When Maebh awoke, everything was a blur. It took a few moments to adjust to the harsh transition of dark to light. Soon, all peaks of sunlight were eliminated, blocked out by thick curtains until only the the flames of the hearth's fire burned –flickering gentle enough to not bother her retinas.
She was alive.
It was a sense of victory that only lasted a very limited amount of time because with complete horror, Maebh noted a warm body pressed flush against her own. What was worrying to an even greater extent was the lack of fabric between her skin and that of the person currently spooning her. If anything, the bulge pressing into her bottom was an indication of the gender.
She squeaked and abruptly distanced herself by jumping out of bed. This proved to be futile as she had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out. Sharp pain laced through her head and colourful spots clouded her vision, it felt like her whole body had been beaten and every movement caused some muscle or bone to ache.
Unable to stand up, she crawled away from the bed and sank into a seated position against the wall. Detecting a velvet throw that had been carelessly tossed aside, she rapidly wrapped it around her bare form.
It was then that Maebh beheld two things.
One, she was at the castle, in the tower room, the one Hèmène claimed was intended for her and where she'd spent many hours hiding away.
Two, Fillin was laid atop her mattress, his naked physique scarcely concealed by a duvet. Miraculously enough, his slumber did not give the impression of having been disturbed. Her little episode had gone by unnoticed; his perfectly sculptured chest rose with every inhale, gentle sighs leaving his mouth.
Regardless of how badly Maebh wanted to despise the sight of him, she couldn't. It was conflicting how naive and perhaps ignorant the heart could be. Earlier, the man had attempted to literally chase her to her death, still, the damned muscular organ started beating out of control at a mere glimpse of him and went: I want thát one. She couldn't possibly give in to its foolish whims, but simultaneously, she wanted to. The heart didn't care.
She tilted her head back, trying to get a deep breath in, feeling absolutely suffocated, as if she hadn't gotten in a lungful of air in weeks. Which was probably to blame on the car accident.
At the memory of plummeting herself and her trusty truck into a glacial lake, she glared at Fillin's sleeping face. It was all his fault. With his stupid eyes, stupid body and the stupid scar crossing his eyebrow that made him all the more of a stupid knockout. Stupidly attractive man.
A hoarse groan resounded, startling Maebh and gluing her in place. A pang of heat whizzed up her stomach as Fillin's herculean arm reached out beside him, blatantly looking for something; her. Perceiving that his search was in vain, he immediately sat upright and threw the duvet off of him.
"Please cover yourself!"
With a hand pressed to the upper side of her face, Maebh tried to extrude the image of his exposed manhood –not wanting her yearning for him to spiral. A rustling noise was heard and she assumed that was him, doing as she asked for once. Carefully removing her hand, she got back on her feet –though not without pain or difficulty as she tightly clutched the throw and leant against the wall for support.
Dressed in simple chinos and a jumper, Fillin stood observing her. Calculatingly, inaudibly and threateningly –like a predator she now was cognisant of. He was a big bad wolf preying on the innocent.
"Why did you- why were we-"
"Hypothermia."
It was the oldest trick in the book and she understood the skin to skin contact had helped to increase her body temperature.
"You don't have electric blankets?"
"I saved your life, you ungrateful wench."
Maebh's hands twitched. "I almost died because of your and Zeff's idiotic game."
His eyes narrowed drastically but he said nothing in return.
Her knuckles whitened from clenching the throw and her hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid.
"You had no choice but to save me," She glowered at him, "Who else will pop out your heirs if I'm dead?"
There was a flash, and then, his face mere inches from hers.
"Don't."
The word rolled off his tongue and the ground quivered with the vibrations it, which sounded deeper, as if he had dragged it out of a cavern.
Just as briskly as his mood had darkened, another switch occurred. Fillin pressed his lips to hers. Hard.
But what they shared wasn't a kiss. A need that required fulfilling. Something primal. His mouth had claimed hers, hungrily without a hint of tenderness. That thing, whatever it was, took on a ravenous and monstrous shape, a collision of two energy sources that resulted in inner uproar. With it, the prince devoured a piece of Maebh and let it slide down his gut, where it would remain forever.
He roughly pushed them apart, causing Maebh to suck in a sharp breath. She was taken aback by the twist of events, so much that she didn't pay mind to the slamming of the door –signalling his departure.
Consumed by the tingles still plaguing her lips, her feet took control as they advanced towards the same exit. Be as it may, they had no intention of following in the prince's steps. Instead, they went for the other end of the hallway.
Looking up from her desk, Hèmène was stunned to see the girl who had been carried into the castle in critical condition the previous eve. Akin to then, she was in absolute disarray.
"Goodness, Maebh!"
"I want a lawyer."
Arising, the notably distressed woman drew near. "Why aren't you wearing anything! Sit down, crazy girl." She persuaded her into a chair with considerate care and set her hands on her hips. "You shouldn't even be out of bed yet!"
"I'm okay, don't worry." Maebh muttered, slightly embarrassed to have barged in and wondered how a person like Fillin could have ever come from someone so genuine.
"Now, what were you saying?"
"I want a lawyer."
Hèmène arched an eyebrow. "You want a lawyer?"
In reply to the scrutiny, she fumbled with the edge of the throw. "I just- I figured I might have the right to one, as a.. childbearer."
"Technically yes, although nobody has ever acquire-"
"In that case I would like one."
Hèmène let her arms drop and frowned, settling against the side of her desk.
With caution written on her words, Maebh elaborated. "I appreciate everything you have done for me. But with all due respect, if you think I will willingly consider to assume my position after what he did yesterday, you are solely mistaken."
"Darling, I agree that what has put you in this state was outrageous and should not have happened but legal action? The court system here is not like the one you're used to." the uncertainty displayed on her was face clear as day.
"I don't want to like.. sue him, I just want to explore my options."
The queen briefly pursed her lips, studying her with violet eyes so similar to her own. "Remember that fate chose you for a reason, there is no way out. That being said, if a lawyer would offer you a peace of mind, I will arrange a meeting."
After numerous phone calls and no more than 45 minutes later, Hèmène left her own office promising to come back to check on their progress within the next hour. She'd been reluctant do to so and had tried to persuade her to postpone the meeting but Maebh was determined. She had, at least, managed to get the Irish girl to take some medicine and to change into a warmer, more concealing ensemble.
Maebh was left alone with a dark skinned woman who had been introduced as one of Arcadia's best attorneys. And for the first time, someone had referred to the valley, the castle and its surroundings as Arcadia. Gullibly enough, she hadn't even thought of the possibility of the place having a name.
Zoë Olorun was the kind of beautiful that demanded attention. It was hard to estimate her age as she had aged so gracefully. Late 30s to early 40s, perhaps? The term black don't crack came to mind. Along with a neatly ironed pants suit, she wore a traditional headdress that popped with colour. She had curtsied to the queen the instant she'd been lead into the office by a member of staff and addressed her appropriately, it served as a reminder to Maebh.
Hèmène had none of the airs and graces she associated with royalty, so truly, it was no wonder Maebh systematically tended to forget about the weight of the position. The responsibilities, the image she was forced to live up to and the pile of paperwork that seemed never-ending and constantly scattered over her desk.
"What can I help you with today, Miss O'Sullivan?"
In a chair opposite hers, with a leg elegantly crossed over the other, Zoë sat scanning her with an intensity that made her shift uncomfortably and avoid eye-contact. The woman's English was impeccable, but she had an accent that suggested a different native language.
"Please, call me Maebh. And err- I sought your advice and expertise since I reckon you- like.. know a lot about legal stuff?"
"I've got a degree to prove for it."
The wheels started turning in Maebh's head. Was there such a thing as werewolf law school?
Accurately observing the look of confusion that her answer had incited, the lawyer elaborated. "I went to a human university in Kenya and studied Arcadia's constitutional monarchy once I came here."
"Ah-hah.. does that mean you're a lycan?"
"My soulbond is a lycan. Only males carry the gene."
"Very sexist if you ask me." Maebh grumbled a bit too loudly, not intending for her to hear.
"I don't think it has anything to do with that, we physically wouldn't be able to weather the change."
"Our bodies are biologically modified to give birth to weird hybrid children but we can't actually change into one?" Maebh remarked bitterly, gesturing with her hands for emphasis.
Zoë nodded halfheartedly. "That's about right."
"Alright, okay, so we can conclude that natural selection is a prejudiced little bitch. So.. do you know more about the rights of a childbearer?"
The woman's eyes widened at the mentioning of the title, it bore grave importance in their community and she couldn't quite believe it took her until then to notice the soft pools of lavender staring back at her from the opposite chair.
There had been whispers going around for years, but none of the rumours had yet to be confirmed or publicly announced. It was widely known that Fillin Fyédhror Faoladh, the 37th prince of Arcadia and first in line for the throne, hadn't found his childbearer thus far. Which –to put it mildly– was abnormally uncommon.
The tradition was as followed:
Once a guardian triumphed in doing so, the parents of the amethyst-eyed child would be paid a visit by the royal family, made aware of the meaning behind her eyes and the importance of her future obligations. The discovery of the infant would be nobly celebrated by all, howbeit only the highest-ranking of lycans would be invited to the royal ceremony that officially introduced her to the kingdom.
After, the baby would grow up freely in her own country of origin, conscious of her destiny and closely acquainted with her intended husband. When she'd come of age at 20, she would move to the castle hidden away in the heart of the mountains in northwest Canada.
Throughout the entire Lycanthrope history, it had never, without exception, taken guardians longer than a year to locate the infant queen-to-be. Of course, there was the odd exception of naive parents trying to hide their daughter. But even then, it never took long for the guardians to successfully recover the child.
That is, until the newborn childbearer of Prince Fillin had mysteriously vanished at just 6 days old. A notable detail was the fact the parents had yet to be informed about their daughter's destiny.
The lawyer now understood why she had been sworn to secrecy prior to entering the queen's office, she felt honoured and eager to further assist the enigmatic girl. They forged a plan and came to an agreement shortly before the queen re-entered.
––––––––––––––––––––
The meeting with the prince was to take place in a conference room, a space Maebh had never set foot in. It was decorated in a dramatic and exuberant Baroque style, and formed a worthy backdrop for numerous canvases that displayed art movements ranging from renaissance to rococo. The ceiling was covered in a strange interpretation of a cherub fresco, the heads of the infants were replaced by those of wolves.
There were modern touches too. Like in the rest of the castle, cameras were installed at every bend and crevice, built to be fool proof. So far, Maebh hadn't found evidence of such devices in the tower room.
The biggest eye catcher was a table, entirely gilded in gold with ornate embellishments, it could easily seat fifty people. Each of the chairs surrounding it were of the same material with the cushions upholstered in pastel silk.
At the head of the gallantly table, Fillin sat patiently waiting with his wicked features folded in a blank manner.
Whilst discussing her options, she and Zoë had deliberately decided not to draw up a contract as she wasn't about to patronise herself by treating this like a business deal. And thus, they had opted to go in a divergent direction. But in the unlikelihood of Fillin agreeing to the proposal without any kind of adjustments, Maebh would need a witness. Should he ever disrespect the agreement, it'd be essential to have someone to back up her word.
Asking Zoë to tag along as the required bystander was a logical decision. On top of that, she wasn't sure how many coherent sentences she'd actually accomplish to vocalise with the topaz-eyed devil sending her heart into a frenzy. The feeling his lips had left behind haunted her still.
The double doors were closed behind the women with crude force and the noise rudely interrupted the youngest of the two from her inner turmoil.
"Mrs. Olorun, it's an honour."
Maebh was flabbergasted to see a smile on the prince's face, directed at the lawyer. A subtle up-tilt of the lips, but a smile nonetheless. More than she had ever been given.
"Your Royal Highness," Zoë respectfully replied. "The honour is all mine."
The gorgeous lawyer bowed down deeply in front of him, and shot the girl beside her a glance, silently questioning the sour face that had suddenly made an appearance. Maebh stomped to one of the chairs with clenched fists and scowled at him from the corner of her vision. The gall of the man. He hadn't even acknowledged her!
As if amused by her temperament, his eyes sparked momentarily before reigning back in the trademark coolness pressing against the surface.
For the first time that day, he turned his undivided attention to her. She tried her hardest to ignore the man and to attend to Zoë's polite chitchat. But it all seemed insipid under the weight of his gaze and truly felt as though his hands passed over her –not just his eyes.
Maebh blinked a couple of times, realising two pairs of eyes were now watching her, expectantly. "Err- pardon?"
"His Royal Highness questioned the purpose of this gathering, shall I inform him?"
Not trusting herself to be capable of speech, she meekly inclined her head, coaxing Zoë to answer for her. Even as the lawyer began to speak, the prince still wouldn't avert his stare from her.
"Maebh has decided to stay here of her own will, but in return she wants Hrólfr Lowell to be released without legal convictions for his crimes and for his brother, Coinín Lowell to be given back his job as guardian."
Fillin gave a firm nod, allowing her to continue.
"Additionally, she wants a free reigning, non-restrictive policy during her residence here and would like her Talisman to be returned to her."
The man chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully apparently unperturbed by the outburst and quantity of terms. When he opened his mouth she held a pessimistic glimmer that he might agree to them.
"I accept."
Maebh's mouth dropped open and then snapped shut again. "You accept?" Although having initially resolved to keeping quiet, she couldn't stop the disbelief from seeping into her voice.
"I accept, under one condition. I want to mark you."
Instantaneously, Zoë looked at her for answers and Maebh frowned, leaning in to fervently whisper. "I don't know what that means!"
The lawyer cupped one hand around her mouth, shielding her retort from unwanted ears. "His Royal Highness' wolf will sink its canines into this spot," she said in hushed tones and tapped the crease between her own shoulder and neck, where sure enough, four puncture holes had long faded into silver dots. "It establishes the bond, you'll be more aware of each other. No need for concern, it doesn't hurt."
Horrified, Maebh recalled reading about that in the story and grimaced at the sight of the scars. "He must either be thick or not the full shilling if he thinks I'm letting him bite me."
Zoë turned back to the prince in resignation and folded her hands together. "Your Royal Hi-"
"It is my only condition." Fillin stated calmly.
She returned her focus to the girl whose face had taken on a pale hue.
"Maebh, listen, it's not a bad deal..."
"How can you say that! He wants to bite me."
They began to grow bolder, their whispers getting louder and the latter bordering on panic.
"Think of all the benefits. In exchange for his Royal Highness' mark, you'll be at an advantage. Having a policy akin to the one suggested basically means you're in a position to do whatever you deem pleasing."
The girl seemed to consider it for a second and turned to Fillin with newfound bravery, her shoulders squared and chin lifted in the air. "Fine. I accept your condition."
"Good. You will meet me in the library tomorrow."
The statement was delivered in such a way as to indicate that obedience was mandatory.
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