Seven Sinful Crowns

Helina updated

Helina had stood outside the castle walls for a long while before she turned to make her way back in. Since she was a child she had hated being inside the great stone walls. She now understood it was not a hate of the walls themselves, but the confinement. Within her, woven into her very being, was the magic of the morrigan. And with that, the sparrow, who was always the most at ease on the wind. She could feel it always, the constant rattle of a bird stuck in a cage, desperate to get free. It was a small part of why she was always tense. Always ready to run, to scream, to fight.

She sighed to herself as she made it to her bedchamber, slipping through the door and beginning to peel the long golden gloves from her arms.

"Who are you and what have you done with my love?"

Helina smiled to herself, a slow, sensuous crawl of her lips, at Killian's voice as it made its way to her from across the room, his breath warm on the back of her neck.

"She told me I could borrow you for a while. She said you wouldn't mind."

"Well, as beautiful as you are, temptress, I'm going to have to decline. Helina would kill us both."

And he was right. Helina would indeed kill anyone who dared find themselves in Killian's arms, the way she now was, her back pressed into the hard curve of his chest, his stomach, his arms around her waist and his lips on her neck. She hadn't known it when she was young, but as she grew older she understood.

Killian was her consort, her other half, his soul formed perfectly to hers, fitting together as one. She had claimed him before she breathed, before she existed in flesh, and he her, and Helina had marked him years ago in a secret ceremony, under the red-rimmed moon, performed by the high-priestess' of the temple of truth. They were sworn to each other, bound by promises and so much more - an ancient magic, raw and rampant, and after, their hands were crossed together, cleansed with the water from the bloodfall, dried and wrapped in a pure white cloth. Their palms were sliced, blood pooling free from the open slits and soaking into the threads below, catching and spreading until it had turned from white to pink to red, a full circle, binding them forever.

And as Helina looked at him now, her stomach dove and spun and flipped, and her heart pounded against her ribs, and she thanked the heavens that they should be exactly where they are, or her heart might break free. For it too was like the sparrow, held captive and always craving what it loved most.

Flight, and Killian.