Aleksandra could feel herself frowning, her heart aching a bit at the sorrow in his voice and in his movements. She smoothed her hands over her broad shoulders and, feeling a bit brave, she pressed a kiss to the very top of his head. Then another to his temple, and the final one at the corner of his mouth.

She'd never really desired to meet her birth mother, circumstances being what they were. Her father's wife had been kind and caring, if oblivious to her sons and their nasty habits. She knew the comfort of a mother's kiss, of her warm embrace. She wanted Aulfr to have that. She'd pry the secrets from the Oberjarl's lips. She'd sneak and bribe and coerce people into telling her their rumors. And until then, she could be what he'd never had.

"I can help you move those mountains," she murmured. "You deserve to know your mother, milyy." She paused on that, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment. That might have been the first time she'd even called someone 'darling,' and of course she'd used it on Aulfr and in her own language. She felt foolish, but plowed on ahead before he could respond.

"If there's anything you need me to do to help with your finding her, you need only ask. Or command, since all you do is boss me around anyways," she said, mostly playful. She kept the fingers of one hand buried in his hair while she pressed another kiss to his temple. She liked how it felt to do that. She was calming him. It was because of what she was doing that he was relaxed, that he was happy. She felt like she was glowing, shining brighter than the sun just because of what she could do for him.

Aulfr glanced sharply at the suddenly straightforward, loving assassin. The kisses, the comment- he knew his Ardanian- the blush, she was honestly feeling something about him, honestly liking him, honestly sympathizing with him. So he stared, with hidden wonder at this strange person he bought and was going to violate, to ruin, if she didn't go along with his plans. It put his mind into a new perspective- that maybe his reasons weren't so great.

But he allowed himself to be comforted. He worked to unknot his shoulders, to loosen up again, and sighed heavily. Not entirely sure where to proceed, or how to, or what to do, he just reached up and laid a hand on her hair-entangled one. Silently acknowledging her with a less sharp, much more soft glance, he stood up, shaking off the strands of hair that had fallen over himself.

He glanced at her, and in his uncertainty, walked over to his window, and stared out at the courtyard again. Bathed in the sun's golden glow, he struggled with re-emerging emotions of his mother- and conflicting emotions about Aleksandra. Because, really, he's used to physical, material conflicts, and all this emotional stuff was starting to screw with his head- he still wasn't sure if it was a good or bad way, though.

Aleksandra stood back and watched him walk to the window. He looked lost, and she knew she probably wouldn't be able to pull him out of it. He was best left alone for now. She took a seat where he'd been sitting and set up a small mirror on the table, then cut her own hair. Her plan had been to sheer it as close to her scalp as possible, but she decided as she cut it to leave it chin-length. It made the angles in her face look sharper, fiercer. She looked dangerous instead of young.

After that, the rest of the night was peaceful. And so was the following week, with only one feast to endure and an easy mission from Aulfr. In truth, she was somewhat relieved to be leaving. Things weren't exactly tense, but it could get strangely awkward in quieter moments. Going on a hunt would give her time to clear her head and think about things without his intense presence muddying her thoughts.

But her hunt was not as easy as she'd thought it would be.

It happened the day she returned to the castle. She was in the process of killing her target, a Jarl who had outright protested a policy that Aulfr had suggested, when one of his guards got a knife past her defenses. It was a deep cut on her leg, but it did no serious damage, so she thought nothing of it. She continued to fight, taking down most of the guards in her path. She then killed the Jarl and ran off.

And then she could feel it. A weakness in her legs, a wrongness in her blood. She was too hot, her vision blurring in front of her. She'd been cut by a poisoned knife. She wasn't particularly daunted by the fact, because she knew she could get back to the castle in time. But then there were more guards. And more guards. And so much frenzied fighting that she thought she'd drop dead of the poison before she could be killed by any sword.

Somehow she managed to flee, but not without being beaten to a pulp first. Three cracked ribs, the oozing laceration on her thigh, a nasty bump on her brow and countless bruises and smaller cuts. She didn't know how she did it, but somehow she dragged herself up the side of the castle and fell into Aulfr's room, pale as a ghost and covered in blood and gasping like there was no air in the world. Her head lolled to the side and she saw Aulfr standing near the door. He looked very surprised.

She could only choke out the word, "Poisoned," before slumping to the side, unconscious. She shuddered with little twitches and tics, looking much too small and sickly for someone normally so strong.

Aulfr, being Aulfr, didn't say, mention, or even [try to] think about the night where they talked about his lost mother. He had several suspicions, after, and felt that, distantly, she was no more. But it never stopped him; he had spent a great deal trying to find out, after all. But his heart, his long-frozen heart, warmed a little at the thought of someone caring enough to honestly offer their support.

Which is why he nearly panicked when he saw Aleksandra dragging herself into his room. Hell, upon later reflection, he wondered how she even managed to climb up the castle WHILE so terribly injured. It wasn't as if he told the castle guards NOT to stab a small foreigner climbing up their walls and infiltrating the prince's rooms- she could've been killed by his own guards, and yet she still got past them without even thinking of it. Which, he absently noted in the back of his mind, was terrible, because he could've been dead by now, if their age-old enemy weren't retarded.

He was already rushing forward before she even completely hit the stone floor, only lightly covered with a Noxan rug. He did, of course, manage to catch her head before she hit the ground too hard, cradling it gently for a moment. He tried to regain his bearings, feeling disoriented and confused at the sight of his invincible little darling pale, lifeless, and coming closer to death.

Then his mind cleared, as adrenaline pumped through him, and his training kicked in. He dragged the poisoned woman over to his bed, tossing her in a sort-of gentle way on it. He rushed to his door, threw it open, and jabbed a finger at the nearest servant. "A brazier, freshly lit, a roll of bandages, and get me a healer- with all his antipoisons! Now!"

Ten minutes later saw him roughly cleaning out the woman's wounds with a heated knife- not enough to cauterize, but enough to kill any infections. He worked roughly, but he worked as if his own sister were on the line, if he had one. When the healer arrived, it was all he could do not to strangle the poor man for not working fast enough. He paced impatiently- only the Gods knew how nervous he made the medicine man feel- as the healer ground up, chewed up, mixed up, or whatever else he did with the various herbs he carried.

By the time the man left, under a vow of secrecy to never say anything of the woman or his concern for her again, she was notably looking better and breathing easier. He, on the other hand, wasn't feeling better at all. He felt horrible. He had never felt this way before, except, maybe, upon finding his mother had disappeared. Was it similar? He technically barely knew her. No, he knew that was a lie- he knew her fairly well. He pushed any images of her out of his head- seeing her healthy and sickly at the same time would be torture...

A minute later, he found himself staring down at Aleksandra's face, back leaning against the back of his bed, her head in his lap, stretched out on his bed. He was running his fingers through her hair, calming himself in the process, swirling it and making little inverse tornados out of the midnight waves. Finally giving in, he reached down with one hand, slightly tangled in hair, and touched her lips, hesitant. After a moment, he traced the outline of said lips, then switched to her jaw, and the rest of her face in short order.

And as her breathing fell into the deep rhythm of sleep, his own slowly starting to sync up with hers, he felt himself about as calm as he had ever been.

Everything was dark and hot for awhile, but she knew something was happening. Distantly, she could feel herself being mended, being held. The fire of the poison in her blood faded until the pain was just a dull ache. There were other pains, but she couldn't feel those as much. No, what she could feel the best was a feather-light touch at her lips and then her jaw. It moved all over her face, and she wanted to reach up to hold his hand.

It had to be Aulfr. Who else would touch her so gently? She cursed the poison and whatever the healer had given her, because she could do no more than flutter her eyes in response to him. After awhile, she let herself fall asleep, succumbing to the drugs in her system and the weariness in her bones. She drifted in and out for hours, sometimes able to move a bit and sometimes completely limp. When she finally woke fully, the healer was standing over her.

He continued to check her bandages and stitches without care that she'd woken. She couldn't see Aulfr anywhere, and she felt strangely lonely. She didn't want some stranger touching her unless Aulfr was there. And almost immediately she felt like slapping herself. He was just the healer! Whatever was wrong with her had to be the drugs he was giving her for the pain. She felt sufficiently hazy, so that had to be the reason.

He dosed her again before leaving, and by the time Aulfr made himself known she was grinning and giggling to herself, staring at her hands in extreme fascination. She had such long fingers. She had spider fingers. "My fingers are spiders!" she exclaimed, flapping her slender hands in Aulfr's direction. She couldn't tell what language she was speaking. It sounded like Banta. She made an effort to speak in her own language, and repeated herself. "My fingers are spiders. Do you see them? Creepy crawly things."

She very suddenly wanted to be kissing Aulfr. He looked worried to her, or as worried as the stoic warrior could look. He hadn't shaved, and she wanted to rub her cheek against his stubble. He father used to do that after coming home from campaign. He'd rub his beard all over her face and neck, tickling her until she was laughing hysterically. She wanted to kiss his stubbly cheek and maybe bite it as well. Mm. That sounded very nice.

She started to roll over, but a sharp pain in her chest had her gasping. She fell back onto the blankets and the drug numbed the pain for her, but she looked sad. She held out her 'spiders' and motioned for him to come lay with her. "I'm lonely," she murmured, staring up at him with an open, almost childish expression.

Aulfr paced by his window while he waited for the healer man to finish with Aleksandra. After nearly hurting the man, he removed himself- seeing her so frail, underneath another man, it did things to him that shouldn't be done to him. So he didn't want to watch. The healer man knew what was at stake- if he messed something up, he'd had the wrath of Volsung, who had already been rumored to kill everyone who opposed his decisions, and his followers take over.

When the man finally told him that Aleksandra should make a recovery, and "To be careful; she's all up on the medicines!"

So naturally he walked over to her, and stopped dead when she giggled. He stared at her for several moments, watching in wonder and confusion as it dawned on him that the medicine had effects that he hadn't mentioned. And while he didn't appreciate the lack of warning, there was something especially... endearing about Aleksandra, and her spider hands. About how open and happy she was, even if it wasn't her-her.

He stared at her, again, even more wide-eyed than usual. And for once, his face looked open, friendly, even, as if he weren't as hardened. As if he were just as innocent. Then his face closed up again, so to speak, but it still retained some of its former softness- and he did as she wanted.

He gently sat down next to the writhing girl- because she was of the size, and was certainly acting a little like it- and leaned down over her. He pressed her back against the bed, hans on her shoulders.

"Calm, yes, horrifying spiders, I see them. Don't move, now, okay Aleksandra? Wouldn't want your... boo-boo to hurt more, do you? It will hurt a lot if you move too much, okay? Don't move for me, now, Al-ee, okay?" He brushed the hair out of her face, half because of his excuse that he didn't want her breathing it up her nose or something, mainly because he wanted to.

Aleksandra grinned and dragged herself closer to Aulfr, ignoring the pain in her chest. She wasn't supposed to be moving, she knew that, but she just had to be close to him. She wanted to be pressed up close to his side, like the night he'd shared his spiced cider with her. The morning after that hadn't been pleasant, but she felt so warm and happy in his arms.

Once she was all curled up and comfortable, she nuzzled her head into his shoulder and sighed slowly, letting all of her muscles loosen. It was easy enough, since the drug was helping to relax her. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair the way she always did when they woke up tangled together, and her palm brushed against the prickly stubble at his jaw. Oh yes! She'd forgotten about that.

She tugged him closer and, without any of her usual hesitation, nipped at a very stubbly part of his jawline. She must have nipped a bit harder than she thought, because immediately a small bruise started forming. She hummed happily, inexplicably pleased that she'd marked him. It meant he was hers, didn't it? "Mine," she said, and nipped again, but softer.

"You're mine, Aulfr. Aren't you? Yes, you are," she answered for him. She ran feather-light fingertips over the little bite-marks on his jaw and kissed those spots. "You touched my face. You like me a lot, you must. And you were worried about me. You don't want me to die."

She was quiet for a long while, thinking whatever her drugged brain was thinking. Then, "I'm never worried when you're hurt or you've gone away. I thought that meant I didn't care, but that was wrong. I care a lot. I just know how strong you are. And even though I shouldn't, I feel proud. I'm proud of you, Aulfr, for wanting to be a better king than your father. For wanting to be a better man. You may not think so, but you're such a good man. Gruff but kind. Honorable. You know when to be hard and when to be soft." She started to drift off, tugged into unconsciousness by the painkiller.

"Maybe that's why I love you so much."

Aulfr wasn't entirely sure on how to respond to Aleksandra's advances. She was... well, unrestricted, as the healer had warned. Except, he hadn't really expected her to be so... unrestricted, even though he had clearly been warned. Her grin, her hands, they... relaxed him and put him on guard at the same time. They weren't malicious, no, but there was something to them-

His mind went blank and empty like a Noxan warrior's tankard after chugging it. Did she just bite his jaw? He actually writhed somewhat, as mental capacity returned, because- and then she did it again, and again, and he found his so-called gruff exterior melting away. He was just gonna comfort her, he wasn't going to do anything, she would be mighty pissed when she woke up.

A whirlwind of emotions were whirling, now, the most prominent being something akin to excitement, the other being akin to anxiety. Because- she was saying things that he hadn't even imagined anyone would ever say to him. It was such a far off notion that he'd never have expected it. And he found himself agreeing with her; he really did like her. And worried for her, and she was doing sorcery to his mind.

His heart stopped when those last words left her mouth. Love? Two sides were screaming at him- his gut instinct, from the heart, or his thought process, and his training. And he went with his gut. Just as her eyes were closing, he laid a hand on her chin, tilted her head up towards him, and he kissed her right on the mouth, right before she fell asleep. He watched her eyes flicker at it, in recognition, he hoped, before her mind fell away into the abyss.

And he held her. He smoothed her hair out, and he calmed his racing heart, and he struggled with what he was feeling. He fought against the idea of just getting rid of her, and leaving all this behind, but he knew that'd never happen. He'd never manage all this without her, whether it be just her presence or her actual help.

And throughout it all, a small lingered in the back of his mind. Where the hell is this going?

Aleksandra slept through the night, having the strangest drug-induced dreams. She believed she ate a two-inch-tall Aulfr at one point. He didn't taste very good. And then she was very badly sword-fighting the Oberjarl from the back of a blue camel. She lopped off his head and there was Tiny Aulfr, reprimanding her for being so magnificent. She was stealing all his glory, he told her.

She woke gratefully, determined to never have dreams like that again. She let herself adjust to the light in the room as she came to lucidity. As she woke, sensations came back to her. There was no more blessed numbness in her limbs. No, she felt every ache and injury with extreme clarity. She let out a growl as she shifted, hissing when Aulfr's arm locked tighter around her ribs. Of course he was holding her. He had to be holding her now, of all times.

She wouldn't be able to break his hold unless he woke up, so she did her best to make things less painful. She carefully shimmied up, pushing his arm until it was draped across her hips instead of her middle. She breathed in as deeply as she could and finally relaxed into the pillows, letting herself hold him back.

She wondered what ridiculous things she'd told him now. Unlike when she'd been drunk, she couldn't recall a single detail of what had happened the night prior. She supposed painkillers and alcohol weren't much different, so she'd probably just cuddled into him and giggled some nonsense about how strong he was. Nothing too embarrassing. At worst, she might have tried to tug his shirt off. She'd done that to a female companion of hers the last time she'd really gotten drunk. Thank the Saints it hadn't been a man. Her friend had just laughed it off and put her to bed.

Aulfr jerked awake, slightly, confused for a moment, but then settled back down. He noticed Aleksandra at once- he stared at her, widely for a moment, before realizing that she probably didn't have a single clue what happened last night. He knew this because she gave him her usual stare, instead of the one that suggested she had said something that she'd probably find horrifying.

For some reason, this made him grin- an almost maniacal look on his normally stoic or primarily passive face. He smiled so widely that he remembered it had been YEARS since he had smiled, really. Not even with Aleksandra had he smiled so much- but now he was. Because she said he loves him, and that she's his, and she doesn't even know.

But he said nothing to her questioning look- just slipped away from her with a gentle care, giving her a amusement-laced "Medsman said to stay relatively well put 'till you stop feeling horrible."

He got up and walked around the room several times, picking up and setting down random objects, still grinning like a fool. And that was because, dammit, he was being a fool. He tried being mad at himself, but it didn't work. He ignored all attempts by Aleksandra to get what was on his mind out; at this point, she was probably terrified of what had happened the night before, to put such a grin on the infinitely stoic-or-pissed Aulfr. And eventually, he decided to tell her.

So he about-faced abruptly, walked over to her, and leaned down over the bed, looming over her, still grinning- a happy grin, surprisingly charming, disarming, relaxing, even. And he spoke.

"You told me some things. Oooh, you'd hate yourself if you remembered what you told me. Truly and honestly."

Aleksandra had almost dozed off again by the time Aulfr woke up. She jolted awake in much the same way as him and gave him her usual blank stare at he looked up at her. But then that smile. That grin. It immediately put her on edge and she forced herself to sit up as Aulfr climbed out of bed. She leaned against a mound of pillows, struggling with the fact that Aulfr might have possibly gone mad in his sleep. He was just wandering aimlessly, touching everything, and grinning that stupid grin all the while.

And then he was leaning over her, and she was getting ready to swing at him, injured or no. But he was just gloating over whatever she'd said. If it made him act this way, she was frightened to know what it was. But the longer she looked at him, at the way his smile softened him and made him look younger, almost boyish, the more she wanted to smile back at him in much the same way. Her lips were actually twitching with the urge to do so.

Abruptly, she shook her head and forced herself to scowl. "Do you want me to punch you, Aulfr? Because it seems to me that's what you're telling me. You want me to punch you." She pitched her voice lower, impersonation the guttural Noxan accent. "'Oh please, Aleksandra. You've got one hell of an uppercut. Bruise my handsome, masculine jawline for me. Also I really need a shave and a bath, because I smell.'" She threw in the jibe about his scent just to be mean. In all honestly, he smelled much better than she did. She hadn't washed herself in a week.

Before he could take her too seriously, she reached up and threaded her fingers in his hair, tugging him close enough that she could kiss him. Maybe it was just the drug still in her system or something more, but she nipped his bottom lip gently before pulling away. She met his gaze with her piercing blue-grey eyes. "Now please, what did I say? It can't have been anything too out of the ordinary. What on earth could make you grin like that? Did I make a very funny joke about the Oberjarl?"

Aulfr's grin grew impossibly wide, as his eyes practically glittered with amusement. Her little lip-bite did nothing more but improve on his already extraordinary mood, and he raised an eyebrow at the gesture. What was even more eyebrow-raised was her threat, insult, and then smooch all wrapped up into a minute.

"What did you say? Hmm. Well, you repeated that I was yours, several times, and that I must like you a lot, and that..."

His grin faded, replaced by a more serious, still plenty open Aulfr.

"That I worried over you, and that I didn't want you to die. Then you went on about how you thought you didn't care about me, see, because you never worried. And then on to you being proud of me... and knowing that I was strong. That I know when to be hard and when to be soft..."

At this point, he was dangerously emotional. He was an honest man; if he disliked someone, they knew it. If he wanted them dead, they were likely already dead. Et cetera. And he wasn't about to hide what someone told him, just because they didn't remember.

"You told me that I was gruff, but kind, and honorable. And then..."

He paused here, and stared at Aleksandra, really stared at her, serious and waiting for a response.

"You said, 'Maybe that's why I love you so much.' And if what you said was actually you, and not some hallucination, then you'd certainly believe that I'm being honest."

He gave her another grin- but this was more closed, apprehensive, nervous even.

She was stunned into silence. She had no idea what to say to him. He was watching her so patiently, so nervously. She'd never seen him act this way, and she desperately wanted to tell him that yes, she did love him. But she just... she couldn't say it. She cared more for him than she'd ever cared for any other man. And in her own way, she did love him. She was still his minion, but she knew they were friends. More than friends, they were hesitantly courting each other.

But when fully aware of her own thoughts and actions, she knew she would never be able to say the words out loud. Not unless her brothers were dead. They hung over her like two black storm-clouds, full to bursting and ready to drench her in despair. She could never really love any man until they died by her hands. But she couldn't hurt Aulfr by telling him that! He was watching her so closely, his expression unguarded and almost happy, and she wanted to say it. Just those three words.

For once, she let Aulfr see the conflicted emotions on her face. Sadness, shame, frustration. She couldn't say it. She did hate herself for what she'd said while drugged. But only because it made Aulfr hope. Hope that he could be with someone, but she was just broken. No one deserved to be stuck with her.

She reached up and wrapped his arms around him, ignoring the pain as she held him close. She didn't kiss him. She merely ran her fingers through his hair and murmured into his ear the only words of consolation she could offer. "Ti si moĭ. Iskam da bŭda tvoya. No vse oshte ne," she said softly in her own language. Noxan was too thick for such words. Hopefully he would understand them, and realize that she wasn't simply turning him away. She was trying to promise him a future. She was simply too damaged for that at the moment.

He switched from nervous to a wry smile. He mentally joked that he'll just get her drunk again; she'll be happy to snuggle then. But then again, she does need to build up her alcohol tolerance... it's no good if one can get all one' secrets if they just give one a small cup of alcohol. It'd be for her own good, and his own. He mentally laughed to himself; he'll enjoy trying to build up her tolerance.

But for now, he just stared down at the Ardanian, holding still as she moved close. He waited until she dropped back onto her pile of cushion, before taking his turn. He gently took her face in one of his hands, tilting it slightly for a better angle, and tenderly leaned in for a small kiss. By all means, he disregarded what she said; he had it in mind, but he was never one to let go of something he wanted. And right now, he wanted Aleksandra.

He kissed her again, and then a third time, before raising up slightly to stare at her.

Responding in his own rough Ardanian, "I am not going anywhere. It's my own castle anyhow. And you do, pretty much, belong to me."

He gave her a smile again- but it was his usual smile, a small wry one.

A few days passed in a blur of throbbing pain and furious protests of, 'I don't need help to walk. No, it doesn't hurt. You're acting like my
anya.' Finally, on the fifth day after stumbling into Aulfr's rooms, her horrid temper got the best of the healer and he let her roam around with strict orders not to do any fighting. There would be a feast that night, so she doubted she'd be doing anything more strenuous than rolling her eyes.

As per usual, she dressed in much less extravagant colors than Aulfr and the foolish nobles. But maybe she was feeling a tad bored with her usual black and grey, because she picked a dress that was much more daring than the others. She'd been wasting money at that point, more to irritate Aulfr than for any other reason. But she had to admit, this dress would stun Aulfr's rivals and enemies. She told herself that was the reason she put it on, and not because she wanted Aulfr drooling over her.

It was decidedly more sensual than the other dresses she'd worn. Comprised almost entirely of deep green lace, and with a very low-cut back that would showcase her slender, athletic build as well as most of her scars. The bodice was stiff enough that it held up her generous bust but not so much so that it was hard to breathe, and it also bared her shoulders and collarbones. Mixed in with the skirts were playful white panels of lace that peeked out every so often. The ensemble deepened the grey in her eyes and made her look much less pale. All in all, she looked stunning.

By the time she finished with her usual light touch of cosmetics and she'd concealed her daggers, she looked as if she'd never been injured at all. She stepped up to Aulfr's side and glanced up at him, feeling unusually shy. He was escorting her into the dining hall for this feast, and it gave her the most moronic urge to giggle. Like she was a princess going to a ball, she thought. A ridiculous and dangerously political ball.

Aulfr had been watching Aleksandra almost obsessively in the past week, since she had been wounded. He never made it too obvious, of course, but the healer didn't feel particularly comfortable, Aulfr didn't think. And, of course, the healer had made sure to spread rumor all over the castle, but if Aulfr was going to be honest with himself- he really didn't care, for once. He had never worried over someone before- had never felt so protective. And was it not his long-lost dream when he was a child, to guard Noxus from the evil Ardany and their allies, in their eternal war?

Except now he was worrying over an Ardanian, disregarding his plan to seat himself on top of Noxus, for better or for worse. Absently, each time this came up in his mind, he'd tell himself that it's just temporary; once she's fine they'll go back to before, nothing special between them besides professional business.

He couldn't convince himself of that, though. He did know that once he felt sure she was fine, he'd be able to focus better- so all she needed to do was be better! Or feel better! Something or the other. When she can spar with him again, then he'd stop worrying- yes. That'll be the end of this great big conundrum.

Then she donned that dress.

He very carefully avoided looking at her as she dressed. She was a hunter, he knew, and she undoubtedly knew that he had been hovering like a hawk- regardless of how normal he seemed. She'd also know if he was watching her now- of this he had no doubt. And then, naturally, she appeared at his side. He had rationalized this plenty of times beforehand, explaining it to Aleksandra in the process. He just wanted to bolster the rumors; increase the image of her prowess, so much that she won one of the greatest Noxan fighters. Maybe not the best, but the most varied.

That was all there was to it- it wasn't as if he really really liked her. He had never said anything along those lines... and he swiped an increasingly recurrent recent memory out of his mind, one that disproved everything he was thinking to himself. Then he turned back to the lady that was standing beside him.

"... do you really have to give me that look?" He said this because, of course, she looked stunning and it wasn't like her to be shy, and it made him... very very happy that she'd be something to startle the court! Yes! That was it! Slightly anxious and nervous, only slightly, of course, he quickly reached over and put a hand on her shoulder, probably pushing her a little much into him, like a one-armed hug with the much shorter lady.

Then he realized what he was doing- he was being a little possessive- and quickly let go, taking a step away, flabberghasted. Because- no one wore these kinds of things, of course. He was just unsettled by the difference in clothing, that was it! So he straightened himself out, and offered his arm according to Noxan tradition- his forearm stuck straight forward between them, tradition dictating that the woman laid their arm on top of the escort's, the woman's hand resting on the top of the man's, or escort's, hand. The point being something that had been lost in time.

And when she took it, as he had shown her earlier, they set off for the great event of the year. Or one of them, at least.

---

---

He stood staring at the wood doorway leading into the throne room, the same place where every other major event took place. It wasn't any different than before- well, besides the dancing part, and the more buffet-style food serving. And the fact that everyone who was anyone was here.

And the two guards on either side eyed Aulfr and Aleksandra, waiting for a signal to open the doors. After an unusually long moment of zoning-out on Aulfr's part, he gestured with his other hand- more a twitch than anything. And the guards gratefully took it as their signal, and yanked open the doors from the weirdness of it all- the man who'd beat six of them at once, apparently stopped in his tracks by something. Neither of them seriously considered that something being the lady in the green dress, with foreign features and a great many scars on an otherwise beautiful face and body.

And no one else would've suspected Aulfr's date, nor that he had ever paused for a moment at all- because he marched right on in without a pause, as if he had never stopped walking in the first place- tugging Aleksandra along somehow, even though he didn't have any grip on her at all. And he walked straight up to the nearest Noxan couple- dressed even more garishly as Aulfr- and introduced them to Aleksandra, and vice versa- explaining all about Aleksandra's new, tailored story of how she left behind her homeland in favor of getting revenge on it, after it chewed her up and spit her out.

All in all, he was introducing Aleksandra to be a great ally, a woman of deep knowledge of Ardany and its tactics, its people. Someone people liked, at the expense of Ardany.

And Aulfr made sure to talk to everyone.

Glamour, gossip, a night of beauty and enchantment. Aleksandra experienced none of those things.

Noxan balls were not about beauty or celebration. The nobility dressed like fools, there were weapons hidden up everyone's sleeves, and everyone avoided the punch for some reason she didn't want to question. She heard nothing but lies or petty gossip. Women would pass by and, knowing they couldn't get away with touching Aulfr, they settled for bumping into her and stepping on her feet. The only enjoyable thing was being able to hold onto Aulfr's arm through it all. He was a surprisingly comforting presence.

Not all of the ball was as cutthroat as she expected. Though she wasn't the best dancer, she was graceful and beautiful and everyone she was forced to dance with didn't comment on any incorrect steps she made. She was bit disappointed that she didn't get to dance with Aulfr before she tired, but there would be more balls. She could dance with him then, and she would know all the steps.

The event lasted for hours. Not halfway through, her feet already ached and she felt too warm. Not to mention how hard it felt to breathe. She supposed all of this excitement was agitating her wounds a bit too much. Maybe now that Aulfr had spoken about her to everyone, he might allow her to return to their chambers. With her silly silk slippers held in one hand, she turned to find Aulfr in the crowd.

If asked later why she knew she had to move so suddenly, she wouldn't be able to answer. Some deep instinct in her screamed at her to lean to the left. And not half a second later, there was a deadly thrum as a crossbow bolt tore through the air and grazed her bare shoulder, leaving behind a sudden shock of pain. For a moment, she stood there with the most surprised look on her features. And then she hardened. The expression in her eyes could only be described as murderous.

The hall was nearly silent as they watched her turn and identify the man running out the door, supposedly to escape after his failed assassination attempt. Her daggers were already in her hands, her slippers discarded on the floor like so much trash. She glanced at Aulfr and inclined her head slightly. She was going after this assassin no matter what he said. No reason not to be polite about it.

And then she was running. Nobles leaped out of her way, some of them marking themselves with odd symbols of protection against whatever demon had possessed her. She was no more than a hunter in that moment, dead-focused on taking down her prey. The doors opened and then closed behind her, and all was quiet.

For a few minutes, she was gone. Then, out in the corridor, there was a pained scream. More silence. And then she was prowling back into the hall with a disturbingly serene smile plastered on her now-bleeding face. The blighter had tried to shoot her again and had grazed her jaw. The morbid evidence of Aleksandra's success was all over the skirt of her dress, which had been half cut away to allow her to run. It was splattered in blood, as were her tattooed legs and feet, which trailed bloody footprints all the way over to Aulfr. She snagged a small flute of spiced wine as she passed by a frightened servant and came to a halt beside her prince. She looked dangerous. Beautiful. Savage.

"That went quite well," she murmured, taking a sip of her wine. She would only have a sip or two. It wasn't safe to drink more than that. Especially when everything was gray and blurry at the edges of her vision and her ribs felt like fire. But she also felt amazing. She wondered how Aulfr felt about her little performance? Surely, that stunt would cause his reputation to skyrocket.

Aulfr poured himself a glass of wine, busy chatting with a strange young woman proposing several different offers for cooperation, in future dealings. He had, of course, probably a full gallon of wine already (exaggeration), but he nevertheless was still relatively clear headed. His tongue was just slightly loose; he found it odd that none of his new admirers never appeared when he was with Aleksandra, but he absently dismissed it in his current state. Instead, of course, he complimented them all, welcomed them to the castle and to the city, and inquired about their lives and all that good stuff.

Then, of course, assassin happened.

Just like that- he was sober. Mostly. He spun about, finding Aleksandra within half a moment- and quickly waved to her, as she nodded to him. It was just enough time to seem like was giving her a signal to go after the man, a small sign of his power, that he didn't really have. And he watched, tensely, even though there was nothing to see...

And then relaxed tremendously when the scream was most definitely not Aleksandra's. No, if she screamed, he'd already be running, and she'd sound a great deal better, he thought. Either way, when she walked back in, suddenly confident and ready to face the entire room, as if she was now in her element- which she was- made her look... beautiful.

She came up to him, stood right up next to him, taking a sip of alcohol. And he knew she was feeling on top of the world, if she was willing to do that.

So he spoke.

"Hey, Aleksandra."

And she glanced up at him.

And he leaned down and kissed her, right in front of everyone, drawing a great big gasp- and a surprising number of definitely approving Noxan cheers/roars.

She really did feel as if she were on top of the world. She wanted every ball and banquet to go this way if it meant she got to show off for the crowd and kiss Aulfr all in one night. She'd learned that she liked a bit of a show. Living rough, where any measure of her true skill might give her away, she wasn't able to push herself or really show what she was worth. She liked the competitive nature of politics, especially now that she knew she was probably one of the best warriors on the continent.

She was surprised when Aulfr decided to kiss her in front of everyone, and wondered if this might just be another spectacle for the crowd. But no. She'd seen the look in his eye and recognized it the way no one else would have. He was stunned, and he was happy. Maybe even proud of her. And he'd had to kiss her, she bet. The urge was too great. And she happily reciprocated. She didn't reach up and touch him, but she leaned into him enough that it was noticeable to anyone watching that the prince and the assassin were more than just working partners putting on a show.

She pulled away first and wiped some of her blood from where it had dripped onto his cheek. Everything was a bit hazy now, both from the alcohol and from her injuries. She wasn't losing a lot of blood, but she looked pale. She was determined to stay at Aulfr's side the rest of the evening. She'd just have to forgo any more dancing or other such excitement.

She turned and ordered a servant to retrieve her daggers from where she'd dropped them outside the doors. She didn't even know if she was allowed to order servants around, but the fear of angering her did the trick. They were in her hands within a minute. She turned back to Aulfr and murmured, "I'll take my place at a table nearby so the nobility can come speak to me as they please. Keep cavorting." Then, trailing a hand across one of his broad shoulders, she sat down at the nearest table and started to wipe the blood from her daggers with one of the fancy cloth napkins sitting there.

Her legs were mostly bare now, showcasing the tattoos on both of them. Creeping vines on one leg, roaring flames on the other. The blood on them was starting to dry. Sitting there as she was, surrounded by beauty and expensive things, even wearing a lovely but ruined dress herself, she presented a striking picture. The harsh and ugly world of death mixed with the arrogant and entitled air she was exuding made her look as if she belonged in both worlds. Savage and beautiful. Cultured and deadly.

Aulfr's smile was a suddenly permanent feature on his face- and, based on some of the girl's giggling, it suited him well [or made him look ridiculous]. Based on the rest of the women who was interested in him- well, they were furious. How else could they compete with a woman who so obviously had Aulfr interested? More than one woman stomped away, some of them planning on becoming even more savage and impressive than Aleksandra- as if that'd ever happen.

But Aulfr let Aleksandra walk away, after using his sleeve (something that made many an uptight man burn with anger) to wipe away the blood on her face. And then he turned right back to the crowd, and started chatting rather amiably with a sudden burst of interested men, men who were attracted to Aleksandra for the same reason, men who were curious as to their relationship- and many who wanted to ally themselves with the deadly couple.

Aulfr, personally, had never felt happier. He was making new allies, he was making major ripples, and even now, many ladies weren't wearing the norm- favoring more single-colored, silky dresses versus the thicker, more traditional dresses women used to wear.

He could have clapped in glee, if he weren't so serious, even when happy.

He noticed quite a few of his cheerers going over to introduce themselves to Aleksandra- an ancient ritual of trying to steal one's prospective mate. They will show off a bit, whether physically or intellectually, and by unspoken tradition, Aulfr must allow them.

And then his father approached him.

"Oberjarl-blood, my compliments on the grand feast we have here. Have I provided entertainment enough, though unscheduled?" Aulfr asked, surprisingly innocent.

Oberjarl Bjorn appeared, to say the least, stressed and perturbed. Perhaps because it was his assassin that is now dead.

"Yes, of course, quite a... prospect you have there. Surely you don't mean to court the Ardanian, now do you? I don't think the men will take kindly to-"

The Oberjarl is, naturally, cut off as a hearty roar erupts from the man talking to Aleksandra- one that a Noxan can translate into "I APPROVE!"

Aulfr just gave the Oberjarl a smile, and walked off towards his partner, leaving the leader of his nation hanging, helpless to stop the rapid decline of his influence.