Kingdom of isolation - you can't hide

Forty Seven - Alexander

Alexander

Without a doubt, this is my room and that's my bed staring back at me. And yet, somehow, I'm the one stuck with the couch while my little wife sleeps away. It's a comfortable enough couch, she could have slept on it as if it were a bed. Me, on the other hand, there's not much space to spread out. It's why my neck is sore and my legs ache despite the lack of sleep.

After careful consideration that has taken me two seconds, I have decided that we'll both be sleeping on the bed and my little ballerina's just going to have to accept that. Devastating as that may be for her, I am not interested in a sore back every time I get up to stretch.

It did take her a couple of hours of peeking through her blanket before she eventually dozed off. While it is understandable, she's going to have to get used to me being around her a lot more just as I will have to get used to having this human living and breathing in my space.

Watching her struggling to stay awake, as if she was afraid I'll pounce on her the moment she closed her eyes, was offensive and amusing all at once. I was thinking about it for a while, seeing as she melts like butter every time I touch her. However, Aurora will submit to me on her own, without me ever forcing myself on her.

I glance over at the bundle of chaos to find her still shivering. It's a good thing that my staff has quietly left everything I'll need, including a heated blanket. Never in a million years did I think I'd need a goddamn heated blanket. And yet, here we are.

I drape the heated blanket over her frame, careful not to suffocate her in the process. That'd be really unfortunate. I stand there for a few moments, watching her snuggle into the warmth. She truly is beautiful, I can't fault that. My fingers itch to touch her soft skin and leave my marks. I run my knuckles across her cheek, which earns me a soft sigh. Adorable.

***

Sometimes I wonder why Killian is my second in command when he's perfectly capable of running an empire of his own. He certainly has the ingredients to become a great leader, if not a tyrannical one.

"I don't know how I feel about this, your majesty. Why are you here with me instead of your new bride? What could I possibly offer you that she can't?"

In the same vein, he says shit like this and I'm painfully reminded that this fucker could not function without me—I don't want him to function without me. Standing tall with that knowing smirk, I find myself punching his face, forcing him to stagger backwards into the chair behind him like an idiot.

"Okay, I deserved that." He grunts, nursing his jaw.

"I have no reason nor desire to spend quality time with you, Whitlock," I say, straightening my suit jacket. "If you're done pissing me off, we've got some rebels that need dealing with."

Killian's entire demeanour shifts, a manic glee in his eyes as he wipes the blood off his chin and stands up. I can see those pointy ears physically turning, eating every word I say.

"I've been hearing some whispers about their leader. I'm sure you've got Ryder to prepare everything we'll need. By the time I'm done with them, they'll be begging for a merciful death."

"Keep talking dirty to me, your majesty."

***

"Say, what brings you out here in the middle of winter?"

The silence is profound in the dimly lit warehouse as I watch the scene unfold in front of me. A favourite location of mine when it comes to interrogating, especially when the temperature is below minus outside. A major part of an interrogation is the environment itself. You either sweat them out, or freeze their balls off—either works.