she's a little skeeved the more she thinks about where they just did what they did so she's trying her best to put it out of her mind. the sooner she gets out of these clothes - damn it. 

asking for a change of clothes will leave her with pride so wounded she won't be able to recover. so she doesn't mention it. she's just trying to take this one step at a time while her brain tries to catch up with her. 

and as it does, all it's really wanting is to eat and sleep and sleep and sleep. 

she goes to the sink and washes her hands, splashes water on her face. and then looks up at the mirror. 

her lips are red, still swollen from their rough kisses. a few purple marks dot her collarbone. (that makes her frown.) but the worst are the dark purple bruises under her eyes, the gaunt shape of her face. 

"when was the last time you saw me?" she asks and then blinks. she'd blurted her question the same time as he had. 

"whatever's easiest. and fastest."

KING WAYLAND

☉

"huh?" he asks as their questions collide, and he lowers his phone a bit. she answers first, so, he turns his gaze back to hid phone.

"few weeks ago?" it's a question in it of itself, as he didn't track her movements, really. "don't really remember." his last one is a mumble as his fingers tap idly.

"foods on the way" with a sigh he tosses his phone back into his pocket, stretching. his eyes catch the glint of obsidian that hangs on a rope between her breasts, but he says nothing.

"let's just head upstairs."

freya morningstar

few weeks ago. how helpful. she's not slightest in the least that he hasn't been counting down the days, but it doesn't help clear any of this up. at least, she thinks, it hasn't been years. 

already, her time in there has become so convoluted. days blended together - months made up of fear, hearing that endless, threatening growl behind her. it's there now when she's not focused, when the nightmares trying to claw into her exhausted brain blossom with that haunted sound. 

she comes back to, still staring at her shape in the mirror. turning, she goes to follow king. her gaze glances off the angry red lines scoring his shoulders and upper back. 

seems whoever had been slamming on the door had given up their plight.

thud. a body hits the floor in the ring. she startles, skipping a step and bumping into king. her hands come out to steady herself and with both, she wraps them around his arm. some anchor. some tether here. 

"but not months?" she says, looking up. she wracks her brain. remember. remember. "not...six? seven months?" or was it years? how many times did the sun roll before her? did it flicker on that beach? her jaw tightens.

KING WAYLAND

☉

the door opens back out onto the main area. curious glances from those nearby are tossed in their direction, a few men giving knowing smirks. the woman at the bar previously sits with a new prize, but she still tosses a sneer in their direction.

he tunes out the action, but can't help but notice the body that presses against him. it's another clue to a story he couldn't quite piece together.

"no, not years," was it a psychotic break? a multi-week bender? both were viable options at this point. "the hell's goin on, princess?" nevertheless he keeps her moving towards the elevator, and eventually, to his room.

freya morningstar

he's talking to her like she's crazy. because it sounds crazy, freya. because it is crazy, freya. the only anchor she has right now is his arm, is him, and she's thankful he doesn't try to shake her off. the rest of their way is uneventful and only when they're alone does she release him. 

she stays standing, afraid that the moment she rests her head on the pillow, she'll pass out. 

"there's no way to say this without sounding crazy," she says. she scratches at the scab on her neck. "but i've...been gone. for a long time. months. maybe a year? i don't know. time was different there."

and before she can lose her nerve, it all just pours out of her - the invitation from father winter, the portal that had closed behind her, the endless days and nights in a twisted plane that didn't make sense. the loneliness, only herself and her hunters by her side, but by no means an apex predator. the omnipresent feeling of something behind her, catching up to her. 

halfway through she starts to tremble. her muscles are weak. her stomach is loud. she falls into a chair and continues. 

seeing herself as she could have been - avatar of rayquaza. alexander. those final weeks of loss, her shackles breaking apart with artemis' sacrifice, and their escape. 

her attempt at saving alex, she leaves out of it.

finally, she stops, rubs her face, and withdraws the black scale. "it's from her rayquaza. from another dimension." alex faded, yet this remained.

KING WAYLAND

☉

he listens.

no witty. sarcastic comments, and no interruptions (aside from when he opens the door to get the food). for the first time in a long time king is completely silent.

it's a lot to take in. the existence of parallel worlds; alternate versions of ones self; surviving there for a year by herself. it sounds like something out of a fiction, and had it been anyone else but the prude dragon queen, he'd have marked it up as that.

but freya rarely played out. never, really.

king leans forward, taking the black scale between his forefinger and thumb. he inspects it slowly. it was warm to the touch, but that could just be because it was buried in her cleavage. but, something else lingered, like a residual trace of electricity; a spark that made the pads of his fingers numb.

he lets it drop back to her collarbone, lips in a thin line. there's only silence from his end, and for a few moments it stretches. then, he pushes himself to his feet and heads to the kitchen. king pours them both a healthy amount of scotch and returns to hand it to her.

"drink up."

he takes a healthy chug of his , releases a heavy exhales, then looks at.

"arceus that's fucked."

freya morningstar

he's a patient audience. as she's speaking, she almost feels like she's reciting a script. like she wasn't the main character of her own story. the human mind is a curious thing, compartmentalizing and throwing up walls and distancing itself so it doesn't fragment. so it doesn't break down. 

when he leans forward, her pulse quickens. the sore parts on her body twinge with the remembrance of their union. she swallows. as he touches the scale, however, a certain possessiveness comes over her. she stiffens, ready to tear it away from him at a moment's notice, but then it falls back to her chest and he's moved away. 

what he returns with makes her stomach recoil. its effects are almost immediate - she hasn't had much sustenance in a very long time. 

"yes," she says sharply, grimacing as the dry taste it leaves in the back of her throat. 

the smell from the takeout boxes becomes too much. she tears into them unceremoniously and starts scarfing it down. it's kalosian in nature - rich and buttery. meat and veggies and carbs. 

she could eat until she bursts, but she stops soon after, knowing full well it'll just come back up if she pushes herself too far. dirty napkins piled on her plate, she leans back, chin tilting back, heavy lids trying to stay open. 

"i still need a shower. and then..." she yawns. "then i can sleep...

"thank you."

KING WAYLAND

☉

he picks at his own food, not feeling the same sense of ravishing hunger that she had. the story she spoke of still lingers, and it's the only thing he wants to chew on.

king pushes himself to his feet, and down the hall way. "don't thank me yet," his voice says with a slight echo, and from where she sits, freya can hear the shower kick on.

"tomorrow yer back in the ring," she needed something to distract her; to take her anger out on. king holds out his hand towards her, to help her get up, and to ensure she can get to the bathroom on her own two feet.

freya morningstar

sleep threatens her. a showerhead sputtering to life makes her lashes flutter. it's with great effort that she takes king's hand and stands with a grunt. her body aches, more than it ever has. the nicks and bruises and the unfamiliar feeling between her legs aside, she is weary. 

maybe she should have asked for a tub. she looks down at his hand as she tuts along behind him, feeling for a moment like a child. 

when she reaches the bathroom, she releases her hold. her hand comes up to the doorframe. 

they've an intimacy shared between them now, but this ground is unfamiliar to her. right now, she's under the impression that it was a one time thing. that he'd gotten her fill, and she hers, and that's that. 

so without another word, she slips through the door and shuts it behind her. 

she peels off her clothes. they lie in a stinking heap on the floor. her nose crinkles at herself. in the shower, the water is a little too hot, turning her skin pink. she doesn't change it. just hangs her head and lets it slip around her. 

scrubbing herself clean takes time. the water is brownish with dirt and blood. after wringing her hair out, fully untangled from its braid, and the water runs clear, she shuts it off. 

clumsy hands find a towel and she manages to wrap it around herself before her legs crumple. her head lolls, cheek resting awkwardly on her shoulder, back against the wall, and sleep grips her tightly. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

her space is given freely, but when the silence from the shower extends, it's revoked just as easily. king enters, eyes falling to the sleeping form of the battered, pale woman. he sighs, nostrils flaring at the inconvenience, but moves to scoop her up anyways. she's light, lighter than he remembers, but king doesn't dwell on that fact for long.

entering his personal chambers, he carries her all the way to the side of the bed, then sets her down gently. he doesn't stare (that long) as he removes the towel and sets the covers over her.

from beneath the bed small knightly figures emerge, and he gives them a grunt of affirmation as they spread out around the room. the falinks would watch over the dragon queen well, for as long as she needed it.

as he exits the room and shuts the door behind him, his thoughts go back to the scale that was around her neck, and what exactly it meant for the future.

freya morningstar