[IC] Cancel my appointments, I've been sold into slavery.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr just watched her suit up and get ready to head out. It wasn't the first time he wondered if he was losing something by this- if he should just be the traditional powerhungry asshole, beat her into submission, and then use her for whatever he wanted until she was all used up- and then toss her to go do the laundry. But no- she could be a great advantage, and the rumors that'll start circulating that people just die after crossing him will be very useful.

So he waved her out, before sitting back to sharpen his sword.

~-+( Three and a half days later- Sunset )+-~

Aulfr lay on his bed, waiting another night for his pet to return to him. This time tomorrow, he'll call for her head, but for now, he as content to wait. Three casks of fresh spiced cider- right imported from some ship that was raided- lay stacked next to his bed. The alcohol was barely noticeable to him; he drank practically straight alcohol, sometimes, when he really needed to stay awake.

So he lounged there, waiting for his pet to barge in through window or door. He honestly wasn't sure which; he didn't quite know if she was the dramatic kind, though she did put on quite the performance at the feast, with the jumpy-snappy thingy she did.

Ardanics can fight, it looked. Hopefully she's the odd one out, and the rest are all pansies.

He swung his sword around, drinking from a mug in the other. Damn, this cider is good. The top cask was already empty; he was just starting on his second. He had gotten them yesterday. Plenty of time to drink.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra was covered in muck when she climbed, exhausted, through Aulfr's window. She was swaying on her feet, so tired she could hardly see straight. She let her mask and cloak drop to the floor, then unbuckled her belt and let her daggers drop as well. She kicked off her boots and stumbled over to the bed, letting herself fall into the softness with a groan. She almost landed in Aulfr's lap.

"The deed is done, oh future Oberjarl. And it was not easy. That man had an absurd number of guards. Seems he already knew he was in trouble." She forced herself to sit up, leaning back against the headboard. She grabbed his goblet from him and downed the rest of whatever was in it without bothering to ask what it was. A soothing warmth spread through her limbs, all to way to her toes, and she made a delighted noise. She motioned for him to pour more of it, her eyes closed.

"I had to purchase a sedative and make sure it got in their wine. Then I had to serve it to the disgusting brutes. One of them tried to put his hand up my dress," she grumbled in her stolen cup. She drank deeply, then drained it. Her cheeks were flushed now, and she was starting to feel much too hot. She tied up her hair with a leather cord and tugged off her armored tunic, so she was sat there in just her trousers and her linen undershirt, which clung to her tightly.

"I got them all to sleep, then I crept into the Jarl's room and killed him quietly, no blood and no fuss." She was slurring her words now, which she very suddenly noticed. She glanced at her goblet, thinking maybe she was just tired and more of whatever this was would fix her up. So she drank the rest. And she did not get better. In fact, she realized it was the whatever-is-was making her warm and fuzzy. "Oh nooo," she cooed, then giggled. She giggled. "Aulfr, didjou get me drunk? Bad. This is bad, bad, not good." She rose up, wobbling much worse than before and meaning to get out of bed. She ended up falling face-first onto the floor with a girlish squeal.

"Ughh... Aulfie, fix me. You did this. I don't drink. Aleksa- Alexia Rayt cannot drink!" She made an attempt to crawl onto the bed, and this time she did fall into his lap. She sighed, resigned to her fate, and curled up there. "You're mean. You didn't tell me it was alcohol."

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr just watched her ruin his mental image of her, absolutely amused. He let her snatch his drink, and, for once, obediently followed her order. He handed the cup back to her, let her down it all. And he let her take a third cup without complaint. He was laughing inside at this point- she was adorable, stumbling over herself, both in words and in feet.

His face did not change, nor did his posture or how tense he was. But for a moment, his feelings became as cold as blizzard, when he heard her begin to say Aleksandra. He knew what she was saying- she was strong, to be able to attempt to deceive even so drunk as she was right now. But then he laughed again- there was little she could do to change anything, and she really was adorable.

So he set his goblet on his night stand, and pulled the silly mess of an Ardanic up a bit, so he could wrap one arm around her, and let her rest on his chest. He reached over with his other arm and filled up the goblet for a fourth time. Then, gently stroking her cheek with one hand and trying to coax her to drink the cider with another, he managed to get her to open up, and down a fourth cup. And a fifth cup. And a sixth cup.

And she was just blown-away drunk, but she still somehow managed to have some amount of lucidity- she understood most of what was being said to her, though most of her self-control went out the window. Such as cuddling up into him, weakly reaching for more cider, and remarking at, oh, how so strong he felt, as she curled up into him.

And she was perfectly fine answering questions, if it got her another sip of cider. "So, Alexia, what's your real name? You'll get more if you answer, dear one," he'd ask, wiping the sweaty hair away from her face, tempting her with the spiced cider. And she happily went away and gave him her name, her age, her father and mother, all whenever prompted, rewarded with a sip of excellent spiced cider for each question answered.

And then, after he was getting a bit tired of petting and messing with the infamous, unbeatable assassin, he asked her a question.

"Aleksandra?"

She looked up at him, from where she had been eyeing the cask of spiced cider.

"Do you happen to like me, at all? And if so, how much?"

And he watched her, knowing that she'll probably go for the first thing that came to mind.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra slowly grew more and more boiled, hardly caring that she was nestled right up against Aulfr. She knew, in some deep and distant part of her brain, that he wouldn't take advantage of her. He was so warm, and he felt so much stronger than other people. And even though she was so strong herself, she drew comfort in knowing that no one could hurt her if Aulfr was by her side.

She spilled almost all of her secrets to him for sips of cider. It was mortifying, and she'd hate herself in the morning, but right now she was warm and happy, humming fun tunes and mumbling in Ardanian. She reached up and buried her fingers in Aulfr's hair just before her called her name. Ooh, she liked her name when it said it like that, all quiet and rough, a little playful. And then his question. She tried to understand it, but everything was so complicated. She translated as best she could, thought for a moment, then laughed and slid down until her head was in his lap. She giggled her answer in slurred Ardanian and promptly fell asleep, snoring like a monster.

~Morning~

The urge to vomit hit her so quickly that she barely had time to make it to the window. She hung over the edge, gagging until her head pounded like that Jarl had hit her dead-on. There was a splat and a vehement protest from the balcony below as whoever stood under the window received the remnants of last night's drinking. Only then did she fully begin to comprehend what had happened. She just stood there, shaking in all sorts of emotions. Rage, mortification, fear. He knew. He knew almost everything except why she'd run away from home. That, at least, had been impossible to pry from her drunken lips.

She turned to glare at him, but closed the heavy curtains to block out the light that stabbed her eyes. He seemed to be waking up, and she wanted to walk over and punch him. In fact, she did walk over and punch him. She hopped onto the bed, straddled his legs, and punched him in the nose as hard as she could. She felt a few things crack. She knew one of them was at least one finger, but nothing she couldn't fix herself. She hoped the other thing was his stupid, perfectly crooked nose. She wanted to ruin how pretty it was by making it more crooked.

"How dare you," she growled. "You took advantage of a drunk woman for no good reason other than to sate your curiosity. What have you gained, exactly, by knowing who I am and who my family is? My mother was a whore, my father a soldier. That's all that matters. I'm no lady, I have no titles, no wealth, no status. I have a name, and it is a name I haven't claimed in over ten years." She refused to even acknowledge what else he'd asked her. It was a good thing she'd been too drunk to translate properly.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr was really woken up when she decided to punch his nose.

Almost immediately after he punching him, he rolled inward, to the other side of the bed, snatching his hands out to clamp on her wrists. He was angry, the punch erasing his good mood, and he wasn't in any mood to play games. He held her down, wrists clamped down on, positioning himself so that she couldn't kick, she couldn't throw him off balance, or wriggle out. The best thing she could do was spit on him, and that'd be making him even angrier.

Growling, he replied, "How dare you, speak back as if you are of equal ground and standing? I sought your favor, and gave you an offer that none other would ever receive, but that still doesn't mean that, until you have done your side of the deal and I am seated up, you are under my command, owned by me!"

Glaring at her, he rolled his jaw, as if contemplating what to do with her, before continuing.

"If you had noticed, you were the one that downed it and immediately asked for more. Being the oh-so-kind soul I am, I let you have more than any other. Especially since you were originally going to be nothing more than a pretty face. You know my ambition, and you know my ultimate goal, and you know just as well as I do what I could do with a name like yours. And I have a good idea of why you're always targeting the scum of the world- so you can either stop lying to me, and work everything we got to the best advantage, or you can forget being free ever again. Even if you escape me, we'll always be on your trail."

At this point, blood dripping from his nose was slowly dripping down, staining her neck a crimson red. He let it bleed- the pain enraged him even more, which was reflected in his eyes. And they were eyes that promised worse than death for those who crossed him.

"You are a lady with a name. A name that can be used to instill fear- and also a name behind that one, which can be used against those who had done wrong against her. Don't you agree, Aleksandra? I suspected who you were from the moment I saw you, even more so because of the story that accompanied your name, and the stories that started appearing after your name became widespread after your disappearance. The only thing I did was ensure that you had an asset I might use. So be an asset, or be a toy."

He stayed down on her, making sure that she couldn't move unless he let her.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra growled and tuned him out, her head pounding ferociously as she struggled against him. And then, slowly, she stopped. The color drained from her face as she wiggled her hands, trying to loosen his grip. Can't move... His grip was as solid as stone. He loomed above her, blocking everything else out. The warmth that had been so comforting the night before was now suffocating her. Can't move! And the expression on his face... She didn't think she could feel this dread, this terror, not anymore.

Cruel laughter. Leering grins in the dark. Her brothers. Her brothers. Can't move. She started thrashing like a wild animal, trying to headbutt him and scratch at him, screaming at him to let her go, let her go. Pressing her legs together tightly, though she knew her strength was no match for his. CannotmovecannotmoveCANNOTMOVE. She tried everything, yanking and kicking and jerking about until she was exhausted, her throat hoarse from screaming and her head splitting from her wicked hangover.

"Don't do it," she choked, forcing back her tears. They didn't listen, dripping down her cheeks like the traitors they were. She fell back against the sheets, limp and hopeless. "Don't, don't, not again," she whimpered, trying to hide her face in her shoulder. She began mumbling through her growing sobs. "Can't move, hurts, not again, not again. Monsters. Monsters," she moaned.

Rusalka holding her down. Vasily hovering over her, his expression cold and dead as he hurt her, and Rusalka laughing through it all, like it was a fun game. Her own family. Her blood. She didn't want to be hurt like that again. And the one person she was beginning to trust had betrayed her completely. He probably didn't know the effect his pinning her down would have, but it made no difference at the moment. She was petrified.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr watched her thrash with growing unease at her growing terror and hysteria. He had to tighten his grip several times, but she didn't come close to getting a single limb lose- and his stomach knotted at her reaction. He knew, then, that he may be a monster, he may kill or murder, force others' hands with blackmail and threats, but not violate and truly, truly destroy.

And his unease disappeared with a rise of comprehension, of understanding at why she was acting so. The position was perfect for... less than honorable people to have their way, especially on the girls who were already small and petite. But that was the thing- he was honorable. A monster, maybe, one that'd step on anyone who got in his way, but not one that'd go out of his way to cause needless pain. Oberjarls stayed in power based on ability to govern- if he tried to oppress his own, he'd quickly end up strung up by a rope.

He let her go, leaning back to watch her slowly curl inward, trying to turn her back towards him. He rolled off the bed, letting her be free, but she didn't jump up and attack him, like he half-expected her to. No, she actually was breaking, right now.

A very special fire burned in him at that moment- one that he wanted to unleash on those who would do such a thing. Not even the Oberjarl could rape a citizen without major punishment, and likely being removed from his position. Unless they were slaves- no one cared about slaves, and the lowest of servants were generally considered more akin to slaves than citizens.

Refusing to admit to even himself that he felt genuinely bad about setting her off in such a way- though his nose hurt like hell (he quickly popped it back into place with some amount of tears and pain)- he slid an arm under her shoulders and knees, lifting up the sobbing wreck of an assassin. He doubted a bed would be a pleasant place for her, right now. So he sat down in his best chair, the one that the woman he was holding called her sewing chair, and sat her in his lap. He wrapped an arm around her, and reached up to stroke the woman's night-black hair.

Whispering reassurances in her ear, he rocked her slightly, trying to remember how his mother had comforted him, in the few years he had with her. The mere thought of the only person that showed him genuine care in his life made his heart drop; normally, he'd shove it aside and replace it with hardness. But no one was visiting; he had a reputation that still lasted. They wouldn't enter unless told to, or dire news was at hand.

So he hugged her a little tighter, stroked her hair a bit gentler, and rocked her a little more caring, as tears pricked his own eyes. Even when he was feeling vulnerable, he suddenly found that he couldn't let it out; this was the best he could do. The thought sobered him, as he tried to comfort the scarred disowned bastard that had found herself in his care.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra wanted to run, but her legs would not carry her away. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't speak. She wanted to hit Aulfr until her hands no longer existed, but all she could do was lay there, shaking so violently that her teeth clicked together. Just when she thought she could move herself, Aulfr reached down and did it for her. She almost started screaming again, thinking maybe he'd just been pretending not to hurt her to make her more scared. She was in his lap, and her muscles tensed into rock, but then his arms were around her so tightly it was almost hard to breathe, his fingers gently combing through her hair.

She kept shaking, kept chattering her teeth, but it slowed fractionally. She couldn't bring herself to relax against him, so she curled into herself, letting him do what he felt he needed to to make this right again. She was embarrassed beyond all reason. He was never going to hurt her, of course he wasn't. He was a brute and a man who had his needs, but he was honorable in that regard. But the fear of being overpowered, of a man looming above her with that cold and distant expression... It would never leave her.

She had stopped crying the moment he took his weight off of her. She hated crying, and couldn't recall the last time it had happened. Years and years ago. Maybe even that night, when her brothers had robbed her of her entire sense of self. She could still hear their voices in her ear, their breath hot on her cheek. Dirty little whore. Must run in the blood. Vile whores' blood. They'd left her lying on the bed, so petrified she couldn't even shake. She'd stared up at the ceiling for Saints-knew-how-long, tears streaming from her eyes silently.

She sat in Aulfr's arms for nearly an hour. She couldn't stand being touched any longer than that. She was shaking still, badly enough that she had to hold onto the bed to keep standing. The bed. She made a disgusted face and forced herself to stand on her own. Where to go? Not the chair. Not just the floor. Somewhere dark and quiet and where sound was muffled. Her gaze went down, then she grabbed a pillow from the bed and slid underneath the frame, letting the heavy blankets cover all surrounding sides. Dark, warm, quiet. Safe. She would have preferred a bath so hot she wouldn't be able to feel her skin for two days. But this would be okay.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr watched her scurry herself away under his bed, concerned for someone who would do that. To make matters worse, he just realized that under his bed was the only place he couldn't get to- making it a viable place for assassins to hide and wait for him to lower his guard. Similar to how it was being used now, even though the assassin that was under there wasn't out to kill him, for the moment, at least.

So he stepped into the hall and called for a hot bath; he knew it'd take somewhere around an hour, and being of the practical mind common to the higher ranks of Noxus, he didn't try to hurry it up by panicking the servants into a serving frenzy.

He debated trying to get to Aleksandra to try and pull her out and help her in some way, but he was clueless as to how to do both. Either way, she'd be just fine, and wouldn't be able to escape, where she was now, nor would it be an easy position to attack from, if she decided to do so. So he waited for the bath to heat up, before a servant eventually knocked on the door.

He didn't answer it; rather, he stood up, opened the bathing room door- it also had 'facilities' in the corner, but he rarely used them, since he was always out and away from his room- and checked the water from the pipes. Convinced it was hot enough, he let it open all the way up and start pouring out at full blast, gravity doing the work.

Turning back to the room, he got down on his hands and knees, and peeked under the edge of the bed.

"I know you can hear the water running... Rayt. Would you like to take a bath? You're a smart girl- you know it's hot."

Reflecting on himself as he was speaking, he knew that calling her a girl was obviously wrong- they were both well into their primes, her prime just happening to be much smaller than the average in Noxus. Either way, he couldn't tell if it was simply a word he was using because of her size and appearance- she certainly looked young enough, and seemed more childish when she wasn't wearing something as tight as she does now- or because he used it affectionately. He shrugged it aside; it didn't matter.

He'll chew her out later. For now, she needs to recover from her panic attack.

So he reached under, and gently pulled out the shaken Aleksandra. He didn't try to pick her up, or really touch her, just pointed and let her stumble over. He shut the door behind her, and then settled back down into his chair to wait.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra was deeply confused as she lay under Aulfr's bed, curled around her stolen pillow like a kitten. The part of her that was still terrified couldn't understand why this tormentor was being so kind, so gruffly gentle. Then the part of her that was rational, trying to calm down, felt touched by his concern and the effort he was making to fix what he'd done. All in all, she was a mess of feelings, none of which she wanted to be feeling.

She tried halfheartedly to tug her wrist away from Aulfr when he reached down and pulled her out from under the bed, but she really did want that bath. She could see the steam curling out of the washroom and knew that she'd be able to calm down the moment she was behind that door, scrubbing the ghost of her brothers' hands from her skin with the scalding water. So she let him pull her from her hiding place, but let go of his hand immediately after that. She walked just out of his touch while he ushered her to her bath.

After the door closed behind her, she just stood there on trembling legs, staring at the water. She stepped forward and sunk into it without even taking her clothes off. She water was so hot that she flinched away from it with a hiss. Already her skin was bright red from the heat. Good. She submerged herself completely, screaming silently into the water until the pain faded. Then she came up for air and started pulling of her sopping wet clothes.

She was red everywhere, and her skin was numb. She could almost feel their hands on her, which meant she had to go back under. So that was what she did for the next half hour. She dunked herself over and over, scrubbing at her numb red skin until she really couldn't feel it anymore. After that, she was content to lay there in the water until it cooled, letting her breathing slow and shaking subside.

Once the water was cold again, she drained it and climbed out. One of the outfits she'd made was sitting neatly on a stone bench against the wall, so she dried herself and put those on. Then, steeling herself, she opened the door and stood there, her expression stony. "My brothers raped me when I was ten. Vasily was nineteen and Rusalka was sixteen. After that, I asked my father to teach me to fight. Once I knew the basics, I stole as much gold as I could and ran away. My only goal in life is to be strong enough to kill them. As for what happened today, I refuse to discuss it with you. It's done. Now yell at me for punching you so we can get on with our day."

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr was sitting in his chair, taking a short nap. What he was dreaming about, he had no idea after waking up. He stretched a little bit, and then got up and walked back to his window. He watched the soldiers train for a short while, before his ears caught the distinct sound of the pool-tub draining in the other room. He waited several moments afterwards before turning; walking to the table, he pocketed a decently sized piece of white cloth. After, he walked up to the door, and stood straight in front of it, waiting.

Not a minute later, Aleksandra reappeared. He listened with a calm, even slightly tender face- and it could be taken that he cared. He clasped his hands behind his back while she spoke, and waited for her to finish.

Then he paused after she finished, and stared down at her. Unclasping his hands from his back, he swung them absently, meeting in a small rubbing of hands in front of him twice. The third time, he didn't swing his arms back. He rubbed his hands together, grasped them together, and then released them.

A moment later, maybe before she could even blink, he socked her right in the nose, reminiscent to her own blow to his- even though his throw was significantly more powerful, hard enough to knock her comparatively fragile frame right back into the bathroom, sending her tumbling to the floor.

Stepping into the room with a now slightly-bloodied hand, he crouched down next to her. Whipping out the white cloth, he dabbed at her nose, wiping the blood away. Once he had cleaned her face, despite the fresh running blood, he reached forward and snapped! it right back to its original position, setting it quickly and efficiently, without a thought to her wants for independence. Dabbing at her nose again, he finally spoke.

"Your brothers will be dead soon enough. I don't plan on leaving Ardany any more independent than you are now, if that. And- do not mistake me to be your equal. Ever. Next time, I'll break you."

He flashed her a quick smile, mixed in its signals. On one hand- it was a reassuring smile. On the other hand, the gleam in his eyes promised death, a cold insanity that rarely came out to play, hidden behind layer after layer after layer. It was such a brief gleam that she might have even taken it for a trick of the light, paranoia, or her own imagination.

Either way, he dabbed at her face some more. Then he stood, leaving the cloth on her face, and stepped calmly back into his room.

"Come," was all he said, "You have things to report."

[Fennec]

Aleksandra watched with growing dismay as he stood there, doing nothing, and steeled herself for the blow she knew was coming. And it came. She stumbled back, falling on her ass as blood gushed from her nose like a geyser. She was spluttering half-finished curses, not entirely at Aulfr. And when he snapped her broken nose back into place, she abandoned Noxan altogether and starting growling at him in Ardanian. She had a very colorful vocabulary.

She watched him with a petulant expression as he got up and walked away, leaving her the cloth to mop up her blood. She didn't like the look he'd given her. And if her thought he or some shoddy soldier was going to kill her brothers, he was more than wrong, he was insane. She was going to ruin Vasily and Rusalka, and then she'd kill them and bathe in their Devils-damned blood.

She took a moment to clean herself up and staunch the bleeding before staggering to her feet and following the prince. The next forty-five minutes passed with her giving a detailed account of her hunt. Who the Jarl had visited, all the shops he bought from, descriptions of his guards and his possessions and all of his written documents, which she had in her satchel. She hadn't read them, knowing that she hadn't the time. She retrieved them for Aulfr and handed them over.

"I visited an artist I know in the city, someone who knows my identity as the Handmaid and can keep a secret. He painted twenty cards with wolves whose fur are the royal colors. I left one inside the Jarl's mouth. The message is clear: Aulfr Volsung deals swift punishment to those who oppose him." She also retrieved one of the cards from her satchel and showed it to him.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr sat back down in his chair. Facing the re-entering Aleksandra, he clasped his hands together and sat them on his lap, awaiting her report. He listened attentively enough; his focus was more on her, as she gave her report, and how she seemed about it. He didn't let anything surprise or please him; he kept calm and focused, just as she did.

And he took the papers from her, flipping through them as she continued. He paused on one; a letter from someone in Ardany. After quickly skimming through it, he decided that if Aleksandra already knew about it, then so be it. But in case that she didn't look through them, he wouldn't be in any hurry to alert her.

So he slipped the said letter under the stack, and continued to skim them. Absently taking the card from her, he glanced at it before letting it drop on the table.

Finally, he tossed the documents and papers next to card, and eyed her, curiously, as if he hadn't just socked her in the nose, or been in a rage, in less than four hours beforehand.

"Next time you decide I've done you injustice, review your social standing. And good job with your hunt- lots of information I can use, here. Feasts are picking up again; the Jarls have been coming back in from all over. Expect another one that you'll be attending in about three days. After it, you'll be heading after someone else."

He gave her a smile, and picked up his mastercrafted sword, where it lay on the table from the last night. Drawing it from the scabbard, he went back to sharpening the edge, dismissing or ignoring her.

[Fennec]

A few days passed, uneventful. Aleksandra used the token Aulfr had given her to go out and buy new gear. She had her own wardrobe now as well, mostly some light armor and custom-tailored trousers, but also a few dresses in case she needed them. She also had her own brush, soaps, and other personal items. Her weapons were as close to mastercrafted as she could buy without getting in trouble.

Her relationship with Aulfr had relaxed a bit. She could sleep in the bed again without much trouble. They had been sparring a few times a day so she could feel better about it.

Aleksandra was fast asleep when Aulfr returned from some mission or other, as usual. And like always, it seemed he could never enter quietly. She startled awake from the nightmare she'd been having, almost grateful that she'd woken. Then she started dozing again. She could hear the clink and shuffle of him pulling off his armor and extraneous clothing before the bed dipped.

For a moment she felt strange, not seeing him climb into bed but feeling and hearing it. Hearing him sigh as he relaxed, feeling the blankets lift and his leg brushing against hers. She felt married, and the thought was so amusing that she smiled.

Still mostly asleep, she rolled over, but found her cheek pressed against his arm. She wanted to move away, but found that her sleep-addled brain made her do the opposite. She snuggled closer and curled her hand around his bicep, relaxing against him. He was warm and didn't exactly smell like roses. Whatever he'd been doing had probably been strenuous. But it was the strength in him that both terrified and comforted her. She mumbled something in Ardanian, too quiet and sleepy to be intelligible, and fell back asleep still holding him.

[WilsonTurner]

He slid the lock back into place, the mechanism locking into place with a solid thunk. Repocketing the key, he turned to the bed, noting the stirring Aleksandra. He, briefly, allowed himself to admire what he knew she looked like, and the outline of her figure in the sheets.

Then he stepped back to his table, and began undressing, already putting her out of his mind. He tossed his shirt aside on the growing pile of laundry, still somewhat neat from his routine of dropping it in the same exact spot, draped his chainmail over the chair again, and then shrugged out of his second shirt, dropping it on the small pile of second shirts.

Ready to get some shut-eye after dealing with another training session and an attempted assassination, he slipped under the covers, intending to fall asleep as quickly as possible. He brushed against Aleksandra's smooth leg; he quickly adjusted so they weren't touching.

Then he stiffened, slightly, at the unexpected contact of smooth skin- regardless of scars, it was still smooth- against his rougher, none-too-clean skin. Then a hand, lightly laying over his upper arm muscles, and her curling up slightly against him.

For an extraordinarily long amount of time- five minutes or so- he pondered this. Because based on how quickly she went to sleep, compared to how guarded she was, compared to how much she hated him last time she was aware that she had snuggled up to him after too much to drink.

He wasn't sure if she was just starting to like him, or if she was planning on killing him. Either way, it made him nervous and uneasy.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra woke the next day feeling warm and heavy. It was hard to pry her eyes open at all. She just wanted to snuggle into the blankets and fall back asleep. But then her warm and heavy feeling started snoring.

Her eyes popped open and she looked down, only to see Aulfr practically engulfing her small frame with his large body. She would have started panicking, but she knew he was just sleeping. Even she gravitated towards anyone she shared a bed with, be they male or female. But she felt like a child compared to him. She could vaguely recall leaning against him when he'd come to bed, so she supposed she'd started it.

He was wrapped around her, a leg thrown over both of hers, a muscled arm snaked around her waist. His head was a warm weight on her chest, too close to her breasts to be comfortable, but she didn't want to wake him. So she sighed and settled in, even bringing a hand up to run her fingers through his hair. Once again, she was surprised at how soft it was. It was so at odds with the hard man it belonged to. Although he seemed soft as a featherbed laying all over her like this, his cheek squished and clothing all askew.

What were her feelings for him, she wondered? And his feelings for her? She already knew he had the same desire for her as most men did, but he wouldn't act on it unless he were Oberjarl and she consented. He had some measure of respect for her and what she'd gone through. He was still a ruthless warrior and a brute, which she wouldn't ever forget. But did his feelings for her run deeper? She'd heard from the servants that no one ever approached him unless ordered to, and to touch him was something unheard of. Mostly because he made it clear that wasn't something to be done. And yet he let her get away with just about all of it, including her tame little backtalk.

How did she feel about him? He was a man, which would usually be enough for her. But she'd shared his bed, changed clothes in front of him, had had a full-blown panic attack in front of him. He'd seen her drunk, terrified, happy. He knew more about her than anyone else in the world. He knew everything. She didn't really enjoy that last part, but it wasn't anything she could change. She was horribly confused by all of this. She actually enjoyed the way they were tangled up, and the warmth and comfort of it. At the same time, she felt trapped by it, by his body almost completely covering hers. She wanted to be normal. She wanted to be like other women, flattered by men looking at her and complimenting her. She didn't want to hate desire.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr slowly woke, registering something warmer and softer than his blankets as he did so. But why would there be...? He jerked awake, sitting up before he had even registered he was moving. He stared blearily at the gentle light coming in from the rising sun through his window, before everything cleared with military speed, and he glanced about.

Oh. That soft comfortable thing was Aleksandra. He stared at her, feeling rather awkward, and read a mix of emotions on her face- as if she wanted to scramble away and come closer at the same time. He didn't want to admit that he had a similar feeling, even though he felt his was less power.

So he made the decision for them both, and rolled out of bed. He stretched, ignoring his pet assassin, and then headed for his bathing room for a quick wash, disappearing through the door not a minute after he woke up.

Once inside, he turned on the thick pipe's tap. Letting the warm water cascade into the bowl, he stretched again, this time more luxuriously, and taking more time. As he waited for the bowl to fill, he put aside his thoughts in favor of the more familiar, more secure warm-up he usually did in front of his window.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra stayed in bed after Aulfr's awkward exit, touching her fingers to the warm spot he'd left on the bed. She felt uncomfortably light now, and she actually was surprised by how much she wanted to follow Aulfr into the bathroom and demand he hug her. Saints, how embarrassing. Nothing like that would ever happen between them, and she didn't want it to. It wouldn't work. He was a prince and a brute, and she was terrified of men.

She had to get up and face him eventually. They had a feast to attend. The rest of the day passed as they both tried to ignore what had happened, pretending there wasn't any tension. And the rest of the week continued that way. And they continued to wake up tangled together. She was relieved when another feast passed and Aulfr sent her out on a hunt. She'd begun planning a half-assed speech about her feelings. The thought made her shudder.

She was gone for a full week this time, taking out not only a Jarl, but an opiate den that he ran. It would have taken less time, but she'd run into the slavers who'd captured her, partaking in the opiates den's pleasures. She took her time with them. When she returned to the castle, she was in much better spirits. That is, until she climbed through the window to see Aulfr dressed like a royal fool.

She sighed, already shucking off her gear. "Another feast? I can see you're already on your way out, so don't wait for me. I need to clean up first. I'll be there soon." She waved him off, mumbling something about him needing to go and entertain the foolish nobility as she pulled off her armored tunic.

[WilsonTurner]

Aulfr turned as Aleksandra emerged from the window. He slid his mastercrafted sword into its sheath, and glanced down at his attire at the same time she did. He sighed as she did, surprising himself with their synchronization. He mulled over that word for a moment- he didn't remember it learning it anywhere.

So he shrugged at little piece, replying, "Yeah, 'nother feast. Be there soon, and don't take so damned long next time with your hunts- if you miss a feast, people'll start talking. Deal with it."

Stepping towards the doorway, slipping a fifth knife into his fifth hiding place, he said by way of farewell, "See you."

He unlocked and opened the door, and exited a moment later, shutting the door. Turning around, he strode down the hallway, a guard falling in behind him, presumably ordered by his father as a sort-of escort if his usual escort- Aleksandra- wasn't there. His way of trying to say he still had power over him. As he turned down another hall, he felt his sixth sense tingling- a moment later, the even clatter of the soldier's plate-and-chain armor shifted, and Aulfr was pivoting to the side out of instinct.

The guard's sword slashed through the air, from a cut he started as he drew his sword, where Aulfr just was.

By the time the guard had recovered, and was starting to swing at the ridiculously dressed Aulfr, he had already whipped out a knife and thrown it.

The guard sputtered and cried out as he dropped, knife through the most obvious weakness- his helmet, or more specifically, his eye. Aulfr watched him go down, before calling out for the guards. Moments later, two soldiers rounded the corner to find Aulfr pulling the knife out of the guard's eye.

"He's a traitor. Toss him in the garbage, after you remove his gear." He gestured for the soldiers to do as he told them, and set off onwards to the feast.

Striding confidently into the feast- already a tad bit late from being fashionably late- stopped half of the occupants in the now-cluttered room. About six dozen people milled about, the closer ones turning to watch Aulfr stride in. The ladies were clad in similarly colored dresses of fine cloth, accented by gold or purple silk hanging from sleeves, bodices, and silk ribbons used to lace up their corsets and the like- not too terribly unlike what Aleksandra's first set of clothing here.

So apparently she's made a new fad. Good for her- it'll only help to increase their hatred and jealousy for her and her position.

He smiled and greeted his allies, smiled and crushed the hands of his frenemies, and bore through a dozen ladies and their attempts to seduce and/or partner with him in more than the usual manner. He took it all with the same smile, his eyes giving away approval, pleasure, or cold warning when required. Everything was about the eyes, here- even the brutes of the brutes kept themselves moderated. An armed society is a polite society- every single man had at least a sword, and every single noblewoman carried at least a small dirk in the open. It was not uncommon for one of the rougher nobles to be floored by the dagger of a displeased woman.

But no one wanted to risk Aulfr's prolonged attention, today. Already, whispers of an attempted- and quickly failed- assassination was spreading. Probably the servants- no one noticed the servants until they were at their elbow, saying something. And even then, usually not.

Eventually, he made his way up to his father's side, and stood in front of his chair, waiting for his escort to arrive. Meanwhile, he tortured entertained his father with the tale of nearly being assassinated by one of the castle guard. Proposterous, no? Aulfr made it clear that he'd have to start reviewing the guard, now, and replacing any suspicious soldiers with the newly trained Wolfguard- Aulfr's soldiers, that he had been training for some time now.

[Fennec]

Aleksandra was already changing, not even watching him as he left. She had to work quickly, since she wouldn't be showing up to the feast in her usual handmaid clothing. She'd noticed the women rushing to copy her style with the utmost disgust and, though she hated to do it, she was going to wear a dress. Of course, she'd be wearing her daggers inside the sleeves and her usual hide boots, but she'd be much more formal than usual.

She washed herself quickly, making sure there were no traces of grime or blood visible on her body, then pulled on her dress and made sure her daggers were well-hidden on her arms. After that, she left the room and braided her hair on the way to the dining hall. She felt at once both too exposed and too constricted, which was why she hated dresses so much. But there was a strange, wiggly feeling in the pit of her stomach at the thought of Aulfr seeing her this way. All to soon she was striding into the dining hall, displaying herself as she made her way to Aulfr's side.

She wore a silver gown of a light, fluttering material that swished just about every time she twitched the wrong way. It was a bit small in the chest, but then again most shirts and bodices were. It hugged all of her curves and belled out at her hips. The silver color, along with the small bit of black kohl she'd managed to ring her eyelids with, made her blue-grey eyes look nearly neon. Her hair was braided in an almost artfully messy way, with the shorter pieces escaping to frame her face.

She took her place beside Aulfr, feeling the hungry stares of every man clinging to her and the jealous, burning looks of the women in the room. She murmured a greeting to Aulfr, and feeling suddenly bold, she winked at him before pointedly ignoring his and everybody's existence.