Disarmingly Charming: An Annora Park Novel: Book Two

Chapter Four: Paved with Ill Intent

   "Do you like not own a room that doesn't look like a damn dungeon dude?" I ask Branuel, as I take in the shackles and manacles on the wall and the weapons strewn about.
   "That's a lot of 'D' words, beloved," Chamuel says, in an amused tone of voice.  "However, my amour does have a point.  Do you own such a room? Or is every part of your palace like..." he waves his hand around, "...like this."
   "My throne room isn't—"
   "—It might not have shackles hanging from every conceivable surface...but it does look like a fucking dungeon, and don't you even try to to deny it, dude."
   "Stop calling me dude," Branuel says.
   I roll my eyes.  "I'll call you whatever I want to call you...you're the one that has been MIA for days."  I watch as Branuel clenches his jaw.
   "I have had my reasons..."
   "And they would be?"
   "None of your concern."
   I snort.  "Now, see, that's where you lose me, dude.  We're in this together.  We're ALL in this together.  You don't get to tell me in that high and mighty tone of voice of yours that it's not any of my business.  Well, I guess you can tell me...but just watch me not take it very well."
   "Not take it well?"
   I cock my head to the side and give him a sly, mischievous smile.  "Remember that little episode back in the throne room..." I grin, "...just think of that, but worse."
   "You wouldn't dare!"
   "Oh wouldn't I." I sigh.  "I don't think you quite grasp just how seriously I take all of this, Branuel.  Now that...well...now that my life is irreversibly fucked up..." I ignore Chamuel's huff and continue, "...I guess I should say, now that it is irreversibly 'changed,' well I'm all in.  I'm going to get to get to the bottom of everything...starting with my history."
   "That's what I'm afraid of," and Branuel speaks so softly I almost don't hear him.
   "I'm sorry, what?" I frown.  "Did you say that's what you're afraid of?"
   "You must have mistaken me."
   I shake my head.  "I don't think so, dude."
"Have you considered, Mo fhlùr meadhan-oidhche brèagha, that there may be things that you care NOT to find out."
I scrunch up my nose. "No. Because that's not how it works."
For the first time, Branuel looks slightly amused. "Not how it works?"
"Yup, not how it works. I mean, before all of this," and I gesture to my hair and eyes, "...and...oh the almost getting killed by a rogue psycho dark Fae...maybe...maybe I would've been content in my lot. Heck, I was content...okay maybe not exactly content, but I knew what was what, and what I was about, and I was dealing with it the best way I knew how. However, now that this has all come to light, yeah...so not happening anymore. I need to know..." I sigh, and implore him with my eyes. "Can't you see how I'd need to know, Branuel? I went from being...well, being me...to being...being...hell, I don't even know what I am anymore, not exactly. So can't you understand how important it is to me to understand where I come from...my...my history?"
"You may not like what you discover, Mo fhlùr meadhan-oidhche brèagha."
"That should be the motto of my fucking life, dude." I say with a grin, to soften my words. "Listen, I can take it. I can handle it."
Branuel sighs. "You may be right."
I'm shocked. "I'm sorry...could you say that again."
Branuel gives me a look of disgust and rolls his beautiful eyes. "I said...perhaps you're correct."
"Oh my God, the world is ending," I say dramatically, "Branuel Or De A'lanuel just admitted that I was right."
   "Na fàs cleachdte ris, mo fhlùr meadhan oidhche," Branuel says dryly.
   "So, I shouldn't get used to you admitting to me that I'm right...or I shouldn't get used to you calling me your midnight flower." I grin.  "Midnight flower?"
   Branuel looks slightly abashed.  "It just came out."
   I bite my lip and give him a small smile.  "I don't completely hate it."
   "You don't?"
   I laugh.  "I prefer it to midnight queen."
   "Oh...but that is what you are to me, my midnight queen."
   "Not yet," I shoot back.
   "I do not need to complete the bond to know what you are to me, and to my people, my midnight flower." Branuel's face turns serious.  "You ARE my midnight queen.  You were born to be."
   "You don't know that Branuel, you don't—"
   "—I DO!" Branuel says vehemently.  "The minute I saw you, covered in blood, looking so regal and stunning...I knew...I knew."
   "Branuel, there's no way that you could have—"
   "—Could he not, my beloved," Chamuel interjects.
   I frown.  "It was different with you, Chamuel." I sigh.  "You...well, you knew my mother...you apparently knew from my conception that we were meant to be together.  Branuel...well...Branuel had no such notion."
   "And you know that how, midnight flower?  Did your Light Fae King not feel the bond immediately? Why is the thought that I too had the same feeling so...disquieting to you?"
Why? Why did I feel this sense of foreboding when it came to Branuel?  Why did I fight it so?  Was it because of HOW we had met...immediately after I'd dispatched a Ghoul and cut out its heart?  Or, was it the knowledge that it was Branuel's own nephew who had been slaughtering innocent humans and had very nearly killed me.  Or...perhaps it was the sense I had that he was keeping things from me...deep, dark things.
   "At some point you will have to let down some of those formidable walls of yours, my amour...and let him in."
   "Those formidable walls have been keeping me alive for longer than I've known you, Birdie," I say, using the nickname that he hated.
   "They've also kept you from opening up to us, and fully acknowledging your bonds."
   "Hey! I finalized the bonds with you and Walker, didn't I.  So what are you complaining about?"
   "Not complaining, my beloved, merely making an observation."
   "Well, you can keep your observations to yourself," I say petulantly.
   "Are you both finished?" Branuel says dryly.
   I turn to him and glare at him.  "Hardly, but I guess the rest will have to wait until we've hashed out our shit."
   "Hashed out our shit?" Branuel looks confused.
   "Another quaint Earth saying," Chamuel adds helpfully.
   "I do not like it."
   I snort, "Like that's news to me, dude.  I mean, what the fuck DO you like?"
   Branuel advances toward me and the look on his face is positively predatory.  "You.  I like you, my midnight flower."
   I narrow my eyes and hold out a hand to stave him off.  "You could've fooled me." And I'm aware that my voice comes out bitter and hard.  "You disappeared, Branuel." And now I can't hide the hurt in my voice.  "I...I...I nearly died.  And you just disappeared."
   "Midnight flower—"
   "—NO!" I shout, and suddenly all the pain, hurt and anger I'd been harboring toward him comes pouring out.  "You DO NOT get to call me that right now.  Hell, I don't know if you'll ever be allowed to call me that.  I'm...I'm..." I take a deep breath to try and calm my raging emotions. "I'm..."
   "Tell him, my beloved, just let it out." Chamuel says quietly.
   "I'm so fucking pissed off at you right now, Branuel that I hardly know what to do with all of my anger.  I thought I had my shit under control but clearly," and I let out a bark of bitter laughter, "...clearly I was wrong.  I don't have any control over it right now, because right now all I can think about it hurting you as badly as you hurt me."
   "Then do it, my queen."
   "What?" I ask shocked.
   "Hurt me."
   I blink and shake my head in disbelief.  "Are you kidding me right now, asshole?"
   "I never kid about pain, my beautiful queen.  Bleed me..."
   I draw back, "No...no...I'm not going to..." I don't have time to finish my sentence before he's attacking me with a sword.  I barely have time to dodge a very dangerous blow.  "Jesus Christ, what the actual fuck!" I screech, and materialize my own sword.  Thanks to Walker and our completed bond I've found materializing things to be a new little nifty power I possess.  I block a blow with my own sword and push forward.  "I'm not doing this with you, Branuel." I say, jumping back and looking for an opening,
   "Apparently you are," he says with a smirk on his handsome face.
I parry left and bring my sword down on his side, slicing him nice and deep.  Actually really deeply.  And despite my words, I feel a sense of satisfaction watching him bleed.  God.  What the fuck is wrong with me?
   "Nicely done, my queen." And I realize then that he isn't really trying.  He's letting me get in the hits...he's doing exactly what he had said...he's letting me bleed him.
   I drop my sword and hold out my hands.  "I'm done.  I'm not doing this." I swallow and am more than slightly surprised when Branuel dematerializes his sword and stares at me with those star kissed eyes of his.
   "Enough blood to sooth your anger, flùr meadhan oidhche?"
   I gulp, "I told you not to call me that."
   "And I remember telling you once that I do not take orders well."
Well, he had me there.  If there was one person I knew that couldn't take orders for shit, it was Branuel Or De A'lanuel.
   "How are you feeling, my beloved?" Chamuel asks.
   I look at him shocked.  "Shouldn't you be asking Branuel that, Chamuel? I mean, he's the one bleeding all over the fucking floor."
   Branuel smiles, presses a hand to his wound before licking his hand clean of the blood.  I make a moue of distaste.  "Eeeew, seriously, just eeew, Branuel."
   "Blood is life, flùr meadhan oidhche.  There is nothing distasteful about what I do.  As for this...it is very nearly just a flesh wound.  I shall be fine."
   I snort.  "That is much more than a flesh wound, you big liar."
   "I asked if you were all right, beloved because this...this was all about you, my amour." Chamuel says then.
   "The High Host is correct.  This...this was about you, and your need, my midnight flower."
   "I needed to try and kill you?" I say sarcastically.
   "Hardly," Branuel laughs then, and its a beautiful laugh full of dark promise.  "You weren't trying to kill me, flùr meadhan oidhche.  Remember I've seen you when you go for the kill...this...this was far from that.  This was...what do the human's call it...therapy."
   "You're totally batshit crazy." I say disbelievingly.
   "I do believe you've called me that once or twice before."
   "Try a hundred," I mutter.
   "And now...how do you feel."
SHIT! I actually DID feel better.  And I hated it.  I hated that it took hurting him to make me feel better about his abandonment.  I didn't like to hurt people.
   "I know my amour, I know."
   "NO! You don't know, Chamuel.  A little more to the right and I could've gutted him."
   "And he would have let you, my beloved."
   "And what the fuck does that say about me...about him...hell, about our fucked up relationship?  I mean, Jesus Christ, do we even have a relationship at this point?"
   "You will ALWAYS have him, my amour.  It is a certainty which cannot be denied no matter how hard you try to run from it."
   "I wasn't the one who was running, Chamuel." I say bitterly.
   "I know.  But perhaps he had good reason to run, my beloved."
   "You are talking about me," Branuel says dryly.
   "No, we're talking about the Pope, fuck yeah we're talking about you, you giant psycho."  I take a deep breath and close my eyes.  Suddenly I'm exhausted.
   "I...I am sorry, flùr meadhan oidhche."
   My eyes shoot open, and my mouth drops wide, "I'm sorry, what?"
   Branuel stiffens, "I said...I am sorry."
Perhaps there was hope for him yet.
   "You...you really hurt me, Branuel," I say quietly.  I hate admitting it.  But one truth deserved another.
   "I know, flùr meadhan oidhche"
   "Then...then why did you?"
   "Oh, my midnight flower, there are things...things that you do not know—"
   "—Well no shit Sherlock! And it's because you won't tell me anything!"
   Branuel closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and then opens his eyes, "I am the reason you have no family, flùr meadhan oidhche.  I am the reason you have been alone and adrift for most of your life.  I am the reason for all of your suffering."
WELL SHIT!