her immensely.

Taking another breath, she continued in a calmer voice, her green eyes now finally meeting his, focused with newfound resolve. “I know . That’s very much related to what I wanted to discuss with you. Here, this is for you,” she gestured with an open palm towards the jar on the table. 

Arnold rested his chin on his fist and tilted his head slightly as he looked at her with a blank expression. He almost pulled it off, but Rishe saw the edge of his mouth quickly tilt up, before he regained control of lips and pressed them down again into a straight line. Sighing dramatically, he reached over and picked up the container, holding it up to his face, spinning it slowly, giving it a bored but appraising look.

“You never fail to fascinate me. What is it? A paperweight?” He hefted it slowly in his hand, pretending to gauge its weight. “Thank you, I’ll treasure it. This should make a fine new item to throw at Oliver.” Arnold pulled it towards his chest and bowed his head theatrically over it, but his eyes sparkled a challenge at her as he looked up at her under half closed lids. 

And then he had the audacity to wink at her. 

Indignation burned in her chest and Rishe thought for a second her eyesight tinged with red. She couldn’t stop herself from full-on glaring at him with the full force of her annoyance. Clearly getting the rise he wanted out of her, Arnold allowed himself to genuinely smile, the roguish, rakish one she’d only seen a few times up to this point. Now he wanted to tease her and make this a game? And with the smile that made her heart feel tight like someone was squeezing it? The man was simply infuriating at times. 

“Most people would open a present before declaring what it is. And you know full well it isn’t that.” Rishe snapped and had to stop herself from petulantly crossing her arms. She instead interlaced her fingers lightly in her lap and attempted to regain some small shred of dignity, sniffing lightly as she lifted her chin, ignoring him as his smile became broader and began to more fully reach his eyes. That is, trying to ignore him. However, she was frustrated enough with him at this point that her previous embarrassment was all but forgotten. She had a small fleeting thought that driving her to anger-tinged annoyance in order to have her forget her embarrassment might actually have been his goal. Again, infuriating. 

“Your Highness, I made you tea. Well, I should say, a special tea blend, one of my own design. Go on, you can open it. It’s not poisonous.”  

“....”  

She huffed. “I am not so blind as to be unaware of your preferences. I know you don’t typically drink tea, and tend to prefer other beverages, but this tea has special properties I think you’ll find interesting.” 

“Properties.”

Rishe spread her hands and gestured in the general direction of the jar he held.  “To be fair, I haven’t been able to actually test it yet, so I’m not completely sure of the right dosage, but I did base it on copious amounts of previous research into the subject, so I am confident that it will do what it needs to do.” Now that she was back on script and on footing she found more to her liking, Rishe found her confidence returning.

“Dosage.” Now Arnold started to genuinely look perplexed, his eyebrows furrowing until they nearly met in the middle of his forehead, his smile long gone. “I thought this was a drink, not a medication.” He began to slowly unscrew the top of the container.

“It is mostly tea leaves, primarily for flavor balance and to make it easier to measure out. The rest of it is a mixture of Tripterygium wilfordii and Ocimum sanctum . I tried to source some Gendarussa but at this time of year it’s nearly impossible to get.”  She huffed, annoyed at her failure to find that one elusive herb. Even with the full force of Aria Trading Company at her back she hadn’t been able to find a source in her abbreviated time frame. Next batch, next one, she promised herself, she’d have more time and it would be better. 

At this point Arnold had successfully removed the cap and placed it in his lap.  He poked at the loose leaves with an index finger, stirring them absentmindedly as he returned his clear gaze to Rishe. 

“While I would never profess to have your extensive knowledge of herbs, I don’t believe I’ve heard of any of those before. Nor have you mentioned them to me, ever. What are they for?” 

Here goes. Rishe barreled on before she lost any of her newly regained composure. “They’re herbs known for their contraceptive properties, particularly in males.” 

Rishe had never seen Arnold look so suddenly shocked, so blindsided. His eyes flew open wide, and they immediately took on a glassy, far away look. His jaw went slack, his mouth falling open.  He blinked in rapid succession and ineffectively tried to shake the bangs that had fallen into his eyes.

“...sorry? I … don’t think I heard you correctly,” Arnold finally choked out in a raspy voice. His slender fingers were twitching nervously around the container and Rishe suddenly became very concerned he might drop and spill the entire thing. Diving across his lap she grabbed the bottom of the jar in one hand while reaching for the lid with the other. Her fingers brushed lightly across the fabric on his thigh as she picked up the lid. 

Rishe vaguely noted a small, strangled sound coming from above her head as she quickly screwed the lid back in place. His fingers provided no resistance as she gently then tugged the jar out of his grasp and put it firmly back, safely, on the table.

Finally sparing a glance up at him, Rishe tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a snort. Arnold was still doing a perfect impression of a fish out of water gasping for air, and he had a healthy pink glow plastered across his cheeks. Pretty . And amusing, but still pretty.

Balling her fists into her skirts, Rishe turned slightly and stared fixedly at the container sitting alone on the massive table. “No, you did. Let me…let me start over.”  Don’t look at him, you might start laughing again.

“....”

Now it was Rishe’s turn to let her gaze soften and unfocus, staring across the distance of the office in front of her, not actually seeing anything in the room, her mind lost instead in memories. “You know my background, how I was trained from birth to be a princess, the wife of a king. A minor one, but still a king.” Well, some of my background, that is. Rishe had her secrets, she’d still not told him about the looping, about the previous lives, and certainly not about her plans to thwart whatever war he was planning. She swallowed a growing lump in her throat and continued. 

“My mother…she …she ensured that I knew everything that would be expected of me, all possible courtly duties covered. I’ve studied for this, trained for this. But, …but some things you can’t practice in advance.”

Rishe dropped her head so her bangs began to cover her eyes, providing some concealment for the blush she felt beginning to grow on her cheeks. The mention of the word practice brought to mind a certain birthday request atop a certain building, but she desperately didn’t want that to distract her now. “I profess I don’t know the customs for Galkhein in this matter, but I’ve been working under the assumption that they can’t be too far afield from what is expected, and, erm, practiced, in Hermity.” That word again.  

Arnold still hadn’t moved or made a sound since she began talking, and Rishe began to slowly become overwhelmed, not by embarrassment, so much as nervousness . What if she had completely misread everything up to this point? The air in the room was becoming heavier and more stifling by the minute. 

“In Hermity,” Rishe continued, staring now at her hands in her lap, “it is considered due process to perform certain…hngn … duties on the night of a royal marriage to … formally certify the union.” She had tripped up a bit on the word “duties” and was finding her confidence now flagging. The rest of the words spilled out of her in a torrent. 

“And I mean, that is to say, I know now is not the right time for a child or even to be thinking of an heir, what with your unresolved issues with your father. Not that he has anything to do with this or obviously any say in the matter! I mean, forget I even brought him up! So I thought…I…um …that is…if both parties were… taking…the likelihood… of…a …uh …”.  

Rishe became acutely aware of Arnold sitting stiffly beside her, his presence subdued and almost… empty. Cold .  

She panicked, quickly standing up, and pressed a fist to her chest in a feeble attempt to slow down her heartbeat that was now pounding in her ears.  She felt the start of tears burning at the corner of her eyes and swiftly turned towards the door, intent on making a hasty exit before she started crying in earnest. Arnold still hadn’t said anything. Or moved. She couldn’t help but feel him behind her, sitting as still and stiff as a statue. 

She must have somehow misread the situation, and she mentally kicked herself for her own stupidity and lack of experience in the matter. Despite this being her seventh loop, she was still wholly unpracticed when it came to any matters related to romance - none of her previous lives had prepared her for this moment. It was never something that had previously interested her, knowing that she typically only had five short years before starting back over again. She grimaced and nearly bared her teeth in frustration. She couldn’t even talk about it without blubbering like an idiot.  

Her mind began to frantically play back every interaction with him that had led her to this moment, searching desperately for what key piece of information she had missed, had misunderstood. The first surprise kiss in the chapel. His all but second proposal when he presented her ring to her. Their small but intimate moments as he nursed her back to health at the Grand Basilica. The way he smiled at her and held her close during their hellbent ride through the city, fending off a legion of archers. The impromptu dance at her introduction ball. Splashing in the ocean. Not least of all the night of her birthday on top of the opera house. That last memory caused her breath to hitch in her throat. She could still feel the shape and warmth of his lips pressed against hers, and what she thought was the emotion, the desire behind them as he kissed her senseless.  

But maybe it wasn’t that? Maybe he was just going along with her wishes for the moment, or maybe that’s just how people …were?  What if deep down he did kind of mean that trophy wife statement he casually had tossed around weeks ago at the bishop. She had believed his denial and explanation at the time, but maybe he only found her interesting in a more platonic sense, and was just humoring her otherwise?  

The lump in her throat now made it all but impossible to breathe, and the utter stillness in the room was driving her insane. She had to leave. Now . 

Rishe began to move towards the door when she suddenly felt a strong grip around her wrist, which abruptly yanked her back a step. Daring a glance back over her shoulder, she saw Arnold had his head bowed, his hair completely covering his face from view, as he leaned most of the way out of his seat to grasp tightly onto her wrist. 

Now that she had been shocked out of her relentless inner monologue, she finally noticed that no, he was no longer silent. Nor still. His shoulders were visibly rising and falling with each uneven breath he took, and his long fingers twitched around her wrist before tightening again.  

“Rishe.”  She had never heard his voice so dark and guttural. And the way it sounded wrapped around her name....  Startled, she flopped gracelessly back down onto the couch.  

Arnold took another ragged breath, and shifted his grip from her wrist to her palm, interlacing his fingers with hers. Only then did she notice that his normally cold hands were burning up. He raised his head slightly and looked up at her through half-lidded eyes.  Rather than clear ice blue, his eyes were dark and stormy, and swam with an emotion she couldn’t name.  

She watched confused as he shuddered and leaned forward until he was looming over her, and she leaned back in turn until her back was pressed up against the throw pillow propped along the arm of the couch, trapping her in place. Her eyes widened as she finally got a good look at his face - his cheeks were flushed, pupils dilated ( oh, that’s why they’re so dark),  and his lips were gently parted. Their interlocked hands were now resting up near her face on the pillow, while his other arm supported his weight to her other side, pressing down into the cushions of the couch. 

Rishe squeaked as she realized the compromising position she suddenly found herself in. One of Arnold’s legs was folded up on the couch to her left, while his other leg had moved around her to the floor, effectively pinning her underneath him.  She tentatively brought up her free right hand and placed it lightly on his chest between them. Not that she had any hope of actually supporting his weight if he did fall down on top of her, but she was proud of herself for the modicum of resistance shown.  But then she realized that her hand had begun gripping the fabric of his coat tightly. Betrayed. Bad hand. 

Arnold moved in closer until his nose was just barely brushing against hers, and she felt the softness of his breath against her cheek as he exhaled slowly. “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me,” he whispered to her in a shaky tone.

“Hurk.”  What?

He chuckled deep in his chest and smiled, one of his rare soft smiles that he only reserved for her.  “So eloquent. Is that all you have to say for yourself after all that? That hardly seems fair.” He pulled back a bit so he could see her face better, and he tilted his head slightly, gazing at her, waiting.

She remained silent, so he continued.

“And then trying to run away? What were you thinking? Unless you were actually trying to kill me.” She uncharitably thought No, that’s your job. Rishe quickly turned her face and looked off to the side away from his smoldering gaze, towards the table, suddenly afraid to catch his eye and what she might see there, or worse, what her own might betray. The place where he had run her through in her previous life began to throb painfully.

“Well?” This time he did wait. 

Rishe’s mind was flip-flopping, running through a thousand fragmented thoughts, making mental notes of exactly every place his body was ever so gently touching hers, gentle but scorching hot, and then short circuiting into complete blankness. Maybe she had misread her misreading of the signs? Did that make sense?

Feeling defeated and abruptly rather tired, she blew out a soft breath and replied barely above a whisper. The bands around her heart tightened even more. “I thought….I …I thought maybe you weren’t interested. In, you know…well… me …and …you were so quiet, you looked … ” she trailed off before she could make a bigger fool of herself. 

Rishe could feel the beginnings of new tears starting at the corners of her eyes and she ground her teeth together as hard as she could. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry ! Don’t make this worse than it already is. Here she was, a trained knight capable of holding her own in the toughest of battles, reduced to a mewling mess because of one small conversation gone off the rails. Pathetic. She was simply pathetic. 

Arnold recoiled and stiffened, drawing further back, his eyes again widening as he frantically searched her face for…something. The sudden movement surprised her, and she turned her head to look at him. A mistake. Clearly, he was as repulsed by her behavior as she was.  A single tear squeezed out the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek, before falling and dripping onto the pillow beneath her.  

His breath hitched and he extracted his hand from her fingers. She was surprised however to find him then running his thumb underneath her eye slowly and carefully, wiping away any remaining moisture, before he moved to gently cup the side of her face. His thumb began to trace small circles along her cheekbone. Even more confused now by his behavior, she blinked her eyes quickly before shutting them tightly, refusing to look back up at him and having to meet his eyes. 

“Oh. Oh goddess, Rishe. No…. No, darling. It’s the exact opposite.”  

She wasn’t sure if it was his completely uncharacteristic invocation of the goddess or his use of the word “darling”, but her eyes slammed open and she stared up at him in mild shock, her mouth forming a small “oh”. She allowed herself, finally, to be mentally still enough to see him for the first time since this train-wreck of a meeting had begun.  

His shoulders shook with each breath he was taking, and there was an unexpected tightness around his eyes, which were still swimming with darker shades of blue.  “Rishe, I am so, so barely holding it together as it is.” 

Rishe’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and her lips twitched in an attempt to respond to him, but she still wasn’t sure quite what he was getting at, so she opted to remain silent, letting him continue uninterrupted.

“Control,” he whispered. “It’s becoming harder, and harder, to retain control around you. Especially when you go and say things like that. ” She could feel his whole body shudder above her, and she watched him slowly close his eyes and swallow hard as he tilted his head back towards the ceiling.  Heat continued to radiate off him in waves, and his hand burned against her cheek.

Her free hand still lay sprawled on the pillow where he had left it, and it spasmed with a sudden realization. Rishe moved it and clumsily slammed it hard against the back of his hand on her face, gripping it tightly. Arnold groaned softly, low in his throat at the sudden contact, swallowing again. His skin was still flushed crimson across his face and for the first time she noticed that it had spread fully down his neck, to where it was lost below the collar at his neckline. Her gaze followed the length of his torso down past where her other hand was still gripping him, beyond his waistline to where she could barely see the rest of him spread around her mess of skirts and fabric. Arnold had always favored tightly tailored pants, not that she was one to complain, and they were doing nothing at all to hide the large bulge now stretching the front face of the fabric.  

Oh. OH. 

He wasn’t angry or annoyed or put off by her. He was… Her brain convulsed around the word now ping-ponging around in her mind. She was, in fact, a giant idiot after all. 

Rishe slowly loosened her grip on his jacket and brought that hand up to lay against the side of his face, mirroring his palm against her own. He sighed and leaned into her touch, his eyes remaining closed as he delicately nudged the tip of his nose against her palm. Tendrils of his soft hair brushed lightly across the back of her hand as he moved, causing her fingers to flutter at the sensation.

The sudden surge of warmth coiling in the pit of her stomach took her by surprise, as she gasped at the newfound feeling. A matching heat and flush raced across her face. The room was too warm. Her clothes were too warm. She desperately wished she hadn’t worn such a high-collared dress, it was suffocating.

“You um, you don’t have to, you know… ,” Rishe began shakily in a voice barely above a whisper. Arnold cracked an eye open and looked down at her, exhaling small puffs of warm air against her hand, as the edge of his nostril flared ever so slightly at the sound of her words.

“I don’t have to what?” Arnold shifted his weight down and to the side towards the back of the couch for support. He brought his hand that had been previously supporting his weight up to firmly press her hand against his face, again mirroring her, albeit much more delicately than she had done to him. His voice was soft and ragged, and he shut his eyes again as his fingers closed around hers. His hand was so much bigger than hers, it easily dwarfed it entirely.  He turned his head slightly until his lips were now barely brushing up against her palm.

“I need to hear you say it, Rishe. I need to hear it from you.” He pressed a soft kiss into the base of her thumb. Now she was the one with no control, as a soft cry escaped her lips when she felt his teeth softly nibble into her palm where he had just kissed her, her vision going blurry and soft around the edges. The coiled warm feeling in her root was growing and becoming tighter, and slightly uncomfortable, and she felt her thighs twitch involuntarily.  

“Control. You. Y-You don’t need to.” She managed to stammer out as her chest heaved with the effort. The man was absolutely infuriating. He was barely touching her and he had her completely unraveled.  

Arnold moaned, raw and throaty and needy, into her palm and her hips bucked slightly, involuntarily, at the noise. Where the hell did that come from? She had never heard anything like it from him, and damn him, she desperately wanted him to do it again.

“Rishe, what do you want?” She strained to hear his whisper above the blood pounding in her ears. Her concentration was shot and it took her a minute to parse the simple sentence and figure out what he could possibly mean. It didn’t help that he was now slowly licking a line up from her wrist to the tops of her fingers.  

She was full on panting now, her chest heaving as she watched the tip of his tongue move slowly up her palm. Rishe’s dress was too fucking tight . Who designed these idiotic death traps? Why was she stupid enough to wear one? Her bodice’s boning pressed uncomfortably into her sides and she squirmed trying to find a more comfortable position. It didn’t help at all that the heat radiating off him was becoming oppressive. 

With his lips now softly pressed up against the tips of her index and middle fingers, Arnold stopped, holding her fingers lightly in place. She could feel that his chest was also rising and falling in jagged heavy breaths, and his eyes were completely dilated as he opened them to look at her, still, unblinking.

Rishe swallowed hard and tried to focus, willing her mouth to move and form coherent words. “You,” she managed to squeak out. She could hear him inhale loudly, but still he didn’t move, continuing to look down at her. Waiting. Waiting for her to take the lead. She met his gaze, stormy blue against her emerald green, and held it as she said the rest as steady as she could into the expectant silence. 

“I want you. Arnold. All of you.” 

Arnold exhaled his held breath with a sudden rush, and his eyelids fluttered as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. She realized briefly that this might have been the first time she’d ever just said his name, no title, no honorifics. Just plainly acknowledging him as a person and not as a prince. 

He ran her captured hand up to the top of his forehead, through his unruly mop of black hair and back down across his face. Her fingers danced timidly across his features as he moved them slowly, languidly, exploring the shape of his brow, the bridge of his nose, the sharp rise of his cheekbones, before tracing the edge of his lips as he stilled their movement there.   

Rishe was too far gone to care about the most embarrassing whimper that escaped past her lips, as he drew the tips of her two longest fingers into his mouth and lightly bit them. She continued to watch, fascinated and helpless, as he sucked the rest of their length slowly into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing with the effort. He began to slowly draw them in and out of his mouth, and she found herself making the most humiliating noises as he did so.

If she had had any mental capabilities left to her at this point, she would have been mortified at the feeling of his tongue rolling around her digits, almost playfully teasing as it flitted from one side to the other. But as it was, she instead found herself arching up into him as the warm pool at the base of her hips became ever more pressing, and harder to ignore.

Her other hand grasped his tighter, holding it completely in place against her much too warm face. 

She gasped loudly and choked on a cry when he suddenly pulled her fingers from his mouth. Still holding her hand captive, he whipped his face towards hers, and his eyes flew open, staring wildly at her. 

“Wait.” He all but growled the word at her.

“Hnguh?”

“Earlier you said…” Arnold choked a bit and paused. Rishe squirmed again under him, more from his sudden intense scrutiny and less from her arm now being held up somewhat awkwardly. His voice dropped a register and his eyes narrowed. “Earlier you said if both parties were taking it…” his gaze flickered briefly to the long forgotten silver jar sitting nearby on the coffee table.         

Rishe looked up at him confused, her eyebrows drawing close and she frowned slightly. She absent-mindedly blew a stray lock of hair that had fallen into her face. “Well yes. For safety’s sake and maximum coverage it works best if both partners drink it daily. I wouldn’t ask you to do something I wouldn’t be comfortable doing myself. Granted, my formulation is a bit different, but it does have the extra benefit that it’s a tested and verified recipe I learned from my teacher. I’ve been having it nightly for the past two weeks to build up an initial buffer.” 

She watched Arnold’s eyes widen and swiftly glaze over, but then Rishe couldn’t see much of anything at all as her vision was consumed by the black strands of his hair as his lips crashed desperately into hers. 

Chapter Text

This wasn’t exactly how Rishe had expected to spend her afternoon, but she wasn’t at all disappointed by the turn of events. Surprised? Very much yes. Upset. …no, not if she was being honest with herself. Possibly forever humiliated and mortified at her own behavior?  Also very much yes. But any part of her that was capable of making a compelling argument to put a stop to it and leave had long since been silenced by a certain someone who was currently busy literally kissing her senseless. 

Everything was fire and pressure and heat, accompanied by the ever rising scent of sweat tinged with wildflowers. Rishe had always thought Arnold just had good taste in quality soap. But now, she wasn’t so sure. Maybe it was something to do with the goddess’ blood that ran through his veins. She had both her hands buried deep in his hair, keeping his head trapped in its current position. And each time she pulled on the silken strands a fresh waft of honey, vanilla, and an earthy musk drifted down to her. She found it maddeningly intoxicating.

His right hand cupped the back of her head, fingers locked in her hair at the nape of her neck, while his other was latched tightly onto her forearm. Arnold tugged gently on her hair and further tilted her head back so he had better access to her mouth, which was currently sealed with his. She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken a breath that was all her own. Air passed freely back and forth between them as he refused to release his hold on her. Rishe’s senses were completely consumed by the smell and taste and feel of him. Everything burned.

Arnold had her fully pinned beneath him, the weight of his torso pressing her down into the cushions below. Rishe had missed exactly when he had moved his outside leg off the ground and placed it up onto the couch, wedging it between her own. But now his thigh was constrained there and exerting a gentle force up into her with every breath - which would have been making a mess of her, had there not been a copious volume of yellow silk skirts providing ample padding between it and her core. 

Her hatred for her dress flared to a new level. She had never felt so utterly and personally betrayed by an inanimate object. Eternal vengeance upon you and your maker, she swore. Yellow was now officially her least favorite color, she would see to it that it would be purged from her wardrobe after this. 

With a soft and wet sound, Arnold finally broke their kiss off and tilted his head slightly, moving to brush his lips against the corner of her mouth. Rishe gasped and her lips twitched, confused by their sudden freedom. His bangs, damp now with sweat, dragged lightly across her cheekbones and sent a shiver running down her spine. 

“My dear, you seem a bit…distracted,” he purred, low in his chest, dangerous. “Thinking of something more important perhaps?” 

Rishe froze under him. Crap. She had been mentally drifting - not with anything more important - but still, he had caught her. Not like she was going to tell him however that violent thoughts about her dress were distracting her from him. She fished for a decent lie. Huffing softly, she twirled a piece of his hair with a finger, hoping it would help distract him. No such luck. Arnold continued to wait exactly where he was, expecting an answer to his question.  

“No, no, not really. I was just, ugh, getting a little over-warm. That’s all. It’s really hot in here.” She ran a hand across her forehead, swiping her own damp bangs off to the side, for effect. “Sorry,” she added lamely.

“....”

Cursing her incessant inner monologue, Rishe raced to try and think of something else to possibly say, but was stopped by his matching, indulgent laugh. “Ok. Sure.”

Arnold lifted his face away from hers and then continued to rise, lifting his entire body up so that he towered over her. His eyes narrowed as he brought a hand up to her forehead and let it trace the shape of her face down to her neck, fingers dragging lightly across her skin. Rishe could feel that she was already blushing a fierce pink, but she felt it grow even warmer at his delicate but deliberate touch.  

A genuine look of concern crossed his features. “You are actually rather warm.” He pursed his lips briefly, and continued to look down at her, contemplating. Rishe began to sweat anew, but this time with worry. What if he wanted to stop…whatever this was?  Did she? No. Could she convince him otherwise if he insisted? Stupid stupid stupid dress. This is all your fault. 

Rishe was about to try and take back her ill-thought out excuse when a lopsided, rakish grin began to spread across his face. She looked up at him in bewilderment, which only made him smile broader. It wasn’t fair how gorgeous he was, and she rarely got to see him smile like this, open and without a care in the world. It made her heart ache and she desperately hoped that her hastily chosen words weren’t going to destroy this moment.  

Grabbing both her hands in a single one of his own, Arnold gently pulled her up into a sitting position under him, his legs still straddling her. She couldn’t help the small squeak that escaped her as his other hand moved to her center back and lightly pressed her chest into his. The heat radiating off him was oppressive. Vengeance upon your stupid wool coat as well. Who wears wool in the summer anyway? Why is fashion so freaking dumb?

Unaware that Rishe had again become momentarily distracted by yet more offensive clothing articles, Arnold bent his face down next to hers, resting his chin casually on her shoulder. “It is rather warm in here, now that you mention it, my eternally observant wife,” he breathed into her ear. “I fear we might not be dressed appropriately for the weather we’re having.” 

THANK YOU. Rishe found herself smiling a bit smugly, feeling childishly vindicated.   But then she also responded purely on reflex, before she could stop herself, “Not your wife.”

He sighed. “As always you vexing creature, you already are my wife, ceremony or no…” His soft lips brushed up against her and he nibbled lightly on her earlobe, continuing, “Now, no more attempts to distract me. Maybe instead you could help me with my coat? I’m sure it’s part of the problem, holding the heat in.”  

“Hngh.” Wait…what? Rishe’s inner monologue slammed to a halt.

Normally, she would have tried to come up with something halfway witty in response to his brazen attempt at flirting, but that was it…. “Hngh”. It would have to do. Thanks brain. Maybe I am having a heatstroke after all.

Any further attempts at thought were squashed by whatever he was doing to her ear with his mouth. Rishe felt his tongue trace its contours before teasing lightly inside, and his warm breath against her sent her mind into a downward vacant spiral. She began to mentally drift in a sea of foamy white flowers and vanilla as he took her earlobe into his mouth and began to play with her earring.

The warmth pooling in her snapped and twinged, and she gasped and arched her back, pressing herself even more tightly up against him, her hands still trapped between their chests, held in his own. Arnold squeezed her fingers gently and then snickered softly into her ear, while his tongue still toyed with her earring back, rolling it back and forth. The heat coiling in her lower core wrenched, and it felt like something pulled hard on her insides. 

Rishe broke free of his grip and tightly grasped the fabric of his jacket in her fists, desperately needing stability and something solid to hold on to. With her new found leverage, Rishe’s hips jerked upward. Her leg that Arnold was straddling pressed upwards, rubbing up into the hard mound in his pants. 

Arnold grunted with a loud rush of air and released her ear, dropping his forehead to her shoulder in a dead weight.  He shuddered and slammed his own hips downward onto her, pinning her leg back down again, before bringing his hands up to tightly grasp both her upper arms. He sat there still, unmoving, except for the jagged breaths that escaped him as his shoulders shook.  

He made a sound that might have been an attempt at her name, but it mostly came out as a garbled mess. Rishe froze with him, suddenly afraid she might have accidentally hurt him. That feeling grew as Arnold continued to just sit there, the sound of his uneven breaths ragged in her ear.

“Arnold? Are you…ok?”

He grunted, not in pain, but in…frustration? “...fine. I-I just. Need a moment.” 

Rishe lightly squeaked a noncommittal sound in reply.

Arnold lightly laughed, almost resigned, and swallowed loud enough for her to hear. Even with his face so close to hers she wasn’t completely sure, but she thought she heard him quietly mutter the word “sorry” before taking in another large, rough breath.

A band began to tighten around her heart and Rishe quickly searched for something she could do to distract both of them from the increasingly awkward silence. Moving more on instinct than conscious thought, she slowly unhooked her fingers from their hold on his chest and drifted them up past his collarbone towards the first button of his jacket, nestled tightly up under his chin. As she unfastened the first button of his collar, he sighed as her fingers grazed his neck, murmuring something else incomprehensible to her. 

As she continued to undo the buttons of his coat, working her way down his front, Arnold readjusted his head on her shoulder so that his mouth was nestled up against the crook of her neck. The tip of his nose lightly brushed up against her as he gently resettled into a more comfortable position. She could feel his tense body start to relax more with each button she removed.  

The next set of buttons were proving more problematic to reach in her current stance - they were just too close for her to see what she was doing. She shifted and squirmed a little underneath him, trying to find a better angle, but only succeeded in having the boning of her bodice poke up into her sides in protest. Who decided women’s fashion had to be so damned uncomfortable? The whole closet is being tossed. All of it. And maybe we can pass some kind of ordinance that if a dress’s skirts are so heavy as to require boning for support then they’re outlawed. That sounds nice. Duty Number One.

She grumbled in frustration. He was going to have to move. Just a little. Rishe delicately placed her hands at the top of his hips and wrapped her fingers around as far as they would go. Her thumbs settled into a pair of soft divots at the top of his thighs. She thought he might have flinched at that, but she wasn’t sure - his wool coat was unnecessarily thick. Ugh, he must be burning up in this. Taking one slow breath, she then very gently pushed his hips back along her thigh. 

Arnold’s whole body suddenly jerked and he moaned, full-throated and needy, into her neck. Rishe stiffened as she felt his mouth bite down through the fabric of her collar. Broken out of his languid state, Arnold moved, but not in the way she expected him too. One hand snaked around her to grab at lower back, his fingers spreading wide and pushing into her. His other hand grasped at her hair, his nails digging lightly into her scalp. 

Rishe was partially thrilled that he made that noise again and she felt her heart racing faster, but at the same time she began to panic. While there was a layer of fabric between his teeth and her skin, he was biting down hard enough she could feel the individual impressions being left in her skin. Her wedding dress was rather revealing along the neckline, and the last thing she wanted to have to deal with was trying to cover up any bruises or discolorations left there. Petty, perhaps, but she didn’t want to be the source of any potential scandal. She stopped and pressed her hands up against his chest, nudging him lightly. 

“A-Arnold…ngh…” she stammered out.  

He marginally lightened his bite but didn’t let go, speaking through the side of his mouth still clamped down on her. “What.”  His flat tone seethed with annoyance. Rishe gulped but pressed forward.

“Don’t…don’t leave a mark. Please. N-not there at least…” Wait…not “THERE”? Holy hells, brain, thanks a lot.

“.....”

Arnold held still and Rishe began to wonder if he understood at all what she meant, he just sat there, breathing heavily.  Is…is he upset I stopped him? Pushed him away? Wait, does he think I’m trying to actually push him away completely? Ughgh why am I so bad at this. 

She was about to try again when she felt him exhale slowly and release her throat with a soft grunt. Rishe didn’t realize she’d been holding her own breath as well, and exhaled out with him.  Arnold began moving his face so that his cheek continued to brush up and follow the line of her neck, across her jawline, towards her mouth. Rishe tilted her head back as he did and swallowed hard, letting her eyelids flutter closed, the damp strands of his hair drifting past her nose. She idly remembered that she had been in the middle of doing something before this, but she couldn’t recall what it was as her senses were again overcome with the scent of flowers, earth, and vanilla.

The top half of Arnold’s coat flapped open across his chest, revealing the navy blue button up underneath. Her hands floated across his chest to grasp the open lapels of his jacket and she tugged down. Hard. 

Rishe felt Arnold’s lips curl up as he pressed them against the corner of her mouth. “How about here then?” he murmured into her skin. He flicked the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip quickly, and her whole body shivered against him.  

“Here…wha?” Her eyes opened in confusion.

“I promise I won’t leave any marks here.” Arnold nibbled her bottom lip for emphasis. 

“Y-you’re terrible,” she sputtered, turning her face so she could look at him. His blue eyes swam with ice and fire and need as they stared back at her in return. Guess he’s done with his uh…moment? 

“Hmm,” he hummed in agreement. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards. “Although, I suppose I should stop distracting you. It seems you still haven’t taken my jacket off.” His fingers lightly brushed up and down her spine across her lower back, teasing her.  

Rishe’s breathing hitched as his traveling fingers made the heat inside her swell. She gulped and tried her best to levy a glare at him. Prodding an index finger into his chest she pursed her lips and growled up at him. The heat inside her was starting to rise again, and between that and the lingering scent of wildflowers her brain was an absolute mess.  

“...hate your stupid jacket. S’got too many buttons..”   The jacket can die with the dress together. Maybe in a fire. A lovely fire. Perhaps we’ll make it a national holiday. Whee, a celebration. 

Arnold abruptly pulled his face away and sniggered loudly, sweaty, limp bangs falling into his eyes. Removing his hand from her hair, he scooped up one of hers from his chest, and brought her wrist up to his mouth. She watched with wide eyes as he nibbled at her flesh there, the soft breaths from his fading laughter tickling her skin, all the while watching her. “My beautiful, capable, terrifying wife, thwarted by a simple piece of clothing? We can’t have that ruining your reputation, now can we?” His eyes danced with mirth as he verbally needled her.  

He sighed dramatically into her open palm and began to kiss his way up her hand. “I suppose I should offer my assistance…unless you object?”  Rishe was finding it difficult to form coherent thoughts, not just because of what he was doing to her hand, but also because he was being so goddess-damned infuriating. She was hard-pressed to think of a time he had ever been so talkative or, well, …playful? Maybe his libido is directly tied to his mouth. His big dumb, gorgeous, soft - 

“Take your own damned clothes off then if you’re in such a hurry,” Rishe grumbled out, tugging on his lapel again. She however immediately regretted the exact choice of words she used. Arnold’s eyes flew open and he choked on a breath, sucking in sharply as he bit down on the flesh at the base of her thumb. 

“JACKET. Your jacket!” she quickly amended. Her heart hammered in her ears and she felt the entire length of her face burn.  

Arnold tore his mouth away from her palm with a soft hiss through his teeth. “As my lady wishes,” he exhaled out.  

Rishe watched through half-lidded eyes as he made swift work of the rest of his buttons, the slender fingers of a single hand deftly working them free one by one. As the last button came undone, his heavy wool coat fell open across his broad chest.  Rishe always forgot how wide his shoulders were - the tailoring of his jackets did an impressive job of obscuring exactly how well built he was, how much muscle hid beneath.  

She tugged the corner of the coat sideways over his shoulder and he shrugged, helping it fall down to his wrist. Arnold finally relinquished her waist so he could remove the rest of the jacket from his other arm.  Stripping it away, he dropped it unceremoniously on the floor over the back of the couch, where it landed with a dull thud.

Now that it was off, she could see he had been just as warm under it as she had felt. Sweat stained his shirt along his chest and collarbone, and his shirt was sticking to him in patches.  Arnold breathed a quiet sigh and his gaze became stormy and dark again. He held her eyes with his own as he brought his arms around her, gingerly resting his fingers on the small of her back before dragging his nails unhurriedly up her spine towards her neck.  

Rishe gasped and arched her back, swallowing hard, grabbing at the fabric of his shirt. Like the jacket had been, the shirt was also buttoned all the way up, hiding the scars that she knew snaked underneath her hands. She was only one of a handful of people who knew they existed, and the intimacy of that knowledge thrilled her.

Arnold leaned in closer and rose up on his knees so that his head hung down above her, and Rishe tilted her head all the way back to continue to look at him. There was something burning, almost feral in his eyes as he lowered his face to hers, delicately pressing his lips to hers with a gentleness he’d not shown yet today. 

His lips were soft and swollen and sweet tasting, and that tenderness melted the last shreds of her inhibitions. Rishe stretched upwards and smashed her lips into his, thrusting her tongue between his teeth into his mouth. She felt his entire body shudder under her hands and he moaned into her open mouth, yearning. Her finger nails dug into his chest, and she answered with her own high-pitched whine. The sound of his raw voice rumbling through her made her insides clench hard, her legs spasming around his knee that was still pressed between them, but the friction she was seeking was again interrupted by the ruffles of her skirts. The damned dress was still in the way. A thousand deaths upon you, may your fabric be cast into the fiery hellscape of the sun, you stupid stupid thing.

Rishe dully noted the obscene sounds filling the room as their lips roughly attacked one another, teeth clashing, tongues occupied in an intricate dance as they explored one cavity and then the other. Normally something like this would have had her dying from humiliation, but the small, wet sounds instead continued to tug on the coil inside her that was growing tighter and tighter, yearning for release.

Both his hands by now had completed their journey up her back to rest at the nape of her neck, where she could feel his long fingers start to feel out the shape of her dress’s own tiny buttons. She reluctantly pulled one hand free from his chest and moved it back to twist her coral-colored hair into a rough ponytail, bringing it around her shoulder to her front, out of the way.  She had just enough brainpower left at her disposal to remember that tiny buttons and hair catching in them would be an unfun ending to the afternoon.  

She could feel his fingers struggle to grasp the small pearl buttons without slipping - they were a pain enough to deal with even if you didn’t have sweat and other distractions complicating the matter; she typically needed Elsie’s help with this one.

Arnold momentarily stilled as he became more and more distracted with the buttons. She could practically taste the frustration flowing from him.  

“Your dress is just as stupid,” she heard him grumble as he finally started to get the first button free. He growled deep in his throat as he moved on to the next one and fumbled again.

Rishe nibbled his bottom lip to recapture his attention. “Rip it,” she rasped out. She was completely burning up and the warmth and tightness of her clothing was constricting her chest more and more. She was done with it. 

“...”

Leaning back into his touch at her neck, she grabbed his chin in her hand and angled his face so she could look up at him without impediment. Now that she could see him clearly, she could see the irritation burning in his eyes, accompanied by something else she couldn’t quite place. His cheeks were stained pink and wisps of his black bangs were plastered to his forehead.

She poured every ounce of her loathing for her dress into her expression as she locked her gaze with his. “I despise this dress. Just. Destroy. It.”  

Arnold’s jaw went slack and Rishe could see his gaze flit quickly back and forth across her face, watching her for any indication that she might be joking. She continued to glare up at him, hardly blinking, willing her stupid dress to just burst into flames and be consumed already. 

He drew in a shaky breath and shuddered again. His eyes narrowed, eyebrows drawing down, and an almost malevolent smile slowly grew across his face. Whatever danger she might have normally read in that expression on him was muted by the light that began to dance in his eyes. “I exist to serve, my dear.” 

Rishe wasn’t sure exactly what she expected to happen at that point, but it wasn’t this. She squeaked loudly as Arnold abruptly and roughly shoved her forward into his torso. Her hand flew from his chin to his shoulder in a feeble attempt to catch herself, but she still found her face pressed nose first into his chest. She was distracted by his overwhelming and enveloping scent again, and the softness of his silk shirt against her cheek. Rishe breathed in deep and let her eyes begin to fall closed. 

She felt his fingers dig into the fabric on either side of the dress at her shoulder blades, then heard him murmur to himself something inaudible. He paused, ever so briefly, before she heard him grunt, and then rip the entire back of her dress open in one forceful pull. Silk ripped, threads snapped. Small, white, pearl buttons went flying in all directions, many silently lodging in the heavy carpet on the floor, but enough skittering across the wooden top of the coffee table next to them that they played an almost merry tune to themselves as they rolled and bounced across the top. 

Rishe gasped for air as finally her back down to her waste was exposed, free of the constraining fabric and irritating boning. The cooler air of the room made her shiver as it touched her overheated skin. At the same time, the fire in her core swelled even higher and she bit down hard on his shirt in front of her and moaned into it.  

Arnold pressed his face into the top of her head and kissed her hair, his hands coming to rest lightly atop her shoulders, thumbs slowly playing with her bra straps newly exposed there.  She felt him shudder and his grip tightened. 

“Your foe is slain, Princess,” he rumbled into the crown of her head. 

“...not a princess…” she weakly mumbled in return, around the cloth still in her mouth. 

“Fair,” he laughed softly into her hair, his breath blowing the strands. “How about Empress then.” 

“Hrk.” Rishe’s eyes flew open at the title. Her breath got stuck in her throat and she had a brief moment where panic threatened to bubble up and overwhelm her. In her mind, Emperor Arnold Hein was the man from her previous lives, the one who burned the world down and caused her death time and time again. Whereas the man sitting in her lap wrapped around her was Prince - not Emperor - and he was one the kindest, thoughtful, principled, most awe-inspiring persons she’d ever met. Intellectually she knew assigning the different titles to the different timeline-Arnolds was stupid, but she still couldn’t stop herself from casually drawing the correlation.      

Suddenly worried that she was taking too long to respond, she grasped for something to derail that new thread back into safer territory. Rishe cleared her throat delicately and pulled her face away and leaned back from his chest, letting the fabric go that was still clenched between her teeth. She was momentarily mortified by the large wet spot she’d left on his shirt, but continued to lean until she could see his face again. His arms followed her and continued to provide support so she didn’t fall backwards against the arm of the couch.  

“Well, my Prince,” she put extra emphasis on the title just as he had previously, “I think I might need to disagree some with your definition of the word slain.” Arnold smoothly raised an eyebrow as he continued to watch her, the ghost of a smile dancing around his lips. She brushed her hand lightly across the fabric at her collarbone, using a finger to delicately trace the shape of it from one shoulder to the other. While the dress had opened up across her back and along the top of her shoulders, the boning following the shape of her torso still kept it upright along her chest. The tall collar falling ever so slightly forward was the only indication that it had been unbuttoned. Rishe felt his fingers seize on her shoulders before loosening again. 

“Seems to me you’ve done some damage, but have yet to deal the mortal blow.” 

He blinked rapidly, and then pulled one hand off her shoulder, pressing the palm to his chest in mock penance. Sitting back and lowering his weight down fully onto her thighs, he bowed forward as far as he could from his seated position. 

“My Lady, nothing escapes your astute gaze. My humblest apologies. Please, allow me to rectify this most embarrassing situation.”   

Arnold picked up one of her hands and trapped it delicately between his own, pulling it towards his shoulder, where he pressed it down, curling her fingers around and over the top. She held her arm there and watched perplexed as he then slowly returned his hands to her own shoulder, softly grasping the fabric on either side of her arm.  

Rishe involuntarily made a strangled noise low in her throat as she watched him slowly and methodically rip the entire sleeve apart at the seam, moving his hands down her arm as more of the fabric gave way and drooped down. The skin tight fabric opened up along her arm like a flower blooming. She wasn’t sure what she had expected him to do, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

Once her first arm was completely free of the offending yellow fabric, he repeated his ministrations with the other.  By the time both her arms were clear, Rishe’s chest was heaving and she was panting hard, gripping onto his shoulders for much needed support, her vision blurry and unfocused. Honey, vanilla, and musk continued to pour off him, and she found it impossible to catch her breath.

Arnold paused briefly, before carefully pulling the last of the bodice front down, exposing her chest and the lacy, white bra she wore. With his head bowed, he smoothed the various pieces of ripped fabric out around her, arranging them almost like petals around her waist, before resting his hands around her waistline. Her hips lightly spasmed at the touch of his fingers on her bare skin there and she struggled to keep her breath from lodging in her throat.  

He sunk his forehead to her naked shoulder and grunted, resting the weight of his head on her.  She could feel him trembling from where she still gripped his shoulders. His heavy, shaky breaths tickled her skin and she shivered. 

“I…I think…it’s dead now,” he choked out, voice barely above a whisper, deep and hoarse.

“Hnghnnn….” Rishe let out a strangled giggle at how ridiculous the entire situation had become. She was feeling downright giddy no longer being strangled to death by the overly warm and constricting fabric. The cool air caressing her skin, combined with the soft breaths Arnold was puffing onto her chest from his perch on her shoulder, did wonders to unscramble her fried brain.  

She took a minute to pause and appreciate that the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, possibly in the entire world, was currently sitting on her lap, using her shoulder as a pillow, and was quietly shaking with every breath he took. His chest heaved a mere inch from hers, and she found herself unconsciously trying to match the speed of their breaths, in and out together. A new emotion she refused to name or acknowledge began to fight for attention inside her, vying against the ones already present, and her chest ached. Her eyes started to string with the threat of tears and she was immediately thankful Arnold had his forehead pressed into her shoulder so he couldn’t see her face. 

Eventually, Rishe gently squeezed his shoulders, “Y-yeah. You got it. A decisive victory.”  

She could feel the heat from his face burning on her shoulder, and she felt slightly guilty. Rishe could see now just how much his shirt was sticking to him and how damp his hair had become. Sighing, she moved her hands to the collar of his shirt, slowly so as to not startle him, and began to carefully undo the buttons down his front. “Here, let me help you with this,” she whispered down to him.

He grunted in response, which she took to mean an affirmative as he did nothing to stop her, just continuing to rest in the crook of her neck.

Rishe made short work of these buttons (stupid jacket), pulling his shirt out free from where it was tucked into his pants. It continued to cling to him in places, while draping awkwardly in others. Now that it was open along the front she could see the hard lines of his muscles, where small beads of sweat clung to his skin, dancing in the movement of his breaths. 

Her attention was absorbed, however, by the large network of scars that crossed at the base of his neck.  She reached up and peeled his shirt away and let it start to fall down along his arm, fully exposing them. Arnold again might have mumbled something into her shoulder, but it was lost to her in the sound of his breathing. 

She’d been somewhat morbidly fascinated with the old injury since learning of its existence and had dreamed of fully exploring it. Rishe reached up and began to gingerly trace along a large line with a fingertip, her touch travelling along each rough and puckered ridge to the next. 

Rishe sighed quietly into the still room. “You’re beautiful.”

Arnold’s whole body spasmed as he drew her into a tight embrace, his fingers clutching desperately at her back. Hit bit back a cry and his arms tightened around her even more. Rishe’s face fell onto his shoulder as he held her to him, and she could feel his heart pounding into her where the bare skin of their chests met. All she could think to do was hold him back, pressing soft kisses into the scarred tissue underneath her face.  

It was easy to forget that he was still so young, and up until recently had fully existed in a world purely made of hate, death, and loneliness. Accustomed to pushing everyone around him away, he wasn’t used to having people care about him, care for him, or show him a shred of any kindness. It made her ache thinking that two tiny words could affect him so much. 

“You ok?” It was all she could think to ask, afraid that he’d take her silence to mean she didn’t care.  

There was a silent pause, before he laughed softly into her shoulder, squeezing her again tightly around her middle. His voice was quiet, but steady. “I …I think I just realized how much I need you. Not just want you, not just as my wife, but….you. All of you.”

Rishe squeezed her eyes shut and held on to him, grabbing fistfuls of his loose shirt. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry! She tried to choke back a sob and failed miserably, tears leaking out of both corners of her eyes. Good job.Still so pathetic. As the first one dropped onto his shoulder, Arnold stiffened and leaned back slowly, bringing a hand to gently cup and lift her chin.  Rishe sniffed, and kept her eyes tightly closed. She squeaked out some unintelligible sound and blushed even more. If he didn’t think I was a completely lost cause, he sure does now. What a way to ruin the mood. Stupid stupid stupid.

“Rishe. What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Arnold’s voice cracked on the last word. He seemed so genuinely sad that Rishe couldn’t help but open her eyes, and was immediately lost, swimming in pools of blue.  

Choking on a small laugh, Rishe smiled and brought her hands to either side of his face, lightly running her thumb along his cheekbone. “...Sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying.” Arnold continued to stare at her, his face dropping into his characteristic flat expression. Rubbing her eyes with the back of one hand, Rishe continued, “Really. I’m….I’m happy. This is the happiest I’ve ever been. You didn’t do anything. I mean…no, you did things. But nice things. Not like bad things or you know…I …ungh…” 

He continued to look unconvinced. “I MEAN IT!” Rishe shouted at him.  “Sometimes, sometimes people cry when they’re happy.” Sighing miserably, she looked down towards the floor. “Sorry.” 

“Why do you keep apologizing?"

Rishe grumbled. “...dunno.” She still refused to look at him, but she could hear him shifting a little and felt him move closer, pressing his face up against hers, lips brushing her ear. “You promise me you’re not upset?”

“.... Just embarrassed. I don’t like crying in front of you.” Rishe circled her arms back around him and hung on to the loose fabric of his shirt. Yep. Totally ruined it. Ugh, I suck at this so much.

Arnold’s voice dropped, low and breathy. “Maybe I should try and distract you then?” He did something with his tongue along the contours of her ear, and that combined with the way he was sighing into it, made Rishe’s insides jump. “Perhaps something like this?” She gasped and gripped onto his shirt tighter, pressing her chest hard into his. 

“Hrgk.”

He sniggered lightly, “Guess it’s working, you’re back to your normal eloquent self I see.” Rishe couldn’t help balling up a fist and slamming it into his shoulder in response. Arnold laughed again and began to run his hands over her back, tracing the lines of her muscles and pressing her even more fully into him.  Oh….guess I didn’t?

Arnold began to nibble down the length of her neck, while his hands traced the shape of her bra band. Rishe was about to reciprocate when she noticed he had stopped, and his hands began tapping and almost scratching around lightly across her back, searching for something.  

“...the hell?” 

He sounded frustrated again?  Rishe tried not to pull too far away, but twisted a bit so she could try and look up at him as he was curled around her.  “Arnold…?”

His face was flushed deep red and he looked flustered, grimacing full force at her back. What could he be?…oh. OHHH. Rishe pushed slowly back away from his chest and lowered herself down to the couch, pulling him down with her. Arnold shifted so he was no longer straddling her so much as laying flat atop her.  As he lifted his chest up a bit to better look at her, his hips pressed into her and Rishe felt his hardened length dig into her stomach. She couldn’t help drawing in a breath, the warm pool inside her flaring again. Goddess, how is the man so beautiful? No, don’t get distracted. Bad brain. 

Rishe couldn’t help but smile up at him, which caused Arnold to look even more uncertain. She lightly dragged a finger down the center of his chest, stopping just at the center above his heart. Tapping lightly, she tried to keep her laugh contained. “It’s a front clasp.”

Arnold’s eyes widened slightly and a grin began to spread across his face, his confusion melting away. He brought his face down and kissed her deeply, only fumbling for a brief moment before his fingers found the clasp hidden beneath some ornamental silk bows, and deftly worked it free. He moaned into her, deep and guttural, as he slowly slipped the fabric off her breasts, fingers just barely dancing across her skin. Rishe couldn’t stop herself from arching up into his hands, wanting more than just a gentle brush. Arnold responded as she wanted and he cupped his hands around her, his thumb making small circles as he slowly explored her curves, while his tongue made similar motions inside her mouth.  

She caught herself making a high, whining sound as she felt her nipples pebble hard under his touch, and he slammed his hips down into her in response, matching her with a deep rumble of his own. Arnold began to knead the mounds of her chest with more intensity, and she felt the heat surge inside her again. He began to roll his hips into her with a regular rocking motion, and Rishe couldn’t stop herself from reaching around and grabbing his ass, pulling herself into him with each round of movement. 

Rishe had long dreamed, when she could admit it to herself, of what his backside would feel like, and her fantasies did not in fact do it justice. It was one thing when she allowed herself small moments to stare at what his tight pants concealed as he trained with his knights, all in the name of bettering her own training and skill, of course. It was quite another to actually feel his taut muscles bunch and slide under her hands. 

His whole body spasmed as she dug her fingers into him, and he groaned long and low and needy into her mouth, before shakily coming up to gasp for air.

“Rishe. I…I’m not going to be able to hold back if you keep…are you sure…” 

The feeling of her bare skin rubbing against his sent chills up her spine, and when combined with the warmth rushing through her, she was finding it harder and harder to have any thoughts of all that made any kind of sense. This man is STILL going to be the death of me. She was consumed completely with the feeling of him pressed against her, and wanted nothing more than to get rid of the last remnants of her stupid dress. Rishe could feel the pounding of his heart as it reverberated through her own chest, and the matching throbbing in her stomach as his length twitched into her.  

She growled and grabbed the back of his head with her hand, digging her fingers in and pulling down hard. A fresh waft of musky earth and vanilla enveloped her senses. “If you stop now I swear on the goddess I will murder you in your sleep.”  

“....”

Oh crap. What did I just - ? Before she could complete that thought, Arnold burst out laughing and kissed her on her forehead. Rishe felt a blush begin to fiercely spread from where he touched her. 

“I mean…um…erm…” While she was delighted to see him laughing, she was more than a bit mortified that it was at her own expense. Way to go again, brain. Threaten the man with death. I’m sure that’s a big turn on. 

Arnold’s eyes danced with mirth and he ruffled her hair before kissing her again. “Well, we can’t have that, now can we? I don’t think poor Theodore would forgive me for leaving him the…” Arnold stopped mid-sentence and knitted his eyebrows, rising up slightly and turning towards the door to the hallway. His eyes narrowed.

“Rishe…you didn’t happen to -” Arnold paused and continued to stare intently over her head. Huh? I didn’t happen to what now?

She flinched as there was a loud thud followed by what sounded like scuffling and footsteps. Rishe looked up at Arnold’s face, watching it drain of color, his eyes going wide and glassy, as comprehension dawned on her with the accompanying feeling of sinking dread. The…door? Oh goddess …I didn’t lock the…  The only warning she got was Arnold sucking in a sharp breath between his teeth, right before there was a room shattering bang and the sound of wood slamming into plaster.

“Big Brother! Big Brother, I got the….the…”   An all too familiar voice filled the silence of the room. Wait, that’s…ARGHGH - Rishe’s stomach fell into a freefall and she felt a wave of ice rush over her, her mind spinning into wild panic that screeched into a halt of solid white noise. Her mind emptied as Theodore’s voice echoed through the room.

“Wha -” Rishe jerked as she bolted upright, and her head slammed into the bottom of Arnold’s chin, knocking him off balance. He grunted from the sudden impact, and his head snapped upwards as he began to fall over sideways. 

Oh no oh no oh no oh no -  Rishe scrabbled at his back and she tried to desperately press herself against him, as they tumbled over the side of the couch onto the floor, knocking into the coffee table on the way down and sending its contents flying in all directions. This isn’t happening. None of this is happening.  

Arnold let out a muffled expletive and rolled hard to land on top of her, flattening his body completely over hers in the process. He shifted up a bit so that the Rishe couldn’t see much of anything but the ceiling over the corner of his shoulder as she held on to him, some of her previously discarded buttons digging into her back as they lay pressed together on the floor. He carefully pulled his shirt back up his arms and let the open front sides close around her like a tent, all the while never shifting his gaze from the door.

“Theodore.”  Arnold’s voice was quiet, but it rumbled into her chest from where he was pressed flat against her. Rishe could hear the ice dancing underneath the single word. He was exuding an aura that left her completely chilled, despite the heat emanating from his body directly into hers. She felt Arnold’s center of mass shift slightly, his arm moving off to the side grasping for something. What’s he doing? 

“I didn’t, I mean, I didn’t see any uh,  wait! - eooomghff!!”  Theodore was cut off by the sound of a muffled thump.

Rishe wished she could see what was going on, and tried to turn her head to glimpse what was happening behind her. But Arnold was too heavy, and if she was honest she didn’t really want to move that much at the moment, as he was being quite an effective shield. 

Arnold shifted again, and his movement was followed by yet another loud thump. “LovelyshotsirI’lltakeitfromhere. Sorrytobotheryou!!!”  Oliver? YOU TOO?!?!?  Oh my freaking hell is the entire palace in here now?! If I wasn’t dead yet I will be from embarrassment alone at this point. Someone just kill me already.

Oliver’s voice broke a few times as he continued to lobby apologies into the air and she heard Theodore stammer something in response. But then there was the blessed sound of the door slamming shut. Rishe could just make out more muffled shouts from the hallway before they too faded, and she and Arnold were left in relative silence, the only sound the pounding of her blood in her ears. Despite the flat gaze he still leveled at the door and his calm-seeming demeanor, Rishe could feel his heart matching hers beat for beat where he still lay flat against her, racing. The dangerous aura that had been rising from him all but disappeared the instant the door closed.

After what felt like an eternity, Arnold sighed and looked down at her, with a grin beginning to tug at the corner of his mouth. “I really need to show you how doors work one of these days. They have locks, you know. Real special, real inventive technology. Perhaps Hermity didn’t have those. A shame.”  Climbing carefully off her, Rishe rolled to the side and watched him make his way to the office door and make an exaggerated show of setting the lock above the handle. Rishe knew she should be offended at his point by his blatant sarcasm and teasing, but it was becoming harder and harder to think straight, or frankly think at all. A dull fuzz had taken over her brain and she felt like she was settling into a thick warm blanket. She found herself floating again in a soft white haze, barely taking in her surroundings. 

Rishe was finding it very hard to move as well, much less process beyond the serene static that had taken over her mind. She barely managed, after much internal struggle, to push herself up to a sitting position and watch him amble about the room. I’m dead again. That must be it. None of this just happened. Or maybe I’m dreaming. I don’t feel dead. Yeah. A bad dream. It’s a nightmare. None of this is happening. I’ll wake up any minute now.

She watched, weirdly detached, as Arnold bent down to pick up a couch cushion off the floor by the door. How’d that get there? He lobbed it in her general direction, grabbed and tossed over another, and then started making his way back towards her. 

She flinched a little as a heavy weight settled suddenly onto her shoulders, catching her by surprise.  Arnold’s jacket was draped over her, and she absent-mindedly began to pull her arms through the too-large sleeves. It smelled strongly of him, and she was again wrapped in the comforting scent of flowers and earthy musk. Breathing deeply, she settled more into the jacket and loved the way the fabric felt against her bare skin. Too bad all dreams don’t end like this. Well, minus that panicky bit.

Rishe noted dimly that he continued to move about, righting the table, picking up various things that had fallen to the floor. She was vaguely aware that he was saying something, but none of the words were making any sense to her. He ruffled her hair as he walked near her again, before bending down to pick up a small silver container that had rolled under the table.  

Something about that last item sent a jolt through the warm haze surrounding her. 

Silver…..container….

Silver…..

OH…MY….

All the events of the afternoon came crashing back down into her skull and left her physically reeling, and she had to catch herself from falling over onto the floor. She and Arnold had been…and then they had…..and then Theodore and Oliver of all people had seen…None of this had been a dream.

Rishe felt her face flush with an intense heat and she bolted straight to her feet. 

Need to leave, need to leave, need to leave… 

Glancing down at herself, a strangled sound ripped from her throat, and she hurriedly began buttoning up Arnold’s jacket over her bare torso as fast as her fingers would work the oversized buttons. She had somehow misplaced her bra completely, but fine, whatever, she could deal with that later. 

Need to Leave, needtoleave, NeedToLeave….   

She stared in momentary dismay at the state of her clothes, the ragged edges of the torn bodice and sleeves poking out from underneath the hem of Arnold’s jacket. It was long, but not that long.  Reaching down she roughly stuffed the pieces up under the jacket as best she could and tried to smooth out the front to avoid any weird bunching. Stupid stupid wretched awful fabric abomination. There. Totally presentable. Nothing out of place. This is totally normal. Now to GO.

Rishe started forward towards the door but then hesitated. Wait… Oliver and Theodore might still be out there. And that guard, whoever he was. Ughghgh he probably heard everything!! I can’t…  She spun in place, looking around her frantically for anything that might get her out of the room alive and in one mental piece. Behind Arnold’s desk, thin white curtains slowly wafted in the breeze from the open balcony door. That’s it!

That odd static sound was still buzzing in her ears as she made a dash for the balcony.  A very small part of the back of her mind noted that Arnold was watching her with a bemused look on his face as she kicked her shoes off and vaulted over the railing.