Private Tales I've Caught A Monster

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Damyr Winter Estate - Oban Countryside
Wren Kingsley


Oh. This was probably a terrible mistake. Val knew that. Knew that he was toeing the line of danger and stepping right onto the edge of foolish; but the heart wanted what it wanted.

It had taken him weeks to engineer things correctly to make this little meet-up happen. Not only had he needed to placate his father, but he'd needed to remove most of the staff and get rid of the wardens who usually maintained his fathers forests. He could not risk anyone seeing what to happen here, and he would most certainly never endanger the company he was going to keep.

So the vast Damyr Winter Manor, all of it's thirty two bedrooms and forty three bathrooms sat empty. Occupied only by one very trusted servant, one exceptionaly housemistress Val had known since birth, and of course one very trusted guard by the name of Dev. It was a meager, pale comparison to the staff usually present, but Val didn't care.

He wasn't here for luxury. He wasn't here to be pampered.

He was here for the woman riding up the gravel path of his families vacation estate.

Val watched as Wren slowly moved up the road, standing just behind the fountain. She was due to stay with him here for two weeks. She was due to be with him for more than a night for the first time since they had met. She was due to be here during the full moon. A problem that he had promised they would deal with. A storm that he was determined to weather together.

Even if it ended with a few scratch marks.
 
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The tall spires of the Damyr manor loomed over her as Wren rode up the gravel path, her thoughts a tangled mess. Not only had she found herself in some territorial trouble amongst other thieves, hunters had picked up her scent too, and now this—Val’s estate, empty and waiting, an invitation she couldn’t afford to refuse. She knew she had no better option, but the doubts gnawed at her.

"Gods, what am I doing? "she murmured to herself, the familiar pang of regret tightening in her chest. Her stallion’s hooves crunched on the gravel as she drew closer, the sound echoing the turmoil in her mind. She was used to running, to slipping away unnoticed, but this time felt different—dangerous in a way she couldn’t quite define.

"At least try to be pleasant for fuck’s sake, Wren," she chided herself under her breath, trying to muster a smile as Val came into view. But the moment her gaze settled on the grand estate, her resolve faltered.

She slipped from the saddle, her boots hitting the ground with a soft thud, and ran a hand swept back her hood and ran through her dark hair. The vastness of the manor, the emptiness within, it all seemed too much—too exposed.

“This is a really fucking stupid idea,” she muttered, frowning as she looked up at the estate, the weight of her decision pressing down on her.
 
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Val couldn't help the grin that slipped across his face. "You're telling me."

He knew this was a terrible idea as much as Wren did. He knew that they were courting half a dozen different women who screamed danger, but...fuck it if he didn't give a single shit about any of that.

The moment that he had seen her, the second that the gates had parted and he'd spotted her atop her horse Val knew that he had made the right choice. Their...situation was not an easy one to explain, but the rush he felt as Wren approached would have been worth a thousand years in the light to him.

He couldn't help it, there was something utterly electric about being in her presence.

Without another word he stepped forward. His movements bold as the gravel crunched beneath his feet.

"I'm harboring a fugitive." Val said as his hands came up to gently grasp her hips. Drawing her close and tempting the danger that was her wrath before she could ever offer an objection. "And under my bed I've hidden Lady Aurelia's jewels."

He admitted to her the prize he had taken just a day ago in the Blackwood. "If the Guards show up. I think even my father would say I'm royally fucked."

Val said as he drew her close, the need in his touch more than clear. "But it'll have been worth it."

Both too see her, and the outrage of Aurelia's face.
 
Wren’s initial scowl softened as Val’s grin became evident, a hint of amusement breaking through her own apprehension. His reaction was a reminder of just how far from ordinary this arrangement was, and she couldn’t help but be slightly disarmed by his daring demeanor.

As he stepped closer, the gravel crunching beneath his boots seemed to echo the pounding of her heart. Val’s hands found her hips, pulling her closer in a move that was both bold and brash. Wren stiffened for a moment, but the warmth of his touch, the thrill of his proximity, was as it always was. Undeniably intoxicating.

She raised an eyebrow at his declaration. “Harboring a fugitive, you say?” she said, her voice dripping with a mixture of sarcasm and intrigue. “And Lady Aurelia’s jewels? You really are pushing the boundaries of reckless behavior, Val.”

A laugh, both bitter and bemused, escaped her lips. “I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t mind trouble. ” She tilted her head, looking up at him with a mix of challenge and admiration. “And here I thought you were only good at looking handsome and being a complete dick head.”

His touch was a comfort and a temptation and an irritation combined, and the fierce desire in his eyes mirrored her own inner conflict. Wren leaned in slightly, her breath warm against his cheek as she spoke softly. “I’m glad you enjoy taking risks, Val. It means something to me, even if it’s a dangerous game we’re playing.” Her fingers brushed against his arm. “But let’s not pretend that all of this is just a game. It’s a gamble, and one that could end badly.”

Wren’s resolve was as firm as ever, even if it was tempered by the undeniable pull between them. They were both in deep, and there was caution in her eyes as she stared into his.
 
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He couldn't help the quirk of a smile that tugged at his lips even as she reminded him of the very real ax that hung over both their necks.

Wren was entirely, and completely correct. One word slipping out, one whisper reaching the wrong ear, and they were both dead. She was considered one of the enemies of the King, and he the son of his most loyal advisor. The host of his other crimes wouldn't have even mattered next to that, the scandal alone would see his father arrest Val right alongside Wren.

Add everything else on top; the jewels he did in fact have stashed away, he weapons buried beneath the garden, and the laundry list of wealthy nobles he had robbed in the last few months...execution would likely be the least of his problems.

Which is why it was so utterly troubling that mere miles away in Oban, a rat was beginning to whisper.

Not that Val or Wren had any idea.

"I love a good gamble." The nobleman said, unable to keep that confident smirk from his face for even a second. A hand reaching up to gently cup her chin so that she could not pull away. "I am, after all, extraordinarily lucky."

He said, claiming her lips in a deep and passionate kiss.
 
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Wren’s eyes flared with a mixture of apprehension and something more primal as Val’s smirk refused to fade. Despite the gravity of their situation, the confidence in his expression was as much infuriating as it was irresistible. She knew well the risks they faced—the threat of exposure, the inevitable fallout from their dangerous choices. Yet, here they were, toeing the edge of disaster with a reckless abandon that only made her heart race faster.

As Val’s hand cupped her chin, gently but firmly, Wren felt a shudder ripple across her back. The intensity of his gaze held her in place, and she couldn’t deny the magnetic pull that always drew her closer to him. For a moment, the world outside seemed to blur, leaving only the immediate, tangible reality of Val and his fucking intoxicating presence.

His kiss was sudden and deep, claiming her lips with a fervor that left her breathless. Wren’s resolve melted away under the pressure of his touch. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if anchoring herself to this fleeting moment of passion. The kiss was all consuming, a heady mix of longing and defiance that set her senses alight.

She pressed closer, responding with equal intensity, pouring all her frustration, fear, and unspoken desires into the kiss. It was a way to forget the looming threats and the dangerous game they were playing—a brief escape into the reckless abandon that Val represented.

When the kiss finally broke, Wren leaned her forehead against his, her breath coming in uneven pants. She looked up at him, her eyes darkened with emotion. “You’re an idiot,” she murmured, her voice a soft blend of exasperation and affection as she studied his face.

"But, I have missed you, I suppose." her brow quirked.
 
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His thumb softly traced down her chin and over her skin. Fingers softly drawing her close until finally their kiss parted, and her murmur brought a chuckle from his lips. "An idiot and a fool."

Val said in agreement as she looked up at him.

"But a lucky one." The Nobling continued to insist, apparently undeterred by headsman's ax hanging above their head. He had lived his life in a cake, though not one most would have objected to. Breaking free of those bars had not been easy, and at first he'd done it in the only way he'd known how; by poking at the politics of his father.

As he'd grown older the success of his words became less and less. Thus, he began the game he played when he'd met Wren. Taking on the face of a loyal son, while robbing the rich of Oban and giving it to those in need. A dangerous thing, made all the more dangerous by everything that had happened since. "I'm glad you missed me."

Val continued softly.

"Means you aren't sick of me yet." He said as suddenly his arms wrapped around her, and without word of warning he swept her from her feet. Picking Wren up as though she weighed little more than a doll. Well prepared for the thrashing he was likely about to received, but already cackling madly as he ran down the gravel road towards his manor.

Entirely unaware that while a rat chittered, his father listened.
 
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The warmth in his gaze and the gentle touch of his thumb against her chin were at odds with the chaos of their situation, and despite herself, she found herself leaning into him, her willpower melting like ice under the intensity of his gaze. She couldn't help but marvel at how quickly things had shifted, even though it had been far too long since she’d last seen him. It was bewildering, infuriating, how easily she was drawn back into his orbit, and how he always made her forget all of the reasons she'd stayed away. Her fingers lingered on his chest, a tactile reminder of how real this was, how much she had missed him despite everything.

"Yet.." she emphasised the word, and had been about to say more when he lifted her from her feet.
Wren's initial scowl was fierce, but despite her best efforts, she couldn't completely suppress the flicker of reluctant amusement that sparked within her. The absurdity of the situation—the nobleman running with her as if she were a mere trinket—was so at odds with her usual world that it tugged at the edges of her irritation.

“Put me down, Val!” she snapped, though her voice lacked the full force of her earlier frustration. Her attempts to kick and wriggle free were half-hearted, and she couldn’t ignore the faint smirk threatening to break through her stern expression.

"Oh this is ridiculous!” she growled, though her eyes betrayed a glimmer of reluctant enjoyment. The way he laughed, so unrestrained and carefree, it was difficult to be annoyed by him. She gave up her fight with a huff.

“Just because I haven’t figured out how to get myself out of this predicament yet doesn’t mean I’m enjoying it,” she said, her voice steely. “You’re only getting away with this because I don't want to hurt you, yet."

As they reached the entrance to the manor, Wren’s scowl had faded into an exasperated, if not slightly fond, expression. “You are absolutely insufferable."
 
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"Aye!" Val called in agreement, crashing through the half-open double doors of the manor house. The racket of heavy mahogany striking ancient marble clattering through the now empty hallways.

When his father had ceased coming here, he had taken much of the art and ornaments with him. Val's mother had always been fond of those decorations, and since he'd taken it over the Princeling had never bothered to replace them. Perhaps because he saw his coin to better use elsewhere.

What was a painting when it could buy him a bow? Or an orphan a piece of bread.

"But at least I come with perks." He said, slowing his gait as they approached the crossroads of the foyer. Eventually coming to a stop and letting his arms tighten around Wren as he pulled her from his shoulder and set her down in front of himself. "Like a spa room."

The noble pointed out. "Steam showers."

Dwarven invention, one luxury he afforded himself.

"It's quite something." He enticed her, knowing Wren's tendency to pull away from such things. "I'll go with you the first time, just in case."

Val said with a wink. Never knowing, never suspecting what would happen in just a few days time.
 
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Wren’s eyes narrowed at him as she found her feet again, her sharp gaze flicking around the bare, echoing manor house, the crash of the doors still echoing in her ears. It was a stark place, stripped of much of its finery, but somehow, it suited Val more than any gilded palace could.

She looked up at him, watching him with that familiar wariness, even as his words piqued her curiosity. "Steam... showers?" she repeated, suspicion lacing her tone despite the flicker of intrigue that flashed across her face.

She had lived the last few years of her life in the wild or in dilapidated hovels, her luxuries few and far between. Wren had never cared much for the trappings of nobility—the jewels, the gowns, the silks. But steam? Warmth? There was something about the idea of it that sounded… tempting. She hated that he knew her well enough to dangle that particular carrot in front of her.

"I could be persuaded..." she mused, her lips twisting, fighting against a smirk as he winked at her. A sigh tumbled free in resignation. "Lead the way.. I suppose.."
 
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"I would hope so, otherwise what would be the point in keeping you here?" Val said with a chuckle, though both of them knew the real point.

Beneath their feet, within the depths carved into the very rock lay his families dark secret. The manor house had it's dungeon, like most in Oban. During the more brutal days, when the Baronies had been more broken up and fought for power such things had been common.

It would serve for a better purpose this time at least. Perhaps making up for some small sliver of the horror.

"Come one." He said, letting his hand slip down her arm. Fingers catching hers. "It's right this way."

Val said as he raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. The smug smile on his lips staying put as he lead Wren down into the baths of the Manor. Built not too long ago, and providing the very comfort that he had promised her.

A solace which would last at least, for a little while more.
 
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Wren followed reluctantly, her fingers curling against Val’s, the warmth of his touch annoyingly familiar. She allowed this insufferably smug man to lead her into the heart of the manor, as though there weren’t a thousand reasons why she should turn and leave. But curiosity—damn her curiosity—kept her feet moving.

When Val finally drew her into the bathing chambers and pulled down the lever, Wren froze at the sight. She blinked, momentarily stunned, her eyes tracing the intricate stonework that framed the bathing chamber. Steam rose in soft, curling tendrils from the water that pooled below, while hot water fell from above like rain, cascading in a steady, misty downpour.

"It's.. hot rain.. Inside.."

She stood at the threshold, her hesitation evident as she watched the water fall. It looked unnatural—impossible, even. The wilds had their own magic, but this... this was something entirely different.

Val’s smug smile lingered in the corner of her eye, but Wren ignored him for the moment, her hand slowly lifting as she reached toward the falling water. The instant her fingers slipped through the cascade, a wave of warmth enveloped her skin. She recoiled, almost startled by the sensation, pulling her hand back as though it might scold her.

"Extraordinary," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her gaze flitted toward Val, but there was a flicker of awe in her eyes that she couldn’t quite hide. She hated to admit it, but the warmth was... comforting. So much so that for a brief moment, the weight of their dangerous reality seemed to melt away.

But then her wariness returned. Wren narrowed her eyes at him, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she shook off the surprise. "You're still not tricking me into staying any longer than I have to, Val."
 
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Val smiled wide. "No?"

Tempting her was a dangerous game, he knew, success might bring more danger than either of them bargained for.

Not that he cared for even a minute.

When he was with her, it was like a spark struck on dry earth. Wren ignited a wildfire in him, driving flames into inferno and burning away any and all sense he might have still had. As that wry little smile played across her lips, all Val wanted to do was grab her and wipe it away with his own.

"Well." He said, sauntering over towards her. "We'll see about that yet."

A part of him had always hated the luxuries surrounding him. A string of guilt pulled at his heart every day as he knew the people of this realm starved. Yet he could not help indulge in them. A character flaw perhaps, but one of many he'd admit to. "You've not yet been to the feather bed."

Val continued, bouncing his brows.
 
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Wren’s eyes narrowed, her lips pulling into a skeptical smile as Val’s words hung in the air. Feather bed? She wasn’t sure if the idea was more ludicrous or tempting, but the way he bounced his brows was enough to set off a flicker of wariness. He knew how to push her buttons, and damn it, it was working.

Her gaze slid back to the hot water cascading down from the ceiling, a small shiver running through her. The warmth was undeniably appealing, but she couldn’t let herself get too comfortable. Not here. Not with him.

But then his words about the feather bed lingered in her mind, and the truth struck her harder than she cared to admit. The last time she'd slept in a decent bed—one that didn’t creak or sag or smell faintly of mildew, one that didn't consist of a blanket on a dirt floor—felt like a lifetime ago. It'd been the last time she'd been with him. Back when her life had been a little more predictable, even if it was no less difficult.

Gods, how she longed for it. A real bed. Something soft, something safe.

She couldn’t suppress the quiet sigh that slipped from her lips as she turned to face Val, her voice holding a mixture of reluctant amusement and something else she couldn’t quite name.

A knowing look passed between them. “You know, you're lucky I even considered this.” She motioned vaguely to the lavish room, her fingers lightly brushing the fabric of her sleeve. “What’s next, a feast? Should I expect a string quartet to serenade me while I bathe?” Her tone was teasing, but there was a glint of something in her eyes—uncertain, perhaps, but undeniably curious.

With a swift motion, she kicked off her boots and pulled off her jacket, then her shirt, tossing them aside. The soft fabric of her leggings followed, leaving her standing only in her undergarments. There was no hesitation as she stripped away the final layer, letting the cool air brush against her bare skin. It felt good, feeling free of the weight of it all—free of expectations, free of the constant tension that seemed to follow her everywhere these days. He had already accepted her scars.

Wren stepped under the stream of water, gasping slightly as the warm cascade hit her. It was like liquid fire, soaking through her skin, and for a moment she closed her eyes, letting it wash away the dirt, the weariness, the worry. She let the water run over her body, hands lifting to press into the heat, skin prickling with the sensation.

"Well.. Are you getting in?"
 
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Val said absolutely nothing at the small teases that slipped passed her lips. He did not bite as she asked after the feasts he prepared, or the other luxuries which he might have prepared. Instead the noble kept that smug little smile on his lips.

Holding secret after secret, which would only tempt her further more.

"I told you." Val said, his lips quirking to a wide grin as he watched Wren quickly unwound herself from coat and more. "I'm extraordinarily lucky."

He couldn't help the laugh that echoed from his lips seconds later, as he did not even bother stripping off his clothes. Instead he swept forward into the shower, his hands landing upon her skin like a man who had been starved.

Val swept Wren from her feat once more, and into the heat and steam of the shower.

Hot water spilled over her skin and his now sodden clothes and he took her for himself. Wren's fingers digging into every button, latch, or clasp that she could find. Their lips meeting with uncountable passion as he pressed her against the heat of the tiled wall.

Losing himself in a touch that made the heat of the water seem cold.
 
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Wren gasped as the sudden heat of his hands on her skin sent a jolt through her, her protest swallowed by his lips before it could even form. The world blurred, steam curling around them as the water cascaded over her shoulders. She barely registered the fact that Val was still fully dressed, his damp shirt clinging to his frame as he pressed closer.

“Val—” she managed to murmur against his mouth, but her voice faltered as his hands roamed, possessive and unyielding, drawing her impossibly closer. The heat of the water was nothing compared to the fire that surged between them, burning away the edges of reason. Her hands found the buttons of his soaked shirt, fingers fumbling in her haste to strip him of the barrier between them.

He gave her no room to escape—no space to think. But what good had thinking ever done? She tugged harder, finally ripping the fabric aside, and he rewarded her determination with a kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.

Pressed against the slick tiles, Wren felt the last of her defenses crumble. The tension that had coiled so tightly within her gave way, leaving only need—a primal, aching need that drowned out everything else.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp as the water poured over them, blending with the steam as they moved together with a desperation that he had a way of driving her to.

~~~~~brown chicken brown cow~~~~~
Wren lay sprawled across the impossibly soft feather bed that he'd promised her, her skin still warm and flushed, damp tendrils of her hair clinging to her. The world beyond these walls was drowned out by the steady thrum of her heartbeat and the faint whisper of rain still falling against the windows. Her fingers moved idly through Val's damp hair, combing through the tousled strands as his head rested against her bare shoulder.

It was a rare moment of stillness between them—one she had stopped trying to resist.

She let her eyes drift across the room, taking in the understated opulence of the chamber. It was luxurious without being ostentatious, a reflection of him, she supposed. The bed alone was like something from a dream, its thick duvet and impossibly soft pillows cocooning her in warmth.
 
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The comfort of a feather bed was not something anyone in their right mind would deny, but Val wasn't often accused of being in his right mind. He would have given the world to ensure that Wren could sleep a night without stress and anxiety, without fear dogging at her heels.

But that was not because she drove him wild.

It was because that same impulse carried through him to the very end. If he could have, every village, every citizen of Oban would have the same comfort that he offered the woman he so deeply loved. Even laying there now, in his contentment, he couldn't help but feel the slight flicker of guilt.

The warmth of her skin was divine, the softness of the duvet something he never wanted to leave. Yet he could not help but think about all those who were going hungry, who spent the night in the cold. Those whom he could help.

Those who he had to help still.

A long breath dragged into his lungs, fingers gently curling against Wren's skin as Val pulled her against himself.

He couldn't help them all now. He couldn't keep them safe, but he could do that for her. Slowly his hand reached, gently stroking through her hair as the sun began to set through the stained glass window. "Not so bad, is it?"

Val said, as though he were trying to convince himself.
 
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"I guess not.." she sighed, glancing up at him, not missing the subtle undertone in his voice.

"Though it's fucking ridiculous of me to be here.. So close to home. I ran into a bounty hunter who'd been looking for me as far away as Alliria." she huffed. Now that she'd gained the official rank of 'monster', however, there were more than just bounty hunters looking for her.

Her lips curved into a faint smirk, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I hope your dungeon is as comfortable..” The tease carried a dry edge as she tilted her head up to look at him, her fingers dating idle circles on his skin.

She wondered if Oban had changed in the past few years, she thought several times a day about her sisters, and each time her heart withered just that bit more with how much she missed them. She swallowed hard and pushed the thought away. Asking about them would do no good. She already knew the answer. They were better off without her, safer without the risk her presence brought.

"What am I doing here.." she murmured to herself without realising it, as the thought whispered through her mind, unbidden and relentless. The warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his bed, the fleeting safety she found in his arms—it felt like a stolen moment, like she was borrowing something she had no right to take.
 
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"I'm afraid it might be a bit damp." Valren whispered softly as he gently wrapped his arms around Wren's form. Muscles flexing as he dragged her into his gasp and pulled her even closer than she was before.

The warmth of his body casting over her, drawing her into all the comfort and safety her had to offer.

He well knew the taint which lingered within her blood. The curse that wracked her soul, and had lead her to the edge. It was a penance, a pain that he would have to watch her endure. A toll that he would pay for a thousand lifetimes or more if he had to.

But one that he cursed every moment of his waking life. "You're allowing a second of comfort."

His fingers gently swept through her hair as he whispered.

"A moment of peace." As Val spoke, he knew not that a few miles away soldiers began to mobilize. "A second of the life you deserve."

Gently he drew her closer. "You're giving me the gift I most want."

Val admitted. "Letting a selfish man, finally have what he wants."

As he breathed, his thumbs flickered over her skin.

"You." Val whispered, lips pressing against her skin.
 
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Wren let out a short, sharp snort, shaking her head against his chest. “I don’t think anyone has ever referred to me as a gift before,” she muttered, the corners of her lips quirking in dry amusement.

She tilted her head, her fingers absently tracing over his forearm as she stared at nothing in particular. The heat of his body, the gentle weight of his arms around her—it was intoxicating in a way she hated to admit. But his words? Those were dangerous.

Her amusement faded, and she huffed softly. “You don’t want me, Val.” Her voice was quieter now, something unreadable in it. “In your bed, perhaps.” She cast him a sideways glance, the smirk returning just for a moment before it slipped away. “But not me.

Her. The woman who had been hunted across the continent, the one with blood so tainted it rotted her from the inside out. The one who couldn’t even look toward Oban without feeling like she was drowning in guilt.

She shook her head again, exhaling through her nose. “I was complicated enough before.. Now i'm just.." she cut off with a frown. "Well. I understand why people want me dead, and I'm inclined to agree. So, don't get used to this.. Don't get attached to me, because it'll only end badly."
 
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Val shook his head, not for his own sake, but hers. "You really think I only want you for my bed?"

The noble clicked his teeth, almost insulted by the notion.

"You must think very little of me." Val shifted only slightly against her skin, moving so that he sat up within the bed. His eyes flickering down at her, stilling upon the scar which marred her face. His hand reaching out to softly brush against her skin. "But luckily for you, the feelings not the same."

He knew what she meant of course, knew exactly what she meant. Twisting her words would only serve to spark that ever raging fire within her a little more, but Valren didn't care. "For while you think I'm simply a skirt-chasing wastrel with no morality nor care in the world."

Fingers drew down her cheek, gently capturing her chin.

"I am actually quite noble." He smiled. "And contrary to common belief, quite capable of making my own decisions."

Val leaned in, slowly, to press a gentle kiss to her lips. "And I've chosen to grow quite attached."

He said, ignoring the truth that lay within her words, and simply sidestepping the argument all together. Val knew that she was probably right, knew that this would end badly one way or another. Not just because of what she now was, but because of what he was.

Who his father was.

That wasn't even to mention the countless other things which should have stood in their way.

But the simple truth was, Val just didn't care.
 
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Wren remained silent for a moment, her gaze flicking away from his, her mind spinning with the weight of his words. She could feel the heat of his hand against her skin, the gentleness of his touch, and yet there was a part of her that recoiled at the way he twisted her words—at how easily he sidestepped everything she had tried to protect herself from.

Her lips parted to speak, but the words caught in her throat. He had heard her, understood exactly what she meant, and yet he was playing the game anyway. Of course he would. Val had always been able to bend situations to his will, make things seem easier than they were. But this was different.

She met his eyes, the weight of her gaze sharp and unyielding. “You’re not listening, Val,” she said softly, almost wistfully. “You’re not hearing me.” She shifted slightly in the bed, tilting her head to avoid the gentle touch of his hand as he traced her cheek. His touch was tender, but it only made her want to pull away more.

“You think you can change this?” She shook her head slowly, the faintest of smiles tugging at her lips, though it was tinged with something darker. “You think just because you’ve made some unwise decision to grow attached, that it will somehow make this work?”

She sighed, leaning back against the pillows, her eyes closing for a brief moment. Her voice softened, and she almost sounded resigned as she spoke the truth. “You’re not just fighting me, Val. You’re fighting everything that’s been set in motion long before we ever met. And I'm far too tangled in it to escape unscathed.. Who's going to help them if both of us burn?"
 
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His smile faltered, Val unable to keep the small veneer of confidence he presented.

Perhaps for the first time.

"I'm not an idiot, Wren." The tone of his voice shifted, more serious, less hazed with the love that he felt for her.

Val knew fully well the challenges they faced. They every complexity and turn that stood in his way, their way. He knew she was right. There wasn't any nudging the point, there wasn't even a salient argument that he could make. This was a terrible idea, one day it would all coming burning down, and both of them would be crucified for it.

It wasn't that he didn't care. It wasn't that he hadn't had the same thoughts and doubts. They were rarely together, and although their time apart was filled with yearning, it was also filled with the truth. Every time he tried to see her endangered not only them, but dozens of people.

Not even counting the people of Oban. "I know what we stand against."

He had stood against it his entire life.

"Every choice I've made for the last twenty years of my life." Val said softly. "Everything I've done. Helping people, betraying my father. All those robberies and..."

The noble shook his head. "I've made those choices for them, for the people, for those who the King and my father should be protecting. I've given them everything I could, I will continue to give them everything I can."

He breathed softly. "But not this."
 
Wren had steeled herself against whatever argument he might throw at her, expecting him to brush it off with that same careless charm, to flash her a smirk and spin her words against her. But when his voice shifted—when his smile faltered—something inside her wavered.

She hadn’t expected this.

She lay still, facing away from him, her fingers curled lightly in the sheets. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and she hated that he could do this to her. That he could always do this to her.

Slowly, she turned back to face him, her eyes searching his in the dimming light. His confidence was gone, stripped away to reveal something raw, something real.

And gods, that was more dangerous than anything.

Her throat tightened as she listened to him, to every carefully measured word, every conviction he laid bare. He had spent his entire life defying the path that had been carved out for him, risking everything for a people who might never know his name. And yet, here he was, telling her—her—that this was the one thing he wouldn’t sacrifice.

Not his cause. Not his fight.

Her.

Wren swallowed hard, her breath shallow as she stared at him. “Val…” she started, but the words caught in her throat.

What was she supposed to say to that?

She could fight him when he was reckless. When he was teasing and smug and infuriating. But when he was this—when he was raw and earnest and looking at her like she was the only thing in the world he had ever been sure of—she didn’t know how to fight that.

Wren didn’t speak at first. She couldn’t. Her heart pounded too hard, his words wrapping around her like a vice, pressing into places she had spent years trying to keep untouched.

Instead, she moved. Slow, deliberate.

She rolled onto him, her bare skin warm against his as she settled atop his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath her. Her arms folded over him, her chin resting lightly on them as she met his gaze.

“This is madness,” she murmured, though there was no real bite to it.

The warmth of him, the way his hands instinctively settled on her waist—it made her head spin. She had spent so long running, so long convincing herself that she was too far gone, too much of a monster to have this, to deserve this.

And yet, here he was, telling her that he wouldn’t give her up. Her fingers traced absent, featherlight circles over his collarbone, her lips quirked, but there was something vulnerable in her eyes, something hesitant. "I don’t know if I can do this, Val. If I can be something you won’t let go of, when the odds are that you're going to have to at some point.."

She let out a slow breath, tilting her head slightly as she studied him. “I’m not built for this. For being kept.”

She felt his fingers tighten on her hips, as if in silent protest, but she pressed on, her voice barely above a whisper now.

“But..I want to be.”

It was the closest thing to a confession she could offer. And it terrified her.
 
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His fingers felt hot against her skin.

As though she were burning him.

But even if she were a raging inferno and he a forest that had not seen rain in months, he still would have beckoned for her. Every word she spoke drew against him like a fighters strike. Pushing and beating down. Doing their best to break the hold that he had on her, until finally she gave in.

Even if it was only the tiniest bit.

”I know.” Val said finally, infuriatingly, but not with smug confidence or arrogance.

He spoke simple fact. As much as he knew himself, Val knew her too.

The reality he fought against was not just his own, but hers. He knew that Wren’s life, who she was, was little less complicated than his own. Her duty, her family, her oaths and bonds. The life she had been made to endure and the choices she'd made. ”I never would have asked if I thought you didn't.”

Val said softly. Letting his hands roam from her hips and up her spine.

”I don't know if this…” He gestured to the walls around them, the bed, the opulence. ”Is our life, but I want it to be our life.”

Not just a fox and a wolf who happened to pass in the night.