Cathedra - Chapter 3: Runaway Princess

CW: language, sexual content, blood, potential dub-con(?) 

⦽

Staring out over her worsening kingdom was onerous, further darkening her already cloudy heart. It no longer bustled and cheered with happiness, even mild contentment amongst the people. Instead, they wandered, begged, laid in the muddy roads that only a few frequented. She could only see the more prosperous businesses close to her castle, but far out over the hills and plains, she wondered how the homes of families and workers were doing.

Hardly any farmers came to sell their grown goods anymore; were they unable to grow?

What about the widows with babies on their hips?

Callie exhaled, leaving the window she stood beside. She felt angry at herself for being unable to muster the gall to gaze upon the Kingdom she so fought for, but the misery was almost too much to bear. Everytime she turned her chin and peeked from one of the castle windows, she was reminded of the pressure she’d put on herself to ensure the people who truly ran this kingdom remained standing, and could soon look up to real leadership.

It was the kick in the ass she needed to keep her head up and focused, knowing the moment she let her guard down would be the moment it all fell apart.

Callie continued on her walk, her mind picking and placing the next course of action she’d need to take. Soon, any day now she expected to be seeing the Prince again, and when thinking of the tall, irritable, ripped figure, she found herself biting back a small smirk.

That was until Patricia’s sandpaper-like voice stopped Callie dead in her tracks, fear cloaking her frozen frame while her eyes jumped here and there in search of the threat. She could not yet see her sister, but the muffled hisses of her words still came.

Callie faced the door she had passed, now noticing it to be a soft breeze away from closing.

Although she knew better to turn and run, Callie silently, slowly, approached the door, fearful that even her hair would be too noisy when it slipped off her shoulder.

“None of you know how to do anything right!” Patricia lashed from inside the room. Below the sharp slaps of her hand making contact with something, she could hear the pitiful whimpers of one of the tongueless maids Patricia had tortured and kept around even after ensuring she’d never be able to tell of the secrets she stumbled upon. “You’re all filthy animals!”

Callie cringed when another slap filled the quiet, a choked sob falling from the maid.

I should intervene. She patted her dress, sighing.

She’d forgotten Nik’s dagger in her room. She wanted to help, desperately, but since her parents’ and sister’s arrival home, something had shifted tremendously in Patricia.

She’d left barely a sister, and had come back a complete stranger.

She no longer looked at Callie in sick amusement, but as if Callie herself were the danger to the kingdom she so viciously desired for herself. Her eyes never left her when they stood in the same room, perhaps lying in wait for the optimal moment to attack. She was steady, collected, graceful- all things Patricia had never been. Of course their parents didn’t catch on; nothing would convince them that the daughter they held so highly was mad for their power and on her way to take out whoever stepped in her path.

If she were to step in now, it might result in another afternoon of cowering from her sister's beatings and screams, maybe even worse.

Callie withdrew her hand that had been on the door, her knuckles bumping the iron lock that clanged noisily against the wood. She gasped, flinching back, but didn’t wait to see if it was the tongueless maid or Patricia coming up on the other side.

She’d rounded the corner of the long, stone hall just as the door she ran from was banging against the wall, the ends of her dress whipping wildly behind her.

“CALISTA!” Patricia shrieked loudly, provoking a frightened scream from her sister as she bolted.

She struggled to silence her bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor, running past the path that would take her to her room.

“Come back, little sister!” Patricia teased, her voice echoing down the halls.

Callie cried out; how was she so close!? She didn’t sound like she was running!?

The curve of the corridor had been too sharp and she lost her footing when trying to take it without slowing, her shoulder slamming into the opposite wall when she couldn’t stop. The pain rang in her shoulder bone, but she kept running, eventually coming to one of the unoccupied rooms that was covered in a fine layer of dust.

She tried to slip in silently, to make sure her body didn’t bump the cracked door. She struggled to calm her ragged breathing, scanning the room. Of all the obvious places and corners, the heavy curtains hanging before a window that stretched from floor to ceiling was her best option. Coughs stung in her throat when the dust flittered all around her, the curtains smelly and old and pressed right against her nose.

The door creaked open, snapping loudly.

Another scream was suppressed just as she’d settled behind the smelly fabric, her hands over her mouth and shivering madly.

Her eyes shot down- she forgot to check if her toes were showing.

Hot tears brimmed her eyes, staring head on at the curtain, listening to Patricia’s steps.

“This room was a poor choice,” Patricia teased.

The tears slipped down her cheeks- she knew she was in here.

Her breath fought past her hands, her chest starting to burn.

“You’re always running away,” she whispered, moving around. “Always hoping Mother and Father will see past how useless you are, always wanting the easy way out,”

Callie glanced down at her feet, but she couldn’t see them past her dress. She needed to run, but she had no idea where Patricia stood in the room.

“How were you to ever rule this corner of the world when you couldn’t even face me? Your sister!?” Trish asked, shoving aside a knight's armor that had been propped in the corner.

Callie flinched, her fingers digging into her face, and eyes pinching tight as the ringing metal clattered through the wide room. She wanted this nightmare to be over when she snapped her eyes open, but no matter how many times she blinked back into clarity, she was still in that room, waiting for a knife to plunge into her gut.

“Rose was the same way!” Patricia screamed, more crashing around them. “You’re both cowards!” she continued, the chaos moving in every direction around her. “Don’t make her mistakes, Callie! Rose was a fool who’s heart was too big to carry- she would never have made it as a Queen!”

The noise settled, the scrape of Patricia’s bare feet against the stone floor the only whisper left in the room. Her steps moved closer, closer- Callie stopped breathing.

“And neither you, sister,”

The air trembled around her, her wet eyes red and straining. She was positive Patricia was on the other side of the curtain, waiting, but for what? Callie could not move, or breathe, but she would have to eventually. Was this how she would do it? Striking at her gasping breath?

“Can I tell you something?”

Callie dropped her hands as the curtain pulled back, meeting those wide, dry eyes of hers that never blinked. They were so close, she could feel Patricia’s breath when she spoke. The smile was what unsettled her the most. Wide, toothy, flickering faster than her eyes moved.

“I would have let you live,” she grinned, laughing to herself silently. “If you’d remained loyal,” in her hand rose a shining blade beside Callie’s arm. She whimpered, leaning away from the dagger. “If you could have turned to me after Rose left, I could have taught you the right way,” she snarled, drawing the blade across her skin.

It stung as soon as her flesh parted beneath the polished iron, a sharp cry ringing from her lungs.

“I could have saved you- we could have done this together!” Patricia laughed, grabbing her by the arms and pushing her against the window. Her sharp nails dug into the wound, Callie screaming and pushing at her sister.

“What did Rose say to you!? What did she say!? What do you two have planned!?”

“LET ME GO!” Callie sobbed, pushing her as hard as she could.

It was meager, but enough to grant her the space to yank her arms away and make an attempt at running, that was until Patricia’s arm swung and grabbed a fistful of her thick hair.

Callie screamed, pulling and twisting against the fire along her scalp so she could face her sister again, only to find that she had her arm lifted in the air, the knife clutched in her palm.

A lock of hair was left behind in Patricia’s fist, but Callie swerved the diving blade, frantically flinging the door open and running faster than she ever had in her life.

She ignored the warm prickling at her arm, the adrenaline so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear anything else going on around her, not even the numerous guards she flew by yelling after her.

The castle was a blur around her, her vision blurry with dripping tears and burning in the crisp wind.

It was time to leave. She’d waited, and planned, and tried to do this under the radar, but it was time to abandon the safety of the blueprint and complete this risky arrangement.

If she went to her parents like this, surely they’d ask what she had done as opposed to what had been done to her. Patricia was a master manipulator; who knew of the lies she’d filled their head with on their recent trip while she stayed behind. It would be easy to make it look like Callie had been the one to attack, likely stringing Rose into this somehow, all to damn her innocence.

She sobbed, trying to round the stone of the stables wall in a sprint, but her heel slipped in a deep puddle, her body splashing harshly against the muddy ground. It splattered across her face and dress as she slipped and stumbled to stand, glancing over her shoulder for Patricia.

Go, go, go! Back up on her feet, clawing until she was flying down the aisle of royal horses that kicked up at her noisy entrance, all the way down to her white stallion at the end of the stalls.

Without his bridal or blanket or saddle, she’d hoisted herself up onto the horse with a loud shout, warm blood dripping off her elbow and across his cleaned mane. Her leg threw over his back, hugging her body close to his crest and jabbing her heels into his sides.

He reared and whined, stomping out of the stall stubbornly. She yanked his mane and jabbed her heels until his body was cleared of the stall, his eye on the exit and darting down the isle of neighboring horses.

Patricia spun around the corner, her hair flying and wild eyes dead on Callie as she came racing towards her.

She screeched as Callie raced by, the blade of her knife slicing the stallion's chest and her leg, the pair crying in response, but still he carried her away, down the hidden grassy path trailing behind the castle.

“STAY AWAY, LITTLE SISTER! IT’S ALL MINE!” Patricia laughed uncontrollably. “YOU AND ROSE ARE NOTHING BUT GHOSTS HERE NOW!”

Her voice was fading quickly, but she heard every word, every clap of mad laughter.

She clung to her stallion's mane as he soared, his hoofbeats loud against the damp earth and following her ques when she took the hidden path that would lead to Nik’s homeland.

Callie couldn’t stop glancing over her shoulder, waiting for Patricia or a group of guards to come racing after her, but it was only her on the lonesome path.

Patricia could’ve been running back to the castle at that moment, screaming and declaring the self-inflicted wounds on her body were from Callie. It made her chin tremble in disgust.

The last morsel of peace she had in that castle she called home was now ripped away, and the only way she could go back was with more power than before, but that made her question.

Would she still be a Princess when she returned with Nik?

⦽

He waited, listening intently over the low clamor of his tribes usual day to day chaos, the ringing strikes of a hammer against iron interrupting his intent.

He could’ve sworn he’d heard it.

A few times since he’d arrived home in more of a rush than usual, he thought he had caught the tune he’d taught his Princess, but that one had been the clearest yet. Instead of returning to the fishing lure he had been piecing together beside his brother, he kept his head up, patiently anticipating the moment he had to rise at her call. If she were here, actually nearby, it meant something was wrong.

“What are you looking at?” Jakob asked around a mouthful of jerky, struggling to tie off his lure before he noticed his brother seemingly distracted by the trees.

“Shh,” Nik hushed, ears twitching.

The three note whistle floated smoothly through the small cluster of Ora birds that had been scattered across the trees surrounding them, filling his chest with dread.

“I have to go,” he said after standing abruptly, dropping his utensils.

“What- why-” Jakob called, scrambling to stand and take off after Nik who was on the verge of running. “Nik!”

With no response he stormed into his tent, searching frantically for his replacement dagger and his sword, strapping them to his hip and chest just as Jakob threw open the flap.

“Nik-” he grunted, his brother pushing past him in a hurry to the horses. “Come back!”

So many things could have gone wrong- what if she’d confessed to another and now they were both in danger? Was he going to meet his fate? It almost stopped him, filling his body with a fear that made him want to surrender and scream for help, but his legs still carried him until he found Lyuda grazing under a low tree.

“NIK!” Jakob yelled, yanking back harshly on his arm. “Answer me!”

“I cannot!” Nik boomed, knowing Jakob saw the conflict of fear on his face.

“You can but you choose not to!” he replied, watching Nik turn and easily throw himself up onto Lyuda’s back. “You have to tell me something!”

He was right- he couldn’t leave him hanging like this. If he was off to find danger instead of the Princess, he’d need his brother's help to ensure the safety of his people.

“Gather Zig and Gemon, be ready when I need you,”

Confusion flickered across Jakob’s demeanor, taken aback by his brother's request. “What’s coming?”

Nik chose to look away. “I’ll tell you soon.” And he was off, snapping at Lyuda so she took off right away. The Prince’s race across the field didn’t go completely unnoticed by the other Orcs, but without their parents there to raise questions, Jakob was the only one left questioning what had transpired in such a brief amount of time to make him act like that.

Had she been close enough? Had her pitiful whistle even carried over the buzzing of the woods around them?

She tried to blow past her fingers again, but wet tears and a small fit of sobs stopped her, her face dropping into her bloody palms. She’d been standing here for what felt like hours, trying to call to Nik whom she wasn’t even sure was nearby. He’d told her he would likely be traveling during this time apart, so all of this could be for nothing.

This could be the day her life was written off, but would she run away, or run home, and plead with her mother to show mercy?

She whimpered, holding herself. I didn’t do anything wrong!

She wanted to collapse and sob and hide from the danger nestled comfortably in her castle. It made her rageful, almost. She’d had such high hopes for this to work, to finally be free of the tormented existence she’d been dealt, but it was falling down around her feet before any real progress had been made.

She felt foolish to let her emotions get so ahead of her. She’d dreamed of peaceful mornings that weren’t filled with screaming, and let herself believe she could actually do this-

Her glossy eyes looked up, searching for the source of the rapidly approaching hoofbeats.

Her heart fluttered when she spun, finding her Prince atop his mare and flying through the trees she had been concealed behind. She hiccuped, her big eyes following him as he weaved through the trees until he was easily sliding off Lyuda and rushing to her. He looked as frantic and sweaty as she, quickly taking in her battered and dirty appearance.

“You’re bleeding,” he said before even greeting her, holding her arm out then looking at her tear stained face. “What- something has happened?” he questioned fearfully.

She fought to steady her voice and breath, wiping her bloody palms across her cheeks. “W-we ran out of time, we need to do this now,”

He blinked in confusion.“What do you mean?”

“My sister- Patricia- she tried to kill me and I- I barely made it out and I came here,” she rambled, looking at her arm when he looked the wound over. “She’ll go to my parents, she’ll make me look like I’ve been the one to commit something heinous,”

“Would they believe her?” he asked, lifting the end of her own dress to wipe some of the blood away. She winced, pulling away. “Princess-” he flinched when she went for the ties at his hips, grabbing her wrists. “You just said-”

“We still have a chance! The Code of Cathedra is more powerful than her word against me!” she yelled, her eyes starting to fill with tears again.

“Why- what if we just killed her?” he offered, immediately regretting his words. That was a frightening concept, far scarier than the thought of ruling a kingdom.

“Killing her would lead my parents right to your tribe! Don’t be foolish- this is the only way,” she tugged against his hands, but he was reluctant, trying not to harm her thin wrists. “We’re already bound, Nik! We share each other's mark, we can’t go back now!”

“We can find another way, no one has to know-” he tried, but she snapped her arms away.

“I can’t go back!” she hissed. “My sister tried to kill me! I don’t accept the fate I’ve been handed and I cannot sit by while everything I’ve worked for falls apart!”

He watched the rage collecting in her sad eyes, her body shaking. “What else has she done to you?”

She shook her head, the sobs collecting in her chest- it was not time to recount those memories. “Please,” she begged, her hands pleading. “I have to see this through,”

“Princess, we were foolish to think this could work,” he sighed, rubbing his hand over his head.

“Fine! Think me a fool then but you made an oath!” she stomped right up to him, jabbing her finger up at him. “Now I don’t care if I cry and scream and bleed- do what you have to!” she demanded, shoving against his chest.

He barely flinched, glaring down at her. “This isn’t going to work anymore,”

He got only a seconds worth to prepare before she swung her hand into him, her small fists surprisingly capable of landing a solid punch that was luckily just in his chest.

“Princess!” he was about to scold, but she threw another, and another.

“YOU MADE A VOW!” she shouted, slugging him again, but he blocked it. “I DON’T WANT TO DIE OR RUN I WANT TO LIVE!” she screamed, her hits starting to weaken after a few more hits. “I didn’t do anything to deserve this!”

Nik grabbed her arms, halting her attack, watching her fall to pieces before him.

How many times had Nik considered running away and abandoning the great responsibility that had been bestowed upon him since birth? How often had he recalled the times he feared his father would slip into a blinding rage while he was disciplining him and strike him just a little too hard?

It was not nearly as vast as the amount of time he’d spent pondering that very thought, sometimes convinced that death might’ve been the reprieve he so wanted.

“I don’t want to live like this anymore,” she wept, her arms falling limp in his strong hold.

His heart felt so heavy. I don’t either.

He let go of her arms, his decision made.

Everything would change after this.

“Princess,” he called, and she looked up at him, watching him untie the knots at his hips holding the patched, handmade pants together. “This will not be easy,”

She blinked, her emotions brittle and teetering. “I know,” she cracked, wiping the back of her hands across her wet, flushed face.

His hands were unsteady, finally finishing and letting the worn material fall to his feet. She kept her eyes on his when he walked up to her naked, leaning down in one smooth movement to scoop her up into his arms. She gasped, her legs closing around his narrow hips and clawing to hang onto him. She looked over his shoulder, her teeth clattering and the moment dawning on her. This was it.

Her back hit a tree, and she gasped with his massive body pressed to hers. “Nik,”

He looked at her, eye level and noses almost touching. Even if he was suppressing the full torment he could’ve been feeling upon finally, fully accepting this great oath he made, she could still see that he was frightened.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, the gloss returning over her big, bloodshot eyes. “I’m scared,”

“I’m scared, too.”

He caught her when her knees buckled after placing her on her feet, clinging to her limp body.

“Princess?” he asked fearfully, holding her up as she fought to straighten her legs. “Calista?”

She slowly pushed off his chest to reveal her pale face, her body covered in sweat and the sickly perfume of blood swimming around them.

“Callie!?” he said again breathlessly, his big hand angling her face up at him when her eyes did not focus on him.

She had screamed, but smothered it against his shoulder.

Her nails had dragged and even pulled skin up, but she’d not asked him to stop even when it felt like her frame was being ripped in two.

His apologies had been muffled against her arms locked tightly around his neck, but he had done what he needed and left his seed behind. The blood that was smeared and peppered across his skin was the same that now slipped down her inner thighs to her ankles.

Callie steadied herself against him, holding down sobs and nodding up at him, her eyes fluttering near unconsciousness.

“I have to go-” she forced, voice tight under the rage of pain. She tried to stand straight, but her center cramped tightly into a fist, buckling back over into his arms.

“You can’t do anything like this-” he pleaded, but she pushed off of him, stumbling towards the spot their horses still stood. The blood and movement stung madly, her eyes pinching shut when she made it to her stallion.

“Calista stop!” he chased after her, swiftly lifting her onto the horse when she screamed against its mane when trying to pull herself up. “Callie please!”

She rested her body against his crest, panting and barely managing the agonizing pressure whilst sitting atop the horse. The ride would be brutal, and long, but she could do it- she had to.

“Come to the castle,” she breathed, sitting up and tugging on his mane. The stallion shook his head, stepping around nervously. She cringed, her knees tightening at his shoulders. “It’s time.”

And she was off, stifling a pained scream as the white horse galloped frantically through the trees.

“Callie!” he shouted after her, covered in her blood and absolutely damned if this didn’t work out. He cursed loudly, collecting his clothing as quickly as he could and leaping onto Lyuda’s back.

⦽

It was unclear how much time passed when she woke up splayed across the stallion's body, her head hanging and the horse walking leisurely along the hidden grassy path behind the dark castle. Consciousness hit her like a slap in the face, her body jarring back into the state of pain she’d succumbed to while riding home. Any way she sat up hurt, her teeth grinding and looking past the double vision to see the willows shading the secret entrance.

She had to wake up, she had to be composed. The time was winding down, and it all had to fall into place no matter how scattered the arrangement now was.

She waited until the horse chose a spot to graze, slowly dragging her knee back over the stallion’s spine and closing her thighs before sliding off his side. She whimpered, her stomach clenched into cramps and feet hitting cool grass. Her knees shook, clinging to the horse until she could stand.

It took a few seconds to compose her breathing and to align the spinning in her head, her hands dragging across the horse as she slowly rounded him, wobbling through the tall grass and splitting the flowers of the willows swaying leaves on her way to the entrance.

She wanted to vomit and sleep- everything hurt for different reasons.

As quietly as she could, she peered around entrances and corners, the stinging of sweat dripping into her eyes blurring her vision of the stone walls around her. The castle was quiet, vacant of the usual number of servants or guards wandering, but that must’ve meant her parents and sister were collected in the main hall. It gave her better peace of mind on her way to her room, taking the winding steps two at a time before stopping to breathe.

“Your highness!?” came Morn’s desperate call, Callie’s shoulders flinching. She turned, leaning back against the cool wall with her eyes closed and waiting for her to ascend the stairs.

Morn froze in panic as soon as her eyes befell the battered Princess, her hands unknowing of what to do first, but stepping closer brought clarity from a quick collection of the scents around her. Callie’s shoulders started to shake in quiet sobs before she opened her eyes, her fingers curling into the bloody, muddy fabric of her torn dress.

“Oh, Calista,” she wept, kneeling down to hold her dirty face. “What’s happened? What’s going on- did he hurt you?”

“No, no- Patricia,” she blubbered, wiping her face. “Help me up- I need to change,”

“We need to tell the Queen-”

“NO!” Calista pushed and pinned her against the wall with wild fear filling her bloodshot eyes. “If I step into that hall now my mother will strike me down for surely Patricia has twisted the matter in favor of herself! It has to he done according to the plan, Nik is on his way here,”

“To the castle!?” Morn hollered, following her up the stairs again.

“NIK!” Jakob hissed vehemently, crouched over his horse like the other two that followed the brothers upon approaching the back of the crumbling castle. Nik trotted on, his sword in his grasp and an anxious sweat broken out across his body that still had remnants of Callie’s blood across his thighs and stomach.

It wasn’t until he could see the familiar curve of the grass path did he swing a leg over Lyuda’s head and slip off the horse, speed walking towards the willows he knew were at the end.

“Get back here- Nik!” Jakob seethed, pulling on his brother's arm but it was only yanked away. “You’ve not answered who’s blood you’re covered in!”

No answer.

“THIS IS A HUMAN CASTLE!” Jakob snarled, his alert high and head on a swivel with the others.

“I know, shut up!” Nik replied, storming up to the trees and pushing through the willows to reveal the hidden entrance the others now gaped at.

“We’re not going in there!” one of the other Orcs hissed, hesitating with a dagger in his palm.

“If you don’t follow me now I’ll have you banished from the land,” Nik growled, flashing his sharp teeth.

They flinched, looking at one another and then at Jakob who held the same level of confusion. Reluctantly, they followed the twin Princes into the narrow, cold hallway that Nik navigated easily. Jakob ducked and kept tight against the walls, his head snapping in the direction of every small noise.

Nik bolted up the stairs, his shoulders bumping the walls as his sword scraped against the stone. He could smell Callie nearby, the pungent tang of her blood lingering in the air.

Just as he was about to step towards the end of the dark hall where her room was located, Jakob’s mighty grip kept Nik still, bringing him back to stare him down.

“Enough of this shit- what the fuck are we doing here? Why are you covered in blood, Nik?” he growled dangerously, but the brothers turned just as a door creaked open, the gathering of Orcs lifting their weapons and ready to strike, but halted when Calista emerged, still wobbly, still pale, but dressed in clean clothes.

Nik and Callie both felt relief grace their trembling frames upon seeing one another, his sword dropping to his side.

“You came,” she spoke breathlessly, her hair plastered to her sweaty cheeks and neck. She was surprised to see her Prince had a twin, but he didn’t carry the same branding across his eye.

“Who is that?” Jakob questioned quietly, tensing when she walked toward them with Morn until she stood looking up at Nik. He saw his brother's dagger in her palm, and the blood dripping from the hand that held it.

“Are you alright?” Nik asked softer.

Jakob looked at his brother again. “You know her?”

“Are you ready?” she asked up at him. She didn’t know if she had the strength within herself to stop him from leaving if he chose, but the fact he was standing before her rested some of that worry.

With a deep breath, Nik nodded, accepting the worse outcome of today could only be death.

Callie moved past them with Morn’s help, her eyes reflecting in the sunlight leaking through the pillars as she kept her glare upright under Jakob’s. His scowl wasn’t as intimidating as his brothers, but his demeanor still spelled dangerous.

The stench of blood and fresh deflowering came off of her in blooms, but his brother's implanted scent blossoming from her clammy skin turned his world upside down.

His shocked eyes met his brothers. “What have you done?”

Nik moved past him, leaving his brother at the top of the stairs. “What have you done!?” he called again, stumbling down the steps after his brother. “Nik!”

Nik was already catching up to Callie who too heard his horrified screams, grabbing her arm carefully. “How do we do this?”

“I don’t really know,” her bottom lip trembled, suppressing tears. If she let go of that careful control over her flailing emotions, she’d collapse. Now was not the time for that, she kept telling herself. Now had to be all the courage she’d ever mustered to take these people head on and come out victorious on the other side.

“Calista,” he implored, stopping her. “Can we do this?” he asked desperately when she looked up at him. “What if we just ran?”

She shook her head, unwilling to even entertain that proposal. “I’m not running away anymore,”

She kept him there with her gaze alone, her hand coming to grip his forearm as he held hers, trying to leech off of the waning courage left in her bones. “I will be beside you in every moment,” she promised, her words as steadfast as her hold. “If this is our end, we’ll meet it together,”

He looked at his brother who was lost somewhere between confused and infuriated, shaking his head at Nik.

Whether he’d come to understand or not, by choosing Callie, he was also choosing his brother’s life.

He didn’t nod or say a word, but allowed her to lead him away, instead.

“Nik!” Jakob called, desperate for him to even look back.

They sped down the halls he’d not walked through his first time visiting, the walls around them expanding until they turned a corner and came before a set of massive wooden doors that were carved with intricate designs and lined with iron reinforcements. They could all hear the commotion of a hosted party on the other side, loud laughter and music muffled through the doors.

“The King and Queen are hosting neighboring monarchs right now,” Morn informed, and Nik and Callie looked at one another.

“Which ones?” she asked.

“The Ogres, Centaurs, Dwarves and Orcs,” Morn explained.

Calista looked up at him with tired eyes. He took a deep breath, fighting to push down the tremendous terror building in his chest, but didn’t flee from her side when she pushed against the old grain. The doors swung open slowly, all of them cringing away from the loud cracking and snapping of the old hinges until the doors were bouncing off the walls inside.

The two additional Orcs the twins had brought with them bolted, their weapons sheathed and making a run for the nearest exit.

The visitors, man and beast alike, all turned from their booming laughter and veined discussions, gawking at the mixed group standing at the entrance. Yellow eyes, pointed ears, ready claws, all poised and alert as Callie stepped forward, fighting to control the breathing flaring through her nostrils as she scanned the room.

Her mother, draped in layers of fine silks and robes and hair knotted into the mess she deemed suitable for presentation, was sitting beside her father, equally decorated in their wealth, but the pair had the most perplexed expressions plastered across their wrinkled faces upon seeing their daughter. The crowns upon their heads sparkled when they turned to look at Patricia, staring with wide, sunken eyes at the sister she thought she’d scared away.

Callie’s eyes kept hers, the grip around Nik’s dagger tightening and the warm blood dripping by her feet.

“Calista,” her mother spoke, slowly rising from her glistening throne. It was the same tone she carried before a beratement of screaming came. She sounded calm, but below the surface she was calculating how best she could land a slap across her daughter's cheek, and how to even better tear down the foundation that kept her daughter stumbling through the days.

Don’t let her rule the room. “I demand an audience before the nation's leaders sat here before us today,” she announced loudly, her voice ringing through the impressive hall.

Patricia tensed, her eyes unblinking, but she glanced at her parents when they did at her.

“On what terms?” the Old Ogre King of the Fire Mountains asked. Despite never holding a rank as high as a human, he was the only King that had ruled his nation the longest, and knew better than anyone the rules that made these lands. He eyed Callie curiously, noting her disheveled form.

She felt nauseous, collecting her words, reminding herself to speak loudly. “I, Princess Calista of Castle Flores declare I carry the Code of Cathedra and dismiss the current rulers,”

The silence carried longer than she expected, looking at the numerous creatures and men picking apart her words, the realization coming to some faster than others. Murmurs grew to loud questions, priests that accompanied the rulers starting to oppose in their native tongues as the noise grew into thunder.

“Who declares this with you!?” The thin, dappled Queen of the Centaurs demanded, her diamond plated hooves clopping loudly amongst the growing clatter of people standing from their chairs and yelling at the young Princess.

Callie looked back at Nik, her eyes full of fright.

He didn’t want to step out there and speak.

The room was erupting and people were slamming their hands on the vast table, pointing and shouting at one another but mostly at her, but she was still standing there, waiting for him. They’d seen his face now- there was no running away.

He stepped to her side, his hands clenched in a tight fist at one side and his sword at the other. The moment he made eye contact with his father, he bore witness to a new level of rage building in those cold eyes.

“Prince Nik of the Eastern Redclaws. I too declare to carry the Code of Cathedra beside the Princess,” he spoke, watching his Father’s gaze widen in disbelief.

The shouting grew, some of them at each other but mostly demanding to prove their validity, screaming at their priests to make sense of the law they all were obligated to uphold, but said Priests were in their own storm amongst themselves, flipping through secret bibles and journals they’d been tasked to carry all their lives for the rare chance a moment like this would unfold before them.

Callie stepped just a hair closer to him, trying to keep her chin lifted high under the intense, booming scrutiny they were facing from the red faces of screaming rulers. Her parents too, were amongst that hollering, but they pointed at her as they directed their rage at Patricia, still staring at her sister in silence.

The Ogre King raised his massive hands into the air, calming the roars into dull rumbles as he approached the pair.

Callie thought Nik was tall, but the King stood before them proved otherwise. His decorated, braided hair hung around the ashen grey of massive shoulders, the prized and desired robes of his people covering his old body that was bathed in the golds and jewels they mined and shaped.

He studied Nik with his orange eyes, a low growl rumbling in his chest. Nik returned one, his body just below a tremble but still capable of displaying territorial rage.

“They’re liars!” a Dwarf yelled, but the Ogre King raised his scarred hand once again.

“SILENCE,” he demanded, his eyes looking to the priests, their hands a blur through their bibles. “How do we handle this?” he asked, his sharp teeth ground together.

The priests of various sizes and species silenced their whispering, the language shared amongst them unique to the order they’d devoted their lives to upholding, but in the time since the Great War had passed and the law had been placed, this had never happened.

The Priest she recognized as the one dutied to her own family stepped forward, his face hidden by the white and crimson robes shielding him from the light leaking in.

“This code is only absolute if an heir is born between the joined nations,” his voice was rough and unsure, the other priests calming with the crowd.

“I carry his child, and we bear each other's marks,” Callie spoke, and could hear her mother gasp in disgust at her bold lie.

Nik felt his blood run cold, what the fuck was she doing!? She knows she’s not pregnant-

More shouting, but Nik didn’t see the agony on his brother's face as he stood watching all of this unfold before him. He was watching his parents, and how they instead of adding to the screaming, whispered lowly between one another as they stared at their sons.

Callie looked back to the Ogre King. “You could prove it,”

His nose scrunched, glaring down at the small human woman before him.

Nik’s brows furrowed just below noticeable. Ogre’s sense of smell is pitiful, he won’t be able to tell-

He looked at the Princess after it registered, her eyes wild with adrenaline.

Was this deception all that was keeping this plan intact at this point?

The rulers demanded the Ogre to carry out the task, most risen and waiting with their swords or daggers in hand to defend their place as heads of the Cathedra, but she could tell they felt the threat of her words. No unthreatened person would act as animalistic and frightened as they did now, already whispering to their guardsman to have their horses ready to flee.

The King snorted loudly, glaring at Callie’s parents whose faces were red in suspense.

She could almost smile watching them clutch their thrones like that, but she flinched when the King stepped forward, leaning far down to get eye level with her. She stiffened, leaning away when his massive head entered her space and sniffed her shoulder loudly.

His nose grazed her hair and cheek, but she fought to stay still, digging her nails into her palms.

Nik was next, still growling loudly as the Ogre gave him a once over, slowly standing to look down at them with wide eyes.

The room was quiet, the last of the shouts halting when the Ogre turned.

“She carries the Orcs child,” he declared, his voice carrying the stinging tone of defeat everyone felt across their hearts as soon as the words left his tusked mouth.

They all looked to the priests, their bibles held open in their palms and the one that spoke before glancing down at the archaic words, then back to the others.

“The Code must be upheld,” he said forlornly, and the room erupted.

The Knights of Cathedra that were directed by the head of priests and stationed in every ruler's Nation left their posts behind the screaming crowd, calmly walking over to Nik and Callie who were frozen where they stood.

Had she heard that right?

She watched them turn and stand, facing the mob with their crystal spears tight at their sides.

The others screamed as the polished knights lined up behind their newly appointed, young leaders, the priests severing the tie they’d had to their former King’s or Queen’s who flailed and screamed desperately for clarification, some hollering lies, others already gathering the goods they’d been gifted and fleeing.

The Ogre King stepped back as the priests surrounded Nik and Callie, tearing pages from their journals and chanting words around them as they baptized them with the holy verses passed down by generations before them.

The messengers were bolting, their instructions to alert the neighboring kingdoms that new rulership was unfolding sworn to be delivered unless death stopped them.

A small handful of cloaked priests ordered the Knights here and there, their once quiet voices now booming over the chaos and tantrums of monarchs breaking down around them were ushered out, ordered to return home and hand over their crowns and titles.

“Nik-” Callie hissed, grabbing his wrist sharply for support, but he was frozen.

He tried to mask the shaking when his parents approached silently, his mother passing without a look, but his father halting a few feet from him.

There were no words left to scold, no number of blows to land upon his cheek. Instead, he tossed his heavy iron and gold crown at son’s feet, following his wife away.

Nik’s stability was weak, but he didn’t crumble under the glare this time, for once being the one to watch his Father’s back turn on him and leave with his head down.

He let his breath go, his head feeling light. Was this actually happening?

Callie watched with watery eyes as her parents were torn from their thrones, her mothers jewelry falling from her neck and wrists as she thrashed and shouted, clinging to Patricia.

She didn’t even feel the cloak that was once her mothers now resting on her shoulders, nor did she hear the words of the priests speaking directly at her. Her only focus was on Patricia, and how she walked calmly and quietly behind her screaming parents, their eyes never parting. She could almost hear her eyeballs scraping inside her sockets as she passed, Callie keeping her shoulders squared until the last of her curly hair was disappearing behind the heavy doors they’d first bursted through.

She wavered, feeling as if the snake that had kept her constricted was finally releasing its deadly hold.

“And so, declared by the Bibles that first carved this land from God’s palm, and with the power summoned from this holy Union, we the Guardians of Cathedra declare Queen Calista,” the priest pulled a twisted dagger from the cloak covering his chest, the tassels of various nations hanging from its hilt and beads blessed by virgin nuns wrapped around the base coming to rest on her shoulder, then rise. “And King Nik, the rightful and true rulers of the now joint lands of Cathedra.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, her jaw hung open. She wanted to ask him to say it again- Queen?

Did we do this?

Did this actually work?

The dagger was placed back in his cloak, the priests coming to gather before their King and Queen who were stricken with silence and stillness.

“From here on out, we do not act as Priests serving separate Kingdoms,” a different one spoke, and although his face was covered in wrappings and a lowhung, deep purple hood, they could tell he wasn’t human. “We are servants to the single rulers of Cathedra and will uphold any orders given, but our final duty is to preserve the laws that keep this land standing,”

Nik stared at them, his throat dry.

“What is our first order?”

Callie looked around at the mess, the quiet of the once thundering hall sinking in and the throbbing returning to her skull once the adrenaline slowly drained from her limbs. A cramping ache started to grow in her stomach, her shaking limbs trembling madly. She looked back to the empty thrones, her world starting to spin.

We did it- but she was stumbling back, her vision closing.

“Your highness!” Morn darted forward, catching her before she hit the stone floor.

The painful reality of her actions was boomeranging back, her center stinging madly and fatigue landing over her like a blanket.

We did it, she wanted to cry, leaning down onto an elbow. She just wanted to lay down a moment, and just absorb this realization.

“Calista?” Morn called her name, trying to keep her up.

Nik looked down, watching her finally succumb to the damage he’d done to her small body just hours before. He blinked, taking a step to the side. She fooled them, she really did.

Callie whimpered when Nik’s thick arms slid under her shoulders and knees, easily lifting her up against his chest. She was trembling in his hold, her face ashen and big eyes dull. He looked at her with all the words he wanted to say, but couldn’t get them off his tongue.

“Your first order is to tend to your Queen,” he spoke bravely, turning to face the priests who remained still. “NOW!”

They flinched, some turning to yell for the maids and servants lingering by the entrances and unsure of what to do.

They came rushing, shyly directing their new non-human King to where he could carry her. He followed their instruction, led out of the hall where Jakob stood staring at him silently and towards a small room at the other end.

The bowls and food scattered across the table's surface was swiped off by servants, the small group working around him as he entered the room. He felt her lithe hand grasp at his chest, her heavy head bumping his shoulder as he carried her, carefully laying her down on the wooden table at the center. She winced, hesitant to let him go once his hands had slid from under her.

Her touch snaked down his arm, into his hand where he closed his grasp around it. The pair gazed at one another for a prolonged moment, the servants waiting in confusion as she kept him there.

Before she let him go, she mouthed thank you, hot tears brimming her eyes.

He was gentle in pulling his hand away, stepping back as help stepped in.

Until she was shielded by others, he watched her, backing away and bumping into the door frame as he left. Small droplets of blood were warm under his feet, trailing in and out of the hall where she’d made a path.

The humans that served the castle stared at him, unsure of how to approach their new King, but Jakob was all Nik concentrated on.

He stood alone, waiting for his brother to approach him, but his thinly veiled composure was crumbling. Taking a beating from his brother would’ve been better than facing the confusion and betrayal splashed across his features.

“Brother,” Nik spoke, Jakob shaking his head. “I’m sorry,”

Jakob’s breath flared through his nostrils, his face constricting in rage, but he held his fists still no matter how he wanted to bludgeon and demand why he’d made such a reckless decision. He wanted to know what drove him to break apart the fragile nature of their lives, and affect the well-being and opinions of the people they still had to return to, but now he would return as… King.

He turned away, his hands on his head.

“If I told you from the beginning you’d have stopped me,”

“No shit!” Jakob hollered, chasing away the last of the servants. “What were you thinking? What was going through your head when you thought this was a good idea?”

“I was thinking of how neither of us would have made it this far under Father’s rule!” Nik snapped back, silencing some of Jakob’s argument, but he was still visibly bothered, his face contorting and shifting between emotions.

“But like this? With that?”

Nik exhaled, his eyes darkening. “We did what no one else would,”

Jakob scoffed, turning away again.

“Where does your loyalty lie, Jakob? With Mother and Father, or me?” Nik asked. That question was a slap to the back of the head. It woke his brother back up, facing him with wide eyes and a decision he didn’t expect to have to make.

“You are a fool,” Jakob spat, stomping up to Nik. “You dare ask where my loyalty lies when I was the one who followed you to this godforsaken place?”

Nik nodded, still unable to handle his brother’s disappointed stare. “I’m truly sorry, Jakob- that it happened like this,”

A raised hand stopped any more of his words. “I can only trust in you now that you have a plan, and this wasn’t just an irrational act, my King,” Jakob begrudgingly responded.

Nik let go of some of the tension in his gut now knowing Jakob wasn’t going to bolt. “I’ll need my right hand man to trust me in these coming days,”

Jakob’s ears flickered, his eyes skeptical. “Hand of the King?”

Nik nodded. “Will you accept?”

With a held breath, Jakob agreed, joining Nik’s hand in a tight shake. He didn’t, however, expect a flying punch to swing right into his gut, buckling the new King as Jakob walked away.

“I’ll stab you the next time you do something like this without telling me.” Jakob called back, leaving Nik on his knee and coughing.

⦽