Frustration was let out through raspy breaths as though he were deprived of oxygen. His vision shook and he felt his heartbeat in his fingertips.
Aldin was thrown in prison by the clan’s secret guard for reasons currently beyond his comprehension. He did not know how long they would keep him. He just knew they had no right to do it so long as he was a citizen of the neighboring clan. It said that plainly in the several peace treaties it took for the two clans to tolerate each other. A government official, or the bloody queen for all he cared, better make themselves known soon. He certainly had a few strings of curses he had never used.
Shifting his concentration, he found himself staring at the flickering light just above his head. It’s glow made the wall around it look to be made of dirty amber bricks. One would expect to see a distorted image of the prison cell next to him. The candle was nearly burned out, a pool of wax flooding the bottom pan of the lantern like a thick milk and it ticked when it climbed over the sides and fell to the concrete floor.
Tick tick tick.
He slid on the indented wall until he hit the ground and the sound echoed down the hall on the other side of the rusted bars. His black, sweat-drenched dreadlocks dangled over his face and clung to his his forehead as sweat stuck to his facial hair in small droplets. The mere hours he had spent in Logi territory felt like millennia, which was to be expected from Aldin in almost any situation, really. He was certainly not known for his patience.
As far as he knew he had done nothing wrong. He was an innocent man falsely placed behind rusted bars because of overzealous armed officers dragging him away without warning. When he simply passed through the clan’s border in search of superior tools to help his blacksmith shop and tried to make friendly with the townsfolk he was suddenly being accused of “disruption of peace” and, eventually, “assaulting an officer,” Granted, that last one was his doing. “Disruption of peace,” he figured, was just them trying to come up with any meager reason to put an innocent foreign man into the stoney lonesome. The Lógis and the Sceadugengans had, to put it simply, a long history of war with each other. Years of torture and enslavement on both sides had led to a burning sensation of loathing between the two clans that any of the other clans on the outside could feel from the miles that spread them apart.
After the last Lógi victory, no less than 20 years ago, Allmektig (the central governing body of all four clans in the land of Freod) instituted several peace treaties and rules to keep the two clans from duking it out any further. Among said rules, “neither clan should imprison any citizen of the other over matters of cultural differences, nor any biased beliefs regarding its people.” Aldin knew for a fact that this law had been violated. Cultural differences or not, he still had rights under Allmektig that deserved to be upheld just as any other.
His pointed ears perked when he heard another sound, footsteps blundering through the eternity of the dungeon hall. Placing his hand on the wall for support, he hauled himself off the ground which set his lower back ablaze. It felt like someone were swinging fire dipped tongs onto his bones. He cursed his old age. A man nearing his 50s should never be expected to stand up on his own, Aldin grumbled in his mind, even when he firmly asserts independence in taking care of his deteriorating body. The clack of heels echoed throughout the chamber and the closer it approached the harder it pierced his eardrum. A script manifested itself in his mind, and as soon as whatever scumbag came into view it would be belted out wholeheartedly regardless of what they had to say.
Through his half lidded eyes he scanned the woman as she appeared on the other side of the bars, as her own eyes scalded every inch of his skin with the fire behind them.  Her hands squished into her hips as if she couldn’t find them in the excess skin under her offensively pink dress. The gaze of fire only burned brighter as he got closer to the bars. The brilliant script he mentally prepared flew out of his ears and he stood there with his mouth agape as though he were prepared to speak.
“Well, s’good to see the imbecile runnin’ this tirade,” Aldin said with a snide grin that was stretched when he pressed his face between the two bars. He bent over in a forward his eyes were level with her own, and her glare did not waver.
“Silence, ye insufferable demon,” she demanded, her scowl somehow deepening in her features which only amplified the crevasses on her forehead and at the corners of her lips. “I’ve only come t’ see the new convict. It’s been years since a Sceadugengan’d set foot ‘n our borders, let alone our prisons.”
Aldin chuckled in a way one would assume he was drunk, throwing his head back yet keeping a firm grip on the bars. “Demon?” he laughed. “Y’can call me whatever ye want, sweetheart, but I can assure ya that I have not violated no law. Well, inside of these borders, anyway.”
“Assaulting an officer surely counts as one, and slander against the queen is another,” she stated, her voice raised enough to get a small echo down the corridor. Despite this her expression softened to a rather condescending face, the kind one makes when listening to a child’s story even when he knows the little tot is lying.
He stared at her alleviated features and it felt as though he were now confronted with an entirely different creature. A creature that was much more… fragile, gentle. A creature he could not tear his eyes from. The feeling was passing, but had fogged his mind with a kind of frustrated confusion nonetheless. Yet even with such an angelic aura the face carried, her words stung like fire ants to his ego and made his belly boil in resentment.
“Alright, Queenie, the assault only happened after I was attacked for no reason other than ‘unauthorized mingling’. And, really, slander? Yer pedestal deserves to be knocked down a few pegs anyway,” he said, staring her down as one arm leaned against the bars with the other on his hip.
“Why, me?” she scoffed before flashing him a smirk. “Quite an interesting thin’ fer a Sceadugengan to accuse someone else of bolstering their ego.”
Aldin had a smile on his face that looked like it would explode into fury within seconds. He turned away from the bars, letting out a sarcastic laugh to regain his composure. This woman was unbearable, in every conceivable way. How could anyone with such an elegant and graceful disposition be so brutish?
“I see ya keep avoiding the fact that ya violated Peace Treaty 127, which involves not imprisoning my people over our different cultures or viewpoints. I understand, it’s hard trying to lead yer clan when ya have no lick of an idea how to. What with this situation we got ‘ere, and then the-” he cleared his throat “-incident involving a certain society of cannibals in yer region becoming known to the public. Of course, ya didn’t know anythin’ about that, did ya?” He smirked over his shoulder at her with the same condescending eyes she had casted to him earlier.
“Cannibals” was not entirely correct. The aforementioned society residing in the Lógi territory were infamous among the Wyrms, the mermaid clan, for fishing for their young and feasting upon them during religious ceremonies. They had been known to do this for around 200 years, and despite knowing where they resided, the Lógi had done nothing to stop this practice until word had gotten to Allmektig and the other two clans of Freod what was going on. The Lógi received so much flack from the rest of Freod that they decided it was best to wipe them all out. After 200 years of this, the society received punishment for their deeds a mere three months ago.
Her face twisted into the same nasty expression she bore when she first walked in, and her hands lifted off her hips only to be shaking in rage as though she wanted to reach through the bars to strangle his thick neck herself.
“Enough of your slanderous words,” she seethed through gritted teeth. “We could not just simply wipe out an entire tribe of people…”
Her words faded in his ears as he concentrated on her features. Her eyes lit up both with the lantern’s light and the power of the words she was shouting. They were golden like the jewels she wore around her plush neck. He figured she could not have been any younger than he was as the lines around her mouth and eyes became more visible. He could still see the tender and elegant creature underneath the creases, the creature that enchanted his eyes and made his mind race through the idea that one could age so gracefully. The mere thought of her being anything other than the belligerent beast she presented herself as burned in his mind, but tightened in his chest and made the angry soldiers in his mind sing. Perhaps it was simply her voluptuous form or her dominating nature that lit a fire throughout his body.
His eyes wandered, and he could see the rest of her in the dim light. Her portly body was accentuated by her tight royal gown, which had strips of gold lining on either side of her torso accounting for every curve and contour she possessed. The impressive girth she carried mimicked his own, which was an admirable trait among the people of his clan. Such a stomach was a symbol of wealth and prosperity as it showed they could eat hearty meals and were well off. Hefty meant healthy, and the queen’s health certainly made her glow even as his own shadow blocked her from the lantern’s light. She looked like a goddess incarnate, she acted like a goddess of chaos, and the thought both confused and delighted him.
It had become abnormally quiet. He ripped his eyes away from her torso and looked back at her eyes. Her brows were furrowed tightly and her mouth was hung open. He daydreamed of her lips before she spoke again.
“Aye! Jus’ what in the names of the gods do you think yer staring at?” she demanded, presumably for a second time. Her arms crossed over her chest, and he could not help but to stare there as well. “Well?!”
For once in what seemed in his entire life, Aldin was at a loss for words. His mouth continued to move as if to speak, but his mind could not conjure up a good enough excuse as to why he was staring at her other than that he simply enjoyed to. Before his mind could find a good enough reason in its graveyard of ideas, she grabbed him by the chin and pulled his face towards hers, and his cheekbones slammed into the iron bars as she brought him mere centimeters to her face in order to engrave her scowl into his mind, although all he could seem to remember was the rings of gold surrounding her pupils.
“Answer me!” she boomed, her voice carrying out to the corridor.
His body had a drastically different reaction than his mind. His mind ordered his body to screech back at her, to get it through her thick skull that his imprisonment was illegal and that she was not his queen, to turn her cheeks black and bloody with his bare hands, and strangle her through the bars, to watch as her face turned purple and the color drained from her eyes. Sure, he’d most likely be sentenced to death, but it’d be worth never hearing her screeching voice ever again.
His body, however, saw fit to grab her shoulders through the bars and bring her lips up to his. Every section of his head pounded against the walls of his skull as if to punish him for such a foolish, irrational act. He kept his eyes sewn shut as he did not particularly care for her reaction. A muffled gasp could be heard from her, but his body kept him firmly in place so he could not lift his lips off of hers. Her body was stiff under his mallet-sized hands that gripped her squishy arms as if they were his life line.
The lips that touched his suffocated him under feelings of pure desire and guilt. It was not unusual for him to lust from afar but definitely unusual for him to force himself on a woman in such a way. People of his clan were overbearing by nature, but they were no animals.
Finally, his body allowed him to release her. Regret was evident in his features. His face twisted in a grimace, his movements slow and rigid when he took a step back from the bars. He opened his eyes with the hesitance of the main star of a play just before the curtains parted and revealed a crowd of unfamiliar faces just ready to tear him down after a single mistake. He had already made a dire mistake, as shown by the incredulous face of the queen standing before him.
She stood there for what seemed like hours with her mouth hung open, as if she were looking for some clear reaction to the kiss a filthy foreigner had stolen from behind the bars of her own dungeon. Her face turned red despite herself, be it out of embarrassment or anger. In those hour long moments he noticed her eyes scanning him from head to toe, pausing at his lower torso. He folded his hands behind his back and tried to keep his focus on the flickering lantern that hung on the wall and not on the woman before him scanning his every feature in such depth.
Aldin cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck and wiping the sweat off. His neck  always sweated from underneath his dreadlocks, but her wandering eyes made it sweat excessively. He forced his reluctant eyes to look at hers, and in turn she allowed herself to look at his. Her face was unreadable, her mouth in a painful thin line.
Her brows lifted, as if she were intrigued. The queen unhooked a rusted set of keys from her dress and sorted through them until she found the right one. The clank of the keys against the bars rang through Aldin’s head and intensified the burning sensation of regret that shot through all areas of his skull. Whatever the queen had coming for him, it was not going to be pleasant. His heart wretched in his chest for the fear of what may come. As she opened the cell door, he thought of making a break for it. He could bulldoze right over her and slip through the door. He would be hidden in the thick forest just on the other side of the field before she even had the chance to call for her guards.
Despite his bold escape plan, his feet stayed in place even when he tried to move them as if they were bolted to the floor. He did not let his facial expression reflect his internal panic. His attempts to keep a neutral expression made it seem as though he were glaring at her as she approached him. His fists clenched and he jerked them up slightly, ready to throw a punch if necessary. With the gentleness of a falling leaf, she placed her hands on his shoulders and, much to his surprise, stole back the kiss he had taken.
Aldin’s eyes bulged from his head, and all coherent thought flew out the window.
As soon as her lips came, they fled. They took off down the corridor without a word passing through them.
***
“You are poison.” She seethed from the other side of the cell. Daylight cascaded down through the barred window, so bright that every visible speck of dust looked like a snowflake in a small flurry that only took place under the rays of daylight. The snowflakes clung to her as she stood in the burning light.
Aldin rolled his eyes at her, though in the near two months he had now been imprisoned he found it best not to argue with the queen, Cyneburga. After the exchange on his first night in the dungeon she had returned near every day since. The first few times were death threats and denials being spewed at him, saying she was out of her mind and had no idea what she was doing at the time. From what he cared to remember, she seemed to blame stress many times in her feeble explanation of her actions. The stress must have taken quite a toll for her to keep coming back to him.
In the time he had known her, he found she was quite the iron queen. Every word she spoke to him possessed a sense of power, a sense of dominance, a sense of overwhelming superiority. He watched her with a blank expression as she put her hair back into a neat, braided bun and straightened out her crown.
“Y’know, Cyneburga, if I’m so toxic ya could just let me go. That way I won’t be foulin’ up yer land wit’ my noxiousness and all.” Aldin chuckled, pulling his pants up by the belt loops.
She scowled at him over her shoulder with a hint of distaste, as though there were a foul smell in the air. His eyes alternated between her, the closed cell door, and the keys that hung loosely on her dress that begged to be swiped. He kept still, however, and found himself putting a genuine smile across his face. Despite himself, he knew that the times where she made herself known in his cell were the best and the worst of times while cooped up in this cage. Straightening out her sleeves and slipping on her shoes, she left him in the cell in a hurry.
“I’ve got to make haste if I’m to make it back before the guards make their rounds. I’ll be back sometime tomorrow,” were the words she threw over her shoulder as she locked the bars from the other side. He stared blankly as she disappeared down the corridor.
***
The blacksmith casted glazed eyes at nothing in particular, and cleared his throat as quietly as possible so as not to disturb the slumbering queen who rested her head on his chest as they sat. Their breathing was synced in the comforting stillness. The only thing in the room that moved was the fire of the lantern hanging on the opposite side. Cyneburga leaned against him, quiet as she dreamed. Aldin tilted his head to her, and rubbed her arm in a gentle motion. He smiled at her, both in warm affection and in a slight sense of victory. A hard-headed woman such as Cyneburga was difficult to catch in a vulnerable state. Her trust in him was surprising, and he felt honored to have it. He sighed quietly, resting his head on hers and felt the temptation of slumber drag him nearer.
They stayed there until dawn, the cell door hung wide open.
***
Aldin huffed when the guard jammed a blunt object into his back, but Aldin made no protest as he escorted him to the outer border of the Lógi territory. Another guard trailed behind them, his sword sheathed and pointed at him as if he would try to land a hit on either of them. These precautions seemed rather excessive, especially to Aldin. He was finally being released from prison, after almost eight months in the dungeon. What could he possibly do now that would endanger the clan or its people?
A snarl shown clearly on his face as he thought these extreme measures were under the queen’s order. He near spat at the ground at the thought of her. She had not shown up to his cell for weeks just before his release, a passive ‘goodbye’ being her only parting words after her last visit.
“I-I… I’ll see ya sometime tomorrow.”
Tomorrow never came. The empty promise it carried seemed to twist the knife in the wound.
After the guards had taken him miles beyond the clan’s borders and set him free of his handcuffs, he started the long journey back to Sceadugenga. There he would go right back to his work as a blacksmith and please his clients with the best damn armour anyone in the land of Freod had set their eyes upon, and she would never cross his mind again. Only as a faint, narrow sliver of memory at times when he would muse on his past. Aldin would pass on to his next life without the thought of her ever coming to mind again, and he would be better off that way.
With a slight limp in his step, he kept his head high. He had only just now wondered what happened to the cart of supplies he dragged along with him on this trip to the Logi Clan eight months ago. More likely than not, it was taken and pawned off throughout the Lógi clan. Well, good riddance, then.
Even in the open fields just at the edge of the forest, he could still see her features in near everything he set his eyes on. Her black hair waved with the long grass, the tree branches overlapped and formed her face between them with the trunk outlining the shape of her hips. He could see her soft, glowing features in the blank sky.
He gripped the only bittersweet memento he had to remember of her in his pocket, a glove she had forgotten on the last night he saw her. His brows furrowed, a reluctant smirk pulling at his mouth.
Perhaps he could find suitable tools in the Draca clan.