forum || Warriors' Union | private rp | stalkers get pretzels ||

Started December 08, 2020 by @PrettyLittlePyro

tune

The Princess was causing a lot of chaos, Haven noted, as he heard the screams. After swiftly and brutally dealing with the assassins near him, he turned to glance in Reesha's direction. The smell of charred flesh filled the air, and despite himself, a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. She doesn't need my help, he thought with amusement, and a little bit of annoyance. It was nice to be needed at least a little bit by the pretty girls.

He immediately dismissed the thought. Start acting like that, and he'd really be a player. At least, more than he already was, anyway. And he did not want the rumors to be true.

There were only about seven assassins left in view, not including the ones Reesha was dealing with, and his shadows told him that there were five more on the ceiling, poised to drop around the Princess in various angles. With a quick flick of his hand, Haven sent the shadows to wrap around their necks, strangling them silently as they perched on the rafters. And five thumps sounded as the lifeless bodies fell from the ceiling.

Haven made sure to dispatch the other seven assassins with ease, retaining only a cut on his arm from when one of them threw a knife that he couldn't block, being in combat with several other of the assassins. It wasn't poisoned, and although it was deep, it was clean. He simply bound it up and wiped his sword on a fallen assassin's robe before sheathing it. He went to make sure no one was hurt.

Reesha made quick work of the assassins around her, burning, injuring, and setting them on fire, but never killing them outright. She had no time to worry about dramatics either, only pausing for a second to breathe as she looked at the chaos around her. The servants had all scattered, and there was no one else around her to fight. All she was left with was her few injuries and her smoldering dress.

She smirked at this, triumphantly looking to Haven right as the five assassins dropped to the ground around her. Jumping slightly, she studied them, her look of triumph replacing with an annoyed scowl. Of course, he got the last bit of dramatics in.

"Typical," She hissed, wiping ash and blood from her hands onto her dress. If she looked stunning at the start of the ball, now she looked terrifying. Her dress was slowly burning away, her hair was nowhere near the pristine style it had started in, flames still danced up her arms and hands, and her makeup was layered with tiny bits of ash. She looked powerful, and a mess.

Reesha sighed as she stepped over one of the bodies, looking around for anyone else. Most people had scattered, leaving only her, all of the suitors besides Peregryn, and a few noble guards, who were talking amongst themselves.

Haven watched Reesha for a moment, and a smug smirk crossed his face. He had killed more than she had, and he soaked in the glory of being better than her.

But there was no time to gloat. He turned to the nearest guard. "Is the king alright?" He asked urgently. The guard nodded his head. "Yes, sir," he said, unsure why he was talking to this playboy nobleman with such respect, but feeling a sense of authority coming from the man. "We made sure to get his Majesty away when the first assassins hit the ballroom. They seemed only to be attacking the people here."

"Good." Haven nodded in satisfaction. "What's your name, soldier?"

"Rayl, Sir. Vincent Rayl."

The white haired man clapped the soldier on the shoulder. "Well done, Rayl. Your family will be pleased." And, leaving Rayl behind, a look of startled wonderment on his face, he made a lap around the ballroom, making sure everyone was okay. He didn't have to, but as a general, responsible for his men, it was deeply ingrained into him.

Reesha paid no attention to Haven, though she felt his stare burning against her skin. She couldn't care less about what he had done here, she would've handled it eventually.

Calmly, she let the last few trails of flames die out over her arms and legs, then smoothly and reverently brushed off the ash from her smoldering dress. She wished it hadn't been destroyed, it was a gorgeous gown, but it wasn't the first dress she had burnt. Ash drifted down to the ground below her, and as she finished, she set to work unfastening her heels, slipping them off before picking them up easily.

Not a word was spoken as she did so, she was more interested in listening to the commotion after all. Servers rushed to start cleaning as they came out of shock, and guards helped each other, filling the ballroom with a gentle chatter of relief.

"Excuse me," Reesha finally spoke, reaching out an arm and stopping a server as he walked by, "Do you know where the king is?" She asked.

"I believe he was taken somewhere safer, Princess Reesha," The server hurriedly replied, shaking his head, "I'm not sure where."

She frowned, but nodded, letting him get back to work as she turned her attention to Haven, scowling at the back of his head. Her father was surely safe, and even though she wanted to go see him, she needed to talk to her least favorite person first.

Haven could tell the moment Reesha laid eyes on him. His back was turned to her as he knelt before a waiter who had been stabbed in the leg, offering soothing words. He was lucky that it was only the servers and a few guards here, who wouldn't talk about his less than normal behavior. He felt her eyes upon him, and knew that there was a poisonous glower in them.

He spoke a few more words of encouragement, and then stood and turned, sending her a smirk as she strode over, looking displeased. It was his typical playboy smirk, nothing like the bloodthirsty, thrilled look of a few minutes before.

"Your Highness," he drawled, as she neared, "can I help you?"

"No, you can't help me," She replied flatly, crossing her arms as she glared at him, "You can point out guards that are strong enough to contain prisoners you haven't murdered, then you can leave. This night is over and I hope you're not too heartbroken to know that you're not who I'm choosing."

Reesha knew it was harsh and frankly, very overboard considering he had saved her life, not once, but twice, but she couldn't care less. If her father heard of his bravery, he would be praised by all, and she didn't want that to happen.

Her heels were hooked in her fingers as her arms crossed over her chest, adding to the frustrated look on her face. She wanted to smack the damn smirk off of his face as he looked at her. He shouldn't be looking that smug after what had just happened, he should be leading some team to figure out how assasins had gotten into the palace, not looking like he had no care in the world. That was a smirk that only young Haven deserved to wear, not this version of Haven.

"As you wish." Haven gave a mocking bow to her, so sweeping and low that it was a miracle he stayed on his feet. He straightened, ignoring the irritated look on her face, although the urge to slam her head into a wall so that she would stop glaring at him like he had done something wrong made his fingers twitch ever so slightly.

He pointed out a few men. "Rayl, McSnider, Vilen, and Marfon. They're all pretty capable." He didn't say how he knew them, and hoped she wouldn't ask. She probably wouldn't, if she was as annoyed with him as she looked.

He turned to go, and then smirked at her. He knew this was a dangerous idea, but he reached out his hand, took her face in it, and leaned in, whispering, "I wouldn't be so sure that I won't get chosen. You just wait, Reesh." And then he let go and sauntered away before she could say anything else.

(Why did those last few lines make me grin so much…)

Reehsa followed where he pointed with her eyes, picking out the men in an instant. She didn't care at all to figure out how he knew the guards, and frankly, she wouldn't even bother the conversation to ask.

Her frown stayed constant as her mind worked up orders for the guards, and she was so deep in thought that she didn't notice Haven get close until he grabbed her face. Instantly she was back in the moment, a fit of seething anger bubbling inside of her as he spoke. How dare he so much as step that close to her, not to mention touch her, or use her nickname.

"Try it, Haven," She hissed as he sauntered away, glaring daggers at his back. She would do anything in her power to make sure he never had so much as a chance to rule by her side. She swore on it.

But now she had more pressing matters, and with one more frustrated hiss, she turned on her foot and made her way to the first guard he had pointed out, ready to fix the situation he had left in rubbles.

As hard as Reesha had tried to keep the news of Havens heroics from her father, word had reached the king before she could stop it. And some logical part of her told her that it would influence who he chose as her future husband as he called her suitors back to the palace several days after the accident.

She couldn't do anything about it though, as she was sent to train for the day, leaving her on the other side of the palace from her decision, sweaty, worn out, and terrified for her future.

The king had arranged to meet with all of the suitors several days after the incident in the palace after security had been increased and the men had been given time to recover from the events. They had been called to the palace, and he had instructed them to meet in his office where he was to meet them. Several large armchairs had been placed around the desk, equally spaced, one for each of the suitors.

Several were already filled, with only Haven and Nicolai missing from the lineup of men settled around the room.

Haven was, currently, being swarmed by a group of girls.

"Sir Carroway," one of them, a perky redhead with long eyelashes, said, voice dreamy. "Is it true that you really saved the Crown Princess?" She clung to him, chest pressed uncomfortably against him.

But he had a reputation, so who was he to tell her to stop.

"Of course not," he said, an easy smirk on his face. "Where do you think I would have gotten that sort of talent?" His voice was amused, and she pouted, sticking her bottom lip out. It was large, and she clearly thought that this was some sort of seduction.

"But-"

"Well, my lady, it was nice talking to you, but the king needs me."

The noblewoman backed away and frowned sadly. "Okay. I'll look for you later." She winked at him and hurried away.

Haven groaned in disgust and started to the throne room. He entered, and realized that all of the others - other than Nicolai, of course - were gone. He bowed to the king, sent Reesha a smirk, and then fell in line next to the other suitors.

The King smiled as Haven entered the throne room, watching calmly as he lined up. He held a proud, or more-so, impressed smile.

"Welcome gentlemen, please, take a seat," He started, taking his own seat while Reesha followed suit.

"As you all know, the ball you were invited to three days ago was an opportunity to meet my daughter, the princess, and to learn about her. You were all fit candidates to be her suitor, but today I will be discussing who will be chosen."

Reesha didn't do more than offer a tight lipped smile as Haven entered the room, mimicking a look of happiness while in all reality she wanted to yell that he wasn't going to be her pick, that he was better off leaving. But instead she kept quiet, looking away from him and around at the other suitors.

Smoothing down her cream dress, she sat down in the chair next to her father, waiting for her childhood friend to be sent back to his place in the military like he wanted to be so long ago.

Haven kept a respectful silence, although when he felt the Princess's eyes on him, he couldn't resist a little half-smirk in her direction. She had looked away by then, but he knew she had noticed.

He hadn't been able to take a sword into the office, which he understood, but he wasn't happy about it. It made him feel naked and weak, and even if he could fight with other things, in other ways, his main weapon was gone. I've become too dependent on it, he thought ruefully.

The other suitors all perked up as the king spoke. Haven didn't outwardly, but he was listening all the same.

"To start things off, I am very sorry for what events went down at the ball, we've since increased our security and are looking into who instrumented the attacks," The King started, his mouth straightening into a serious line. He shook his head as he finished, turning to look at each of the men in the room in turn, "I thank you all for your efforts to protect my daughter and fight off the attackers." His eyes landed on Haven to finish, and his smile was clear to all. He was proud of Haven most of all.

"Now, back to what we're here to discuss. We'll start with Sir Mariet. From what Princess Reesha said, and my general knowledge of your family, you will not be a good match. I respect your family, and thank you for your time spent here, but you are free to leave." All of his words were calm, controlled and powerful, exactly what he needed to come across as. "Sir Bateline, I have the same words for you, you will not be chosen for my daughter. Thank you for your time, and give your father my regards, but you are free to go." The King looked to each of the men as he spoke, making sure each heard his words, and could meet his eyes.

Reesha stayed uncharacteristically silent as she watched, but she did not stay frozen in her chair. Instead she studied her nails, picking out invisible dirt out from underneath them. It was a small gesture, but she knew it came across much better than words. She was calm, and she looked almost smug, like she knew exactly what the choice was going to be.

And as far as she knew, she did.

Haven leaned back against his chair, in the simple ease that he had as a noble's son. It was all too easy to drown this moment out, and he should, to further put up the act, but he wanted to see. He wanted to hear what would happen, what would come of the suitor's ball, and the attack.

If you don't win the princess, at least you'll win honor, a part of his brain whispered. He pushed the thought back. He was a Carroway; he would settle for nothing less than the best.

He watched as the other suitors were slowly weeded out. Mariet and Bateline, unsurprisingly, were first. Those two were scumbags of the worst sort, especially Mariet… although, Haven realized, he acted basically the same way. The only difference was that he was handsome and richer and more powerful. Not a connection he really wanted to make, but his brain had already done it.

"Sir Armanon, as you've requested to be taken out of the remaining choices, you are the next to be dismissed," The King continued, offering him a smile that the other two didn't get, "Thank you for your time, I wish you luck with your future." He took in a breath as he paused, meeting Amar's eyes, then Haven's before continuing, "As you can tell, you two are the final choices for my daughter, and as such, I thank you two most of all for your efforts and time spent here. It's not an easy choice to change your life just to become a suitor for the Princess. You both have many positive qualities that will help you continue in life and that will help you become good rulers along my daughter's side. But even with those positive qualities that you both have, there can only be one to take her hand in marriage."

He paused once more, turning to smile at Reesha before looking back at them, "And as so, I am proud to announce that….Sir Carroway, you have been picked."

Reesha had zoned out by the time he had gotten it down to Amar and Haven, but when he spoke their names, she snapped back to reality. This was part of the decision that she wanted to see. Her eyes held a triumphant look as she looked between Haven and Amar, knowing who she had chosen. She wanted to scream her decision at Haven, celebrate his disappointment when he would realize he hadn't won. Amar certainly wasn't her first pick as a husband, but he certainly would give her the reputation she needed, and he would treat her as she was, a princess.

Smug and sure of her decision, she didn't listen to her father's words until the last second.

Reesha opened her mouth to celebrate, then faltered, her smug look dying quickly, being replaced hurridly by confusion, and anger. "Father, I chose Amar to become my husband, not Haven. I think you are confused."

The king shook his head, smiling at her, then at Haven, "Sir Carroway proved himself worthy of your hand through his actions at the ball. From what I heard, he saved your life, multiple times, and that's something that deserves to be rewarded."

(snickers)

Haven almost didn't believe that he had been chosen. Almost. He didn't so much as jump or smile when he was chosen, although the long, slow blink he gave made one realize that he hadn't been altogether as confident of winning as he had acted.

Reesha, predictably, started arguing. Amar stood, looking crestfallen and relieved at the same time. He started to leave, and Haven stood as well. Lowering his voice so that it wouldn't draw the attention of the king and princess, he held out his hand. Amar shook it, hesitantly. "You dodged a bullet," Haven said quietly.

Amar almost smiled. With a dip of his head, he left the room, leaving Haven and Nicolai and the two royals in the room. With the King and Princess arguing about the choice - mostly Reesha, really - their interaction went mostly unnoticed. The two nobles glanced at each other, Nicolai standing as well. "Good luck, you ass," he muttered.

"That's no way to treat your general."

"Yeah, but I have privileges."

"Shut up." Haven shook his hand, and the Armanon left the room, with a devilish grin that said only too clearly, You're screwed.

It took Reesha less than thirty seconds to fully process what had happened, and by then she was arguing with her father about the decision. In the most dignified way she could of course. But no matter what she said, he insisted that Haven was the right choice.

Gritting her teeth, she finally accepted defeat in the argument and stood from her chair, plastering on a fake smile as the blood rushed in her ears. Her powers thrummed with her anger and it took all of her power not to start the room on fire. Haven couldn't be her future husband. She would rather choke on a spoon than marry him. All she could hear in her head was the words Haven had said when he was younger. Carroway's never lose. And she loathed that he was somehow right.

"Congratulations, Haven. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere else to be." She hissed out, barely holding any politeness in her tone. "Father," Nodding to the King, she smoothed out her dress and started out of the office, her hands clenched in fists at her sides.

Of course, there was nowhere else for her to be, but the last place she wanted to be was in that office with them.

Haven watched her leave, not surprised. He hadn't expected her to like him at first, anyways. This would be a work in progress. Reesha had been like this ever since he left to train, but before, they had been probably best friends. The Carroways and Eyers had always been close - or at least, the children had. The adults were always stiff, so he didn't really know if they were friends or not.

He bowed to the king. "Thank you, Your Majesty. I shall do my utmost to live up to your expectations of me." He smiled warmly at the king.

The king returned Haven’s words with a proud smile, nodding to him. “I know you’ll do your best, as you always do. You and Reesha will be good together. I plan on publicly announcing your betrothal soon, meaning you’ll be spending much more time here at the palace while we arrange everything.” He stood after he spoke, holding out a hand for Haven to shake, “For now though, I will let you be on your way, Sir Carroway. Send your parents and brothers my warmest regards.”

Reesha stormed through the halls away from her father’s office, digging her nails into her palms until she couldn’t process anything other than the pain. It was her only attempt at keeping herself together until she reached the fenced in dirt circle that sat on the other side of the palace gardens. Only then did she release her grip, letting her powers build with her anger. Here, away from everyone, was one of the safest places for her to process her emotions, and Haven would be the only casualty if he decided to speak to her.

"Of course, Your Highness." Haven bowed again and left the study. There were only a few people around, all servants, and he didn't want to disturb them in their work. He had grown to appreciate the work they did when he was on the battlefield, and didn't have freshly washed sheets or clean floors or floors at all.

He smiled at one of them, a young man in a butler's uniform, and the young man blushed with pride.

Haven walked down the hall, not really going anywhere. He passed a window, and saw the vast expanse of the palace gardens. He spotted, at the very end, a certain blonde head in a ring of earth, standing there, almost trembling with anger. Even from this far away, he could tell how much she wanted to cause violence, pain.

And he was the cause of that.

No, he reminded himself, she's the cause of that. I tried to protect her, and all she did was think I was leaving her. This is her fault she hates me, not mine. And, with a roguish grin, he straightened his clothes, ran a hand through his hair, and walked outside, toward his future wife.

Haven couldn't be her husband. She refused to believe that eventually, she would have to marry the worm of a human that used to be her friend. And if she didn't, there was no way she would take the throne, leaving her in a frustrating predicament. She was supposed to be dealing with Amar, not him. And it was only because he had saved her life that Haven had swayed her father's decision.

Reesha let her anger over the situation build up quickly, channeling it into a carefully controlled ball of fire in her hand. She wanted to let it spread over herself, to make her burn with the same rage she felt, but she couldn't. She was wearing a dress she particularly liked, and burning the pale pink masterpiece would be disappointing. Plus with Haven most likely lurking around the palace, she didn't particularly want to waltz to her room wearing nothing but her underclothes.

Hissing in annoyance, she settled on forcing the flames to grow bigger before creeping up her arm, flickering like a living being. They stayed put on her arm when she threw the ball of fire towards the ground, watching as it burst apart, raging up into tall shoots even with no fuel from the burnt earth. Still, it wasn't enough to get her anger out and she brushed some of the flames onto her other arm, working her hands together like she was rolling a snowball to create an even larger ball of fire.

Haven could feel the heat even from several yards away. He couldn't see her yet, either, making it more of a big deal. His lips curled into a little, impressed smile. She had really improved in the years it had been since he'd seen her. The general in him wanted to find out what she could do, how she could help him win the wars that so often threatened their borders.

He shook his head. He shouldn't think about her that way.

Still…

Masking his footsteps, he made his way to the arena, where he leaned against a post and watched, arms crossed. The sheer amount of fire she was generating was incredible, and if he wasn't trying to keep up a face, he would have been slack-jawed in awe. As if was, his eyes sparkled in a way that was distinctly un-player-like, excited and awed and even a little proud.

He waited for her to notice his presence; if she hadn't already. She would probably try and attack him, and the thought made his blood run wild with the challenge. Yes, that's what she was… a challenge. A delicious challenge.

Reesha was almost too focused on her anger to realize she had an audience. But not quite. She felt the pair of eyes on her more than she felt the heat of the flames, burning holes into her back while she tried to ignore it. Gritting her teeth, she spun around, the flames not wavering for a moment. If anything, they grew bigger when she locked eyes with Haven.

“I’ll give you five seconds to leave,” She ground out, trying to reign in her emotions before she did anything irreversible. Giving him a new set of burns did sound lovely, but if he wanted to save himself, it was fair that he would have the chance.

Letting her control of the flames slip slightly, she felt them grow larger. The ones snaking around her arms singing the edge of her dress sleeves. But before they could burn the dress to ashes, she took back control and forced them down. She would have plenty of time to wear out her control over the flames when Haven was gone.

Haven's face changed instantly from impressed to cocky. He straightened, unfolding his arms, and raised an eyebrow. "Five whole seconds? You're getting soft, Reesh. Before, you wouldn't hesitate to burn me." He made sure to use the nickname that he knew she hated, smirking a little bit at the end as well.

Without seemingly a care in the world, he moved into the ring, before stopping just ten feet away from the Princess. Even at this distance, he could feel the heat of her flames, and his lips quirked up. He held out his arms wide. "Come on, burn me. Let's see if you dare." His eyes glinted in a distinctly un-Haven-like way.

Calling her by her old nickname was the second to last straw, but holding out his arms wide, unchallengingly, that was what made her decide that he would never mess with her again. Pretending she was soft, or wouldn't hesitate to hurt him was going to backfire.

Reesha narrowed her eyes and stepped closer to her berothed, letting another ball of flame fling to life in her hand. Stopping several feet closer to him, she didn't wait to throw it square at his chest, testing his power, what his defense would be. The last time they had sparred, he may have had different moves, and the last thing she wanted was to hear him chide her for not reading his moves.

She watched him closely while pulling together another ball, knowing that he very well could be dangerous. Cocky act or not. At least her ring of fire was still flickering, making it harder to get close to her.

Haven simply stood there, his challenging grin on his face. He noted how she seemed to think about what she was going to do, and his lips curled even more. She, unlike him, actually thought her actions through. This action, this challenge, this danger… it was all completely spontaneous. And the adrenaline that was racing through him was something that he didn't regret at all.

The heat of her flames flickered toward him, causing sweat to drip down the back of his neck. He didn't move, didn't show that there was a weakness.

But wait. If he did, she might attack, and then he would be ready, and- You're thinking too much about this, he scolded himself. And wiped a trickle of sweat from his forehead, eyes momentarily darting away.