Jasper & Aisling Prologue (complete)

Aisling came walking briskly down the hall, just wanting to get somewhere she knew, somewhere safe. Then again, what was really safe for her these days? Ever since her uncle and cousin had taken over her family’s kingdom, she was no more than a prisoner. 

She came to her door and opened it, walking inside she felt some relief, some strain lift away from her chest. She closed the door behind her, bracing against the handle and let her shoulders sag.

She had been there for so long with fear. Before, home had been what she called this place. Nowadays, it was a prison. She learned the way her uncle ruled with lies and dicete. Learned how to lie to even Reginald to chirp and sing for them. A bird in a cage, she would later think of bitterly. All had been liars, and all of them better at it than her. All but one, who never lied. He had been there, for all of Aisling’s sufferings. Had seen her avoid Reginald’s hand, had seen her struck by it. It had been this supposedly cruel man who had convinced Reginald that her face was not worth slapping. He had given her advice she took as cruelty, later finding it forged and tested truth.

Beginning to stride to the comfort of her bed Aisling was made aware she was not alone in her room. Someone was huddled in the corner with his hood around him. He stiffened with a grunt and sat up, his cape charred and reeking of sour wine. His eyes caught her small lantern, and yet they still seemed so dark and far away. It was Lord Jasper of her uncle’s ‘Beauties Regiment’, an army made of nonhuman soldiers. It was a cruel regiment, but not because of the men in it, but because of the way Reginald ran it. Lord Jasper was lizardfolk, a massive man who led the Beauties. He was often around as Reginald had made him his personal guard. 

Lord Jasper put on a frightening act, something that Reginald encouraged. He looked horrible in his armor, but Aisling had found the visage underneath the helm could curdle any soul. He was burned horribly in youth, and now, his face was melted and pulled taut around the left side. The eye there was a narrow slit, and his mouth was constantly cut back in a horrible sneer. 

Right now though, Aisling found he looked more pathetic than frightening. His armour was dingy with the chest plate hanging loose and back pieces nearly off. His cloak was stained, burnt, and the pungent odor of sour wine wasn’t the only thing wafting from it.

He gripped and ungripped at his knees, hands bare. his shoulder plate and jerkin still intact. “Not up for staying with the hens?” He growled, a sick sardonic smile crossing his face.

Aisling jerked, pressing herself against the door even harder. She saw him, made out the face that had tormented her. Wasn’t it bad enough? She thought to herself. Why does he have to be here too? She quivered, her knees shaking, and she slid down, falling to the floor.

"What are you doing here?" She managed to whisper out as he rose from the ground. Even from where she was, she could smell blood. She could smell the fire. She could smell him.

Jasper wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and as he walked towards Aisling an empty bottle skittered from his feet and under the bed. "I’ve come to take you away. Take a song, and make off with you from this bloody sodden shit-hole you see as a gilded cage." He gripped her arms, pulling her up, wavering slightly.

"Don’t touch me!" She fought back against him, pushing against his grabbing hands.

He smelled her hair, burying his muzzle against her ear. “I’ll have that song you promised me.”

Aisling shivered, but still reached out, put her hand against his arm and gripped it tight. “I don’t know any songs that you want!” She spit. Feeling his nose in her hair, touching her, she wrenched away from him and he swayed.

Jasper stumbled drunkenly, hitting the fireplace and balancing on it. He frowned and shook his head. “Don’t pull away from me.” He met her eyes, his own showing a degree of hurt. He grabbed her again, catching her arm as she tried to turn.

"You’re hurting me!" Aisling whined, trying to pull away, but feeling no more strength left in her. She couldn’t fight anymore. She was too tired. "Just leave me alone please." She whimpered, her head dropping forward in defeat. Her forehead pressed against his chest. "I can’t take it anymore…"

He flinched, and rubbed her back softly, more comforting himself than her. “I can take you away from here and keep you safe.”

She looked up at him, eyes wet, bottom lip quivering. “We would both be killed.” Her voice a faint rasp. She shook her head slowly, feeling his grip loosen on her wrist. “It’s utter chaos out there. The Stone Ifrits and Goblins are revolting. They’re out for blood. Our blood.”

He gripped her closer to him, primal and shaking himself. “Damn Fool. What haven’t I done for you?”

Aisling seized up, feeling herself pressed against him. She wanted to fight, wanted to claw at him and break away. Instead, her arms folded around him, bringing herself closer. What hadn’t he done? She couldn’t name it. She’d been too blinded by pretty things to see it.

"It doesn’t matter if I do die,” she began to sob. “I hate it here. I hate it.”

He wiped at her face with trembling hands, his own torture letting a softness come through. “Then pack your things and we’ll leave now, while the battle burns. I-I need to be somewhere there is no-” He looked out then back to the floor. “Somewhere that isn’t burning.”

Aisling reached up with a trembling hand and touched his cheek, she felt the tears on his scales, washing through the sticky blood. She swallowed the lump back in her throat, fingers clenching against his burnt cheek.

He pressed a rough kiss into her palm, then stood taller, more resolute. He walked to her bathing solar, dunking his head in the cool water there. The sobering effect not nearly as strong as he needed. He’d been drinking all night, at least since the Goblins set fire to the boarders of the palace.

Aisling brought her palm to her chest, his kiss still burning her skin. She stood then, quickly moving about the room, collecting things quickly and absent mindedly. She reached for her doll on her nightstand and for a moment she paused. Looking over the old thing she had known long ago she was too old for it, but she had clung to it for comfort when her uncle arrived. She looked up then, seeing Jasper standing above her, dripping, wiping the water from his face. She steeled herself, taking in a breath, pressing her lips hard together.

The doll fell from her hand.

"Come now, lady. I’ll have my song later." He rushed about her room, gathering boots and a thick traveling cloak. "It will be colder than you think. Rougher too," he muttered, throwing his cloak over her. "Keep your head down, and hold onto me. Your life depends on it."

Holding up her arms Jasper scooped her up like she was nothing. She clung close to him, keeping her head down and tight against him. She even squeezed her eyes closed shut, bringing back her childhood belief that if you couldn’t see it, it couldn’t see you. She also brought back her childhood habit of prayer. She prayed the Goddess Rhu would hear her.

"Let it all burn. Let them all fade away to ash.”

Jasper rode through the gates, his cloak covering her cowering from behind him. He charged away from the flames set by the Goblins, he avoided the rocky terrain where the Stone Ifrits were waiting. Every so often the cry of death would meet her ears and whatever slowed them was gone. He was able to soon cut through the woods, and from then on it was only the sounds of nature. They rode hard through the night till dawn, till her hands were raw from clinging to his body.

Jasper stopped, nearly rolling off the destrier who was trotting weakly to a nearby stream. He grunted, leg aching from such a hard ride, but he knew he had to take care of her. He helped Aisling down, and to her he seemed different. He was sobered, in more than one way. He was a craven now, a deserter, and he had stolen a prize from the lion’s grip.

Aisling looked up at him, nodding slightly. Her legs were sore, hands felt as if they were on fire. She looked at them, red and chapped. She wondered if she had packed her body oil. She couldn’t remember what she grabbed it amongst all the things she had scrambled to get in her haste. She sat down by the tree, opening up her bag and looking around inside. Surely she had something to ease the ache.

Jasper sat against a tree, stretching his legs, catching his breath. “Put them in the water, girl.” He growled, but not so harsh. More tired. He tossed aside what bits of armor remained then allowed his body to slouch.

Aisling glanced towards him, nodding in silence. She stood, going to the stream and setting her hands inside. The cold burned the chapped skin. She let loose a frightened, shocked cry but she kept herself still and in the water. She swallowed, eyes stinging with tears. Once her hands felt numb she went to sit back at the tree. She wiped at her eyes and pulled Jasper’s cloak tight about her, shivering.

"It’s cold." She said quietly, afraid to test him too much.

Grumbling under his breath Jasper hefted up his large body and moved towards her. He reached forward, under her skirts and tore from them.

Aisling screamed and slapped his hand.

“Don’t flatter yourself, my lady. I couldn’t even get it up if you begged me.” He knelt over her legs, tearing the fabric with his teeth into thin strips, then wrapping her hands expertly. “I’ll gather brush.” His breath hitched , but he rose and left, soon returning with brush and kindling for a night’s fire

“Do you know how to start a fire?” Jasper asked, looking up at Aisling.

She stared for a moment then shook her head. “I…I don’t know how.” She looked up at him guiltily. He had done so much for her, risking his neck to take her away. He only asked her to start the fire, and she knew she’d fail him.

"A servant or someone else always did it for me." She explained weakly.

He grunted, nodding for her to come near. “I don’t do fire. So you need to learn if you plan on staying under my keep.”

Aisling hesitated for a moment then inched closer towards him, looking up for some sort of sign of how to move next.

He showed her how to use a flint rock, the sparks flying fat and thick. “Light the kindling and it’ll start a fire. “

She took the flint rock and knelt down by the kindling. She struck them, as he showed her. Nothing. She tried again, a little spark. Once more, she told herself. She struck, and spark flew, the kindling caught fire and a grin spread across her face. The first real smile she had since her uncle and cousin arrived at the gates. 

She looked up excitedly at Jasper. "I did it!" She stood, almost bouncing. "I did it!" She laughed, feeling so proud, forgetting the situation she was in.

He nearly smiled back, but only sighed, relaxing against the root. “Burn that white cloak. Lay out yours, and sleep. We’ll ride in the hour of the rose”

Aisling clung to the white cloak for a moment. For some reason, she was feeling sentimental about it. He had been gifted it after winning a great battle. He had used it to cover her after Reginald had punched her.

“Don’t you need it?”

"I’m no knight or Beauty anymore. It’s an eyesore. We’ve enough trouble avoiding attention being a beast and a proper lady alone on the road. Not until we reach Obresh at least.”

Aisling nodded slowly, taking the cloak off and returning to the fire. She hesitated for a moment, then placed it around the growing flames, adding dry leaves to the top. She went back, taking up her cloak and wrapping it about her shoulders.

Jasper grunted, patting the ground next to him. “Come over here, my lady. Soft moss, not uncomfortable. Definitely better than anything else around here.”

It took her a moment to think about it, but the more the cold crept in and she saw the darkness of the wood around her, she felt safer being near him.

Back up against the tree, Jasper placed himself so he wouldn’t touch her. “Any sound, anything, and you wake me or scream.”

At first, she tried to fight sleep, but it grew too much for her. Soon, she was curled against him. The wolf pup against the gnarled hound. He, too, was reluctant to sleep, but it overcame him, his hand on the hilt, his face still tight with stress.

She moved into his lap, comfortable and stretched out.

Soon the morning sun was upon them, and they were upon the black war horse once more. this time Aislingin front, swathed in a brown traveling cloak, Jasper behind her with his armor left behind. They rode deep into the night, coming to a war-torn village.

"We can squat in a house till the morrow," he growled against her ear. He had been so quiet and stiff without wine to loosen his tongue and heart.

"There. That one." He pulled next to an abandoned shack, the door buckled in. It was better than the ground outside and the walls offered them respite from the wind.

Jasper made sure the door would be sound and he left a dagger in Aisling’s hand. "Start the fire, I’ll catch us our dinner. " And he was gone.

Aisling started the fire again, using the flint Jasper had given her. She then went back to her bag, looking for her body oil. She unbound her hands, they looked better than they had last night, but still not the soft silken skin they had been.

She sat by the fire, smoothing the oil on her hands, leaving the bottle by the fireplace. She sat, waiting on him to return. She pondered for a moment what she would do if he didn’t return. It hurt to think that. It made tears come to her eyes. She was alone, and worse than that, she realized she was incapable of anything on her own. He had to teach her to start a fire for goddess’ sake!

“You need to stop crying!” She fussed at herself. “Stop acting like a child. You’re a lady.” She sat stiff in her seat, kneading her fingers into her knees. “You can survive. You were smart enough to survive Reginald, you can survive this.” She rubbed at her eyes, sick and tired of sobbing her days away. She had to be strong now, a lady though she might be, she was just a woman now. 

Jasper came back, a clap of thunder at his back. He put some skinned creature over the fire, roasting it up. The fat crackled and was fragrant, so much more so than anything she had eaten on horseback.

"Fat lil hopper," he grunted, handing her a stick, taking two for himself.

She tasted the meat first, testing the waters. It tasted sweet, quite amazing. She suddenly realized how hungry she was and began plucking off large chunks with her fingers, then just gnawing at it with her teeth. She forgot she was supposed to eat like a little bird, she began eating like a wolf.

Jasper noted her, his own hungers darkening in his gaze. The rain hit the roof and the sides of the walls, cancelling out the world outside in a fuzz of natural noise. The hearth fire crackling up to the small chimney.

"We’ll wait out the storm and sleep well, the rain will cover our tracks. We can move slower on the morrow." He looked her over, his lips and throat dry for wine.

Aisling licked her lips, thankful for the roof over their heads. “I haven’t thanked you,” she said hesitantly. “I mean for...for...I don’t know but, I just know there is more than tonight.” She looked up at him with weary eyes. “If it wasn’t for you, I think I would have been dead long ago. So thank you, sir.”

He grunted softly. “Don’t chirp at me. I’m not a man deserving thanks, nor is there anything you should forgive. I have a name too. Use it.” He met her eyes, almost challenging. “Neither one of us have our titles anymore.”

Aisling swallowed. “Thank you,” she began, “Jasper.” She said his name in a soft whisper.

He shivered, and looked into the fire, his hands itching to touch her. He stood instead and went outside into the rain to tend to his horse.

There wasn’t a way she knew how to read Jasper, but Aisling felt as though the act he put on back home was just that, an act. She finished her meal and then stoked the fire. She tried to busy herself with absentminded things like going through her bag, checking her hands. Every so often throwing her eyes outside to see if he was coming back. 

She wondered what she should do. Was there a better way to thank him? After some time she decided to change. She began removing her clothes with some difficulty. Fingers fumbling with the toggles and buttons. She slipped down to her underclothes and began rummaging through her bag for something better to travel in.

He slid in, and watched her, his scales slick and clean from the rain. "You’ll soil your dresses, lady," he said , with just a touch of irony.

Aisling tried to cover herself, shivering from the fact he had seen her bare skin. “Cou-could you please not look? Please?” She managed to squeak out. From the corner of her eye she saw him remove his cloak, seeing his broad shoulders, tunic stretched tight across his back.

“And why should I look away? Because you bade me to?" He pulled his jerkin over his head, slapping it to the ground flatly. "What do you expect from me?" His jaw was set. That wasn’t completely true anymore, but the point was clear. He sat and watched her quietly, drinking in her form.

Aisling frowned at him. “You should look away simply because I asked. That is what I expect.”

Jasper smirked and tipped his head down. “Fine. I’ll turn.” He places his back to her and Aisling hurriedly changed.

She tried to forget he was even in the room and she stiffened her back, removing the rest of her dress. She reached for the new one, pulling it up. She slipped her arms through the sleeves turning so the light from the fire hit her and she could see the small buttons. She fumbled clumsily with them, her hands trembling, fingers sore.

She cussed and grumbled under her breath, growing frustrated and slapping her arms down.

“Mind some help?” Jasper asked. “You sound quite pathetic.

“You’re pathetic!” She tossed back. She looked down at her clothes, her hands. She grimaced as she realized she may have no choice. 

He came upon her quietly, pressing his chest against her back, smelling her hair once again. Aisling held her breath at the sensation. He wasn’t dressed, his hands so close to her breasts. She shuddered, feeling cold slivers slicing through her. “Please,” her voice cracked.

His fingers fastened the buttons one by one, stopping just before her neck. “There. All gussied up.”

He was much gentler than she thought. In fact, Jasper had never once laid a hand on her. Even when Reginald wanted to, it had been Jasper who spoke up, stole his attention, and helped to direct it elsewhere. She had let fear cloud her memory of Jasper, and painted him along with Reginald in her mind.

She put her hands over his, cupping them against her chest. “Let me thank you.” She murmured, building her bravery. She turned slowly, reaching up and touching his face again. “Properly.”

Jasper flinched at her touch, but steeled himself, meeting her eyes.

Standing on her tip-toes, she stretching to meet him. She craned her neck up, closing her eyes and tried to find his lips with hers, first meeting his rough chin, feeling the hard jaw with her soft lips. His scales felt smoother than she expected.

He watched her as she did this, waiting for her to pull away in her proper manner. He smiled, wolfishly when she continued. “You want to thank me, do you?” He pressed her to the wall, lifting her so they were eye to eye. “Then let me show you how.”

He pulled her close, mouth claiming over hers in a rough hot press. His tongue dove deep into her mouth. He drank in the taste of her, roughly nipping at her lips when the time came to let her breathe - if only for a moment

Too stunned to fight at first, Aisling’s breath was knocked from her. His kiss was hard and unwanted. She squeezed her eyes shut tight. But it was the nip at her lip, the soft bite, that somehow made her heart skip a beat, made her feel something hot in her stomach. She punched him, driving her fist hard into his stomach when he was not expecting. 

She dropped to the ground and slapped him as he doubled over. “To think I tried and be kind! For a moment I thought you could be more than you seem!”

“Maybe I need to teach you how to throw a punch next. I doubt your kiss would be worth saving.” Another challenge, another push for her to hate him. Revile him. Stop making him feel uncomfortably warm. 

“You kiss like a beast,” Aisling threw back.

Jasper lowered himself down to her level, glaring deep into her eyes. “Look at me,” he breathed. “I am nothing but a beast.”

Aisling took deep, slow breaths to calm herself. “Then why save me?”

He snarled, showing his sharp teeth. “At the moment, I am having a hard time remembering.” He captured Aisling’s chin between his fingers. “I let my feelings get in the way of logic.”

“Feelings?” She scoffed. “Are you capable?”

“Find out.” He released her and stood over her. He then turned, walking away from her and going to lay down across the room from the fireplace

“And that’s it then?” Aisling crossed her arms tight against her chest. “You create a fuss and then you run away?”

“I figured that would be obvious by now, my lady.” He put his arms behind his head. “I ran from the fire the Stone Ifrits and Goblins started against your uncle.” He turned his head slightly and the shadow caught the burns on his face. 

Aisling furrowed her brow. “No you didn’t. If you ran I wouldn’t be here.”

His laugh came out foreboding and rumbling. “I still ran.”

“Why me Jasper?” She then asked with a calm, quiet voice. “If you hate nobles and their ways, why me at all?”

Jasper rolled so his back was to her. “Go to sleep.”

Aisling lowered her arms back down as she went to lay on her cloak. “Are you in love with me or something?”

Jasper remained silent.

Aisling pulled what she could of her cloak around her and faced the fire. “Everyone who loves me dies,” she whispered. “So you better not.”

Come morning, she barely had to think about the previous evening. He shook her awake, and gave her very little time to collect herself. 

“It will be cold out. Bundle up as best you can. The further ground we can cover before it starts to snow, the better.”

“Why can’t we just stay here?” Aisling whined. Morning was not her time, and all this running and life she was unused to, had made them so much worse for her.

“Because we are not safe. We need to go as far as we can. Obresh will offer us safe haven. If we stay here, who knows what will get us. We could die from exposure alone.” He then punched his fist through the wall of the shack. “Do you want that, my lady?”

Aisling’s eyes filled with tears. “No.”

“Then get up and I will get you somewhere safe. Whether you stay with me or not.” He went outside ahead of her to prepare the destrier. Once Aisling was wrapped up in his clothes and cloak Jasper set her behind him on the horse to protect her from the wind.

Aisling kept her face buried against his face, but even there the cold harsh wind reached it. It turned to ice, to ice, and soon it turned to snow. The world became white and quiet, and Aisling had never been so aware of the sound of her own breathing.

“Can’t we stop?” She clung to his back, digging her fingers in to tug upon his cloak. “Please. I want to stop.”

“Quit your mewling. You’re not a kitten.” Jasper reached back and grabbed the top of her head. “Be thankful your blood is not cold.”

That’s right he was lizardfolk, she had nearly forgotten, and he had far less clothing that she did. She gathered up her cloak in her fists and wrapped it around the both of them, hiking her hands up as far as she could to cover his chest.

“What are you doing?” He growled.

Aisling tucked her head down against his back. “I’m trying to help. It’s so cold out and you don’t have your cloak.”

“I don’t need your pity.” But he didn’t move to stop her. “We’re not far anyways, my lady.” He pat her hand on his chest. “We’ll be in Obresh soon.”