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Never Cruel or Cowardly - Dangerous Liaisons

Summary:

"When the woman finally stepped into the moonlight, Yaz’s eyes went wide as her breath caught in her throat.

Blonde hair framing a soft face and eyes shining with mischief, the woman shifted to let one hand rest lazily on her hip as her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. She was dressed in black breeches, a black shirt and a deep purple jerkin that was hugging the dip just above her hips.

“I have to say”, the woman said as she slowly walked towards Yaz, “from what I was told, I hadn’t expected Koschei’s little toy to be this…” – she kneeled down, a cool finger grazing over Yaz’s jaw and sending shivers down her spine – “pretty.”"

The roleswap AU for Never Cruel or Cowardly, or: what if Juliannah was the evil Lord Mistress of Karn, and maybe, just maybe, Yaz didn't mind being abducted by the blonde quite as much as she should?

 

Updates every Thursday, with occasional extra updates on Sunday.

Notes:

Hello everyone!

I offered to write this as a thank you when Never Cruel or Cowardly hit 10k hits. It was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but as those of you who know me will doubtlessly be unsurprised to hear, I once again had no self-control, and here we are with another multichap (although one that will be much shorter than the main story was ;) )

If you haven't read the Fantasy AU, this *should* hopefully still be readable. I have tried to include background info where needed, although a lot of the original lore of the Fantasy AU was left out in order to keep this short. If you feel like checking out the main story, too, that would absolutely make my day :)

This story is, as I said, a thank you to all the wonderful readers who encouraged me throughout Never Cruel or Cowardly - and those of you who left me those wonderfully kind comments at the end. You guys are the best, and I so hope you enjoy this (hopefully) fun little ride as well :)

Chapter 1

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Yaz should stop. She knew it as clearly as she knew the stars would shine each night. Somehow, she had found herself neck deep in a situation that could cause a political crisis, a war even, or at the very least a dangerous disagreement between the two strongest Alliance countries. 

And yet the only thing she could think about was how much she liked it.

It had all started a few months ago when, during her night shift, she had caught none other than the Crown Prince of Gallifrey himself in front of the city gates, trying to get through the gates by performing magic on the locks. Yaz’s training had made one thing very clear: any and all mages were to be arrested on sight, and brought to the capital’s dungeon where they would await their inevitable death sentence - the price to be paid for practising magic in the Alliance ever since the last war had ended thirty years ago.

Yaz, however, hadn’t been able to surrender the man to the appropriate authorities. It hadn’t been because he was the Crown Prince. No, Yaz simply had a fundamental disbelief in capital punishment. It was one thing to defend her own life, or that of others, in case of an attack, and kill in the process. It would have been a completely different one to bring death upon someone who had done nothing to harm her.

And so, instead of alerting her superiors or calling for help, Guardswoman Yasmin of the capital’s City Guard had ended up letting the Prince through the gates. She had guided him through the streets, after, and even handed him her City Guard cloak when she had noticed the man shivering miserably beside her. At the Northern Gate, they had said their goodbyes, and Yaz had thought that that would be it. The end of a strange story, and the beginning of a secret she would have to keep till the end of her days.

Two weeks later, there had been a call for new recruits to the Royal Guard at the palace. Not thinking much of it besides feeling excitement at the thought of becoming a proper Dame, Yaz had jumped at the opportunity, eager to finally make some progress in her career. The promotion would be a dream come true for Yaz, as she had spent years working herself to the bone in the City Guard, trying to make a good impression on her Captain. It had all paid off when her superior had wholeheartedly supported her bid for the new position.

The day the letter had arrived at Yaz’s parents’ house, informing her that her application had been accepted and she was to be knighted – after a training period, of course – Yaz had been over the moon.

Of course, once she had received her Damehood, she had quickly realised that things were a bit more… complicated than simply starting a new job. 

To the surprise of everyone around her, Yaz had been put on Final Shield duty first thing after finishing her training period and officially joining the Prince’s Guard. One of the highest honours to be granted to a Guard, being named Final Shield meant standing guard in front of the Prince’s bedchamber at night – making the chosen knight the final line of defence in the unlikely event that someone would make it that far. The weird sleeping schedules that came along with this particular shift hadn’t bothered Yaz in the slightest – she was, admittedly, a bit of a night owl – and all she had felt was pride about the good impression she must have made on the head of the Royal Guard, the Lord Protector herself.

On Yaz’s first night as Final Shield, however, it had all taken an unforeseeable turn. As she had stood guard in the empty corridor, watching the moonlight fall in through the windows, the door behind her had opened.

And then there he had been: the Crown Prince, announcing that he wanted to take a walk in the palace gardens. With Yaz.

Yaz would always remember the way she had stared at him, and how he had simply smiled, and walked off.

And so she had awkwardly accompanied him, unsure about whether or not this was a good idea – or if it was even allowed, really. But she had reminded herself that she had sworn an oath to protect the heir to the throne, and she couldn’t just leave him alone outside. So Dame Yasmin had trudged along, keeping her distance, nodding politely at the things he would tell her and refusing the bits of fruit the Prince had randomly offered her as he had plucked them from the trees.

When Yaz had gone to bed early that morning, she had tried to ignore how weird it had all felt. The Crown Prince had probably just felt somewhat indebted to her because of the way they had met, and this had been his way of thanking her – strange as it had been.

But then it happened again the night after, and then every night after that, and then something had slowly dawned on Yaz, and she had begun to feel just a tad uncomfortable.

The gardens were beautiful, Yaz could not have denied that. Rows of cherry trees, flowers in colours she had never seen before, their intoxicating smells making Yaz smile. She had liked spending time there, and that in itself wasn’t a problem.

No, the problem hadn’t been the beautiful gardens, it was the fact that Prince Koschei clearly also thought that Yaz was very beautiful.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she was, in fact, very much not interested in men.

It was kind of sweet, at first at least. The way he had brought her books, and talked to her about his childhood – Yaz had gathered he had never had much opportunity to do that. She had felt a bit uncomfortable after realising that he had come into her room at night after the fight for her Damehood – her final test before being knighted – to heal her wounds. It had been such a strange occurrence that at first, Yaz had been convinced that it had all been a fever dream, produced by the infected cut in her side.

But no, it had all very much been a reality, and now Yaz didn’t know what to do. So she simply went along, spent time with the Crown Prince as he desired – after all, she technically didn’t have a choice – and tried to remain as quiet and faithful to protocol as she could, given the situation. 

Of course, once somebody else inevitably caught on to their time spent together, they jumped to the entirely wrong conclusions.

And that was how she had found herself in a side street of Gallifrey’s capital – during what had just been supposed to be an afternoon out at the markets guarding Bill, the Duchess of Olew – trying to fight off a strange bird that had lured her away. The purple-eyed, silver-white feathered creature had sunk their claws into Yaz’s chest before she had been able to do anything about it – slicing through her armour like butter. Yaz had struggled, trying to fight the creature off as best as she could, but then something strange had happened:

Bit by bit, Yaz had lost feeling in her limbs, then her torso, and finally, her head, and a moment later, it had felt like her very mind was being ripped out of her body.

Then, the world around the knight had gone dark. 

 

 

“Hello Yasmin.”

Yaz tried, desperately, to blink her disorientation away. Everything about her body felt like it was in the wrong place, and her vision was clouded, foggy. She had trouble piercing the events of the last few hours together. Something about a bird, clawing at her chest –

Wait , she thought. Somebody had spoken to her, had spoken her name. With the greatest effort, Yaz moved her head, and saw a shadow in the doorway. Her features clouded by the darkness of the room, Yaz could still make out the way the woman was casually leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossed over her chest. The woman cocked her head, and Yaz saw a glimpse of white teeth, bared into a grin.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Her voice , Yaz thought, as she was finally able to take it in. It was silky, with an undeniable edge of danger flashing through underneath the sugary sweetness of it. Something about it made the hair on Yaz’s neck stand up, and at the same time, her heart was beating just a tad bit faster and harder in her chest.

When the woman finally stepped into the moonlight, Yaz’s eyes went wide as her breath caught in her throat. 

Blonde hair framing a soft face and eyes shining with mischief, the woman shifted to let one hand rest lazily on her hip as her lips curled into a satisfied smirk. She was dressed in black breeches, a black shirt and a deep purple jerkin that was hugging the dip just above her hips. 

Purple . The colour was supposed to mean something to Yaz, she knew it, but she was still too drowsy to figure it out. Her thoughts were all muddled and messy, and to her great shame, the only thing Yaz was able to properly think about was how sinfully attractive the woman was.

Everything about her screamed confidence, and Yaz had to force herself to look away as she realised she was thinking this way about the person who had very clearly just abducted her. She had more dignity than that, she sternly told herself.

“I have to say”, the woman said as she slowly walked towards Yaz, “from what I was told, I hadn’t expected Koschei’s little toy to be this…” – she kneeled down, a cool finger grazing over Yaz’s jaw and sending shivers down her spine – “pretty.” 

The appreciative tone didn’t exactly help Yaz to keep it together.

“Do you know who I am, Yasmin?”, the blonde asked, and Yaz swallowed as she shook her head. She definitely felt like she should know, but her brain was being very uncooperative. For a brief moment, she wondered if something was seriously, permanently wrong with her. She didn’t know what exactly had happened to her, but she was sure she had felt her soul, or whatever else it was, being pulled out of her body.

The woman tutted. “I am the Lord Mistress of Karn”, she purred, her finger still resting against Yaz’s chin.

Of course , Yaz realised, her mind finally making the connection between the colour of the blonde’s jerkin and the ruler of the Alliance nation – the only one in their country allowed to don that particular colour.

Before Yaz could say anything, however, the blonde’s face pulled into a scrunch, almost as if she was apologetic about what she was about to do – almost, but not quite. “This might pinch a little bit.”

The woman’s hands surged up to press against both sides of Yaz’s head then, and a moment later pain shot through her head as her mind began to squirm like a snake that someone was trying to hold firm in their grasp.

A second later, Yaz found that her thoughts were somehow being forced towards Prince Koschei, towards memories she had of him.

She’s reading my mind .

So that was why she was here, Yaz realised in a flash. She was being used to gain information.

Instinctively, Yaz began to struggle. She tried to keep her eyes open, to keep herself focused on the present. Even if she felt indifferent – or, if she was being honest, a little annoyed – towards the Crown Prince’s advances, she had still sworn an oath to protect him. 

Her vision was blurred, but she could see how the Lord Mistress’s face pulled into a frown, the cunning smile slowly dripping from her lips. 

“But”, she mumbled, a slight annoyance to her tone. “I don’t understand.”

In order to keep herself focused, and her thoughts as far away from the Crown Prince as she could, Yaz took to analysing the woman’s face in detail. She traced her jawline, then focused on the hazel of her eyes, and the small wrinkles of frustration on her forehead. When her gaze, seemingly no longer fully under her control, dropped to the Lord Mistress’s lips, Yaz suddenly felt her throat going dry.

Stars , Yaz thought, before she could stop herself, and then the Lord Mistress dropped her hands, staring at Yaz.

“You’re gay.”

She said it in such a dry, matter-of-fact way that it left Yaz staring at her, open-mouthed.

And then, the Lord Mistress of Karn threw her head back, and laughed. The proper, belly-kind of laugh that made her shoulders shake and her breathing become laboured.

“Oh my”, she breathed in between chuckles as she seemed to have regained some of her composure. “My poor boy Koschei. Falling for a woman that he could never have, how typical. Tell me”, she said, her eyes gleaming as she leaned closer towards Yaz again. At this point, the knight would have been able to count the golden specks in her eyes if she had wanted to.

Which she didn’t. She definitely didn’t want to.

“Does he know?”, the Lord Mistress asked, her amusement so clear on her face that Yaz almost smiled in return, stopping herself from doing so at the last moment. “Or are you enjoying watching him squirm?”

“I –”

“No”, the Lord Mistress interrupted, waving her hand in the air between them, “don’t answer that.” She paused for a moment, and regarded Yaz with clear eyes. The knight did her best not to squirm under the intense gaze. 

She felt like she was being turned inside out, and her skin went hot and cold all at once at the Lord Mistress’ proximity, the blonde still kneeling on the floor in front of her.

“He should have at least told you how to defend yourself”, the Lord Mistress said. “Because what you did wasn’t exactly… well, subtle.” She stopped, and then she was suddenly leaning forward, until her lips were next to Yaz’s ear and the Lord Mistress’ cheek was barely grazing the skin of Yaz’s own. Her voice turned into something that Yaz couldn’t describe as anything else than a low purr when she spoke her next words:

“I saw the way you looked at me.”

In retrospect, those exact words being spoken had been the moment Yaz had lost, and it had all begun.

Once the Lord Mistress pulled back, Yaz steeled herself for the worst. After all, she was a kidnapping victim who was no longer of any use to her kidnapper. Quite the contrary – letting Yaz go would be a big risk. So the knight watched with bated breath as the Lord Mistress slowly pushed herself off the floor and went to a shelf on the other side of the room.

With a weapon, then , Yaz thought, and she had to admit she was somewhat relieved at the thought of death by steel. The cold cut of it was familiar to her, and she knew it would be painful, but she definitely imagined being killed by magic to be worse.

To Yaz’s complete astonishment, when the Lord Mistress turned back around, she was holding a chess board.

Is she going to… whack me with it?

The blonde snorted. “No, you idiot. I’m going to beat you at it.”

Yaz felt like she was somehow in the entirely wrong place at the wrong time – like someone had decided to put on one of those plays in the marketplace, and had just dropped her into the middle of it, giving her no information on what the play was actually about, or what role she was supposed to perform.

The Lord Mistress let out an exasperated sigh as she sat back down on the floor opposite Yaz. “If I bring you back right now I’ll ruin my own cover”, she explained slowly, as if Yaz was a child and all of this was painfully obvious to anyone but her. “I made it look like street thugs took you – they wouldn’t just bring you back this soon.”

Yaz immediately wanted to ask how she expected her “cover” to still work once she was returned to the palace – and would be able to tell the Lord Protector what had actually happened – but the Lord Mistress was apparently way ahead of her, dismissively waving a hand as she began to set up the chess board. “Don’t worry”, she said, a delighted expression on her face. “I’ll wipe your mind before I put you back.”

The casualness with which it was spoken should have made Yaz flinch away from the woman, but somehow, her instincts were still not kicking in. A part of her, way at the back of her mind, was suddenly filled with curiosity. If the Lord Mistress was going to wipe her mind anyway, maybe Yaz could find out some things about her before that. Even if she was to lose the knowledge immediately after, finding out more about the elusive noblewoman tickled her. Nobody seemed to know anything about her – not even the council members Yaz spent hours listening to as they droned on and on about Karn’s newly elected Lord Mistress, and the supposed military movements on the border that she had ordered. 

“So”, Yaz said as she moved a pawn forward across the board, trying to sound as casual as she could all while hiding the slight shaking of her hand. “You seem to have gotten straight into your new duties, making sure your military is up to date on its exercises and everything?”

It was a weakly veiled attempt at gathering information, Yaz was well aware of it. But it was the best her battered mind could come up with right now. The woman in front of her remained quiet however, only briefly shooting her a look, one eyebrow raised and a twinkle in her eye. It felt like an unspoken challenge.

“Alright”, Yaz said, more than willing to take the blonde up on it. “Let’s drop the pretence” – she didn’t have the mind-power for it anyway – “who told you about the Prince and me? You must have someone in the palace who saw him parading me around the gardens.”

The words elicited a small chuckle from the blonde, and Yaz felt oddly satisfied. The Lord Mistress picked up a pawn of her own, slowly turning it in her fingers. They were slender, and milky-white, just like the rest of her skin.

Yaz tried not to concentrate too hard on them.

“Your spy’s a bit rubbish though, aren’t they”, Yaz continued, emboldened. “I mean, they couldn’t even figure out the feelings aren’t mutual, could they? Even my sister figured out I don’t like men, and she had barely started school when she did.”

The Lord Mistress placed her piece on the board, and a frown suddenly creased her brow. “Yes”, she said slowly. “They have indeed not been the best at their task.” She let out a sigh, and made her next words sound like an annoying chore that there was no way around doing. “Might be time to get rid of them.”

Immediately, the air in the room seemed to have gone ice cold, and Yaz swallowed hard. Had she just… Was someone going to die because of what she had said? The realisation made panic flare up in her chest.

“Oh, do calm down”, the blonde muttered, throwing her a brief look across the board. “I’m not going to kill them. It’s terribly messy, killing someone. No, I’ll just make sure they don’t remember me. Much like you, in a little while.”

She winked at Yaz, and despite the clearly spoken, threatening promise, Yaz felt her cheeks go hot.

Damn you , she thought, both to herself and the Lord Mistress.

At that, the blonde tutted and shook her head. “Language, Yasmin.”

That was when it finally dawned on Yaz. The Lord Mistress kept replying to things that Yaz was merely thinking . Apparently, there was no need for the blonde to touch her to read her mind – at least the surface thoughts – and Yaz felt embarrassment and shame wash over her at the fact that the realisation had taken her quite a while.

“Yes, Yasmin”, the Lord Mistress said, a slightly admonishing tone to her voice, “Well deduced. But I’m trying very hard to concentrate on this game right now, so if you could keep your thoughts down, that would be grand.” She placed a piece on the board, then, seemingly satisfied, leaned back. “Now, be a good girl and make your move.”

Something deep inside of Yaz stirred at the words, but she ignored it and focused instead on the game in front of her – as much as she could, given the absurdity of this entire situation.

Most of the rest of the game passed in silence, and Yaz would have almost been able to forget where she was – and who she was with – if it hadn’t been for the way the Lord Mistress’ gaze burned into her skin almost the entire time.

Yaz did everything to avoid returning said gaze. It felt safer this way, as if she would be opening herself up even more if she allowed the woman to look into her eyes.

By the time their game was over – Yaz had lost, hopelessly so – the first signs of dawn were showing on the horizon outside, and the Lord Mistress unceremoniously pushed herself off the ground, her eyes briefly glazing over.

It only took a heartbeat for the same bird that had attacked Yaz earlier that day to appear on the window sill.

The experience of travelling back to Gallifrey from wherever they had been – a room in the Lord Mistress’ mansion, Yaz presumed – proved to be as uncomfortable as the journey there. While the Lord Mistress went first, reaching for the bird’s feathers and disappearing in a purple crack of lightning that momentarily blinded Yaz, the knight herself was once again pulled away by claws.

When she regained consciousness in a side street in the Gallifreyan capital, she almost thought she was going to be sick. The world around her was spinning, and Yaz felt bile rise up at the back of her throat. She pressed one hand against a wall to her right, trying to keep her balance. But then, to her surprise, she felt a cool hand on her cheek.

“There, there”, she heard the Lord Mistress say, but it sounded in no way comforting. A moment later, something that was both too hot and too cold all at the same time ran through her veins, and it made Yaz gasp for breath. She felt as if she was a doll that had been propped up onto a workbench and was now, without any kind of care or caution, being twisted and turned until her limbs were back in place and all her joints worked the right way.

When the hand on her cheek disappeared and Yaz regained her breathing, she was, to her surprise, no longer feeling sick.

As Yaz’s mind regained its stability, she was finally able to properly take in her surroundings. They were close to the point where she had been taken, she registered, and judging by the colour of the sky above them, it was the early morning hours. 

Taking a deep breath, Yaz turned to the Lord Mistress, and braced herself for her mind to be thoroughly purged of the events of the night.

In the early morning light, the Lord Mistress took a step towards her, and hunched over the still physically shaken Yaz. The blonde’s hands hovered in the air next to her temples, and then something strange transpired.

Before Yaz could say or do anything, the Lord Mistress had dropped one hand, and brought the other around to press one delicate finger against Yaz’s lips instead. Then, she took another step forward, right into Yaz’s personal space. The knight’s heartbeat was suddenly thundering in her ears as the Lord Mistress leaned in, and for the briefest of moments, the absurd thought that blonde was actually about to kiss her flashed through Yaz’s mind. But then the woman stopped just before she would touch her own index finger – the only barrier left between her lips and Yaz’s.

“Can you keep a secret, Yasmin?”

The whisper, mixed with the Lord Mistress’ breath ghosting over Yaz’s lips, sent a shiver down Yaz’s spine, and before she knew what she was doing, Yaz realised she was nodding.

Satisfied, the Lord Mistress pulled back. “Good”, she said. “Because it would be a shame to break that pretty little mind of yours.”

A moment later, she disappeared in a flash of lightning, and Yaz was left behind, alone.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving a comment as they absolutely make my day :)

Chapter 2

Notes:

Hello everyone :D first of all OMG you guys' reactions on the first chapter made my day! I am so incredibly happy that you're here for another story in this universe - and some W!Master action ;D

So, without further ado: here we go!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Yaz spent her days after meeting the Lord Mistress trying to ignore it all, trying to pretend none of it had ever happened. After all, that was probably the best way to deal with it – she couldn’t come clean about it now anyway.

Not after already having lied about it. When Yaz had arrived at the palace gates, she had been brought straight to the office of the Lord Protector. She had had a chance, then, to tell the truth.

“I was kidnapped”, she could have said. “The Lord Mistress of Karn abducted me to gain information. She’s a mage, and she is plotting against the Crown Prince.”

But she hadn’t said any of that. Instead, she had lied about street thugs, all while her lips had still been burning with the ghost–imprint of the Lord Mistress’ finger pressed against them. Yaz stumbled her way through the story she was making up as she went, all while not knowing why she was saying the things she was.

Why she had decided to accept the Lord Mistress’ challenge, and commit an act of treason.

Afterwards, Yaz went about her days, trying to act normally – fulfilling her duties, having meals with her colleagues, attending training sessions. The stark reminder of what had happened came every day, however, when Yaz lingered around the weapon’s room as long as she could after training, so she would be in the baths alone.

She didn’t know how to explain the scars that now littered across her chest, and for some reason, she didn’t want anyone to see them, either.

Because sometimes, blood rushing in her cheeks, Yaz would sit in the warm water, and slowly trace the lines on her chest with the tips of her fingers, not knowing why she felt the urge, just knowing that she did .

Her colleagues, stars bless them, had been nothing but sweet to her since the attack-that-had-actually-been-an-abduction, making sure Yaz was doing alright after the ordeal.

The guilt made her stomach roil, but at the same time, she knew she couldn’t tell any of them. They had sworn oaths, too, and it was one thing to break her own, and an entirely different thing to potentially push someone else into breaking theirs, too. It would be their duty to report what Yaz had told them – but she knew that at least a few of them wouldn’t, and she did not want to carry that guilt on her shoulders, too.

Thankfully, she was spending the next two weeks off Final Shield duty, and so she only had to deal with the Prince’s looks, but not having to spend actual time with him. She did her best to look as professional as she could, avoiding his gaze, staring straight ahead, unmoving, back straight, hand on her sword. 

Judging by the Prince’s incessant looks, it wasn’t working.

The closer they got to the next shift change, the worse Yaz’s sleep schedule got. Sometimes, when she lay awake at night, she cursed the entire situation, and wondered if maybe she should have stayed in the City Guard after all. She should have known, she told herself, that the call for new recruits was linked to her meeting the Crown Prince, that the timing could not have been a coincidence. She had let herself be blinded by the career prospect, so maybe it served her right.

When Yaz walked back to her room the night before shift change, having grabbed some fruit from the kitchens because once again, she couldn’t sleep, she saw it.

This time, of course, Yaz knew what was coming for her the moment she recognised the flashes of silver-white feathers descending towards the window to her right. She could have jumped over to the window, of course, thrown it shut, and hoped for the best – or even shouted for help, if she dared. But instead, Yaz stood completely frozen, and watched.

The bird was in the corridor before Yaz could even give off so much as a peep, and then his claws sank into her shoulder, and she grit her teeth, instinctually struggling against the pull on her mind.

This would be easier if you just let me , she heard a distinctly disgruntled voice in her head, and a moment later, she realised it was the bird who had spoken to her.

So magical birds could talk. No big deal. That didn’t mean she would just let him –

Just let go for stars’ sake!

“Fine!” she grumbled, opening her arms to let the platter she had been carrying fall to the ground, and break with a loud clang .

He had been right, though. It was easier this way, and distinctly less unpleasant. She could feel her mind being pulled out of her body, but it was in no way as brutal as it had been the first time. 

Still, she lost consciousness halfway through, and when she came to, she was sitting on a cushioned chair.

Yaz blinked, and tried to shake off the dizziness. The room around her was blurry, but it came into focus quicker than last time, and she took in her surroundings. This time, there was a lamp lit somewhere in the room, and as her vision adjusted to the dim light, her head still spinning a little bit, she realised that she was in a private study. With a groan, she became aware of the ache in her shoulder, where the claws had dug in, and she tried to push herself off the chair.

And froze as pain instantly flashed through her wrists.

With a hiss, she let herself fall back into the chair, and steeled herself before she took a proper look at her wrists.

Purple flashes of light were coursing around them, some form of magical bind, Yaz reasoned. She let out a quiet curse.

“I thought we talked about your language last time, Yasmin.”

Yaz’s head snapped up at the voice. She looked over to her right, and there she was: sitting on a heavy oak desk, her legs dangling off it and her hands placed behind her, lazily holding herself upright as she let her eyes roam over Yaz from head to toe.

Ignoring the way her skin was suddenly burning, Yaz let out an annoyed groan. “What’s it this time? Do you need someone to play backgammon with?”

The Lord Mistress let out a snort, but Yaz swore she caught a quick glimmer of amusement in her eye.  It instantly caused a strange sense of pride to rush through Yaz. The expression was gone a moment later, however, as the blonde was back to simply looking at Yaz, her gaze intense to the point where Yaz wondered if she was trying to put some kind of spell on her.

“My, my”, the Lord Mistress said, and now the grin on her face was no longer hidden. “What kind of ideas you have about me, Yasmin.” She let out a sigh. “Nothing so sinister, I’m afraid, although I do like the way you think. No, I simply had to…” – she pulled her face into a scronch, as if still upset by the turn of events – “regroup a little after the revelation of our last rendez-vous ”, she said. “Figure out my next steps.”

“Which are?”

Yaz didn’t know what had gotten into her. She knew, of course, that despite the woman’s seemingly spontaneous show of mercy the last time she had met, it might have very well been a calculated act. It was well within the Lord Mistress’ power to still make Yaz meet a swift – or slow, and probably very painful – death. Still, the knight felt downright brazen tonight, something inside of her desperate to rile the Karnish noblewoman up, if just a little bit.

After all, she had been kidnapped twice now. And in a rather uncomfortable way.

The Lord Mistress, still sitting on her desk, cocked her head. “I want to figure out more about Koschei, of course”, she replied, matter-of-factly. “I realised I could still use you for information, even if you aren’t sleeping with him.”

The words made Yaz bristle, and she opened her mouth in defiance, ready to fire back.

“Have you told him, then?”

Yaz clicked her jaw shut, and the Lord Mistress laughed. It was a clear sound, high and light, and for a moment, Yaz could have let herself believe that this was a woman like any other. “Thought so”, the Lord Mistress said, still a grin on her lips. “Now, how about we have a little look…”

She pushed herself off the desk, jumping onto the floor. With two quick steps, she was in front of Yaz, bending down to lift her hands to her temples. As they came face to face, Yaz couldn’t help but stare into her eyes for a moment, before she was pulled back into the moment.

The Lord Mistress’ hands were on her a second later, and she felt a dull pressure inside her head. Closing her eyes, Yaz did her best to resist the way her thoughts were being pushed around into whichever direction the mage deemed most interesting.

“How about”, Yaz finally managed to hiss out between clenched teeth, “you just ask, instead of rummaging through my brain like it’s your private library?” 

The pressure in her head instantly stopped, and when she blinked her eyes open, she caught a brief look of surprise on the Lord Mistress’ face before it disappeared, replaced by a cold and calculating exterior. The blonde raised a questioning eyebrow.

“You would give me information about Koschei?”

Yaz tried to keep her thoughts as bland as she could, not wanting to give anything away to the woman who could apparently read her like a book. “Nothing that could bring physical harm to him, or anyone else for that matter”, she said sternly. “I have sworn an oath.” Her mind briefly flashed back to her father’s tales of the war times, and Yaz clenched her hands into fists. “And nothing that could start a war.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that”, the Lord Mistress sighed, lazily walking around the chair, one finger trailer over Yaz’s shoulder. The knight did her best to focus on something else. “I do prefer the elegant art of intrigue over rather messy acts of war”, the blonde continued, stopping behind Yaz to lean over her shoulder, close to Yaz’s cheek. “Or assassinations, for that matter.” She pulled back, and scrunched up her face as she reappeared in front of Yaz. “Not that I’m above murder, mind you, but that’s become rather a bit more difficult since I took on the purple. I like doing things myself, but somehow, people constantly seem to need my presence everywhere these days.”

Yaz didn’t want to point out how the Lord Mistress could very well just leave her mansion with her bird, drop into the middle of someone’s bedroom, and stab them to death.

The noblewoman snorted. “Not my style”, she said.

Right , Yaz thought. Poison’s probably more like it.

She wanted to hit herself the moment she saw the Lord Mistress’ lips lift into a grin that bared her teeth. “Right you are, Yasmin”, she breathed. “Maybe you do have the right ideas about me, after all.”

Yaz internally scolded herself. She really needed to stop thinking so loud, however that could be achieved.

The blonde didn’t react to that, and instead, she simply went to grab another chair from the other side of her desk, and pulled it towards Yaz. She sat down opposite her, and leaned back, crossing her legs as the tips of her fingers began drumming lightly against the armrest.

“So”, she began. “My questions, then. Has he figured out that the King is a mage yet?”

Yaz almost choked on her own spit. Spluttering, she stared at the woman opposite her. She couldn’t be serious, could she?

“I gather he hasn’t, then.”

“What –” Yaz began, still trying to catch her breath. “The King’s a –” She stopped, and stared at the Lord Mistress. “How do you know?”

The woman shrugged, but there was a mischievous glint in her eye. “I have my sources”, she said.

“Right”, Yaz said slowly. “That spy of yours. Or spies?”

The Lord Mistress licked her lips. “Nice try. Next question –”

“Wait”, Yaz quickly said, trying to shift in her chair to become more comfortable. The fact that she had to keep her arms on the armrests was starting to make her shoulders strain. The Lord Mistress must have noticed, but she made no attempt to increase Yaz’s comfort, of course.

“How do you know that His Royal Highness would tell me even if he knew? I don’t think he would entrust me with such a major –”

“Dear stars, Yasmin, I have seen the puppy eyes His Royal Highness ” – she said it with exaggerated devotion in her voice, and it caused a furious blush to light up Yaz’s cheek – “makes at you. Trust me, if he knew, you’d know.”

With a huff, Yaz let herself slump back into her chair as best as she could. “If you say so.”

“Now”, the blonde continued. “I was wondering about the regular shifts the guards are on. Is there a specific rotation that –”

“Nope.”

The Lord Mistress lifted an eyebrow.

“I said no information that could bring harm to anyone.”

“You know I could just make you tell me.”

Yaz gritted her teeth, trying to ignore how that statement made her feel. “You could, but then I would just sing the Gallifreyan Hymn on repeat in my head. I’m very good at giving myself earworms.” She took a deep breath, and, trying to keep her voice as steady as she could, began to sing:

“When Ruth, The Brave found this land

Blessed by the stars,

She built a nation, great and strong,

Watched over by the moon.”

Encouraged by the way the Lord Mistress’ face contorted in disgust, Yaz began to enthusiastically bellow out the next bit.

“Oh Gallifrey, my Gallifrey,

Beloved home of –”

“Enough!”

The Lord Mistress screwed her eyes shut, and pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “I hate that horrendously pompous piece of musical illiteracy”, she groans.

“Someone’s got a snobbish taste.”

“No, just taste , full stop.”

In spite of her best judgement, Yaz felt herself smile.

It was wiped off her face the moment the Lord Mistress’ eyes flew open, fixing Yaz with a glare.

Yaz swallowed, hard, suddenly extremely aware of the fact that she was playing with fire – in more ways than one. Yes, the Lord Mistress could kill her in a heartbeat, but if she wasn’t careful, she could very well end up on the gallows in the Gallifreyan capital instead.

“If you can’t tell me anything about the guards”, the Lord Mistress spoke again, eyes still fixed on Yaz in a way that almost made the knight unable to move, “then answer me this: what colour eyes does Koschei’s familiar have?”

Yaz frowned. “His… what?”

A look of surprise briefly flitted across the blonde’s face, but it was quickly tucked away. “His magical bird”, she said, vaguely gesturing towards the open window. “Like Caladrius. My familiar, the one who brought you here.”

Yaz remained quiet, trying to process this new piece of information.

“I know he has one”, the Lord Mistress continued. “I’ve seen him. Well, Cal has. But he didn’t get a good look at his eyes.”

How the hell did that matter, in any way? It must somehow, Yaz was sure of it. But she didn’t have an answer for the Lord Mistress, regardless.

With a huff, the blonde pushed herself out of her chair. “Shame”, she mumbled. “Next time, then.”

Almost absentmindedly, the Lord Mistress waved one hand through the air between them, and Yaz suddenly felt the pressure around her wrists subside. Tentatively, she tried to move her right arm off the armrest, and was surprised when there were no more binds holding it in place.

“Caladrius will bring you back”, the Lord Mistress spoke over her shoulder, already halfway over to her desk, pulling a piece of paper out of a drawer. “He’ll throw you into your room or… somewhere close enough, at least. He has his moods.”

Her legs slightly wobbly, Yaz got up from the chair. With a deep breath, she pushed her hair out of her face – she hadn’t braided it before leaving her room to go to the kitchens. When she lowered her hand, the sleeve of her shirt had ridden up, and she gasped.

Wound around her wrist, there was a thick black scar, with smaller scars running away from it like a spider’s net. Quickly, she pushed her other sleeve up as well, only to find the same scars on that arm.

Suddenly, the Lord Mistress was in front of her – Yaz must have gotten her attention with the gasp. Without asking, the blonde lifted Yaz’s arm to her face.

Her touch was surprisingly cool.

“Ah”, the Lord Mistress said. “I almost forgot about that. Can’t have you run around with these, people will know right away…” She sighed, and shot Yaz a brief look – she sounded almost resigned. But before Yaz could reply, the Lord Mistress had grabbed both of her wrists, and a familiar feeling shot through Yaz.

It reminded her of the way the blonde had taken her sickness away, after the bird – Caladrius , she told herself – had brought her back last time. This was just as strange and borderline unpleasant, and Yaz felt like someone was turning the skin around her wrists inside out.

When the feeling subsided and Yaz’s vision came back into focus, the Lord Mistress was still holding her wrists tightly.

Something about that, combined with the look in her eyes, suddenly filled Yaz with the inexplicable urge to drop to her knees.

What the hell is wrong with you?

She snapped herself out of it just before her knees could betray her, and tried to take a step back – but the Lord Mistress held on, a predatory look in her eyes that made Yaz realise that she had been holding her breath and her lungs were now desperately begging her for air.

“Pity I had to take them away”, the Lord Mistress said, and her grip loosened slightly. Slowly, the blonde began tracing Yaz’s right wrist with one long, elegant finger, and Yaz suddenly realised that she meant the scars.

The Lord Mistress sighed. “You looked pretty…”, she explained, her eyes moving up to find Yaz’s once again, “marked.”

Yaz sucked in a breath at the same time as something else happened with her body. Something new, something she hadn’t –

Oh .

Before she could properly think about it, claws dug into her back, and she was knocked straight out.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading :)

Chapter 3

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

She tried to tell him, really. After her second “meeting” with the Lord Mistress, the guilt inside of Yaz became so big that it started to make her feel permanently on edge. She was starting to worry that she had somehow taken advantage of Koschei, by accepting his generosity when it came to accessing his library, the midnight walks, everything. But how was one supposed to tell a Crown Prince “I am flattered, but actually, no thank you?”

The first night Yaz spent back on Final Shield duty, she stood in front of the Prince’s door, waiting with trepidation for him to appear. She had decided that her quiet and held-back demeanour was obviously not enough for the Prince to understand. Yaz would have to become a bit more obvious about stuff, even if she still couldn’t see herself actually saying the words to Koschei.

When the Crown Prince finally did appear, his expression was stoney. He wordlessly walked past Yaz, and she followed him down a familiar path towards the palace garden, and out there, to the gazebo standing in the middle of it. Once they had arrived, Koschei was silent for a long time, and for a brief moment, Yaz was gripped by the fear that he knew about her secret. 

A second later another, more horrifying thought crossed her mind.

Can he read thoughts, too?  

She waited for a reaction, with bated breath. But when the Crown Prince began to talk, it had nothing to do with the Lord Mistress at all.

“There’s going to be a Royal Ball”, he said.

He said the words with a heavy voice, as if it was a scheduled execution rather than a celebratory event held in his honour. Frowning, Yaz watched as he stood with his back to her, gazing forlornly into the distance. When he spoke again, he hinted heavily, in a way so dramatic that Yaz suddenly had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at his back, that he was to choose a wife from the attendants, and that he did not desire to do so.

Yaz stood behind him, her heart pounding, realising she had to be as nonchalant about this as she could. Ignoring his big sighs and the sad looks he was throwing over his shoulder, she tried to keep her answers as short and polite as always.

“I’m sure it’ll be a very festive occasion, Your Royal Highness.”

Another sigh. “Everyone will badger me about the political situation, Yaz."

Yaz suppressed a familiar annoyance - she had never given him permission to call her that, he'd just heard someone else do it.

"And I’ll have to dance with every eligible noble who asks me to", Koschei continued, apparently unaware of Yaz’s discontent. "And worse, I'll have to pretend I want to, like there isn’t… like I wouldn't much rather… like I wouldn't rather spend my time differently."

Yaz swallowed. She did not like where this conversation was going, or how close the Crown Prince had just come to stating his intentions towards her, more clearly than he ever had before. 

She forced her voice to sound polite, yet detached. “I’m sure there will be some lovely prospects for you at the ball, Your Royal Highness.” Ignoring the wounded look in the Prince’s eye, Yaz barged on. “I hear the Viscountess Mae is renowned for her beauty and wit.”

Somehow, his eyes only grew heavier, and sadder.

And there was not a hint of understanding in them, not a glimmer of realisation that maybe, if Yaz was saying these things, it meant that she actually wanted him to pick one of the women at the ball instead of her.

Dear stars, please not her.

Fine, more obvious it had to be, then. Yaz wracked her brain for a way to make the Prince understand, but the only thing Yaz could think of was talking about a former lover. Except she’d never actually had one of those.

Yaz took a deep breath.

“I’m sure you’ll find the right person, Your Royal Highness.” She looked past him, into the distance, as if reminiscing about something that happened long ago.

She really hated that she had to play around like this.

“There was this girl I used to know in the city once. Meant the world to me. We were…” – her eyes quickly darted towards the Prince, making sure he was listening – “ together , for a year. Then her father got a job in Arcadia, and she had to move away. Broke my heart. It took a long time to heal, but I know the perfect woman is out there, you know.”

Stars, she had become good at lying over the past few weeks. Yaz didn’t know whether or not she should feel proud or ashamed of herself.

The Prince finally turned around towards her, and looked at her with a smile. “I’m sorry you experienced this heartbreak, Yaz”, he said, his voice soft. “But it is lovely that you had the opportunity to experience this kind of deep bond at a young age already”.

Yaz blinked. That was not the reaction she had expected. The expression on the Crown Prince’s face wasn’t one of realisation, no he was looking at her like…

It took her a moment to understand what was going on.

Once again, the Prince had managed to phenomenally misunderstand what Yaz had been trying to tell him, and was now apparently doing his best to show her that he was, of course, supportive and open.

All that did was make Yaz want to grab him and shake him. Not also interested in women , she wanted to scream, right into his face, only!

But Yaz, of course, clenched her teeth and remained silent. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all anymore for the rest of the night, instead opting to simply nod along as the Crown Prince rambled on about the ball. All the while, a dull pressure was building in her chest, consistently pushing against her ribs and causing every other breath to get stuck somewhere in her chest.

As if her anxiety had not been high enough after the conversation, things immediately got worse the next night, when the Prince called her into her room.

Yaz had half a mind to decline, to simply stand her ground and say “I’m sorry Your Royal Highness, but I’d rather stay out here.” But then the man had already disappeared back into his room, and with a distinct feeling of unease, Yaz turned to follow.

She barely had time to take in the room – an absolute mess, books littering the floor, broken vials from what Yaz distantly recognised as alchemy sets covering a chair in the corner, a small fire burning and warming the room – before she understood why she had been called in here.

Sitting on the window sill was a copper-feathered bird, and next to him, Koschei stood with his chest puffed out and looking like a man who had just presented his suitor to his parents for the very first time. All Yaz wanted was for the floor to open up and swallow her whole as she faintly registered the Prince explaining to her who the bird was.

The pressure in her chest kept growing, and Yaz was beginning to panic, feeling like she wouldn’t be able to keep breathing. But then, it all subsided, just for a moment, when she remembered a question.

What colour are his eyes?

And as she looked back up at Koschei and his bird, Yaz made a silent note, trying not to think too hard about why she even was doing it in the first place.

In the following days, Yaz began to subconsciously search the sky for flashes of silvery-white. It was like an unspoken wish inside her, one that she didn’t even dare properly think to herself. And still, whenever she was outside or near a window, her eyes turned skyward, and the pressure inside her ribcage abated for just a moment as she imagined being taken away. Far away.

Treason , Yaz would then remind herself, again and again. You’re committing treason.

And still, she wanted her wish to be fulfilled.

It happened almost a week after Koschei had introduced Stymphalos to her. She was outside on the training grounds, alone in the middle of the night, going through a series of thrusts and parries, desperately trying to keep her mind occupied with the familiar movements.

The first thing she noticed was a gush of air, and her head immediately snapped up as she froze mid thrust. The moment she saw the familiar white wings, Yaz dropped her training sword and lifted her arm above her head, readying herself for what was to come. Caladrius came to sit on her arm, and cocked his head to fix her with bright purple eyes, so different from Sty's. 

For a brief moment, Yaz wondered what they meant. Then, she talked before Caladrius had the chance to.

“Just get it over with.”

She remained conscious that time, and it was one of the strangest things Yaz had ever experienced. After snapping at her for accidentally moving his wings – how was she supposed to have known that she was actually inhabiting his body, not just imagining it? – Caladrius flew her across the capital, and farther north from that. The views were beautiful, and some part of Yaz managed to take a moment to appreciate the fleeting landscapes underneath her: cities giving way to villages, to fields, and finally, to a large forest that formed the border between Gallifrey and Karn.

As a large building came into view, Yaz realised that this was the first time she was being allowed to see where she was being taken.

The mansion – the Lord Mistress’ official residence, Yaz assumed – was a sprawling, rectangular building, made out of thick stone and arranged around a courtyard in the middle. There were walls surrounding it all, and Yaz could see guards in purple tabards patrolling along them, torches in hand, swords at the ready.

Caladrius went straight towards a window on the second floor, and flew into the same study Yaz had been in last time. Before she could properly take in the room, the world around her turned and twisted, and Yaz had to grit her teeth – Caladrius’ beak? – in order to remain conscious. When everything around her came back into view, she was in her own body once more, pleased to realise that she was standing on her own two feet, not propped up against a wall or bound to a chair.

Opposite her, the Lord Mistress of Karn raised an eyebrow. “Willingly?” she said, her tone incredulous. “That’s new.”

“Don’t let it get to your head”, Yaz wheezed. Despite everything, she was feeling a little bit out of whack from the journey. “I don’t want to be here.” Liar. “I just like being conscious while travelling, that’s all.”

“Of course”, the  blonde replied, sarcasm dripping from her words. “That must be it.

Yaz decided to ignore her, and instead, straightened her back.

“So”, she said, “what’s it this time?”

“What’s it this time, Lord Mistress ”, the blonde replied, every word sharp as a knife.

Yaz tried to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine, and raised her chin in defiance. “I don’t think protocol needs to be observed when one was abducted.”

The corners of the Lord Mistress’ lips lifted ever so slightly as she slowly came closer to Yaz, stopping only once she had crossed the threshold and stepped right into the knight’s personal space. When the Lord Mistress spoke, her voice was dangerously soft.

“Were you?”

Yaz clenched her teeth, doing her best to ignore both her stumbling heartbeat as well as the voice at the back of her head that was reminding her of how she had been searching the sky for the Lord Mistress’ familiar.

“Yes, I was.”

The blonde let out a small, cold laugh as she turned away.

“If you say so.”

Yaz let out a breath as the woman reinstated the physical distance between them, and bit back a retort, instead remaining standing in place, her back straight, eyes fixed on one of the bookshelves on the other side of the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Lord Mistress walk over to the same chair she had sat in last time, and sit down.

“Well, if we’re not going to observe protocol, you might as well make yourself comfortable, Yasmin .”

There was something about the way the blonde said her name, something that made the hair on Yaz’s neck stand up and her throat go dry.

She tried, desperately, to ignore the fact that she somehow liked the feeling.

“I prefer to stand”, she replied, doing her best to keep her tone clipped.

The Lord Mistress sighed. “Suit yourself.”

Yaz allowed herself to look over at the woman then. She sat back in her chair, her legs – clad in black breeches – casually crossed. She wore a deep purple gambeson with golden swirls embroidered on it today, but she had left the top of it unbuttoned, letting the heavy fabric fall to the side to reveal just a hint of collarbone.

Yaz quickly looked away again.

“Still like what you see, then?”

She could feel the tips of her ears burn at the Lord Mistress’ casual comment, but Yaz decided that it was safest to ignore the woman’s question. She tried, as best as she could, to push her mind towards other things – bland, meaningless things. Like the way the stew had tasted that she had been served for lunch, or the fact that she needed to exchange the leather on her sword’s grip. Her concentration was quickly wavering, though, and she realised she needed something more concrete to occupy her mind with. Quickly changing her tactic, she began to scan across the room instead, taking in the shelves, the books, the decor.

Every single wall was covered by bookshelves, reaching from floor to ceiling. There was a small, wheeled ladder in the corner, hooked into the shelves in a way that allowed the person using it to slide along them. 

Aside from the shelves, the room didn’t have much to offer. The curtains were heavy, and the floor was covered by a doubtlessly expensive rug. Then, there was the desk of course – dark wood, with feet carved into lion’s paws.

Still trying to keep herself from looking at the Lord Mistress, she instead glimpsed at the surface of the desk. There might be some papers on it, some letters, and if she was smart enough, she could get close, and –

That’s when she noticed the alchemy set. She had seen some of them in Koschei’s room, the elegant and complicated structure of vials and tubing thus looking somewhat familiar. Yaz followed the greyish-blue liquid that was trickling through them with her eyes, and although she knew nothing about tinctures and remedies, she was sure at that moment that what she was looking at was neither.

Poison , Yaz realised, and she could suddenly feel her skin going cold as her heart began thumping in her chest. Was it meant for the Prince? 

Stars, what was she doing here? She needed to tell someone, needed to warn –

“Do calm down, Yasmin. It's not for him”, the Lord Mistress interrupted her inner ramblings. “You know what an alchemy set looks like, then. I assume Koschei… dabbles?”

Before Yaz could stop herself, her eyes had fallen upon the Lord Mistress. The other woman had cocked her head, and regarded Yaz with a curious gaze as she leaned back in her chair. Her right elbow was propped up on the armrest, and the tip of her thumb was casually placed against her bottom lip. Her other arm was hanging off the side of the chair.

There was something about the nonchalance of the position that practically screamed “power”. For a moment, it caused Yaz’s mind to go absolutely blank.

The Lord Mistress raised an eyebrow, and Yaz realised that a response was expected from her.

After a brief pause to regain her wits, Yaz replied: “Yes.”

“I see.”

Suddenly, a nagging question pushed itself to the front of Yaz’s mind, something that she had silently wondered about ever since the first time she had been brought here.

“Why?” she asked, finally turning to fully face the Lord Mistress. “Why are you so keen on… getting to him?”

It only lasted a second, but the corner of the Lord Mistress’ left eye twitched, and Yaz’s eyes widened ever so slightly. Oh, she had hit a nerve, apparently. Finally, finally something that she could press the other woman on, something to give Yaz a hint of confidence, if not nowhere near the upper hand.

Slowly, the Lord Mistress turned her thumb, pressing its pad against her teeth, all while keeping her eyes fixed on Yaz. Then, without batting an eyelash, she opened her mouth, and bit down hard.

Yaz flinched. 

The Lord Mistress stood up and lifted her hand over one of the vials in the alchemy set. In a slow and deliberate motion, she pushed the nail of her index finger against the pad of her thumb, and pressed out two droplets of blood. They landed in the apparatus, followed immediately by a low sizzling sound. A second later, the previously greyish liquid turned a glowing red.

Definitely poison , Yaz thought.

But when the blonde turned back towards her, all the knight could focus on was the single drop of blood that was still clinging to the woman’s thumb. A slow grin spread over the Lord Mistress’ face, then, and she lifted her hand, fixing Yaz with her gaze once more.

Then, she dragged her tongue across the wound in her thumb with one long, deliberate stroke. 

Yaz suddenly felt too hot and too cold all at once.

“Blue.”

The word escaped her like a breath long held, and was gone before she could think otherwise. After, it hung in the air between them, and Yaz felt herself clinging to it like a lifeline, offering the information to the Lord Mistress in a way that felt half like a plea, half like a prayer. “The familiar’s eyes are blue.”

With a satisfied smile, the Lord Mistress dropped her hand. “Well done”, she said softly, and Yaz drank in the praise as if it were the first drop of water in an endless desert. “Very well done.”

Notes:

Aaand our dear knight has finally slipped... Which means we'll be turning up the heat a little bit in the next chapter ;D

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 4

Notes:

Hello everyone! In this chapter, there's a brief physical altercation, so if that is something that might upset you, this is your content warning :) If you want a more detailed cw and decide after that whether or not you want to proceed, you can go to the end notes, I've put it there!

Stay safe and that said, I hope you enjoy this chapter ;D

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The fourth time she met the Lord Mistress, Yaz made a mistake.

She was met with the blonde in very casual clothing – soft sleeping trousers and a creme-coloured shirt, its string laced loosely over her chest – sitting in front of an already set-up chessboard. It was placed on a low table, between two comfortable chairs, in front of a roaring fireplace.

This is different , Yaz thought. For starters, they weren’t in the same room as the last three times. The first night, it had been some sort of guest room, the second and third, a library. But this room practically screamed “personal and intimate”.

It took Yaz a moment to realise that she was standing in the Lord Mistress’ private sitting room – in other words, the inner sanctum of her private chambers, only topped in intimacy by the bedroom. These kinds of rooms, Yaz knew from the Gallifreyan Palace, were off limits to anyone who wasn’t a close friend, or family, and even then only accessible through personal invitation from the ruler themself.

For a brief moment, Yaz wondered what the friends and family of a woman like the one in front of her looked like. Were they as cunning and sly as she was? Or was she an outlier? Yaz realised that she couldn’t imagine the Lord Mistress as someone's daughter, or sister, or anything else.

She almost missed it, but there it had been again: that slight twitch in the blonde’s left eye that Yaz had seen last time, too, when she had asked why the Lord Mistress had it out for Koschei.

Yaz decided to ignore it, for now, and instead began to carefully approach the other woman, like a wild animal that could lash out at her at any moment.

“So, what am I here for today?” she asked.

The Lord Mistress let out a long, exaggerated sigh, and placed her chin in the palm of her hand. She proceeded to drum her fingers against her cheek, and Yaz almost thought there was not going to be an explanation this time – she wasn’t one to give much away, after all. When the Lord Mistress did reply, however, what she said came as a complete surprise.

“I’m bored”, the blonde admitted, annoyed and reluctant. She gestured towards the chess board with her free hand, almost disinterestedly. “Make your move.”

As if pulled by invisible strings, Yaz walked towards the chair. The situation, already abstruse before, was reaching new levels. Still, Yaz sat down opposite the Lord Mistress, and, her body still moving out of its own accord, she leaned forward to move a pawn across the board.

The Lord Mistress tutted. “That is a bad opening, Dame.”

Annoyance flared up inside of Yaz, and she huffed, flinging her reply across the table like a knife. “Then teach me better, Lord Mistress.

She realised the moment the words had left her lips that it was the first time she had actually addressed the woman by her proper title, and the expression that spread across the blonde’s face was nothing short of absolute delight.

“Somebody finally learned their place”, the Lord Mistress said, and Yaz fought to keep her cheeks from burning. The blonde let her tongue run over her teeth, and then provided Yaz with her second surprise for the evening.

“You’re blocking a square for your knight, and exposing your king to unnecessary danger.” She leaned forward, and placed the pawn back where it had been. With the way her shirt was loosely laced up at the top, it fell open ever so slightly, offering Yaz a direct view of a milky strip of skin running in-between the rise of soft flesh.

What the hell is wrong with you! 

Yaz felt herself go hot, then cold, then hot again, but she couldn’t rip her eyes away. The Lord Mistress was going on about which pawn to open with, and Yaz found herself silently praying to all the saints of all the stars and constellations that the Lord Mistress was too preoccupied with explaining chess to realise where Yaz’s mind had gone.

“Eyes on the board, Yasmin.”

Yaz’s gaze snapped up, only to find the Lord Mistress looking her dead in the eye with a deeply self-satisfied smirk on her lips.

With a groan she didn’t manage to suppress, Yaz let herself fall back into her chair, turning her head to study the shelf on the wall to her right. Opposite her, the Lord Mistress snickered as she waved her hand across the board.

“Why don’t you try again.”

And so she did. Yaz lost, of course, absolutely obliterated by the woman in front of her. She knew it was partially due to the view she got every time the Lord Mistress leaned forward to move a piece across the board – it made it impossible to concentrate on any kind of strategy, no matter how sternly Yaz told herself to get a grip.

She was also pretty sure that at least at some point, the blonde started doing it fully on purpose.

Sitting there, watching the Lord Mistress grin with glee as she regarded the board, showing her impending, indisputable victory, Yaz realised something. It was strange, really. She knew she should feel uncomfortable – after all, she was sitting here with someone who thought nothing of peace and alliances, someone who Yaz was sure had poisoned a person or two in her life, and ached to destroy the very people Yaz had sworn an oath to protect. It should make Yaz sick to her core. And she felt many things: embarrassed, annoyed, curious, confused. But the thing that stood out to her more than anything was the thrill ran up her spine whenever she was in the company of the other woman. It made her feel more awake – and alive – than anything else ever had, bar the feeling of facing an opponent in the duelling rink.

It was that feeling of pure adrenaline, rushing through her veins and making her heart beat fast, that pushed Yaz to say what she did next.

“You never told me why you have it out for him.”

Slowly, the Lord Mistress leaned back in her chair. She was holding her King with both hands, turning it around while touching it with nothing but the tips of her slender fingers. 

“Who says it's him I have it out for?” she finally asked, gazing intently at the chess piece in her hands, and Yaz frowned in confusion.

“You keep asking me about him”, Yaz said. “And everyone knows you want to break the Alliance.”

“Just because I want to mess with him doesn’t mean it’s actually him I have it out for, Yasmin. And the Alliance has its usefulness.”

Yaz cocked her head as thoughts began racing through her mind. The Lord Mistress had admitted to wanting to hurt the Prince, but there was more. Someone else, someone whom it would cause great pain if the Prince was hurt.

Her eyes fell upon the chess piece in the blonde’s hands, and the scales fell from her eyes. The King .

“Why?”

Hazel eyes met brown across the chessboard. “Because”, the Lord Mistress said, her voice a low growl, “he left someone behind to die, a long time ago.”

Yaz tried to keep up. There was only one possible scenario for this that she could imagine. “In the war?” she asked.

A reluctant nod.

“Who?”

The Lord Mistress didn’t reply, instead she made her final move, placing her King back down on the board.

“Checkmate”, she said, leaning back in her chair.

For a while, the Lord Mistress seemed content to bask in her victory. She had gone silent, her eyes fixed on the fireplace, dancing flames reflected in her eyes. As Yaz regarded her, she chose to accept the Lord Mistress’ unwillingness to give her any more information on this particular topic, for now, and so decided to try something else instead.

“There are rumours about you, you know. In Gallifrey.”

That seemed to peak the blonde’s interest, and she returned her attention to Yaz, eyes gleaming. “Oh?”

“They say you’re a…” – she inadvertently dropped her voice, even though they were alone, causing the Lord Mistress to eagerly lean forward in her chair – “a War Mage. That you practise the worst kind of magic.”

Disappointment instantly appeared in the Lord Mistress’ eyes, and she let herself fall back, her face pulled into a scrunch. “Is that all?”

“Is it true?”

Yaz knew the answer to it, deep in her core. Of course she knew. She might know barely anything about magic, except for what Koschei had monologued to her about on his walks, and the things every child in Gallifrey whispered to each other when their parents weren’t listening. But Yaz had known what kind of magic the Lord Mistress wielded the moment she had seen the scars around her own wrists. One of the Captains at the palace bore a scar just like that, crawling up from his neck and covering one cheek. He had fought in the war, and had been one of the few lucky enough to survive coming face to face with a War Mage.

“Yes.”

She held Yaz’s gaze, and Yaz found that once again, she couldn’t look away as she was drawn in by golden specks dancing across hazel irises.

War Mages are… unnatural. Nobody is born like that, you have to twist yourself into it.

The memory of Koschei talking to her in the garden one night hit her with full force, and Yaz was asking her next question before she could think better of it.

“What were you before?”

She knew she had misstepped the moment she saw the look of ice in the Lord Mistress’ eyes. Her playful demeanour had vanished in an instant, her expression turning to stone and her jaw set. The blonde pushed herself out of her chair, and grabbed the chessboard. Unceremoniously, she pulled it up and turned it around, causing the pieces to clatter onto the table.

“That is it for tonight, Yasmin.”

Her voice was as cold and sharp as a knife’s edge, and Yaz froze in her chair. All she could do was watch as the Lord Mistress used one hand to wipe the chess pieces off the table and into the turned-around chessboard, which she then snapped shut.

She went and threw it all into the drawer of a desk in the corner, then turned back towards the room.

She looked instantly annoyed at the fact that Yaz was still there, sitting in her chair.

“I said”, the Lord Mistress repeated, her voice low and a warning edge to it, “we’re done here.”

Slowly, Yaz pushed herself out of her chair. She realised in that moment that she did not want to leave – she wanted to stay, and to find out more. There were so many questions she had, so many things she wanted to know about the woman in front of her. A slow realisation had begun to creep up inside of her over the course of the evening: that maybe, just maybe , the Lord Mistress wasn’t quite the villain people made her out to be. She was dangerous, that Yaz did not doubt for a second, but there was more to her. So much more, and Yaz found herself desperately wanting to know it all. So before she could stop herself, her mind was racing through all the moments she had been in the blonde’s presence. Who had the Lord Mistress lost in the war? And it was a personal loss, Yaz was sure of it. Was this loss what had driven her to change herself, to turn her own magic inside out and twist it into the dark matter that was now coursing through her veins?

It hit her suddenly, like a racing horse at full speed.

The way the woman had taken Yaz’s sickness away and realigned her mind and body, after Caladrius had brought her back into the city the first night.

The way the Lord Mistress had made the scars on her wrists disappear.

The way the wound on the blonde’s thumb had been closed after she had licked the blood off of it.

The words broke free before Yaz could think of the implications of revealing her realisation.

“You were a Healer.”

Her back hit the wall behind her with full force, and all air was knocked out of her lungs even before long fingers wrapped around her throat, and pressed. Hard.

“Yasmin.”

The Lord Mistress’ voice, so close, her face an inch away from Yaz’s, whose vision was blurring at the edges as her entire body was suddenly screaming for air.

“I remember asking you a question, when I first released you”, the blonde said, deliberately slowly, clearly relishing in the way Yaz’s life was stuttering underneath her fingertips.

The memory appeared, fresh and vivid in front of Yaz’s inner eye. Can you keep a secret?

“Do you remember?”

She’s speaking too slowly , was all Yaz could think. I need air. Air, please, air.

Black dots appeared in the middle of her sight, and it took Yaz’s entire willpower to nod – there was no chance of getting any words out with the way the Lord Mistress’ fingers were pressing against her windpipe.

There was no doubt she was leaving bruises behind.

The thought, despite everything and to Yaz’s great embarrassment, sent a flash of something through her body. Something Yaz had neither the will nor the mind to process at the moment.

The Lord Mistress came even closer, her body now almost pressed against Yaz’s as she bared her teeth. “Do I have to revise my assessment of you, Dame?”

Yaz was going to pass out any second now. She could feel it, could feel the lull of unconsciousness at the back of her mind. A part of her wanted to give in, to succumb then and there to the hands of the Lord Mistress. But Yaz pushed through, and, with the greatest effort, managed to shake her head.

As quickly as it had appeared, the pressure against her throat was gone.

The Lord Mistress took a step back, reestablishing the distance between them, and Yaz coughed and spluttered. Both of her hands instinctively flew up, wrapping around her own throat in a protective motion.

As if nothing had happened, the Lord Mistress turned her back, and walked away.

“I’ll see you soon, Dame Yasmin.”

As Yaz lay in bed that night, she couldn’t stop herself from tracing the tips of her fingers over the spots on her throat where she could still feel the Lord Mistress’ hands burning into her skin. She would need to be careful about hiding the bruises that would bloom there by morning, she realised.

But in that moment, all she could think of was the memory of the blonde pressed against her, in complete control, holding Yaz’s life in her hands.

It made something dark and hungry rear its head deep inside of Yaz, and the more she thought about it, the stronger the flames grew that were licking over her entire body, her insides catching fire in the process.

With all the willpower and self-control she had left, Yaz screwed her eyes shut, and resisted the urge to let her free hand dip into the place where the fire burned the hottest.

At least for a little while.

Notes:

content warning: non-consensual choking

 

Thank you for reading! :)

A̶l̶s̶o̶ ̶w̶h̶o̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶s̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶p̶l̶a̶y̶ ̶"̶D̶a̶m̶e̶ ̶Y̶a̶s̶m̶i̶n̶'̶s̶ ̶k̶i̶n̶k̶ ̶l̶i̶s̶t̶" ̶B̶i̶n̶g̶o̶

Chapter 5

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The sound of steel hitting steel was filling the air around Yaz, and for the first time in weeks, she properly felt like herself again. As she parried blow after blow from the knight opposite her, her confidence grew, making her stand a little taller as she finally landed a hit straight across the other knight’s visor.

She stepped back, and gave a brief bow towards her opponent, who pulled their helmet off to reveal long red hair.

“Well done”, Amy grinned. “It feels like you’re finally back on your feet, Yaz.”

With a smile, Yaz rid herself of her own helmet, and nodded. “Yeah. Feels good.”

As they moved together towards the benches on the side, each woman grabbing a waterskin, Yaz felt Amy’s questioning eyes on her.

“Spill”, she finally said with a sigh, knowing the redhead wouldn’t hold back anyway.

Amy immediately turned towards her, the waterskin forgotten at her side. “It’s just…” she began, then stopped, her face falling into a frown. “Well, you’ve been retreating a lot. Taking meals in your room, only showing up for your shifts, and your mind has been in the clouds during training a lot. I’m not going to make you tell me what's going on, but… it seems like you're doing a bit better again. That right?”

Trying to fight down the blush that was threatening to bloom on her cheeks, Yaz busied herself with taking long gulps from her waterskin. Of course she had had to take meals in her room for a while now – because she could not be seen outside of uniform, since there was a literal handprint on her throat. Angry red at first, it had quickly turned purple, and then a bright yellowish-green. Either way, it was not something she could have explained, and so she had pulled back from any activity that would involve her being seen in casual clothing, and not in her full armour that concealed her throat.

“I’m good, yeah”, she finally said as she slowly set her waterskin back on the bench. “Had some trouble sleeping, so I’ve been taking extra naps. I’m better now though.” 

The bruises had faded, only a faint outline still visible, and in order to see that, one would have to get very close.

Of course, an image of the Lord Mistress, pressed tightly against her, flashed through Yaz’s mind, and she had to suppress a groan as she chased the thought away. When she looked over at Amy, the knight seemed less than convinced.

“If you say so…” she said slowly, then added: “But if there’s anything you ever want to talk about, I’m here.”

Yaz swallowed the guilt that immediately surged inside of her at the words, and nodded. “Thank you.”

With a pat on Yaz’s shoulder, Amy turned towards the entryway to the armoury.

Instead of following her, Yaz stayed behind, watching as the other knights filed off the training grounds, their Captain deep in conversation with one of them. Yaz's eyes stuck to the black scar on his neck, until he disappeared into the palace. When she was all alone, she let herself fall down onto the bench, letting out a long breath.

The moment she closed her eyes, her thoughts inevitably returned to the Lord Mistress. She had so many questions after their last encounter. The revelation that the blonde had been born a Healer, of all things, had thrown Yaz. It shouldn't fit with the woman’s character at all, yet somehow, in a strange way, it did. And then there was the other knowledge Yaz had gained of course, that the Lord Mistress had lost someone in the war, and the King of Gallifrey was apparently responsible for it. 

Yaz frowned. She didn’t know the Lord Mistress’ exact age, but she would guess that the woman was around thirty years old, maybe a bit older. Which meant that she couldn’t have been more than two or three by the time the war ended.

From that, only one conclusion seemed realistic: that the Lord Mistress had lost a family member. A parent, maybe? Both of her parents were no longer alive, that much was clear, since she held her House’s title – the Marquise of Theta.

Suddenly, Yaz realised something, and her eyes flew open. She blinked a couple of times, adjusting to the dim light that now surrounded her – the sun had begun to set behind the palace towers already – then pushed herself off the bench.

If the Lord Mistress had a family member that had fallen in the war, then Yaz could find out who that had been. Koschei had given her a key to his library, and as much as Yaz hated relying in any way, shape or form on the Crown Prince’s unwanted generosity, she couldn’t help but find it useful in that moment.

After a quick detour to her room to grab the key, Yaz decided to stay in her armour, both because she was back on Final Shield duty – so it would save her some time to not get changed – and because walking down the corridor to the Crown Prince’s library wouldn’t draw any attention if she wore her cloak and pin. Still, as she made the first step into the living spaces of the palace, her heart beat loud and fast in her chest. She wasn’t supposed to be here while off duty, and if Yaz ran into one of her Captains – or worse, the Lord Protector, who knew the schedules of every knight like the back of her hand – she would come under pressure to offer some kind of explanation for her little excursion.

When the door to the Prince’s library finally came into view, Yaz let out a slow breath. She quickly took off her gauntlets in order to manoeuvre the small golden key into place, and once the lock opened with a soft click , she rushed inside and pulled the door shut behind herself.

It was a beautiful room, that much Yaz had to admit. Shelves upon shelves of ancient tomes, some of them looking rather valuable. In the dim light, Yaz searched for a candle and matchsticks, and found both on the desk on the other side of the room. The desk was right next to a large window, and Yaz walked away from it before she dared light the candle - she did not want to risk anyone seeing shadows moving about in the library, and sound the alarm for an intruder.

Now being able to see a lot better, she made her way through the shelves, walking past section after section. There was quite a large collection of books on various branches of science and nature, and an equally impressive yet a bit smaller collection of philosophical texts. Only when she rounded the corner into a small alcove did Yaz find what she had been looking for.

Perched on the top shelves sat five large, doubtlessly heavy books in black leather covers. The lettering on their spine – fading gold – read:

 

History of the Great War in Five Volumes.

 

Standing on the tips of her toes, Yaz tried to reach for them, and cursed when she found herself missing an inch or two. She looked around for a ladder or something similar – briefly remembering the one she had seen in the Lord Mistress’ library – but there was nothing. Muttering underneath her breath, she placed the candleholder down on the floor, and made her way back to the desk, where she grabbed the heavy chair. She logged it all the way back to the history section, trying not to think about the damage her steel-covered feet might do to the upholstery.

Miraculously, she managed to grab a hold of the final volume in the collection without any major tearing appearing on the chair. Still, instead of sitting in it to read, she chose to sink down on the floor instead. Her back leaning against the bookshelf, the candle still on the floor next to her, Yaz began to read.

The book detailed the final three years of the war, and Yaz had to skim entire chapters that seemed to go on and on about various tactical movements across the battlefields – as interesting as she found them, it was not what she had come here for tonight. Then, there were the chapters detailing the crimes of the War Mages: minds being ripped from bodies, horrible scars caused to brave soldiers, torturous mind-reading that had driven even the best knights insane.

The more Yaz read, the bigger the lump in her throat became. 

Still, it was not what she had been looking for, either.

It was only when she arrived towards the end of the volume that something piqued her interest.

The final months of the war brought the death of the Most Honourable Lady Beatrice, Lord Mistress of Karn, the Marquise of Theta, behind enemy lines. She was the fourth Karnish leader to fall to the war, yet the events surrounding her death have been unclear, and remain a cause for speculation among historical scholars, giving rise to numerous theories.

 

Some scholars stipulate that the Lord Mistress had planned on attacking the Terserian forces, yet the military movement failed. Others speculate that she fell victim to the Polarfreyan Assassination Division, notorious for their swift dealing with foreign leaders during the war.

Another, much more rarely heard theory, poses the question if the Lord Mistress – a skilled mage herself, by many accounts – could have been killed by any other than a War Mage. The scholars who propagated this theory believed that said War Mage was of Karnish origin, and had sworn their allegiance to another noble in their country, wanting them to ascend to leadership. This theory seems to correlate with the rumours that the Lord Mistress had decided to pursue peace in the final year of the war, a change of course that is believed to have been heavily criticised by the Council of Lords in her home country.

The final push towards ending the war, however, came with the assassination of the Crown Prince and Princess of Gallifrey through an unknown agent. The events brought King Alistair the Twelfth of Gallifrey to seek an Alliance with the Polarfreyan Lord Chancellor, their combined military might forcing both Karn and Terserus into accepting the possibility of peace talks.

 

Yaz stared at the page, frowning in concentration. One line pulled her in more than any other: “Death behind enemy lines.” Was this who the Lord Mistress had talked about? They were related, that much was clear, as this former Lord Mistress bore the same title as the current one: the Marquise of Theta. But Yaz knew many lines of succession had been warped through the war. Entire family branches had been obliterated, leaving distant great-great-cousins who had been leading simpler lives to suddenly find themselves with an estate, the responsibility over an entire province on their shoulders and a dukeship on top. Was that what had happened to the current Lord Mistress, as well?

Curious to find out more, Yaz flipped the page, but what caught her eye next was not a paragraph, or some piece of information.

Neatly slotted in between the pages was a folded piece of parchment, wax-sealed. Yaz stared at it for a moment, then carefully picked it up, bringing the seal closer to her eyes.

A crowned lion – the seal of the King. And not only that, judging from the brittle parchment, it was old. Very old. Potentially…

It couldn’t be. What would an unopened war decree from the Gallifreyan Sovereign himself be doing here, hidden away in a history book?

With a jolt, Yaz realised that the bell in the tower was ringing out the evening hour. Which meant that, at this very moment, she was supposed to take up her shift in front of the Crown Prince’s door. She jumped up, almost knocking over the candle in the process, and slotted the letter back into place with trembling fingers. This time, as she stood on the chair, she could hear the distinct noise of cloth tearing, but she didn’t have the time to dwell on it. Instead, she blew out the candle, grabbed the heavy piece of furniture, and dragged it back to its place.

When she arrived in front of the Prince’s room a couple of moments later – to the raised eyebrows of her colleagues, who thankfully didn’t say a word – her mind was still running in circles.

Yaz had sat out to find answers to her questions that night, and somehow, they had only multiplied, swirling in her head and making her feel dizzy.

She realised, then, that if she truly wanted to know more about the Lord Mistress, she had to dare to ask again.

At the thought of slender fingers wrapping around her throat once more, a shiver ran down Yaz’s spine. 

Deep down, she knew it was not born out of fear.

Notes:

Plot? In MY what was supposed to just be a smutty one-shot?? It's more likely than you think.

Also don't worry, our favourite blonde shall return next week ;) if all goes well, there'll even be an extra update at the beginning of the week :D keep your eyes peeled for some homo-erotic swordfighting to happen...

Chapter 6

Notes:

Me: has 1 (one) training session with a messer
Also me: I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I'M GONNA DO WITH THIS KNOWLEDGE

As promised, here's your extra chapter for this week! Hope you enjoy ;D

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

With a dull thud, her sword struck the hay dummy in front of her. The grip on her hilt tightening, she grit her teeth, and moved into the next drill. She had to squint in order to see the target in front of her, the only light coming from the stars shining above, but she wasn’t going to stop. Her laboured breaths forming small clouds in front of her mouth in the cold, she struck the dummy with an uppercut, hard.

It didn’t matter that it was the middle of the night, or that she was supposed to be in bed recovering from her Final Shield shift, recuperating for the one tomorrow.

All she knew was that she didn’t want to be on this shift anymore. She didn’t want to have to spend time alone with the Prince, she didn’t want to –

“Your lip! What happened?”

Another cut, this time from above, making the construction in front of her wobble and creak. Tears began to sting in her eyes, but she blinked, forcing them away.

If she couldn’t get off the shift, she would at least make sure that she wouldn’t get hurt during training again.

“It’s nothing, Your Royal Highness. It happened in training. Simply part of the job.”

The memory, still so fresh, crept up on her, making her mess up her footwork. Her next hit was feeble, barely grazing the dummy, and she let out a curse as she readjusted her legs before beginning the drill again.

 

“Here, Yaz. Let me.”

Without waiting for her response, he reached forward, his thumb grazing over Yaz’s lower lip as he stepped into her personal space. Her entire body froze, unable to say or do anything. With a smile, he let the golden lights appear in his hand, and Yaz could feel her burst lip tingling, until it was smooth again and there was no more pain.

And still his hand lingered.

 

With the next swing, Yaz could hear the crack of the wooden beam underneath the hay. It stoked a fire inside of her, and before she knew it, she had swung the sword back around, and brought it down again.

“Yaz… I –”

And again.

“I wanted to…”

And again .

“Your Royal Highness, I don’t –”

With a crack, her final hit broke the arm off the hay dummy, sending it flying off. It bounced on the ground, clattering loudly in the empty courtyard before it came to a skittering halt next to a bench.

Yaz stood still in the middle of the training ground, her chest heaving, her eyes screwed shut.

She wanted to rip the feeling from her lips. It felt like his thumb was still there, still lingering, and she could still feel his breath ghosting over her face. She had avoided a kiss at the last possible moment, ripping up her shield between them and using it as a wall to hide behind, allowing her to step back.

It was ironic really, and Yaz almost wanted to laugh: for the first time, she had used her shield to protect herself, but it had had nothing to do with what she had been training for.

“Open your eyes, I don’t want you to get a fright and wake half the palace up.”

With a jolt, Yaz ripped her eyes open, and found Caladrius sitting on top of the hay dummy. His head was cocked as he was looking over towards the broken piece of wood, still lying by the benches. 

“Most impressive” , he said, sounding anything but. He turned his focus back towards Yaz. “She requires your presence. She said – and I want it noted that these are her words, not mine” – he paused, staring at Yaz until she nodded, then she heard a sound akin to someone clearing their throat in her head before Caladrius continued – “Be a good girl and come along. I need your wits sharp when you arrive.”

Yaz’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. It had been almost three weeks at this point, and she had begun to fear that she had messed it all up last time by blurting out her realisation like that. But here was Caladrius, telling her that the Lord Mistress wanted her to come back.

The moment her fingertips touched Caladrius, the world around her tilted out of focus.

When she came back to her own body a while later, she realised three things at once:

One, she was standing outside in the dust, and would it not have been for the sprawling landscapes she had seen through Caladrius’ eyes only moments ago, she would have thought she had not travelled anywhere at all.

Two, she was still holding her longsword.

Three, the Lord Mistress stood opposite her, and the sight of her made Yaz’s head spin.

The blonde was clad in a dark purple gambeson, leather straps holding it closed around her form. She was wearing black trousers stuffed into soft, black leather boots. A belt was wrapped around her hip, a pair of black gloves tucked into it. From her hip hung a very ornate rapier, its golden, polished guard shining. Her hair had been pulled back into a short ponytail, a couple of rebellious strands framing her face.

“Good morning, Yasmin”, the Lord Mistress said, and Yaz suddenly became aware that the sun had begun to rise over the hills behind the mansion. It was bathing the courtyard in a soft, orange glow, hitting the Lord Mistress from behind and causing her hair to shimmer golden, like a crown.

The blonde raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lip twitching. “A crown?” she said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “My, my, Yasmin. I think you’re getting ahead of yourself a little bit, there.”

Yaz resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the same time as she fought down the heat that crept into her cheeks.

“Good morning”, she grumbled, avoiding the blonde’s gaze to look around instead. “Why are we outside?” Something inside of her still made her resist to call the other woman by her title, and it tickled her to see the familiar flash of annoyance cross the Lord Mistress’ face.

“Because”, the Lord Mistress said, taking a step towards Yaz. “My sessions with my fencing master have been a terribly boring ordeal for a while now, and I thought I’d mix it up a bit. We’ll duel.”

Yaz’s mouth fell open as she stared. “We’ll what ?” Surely the leader of Karn wasn’t about to hand a knight from (what she saw as) an enemy nation a weapon to hurt her with.

“Who says I’ll give you a chance to hurt me?”

Yaz couldn’t help it. Her gaze travelled from the heavyweight weapon in her own hand over to the thin blade hanging at the Lord Mistress’ side.

The Lord Mistress clucked her tongue. “Oh, don’t worry”, she said, “we won’t be using either of those. Take off your armour.”

Yaz froze, and she was about to ask if she had heard right, but then the Lord Mistress had already turned around to reach for something lying on a bench. She tossed it towards Yaz who was quick enough to catch it before it hit the ground.

Another gambeson, and a pair of trousers to go with it.

The Lord Mistress crossed her arms, and looked at Yaz expectantly. The knight looked at the garment in her hand, then back at the blonde, the tips of her ears burning. “Would you mind?” she mumbled.

The Karnish woman rolled her eyes, and made a show of slowly turning her back towards Yaz. 

“You Gallifreyans are so unbelievably prude .”

Yaz decided to ignore the woman’s antics, and began to pull off her armour. With trembling fingers, she unclasped her cloak, then went about removing the metal pieces one by one, taking care to put each one down on the bench next to her, all in the right order. Then, painfully aware of the fact that she was now almost naked, safe for her long tunic, she quickly slipped into the trousers, and then the gambeson – all while watching the Lord Mistress out of the corner of her eye, trying to ignore the heat that was creeping up her neck at the realisation that the other woman was doing the same.

Maybe Yaz didn’t mind as much as she should.

When she pulled the gambeson on, something unfamiliar hit her nose. There was an alchemical smell to it, although not an unpleasant one, and underneath it, something else, something more delicate…

Cherries.

The realisation took Yaz by surprise, but it was quickly overturned by an even bigger one.

When she turned back to fully face the Lord Mistress, she realised that they were now both wearing purple.

Nobody in Karn was allowed to wear purple, unless they were the nation’s leader herself.

“Don’t get too excited”, the blonde said as she fully turned back around. “I don’t exactly have a lot of other colours in my closet. Now”, she continued, “about the weapons.” She walked over to a small stand, and pulled something out. “I was thinking, something that we are both unfamiliar with, to mix things up a little bit. Here.”

Yaz frowned as she was handed a weapon. It looked like… well, for lack of a better term, it looked like a kitchen knife. A very long, very deadly kitchen knife, that for some reason also had a crossguard, with a ring guard set into the middle of that on one side.

“What is this?” she asked. She took the weapon into both hands, slowly turning it around to inspect it. It had a very sharp edge, she quickly realised.

“That”, the Lord Mistress explained, twirling her own blade around experimentally, “is a messer. Blacksmiths around the country have been forging them to circumvent the Karnish ban on commoners owning swords. I thought it would be fun to give one a spin.”

Yaz followed the edge of the blade with her eyes, frowning. Fighting with these things did not sound like a good idea to her – especially given that the weapons weren’t blunt. A gambeson, no matter how padded, didn’t seem like the right outfit for it either, and she found herself eyeing her armour on the bench next to her.

“Oh, do come on, Yasmin”, the Lord Mistress said, grinning. She leaned forward, and tapped the bottom of Yaz's chin with one finger. “Live a little.

Yaz lifted her head, and locked eyes with the blonde. There was a challenge in the Lord Mistress’ eyes, and it lit a spark inside of Yaz – no, that wasn’t quite right. It stoked the spark that Yaz herself had lit when she had beaten up the hay dummy in the palace courtyard. Maybe spark wasn’t quite the right word either. Hunger. Yes, that might be it.

“What do I get if I win?”

A daring question, she was well aware. But that dark thing inside her was rearing its head, and it was indeed hungry for the challenge.

The Lord Mistress laughed, bright and cold as she pulled back. “I see”, she said. “Well, let’s think.” She let her thumb run over the edge of the blade, and once she arrived at its tip, she pressed. A second later, a crimson drop of blood ran down bright steel, and the Lord Mistress’ eyes turned dark. “How about”, she said, her voice low and filled with danger, “we don’t make it about who wins in the end.” Her eyes flew back towards Yaz, and the knight almost gasped at the pure lust for blood she saw in them, clear as day. “How about”, the blonde repeated, her lips curling into a grin, “we make it about the number of cuts.”

Yaz’s thoughts were racing. She should say no to this, she knew that, of course. The entire proposal sounded incredibly reckless. But the hungry thing inside of her was licking its lips, eagerly.

“Answers”, she said. “I want an answer, for every cut.”

“That”, the Lord Mistress said, “is a very dangerous thing to ask of me, Dame Yasmin.”

Yaz took a step towards her, entering the other woman's personal space. The Lord Mistress' gaze was intense and almost impossible to hold, but Yaz stood her ground. 

“That’s why I want it."

The Lord Mistress’ expression changed into something that Yaz couldn’t quite place. “Alright, then”, the blonde finally said, and she pulled the gloves out of her belt and slipped them over her hands. “Answers you will get, Yasmin. As for me…” she paused, cocking her head as she gave her right glove a firm tuck. “I will think of something.”

Of course the woman wouldn’t tell her. Of course she would want it to hang over Yaz’s head like a sword, until one day, she would let it drop.

Nevertheless, Yaz nodded, too eager to get what she wanted. “Agreed.”

“Perfect.”

An odd kind of clarity washed over Yaz then, rinsing everything else out of her system. As they went to stand opposite each other in the duelling rink, the knight felt like she could hear every little bird outside the mansion’s walls, could see every outline of every stone that formed the edifice around them, could taste every flower that was blooming in every room of the building.

She lifted her sword in front of her forehead in a fencer’s salute, mirroring the woman on the other side, then let it drop to her side.

The first hits were experimental, both women getting used to the feel of the weapon in their hands. It was much lighter than anything Yaz was used to, which doubtlessly gave the Lord Mistress an advantage, given that the blonde was used to training with a rapier. It was, however, also shaped much more closely to the longsword Yaz usually carried, albeit shorter, of course, which the knight figured would even things out.

They really were meeting on equal footing, for the first time since they met, Yaz realised.

Another hit from the Lord Mistress came seemingly out of nowhere, quick and deadly, aiming for Yaz’s head. Instinctively, she pulled her messer up, twisting the blade horizontally over her head in order to parry.

The moment the two weapons clashed, she realised something.

Pushing her messer up like she would her longsword, she hooked the crossguard into the blonde’s blade, and quickly twisted her wrist, bringing her weapon around a full three hundred and sixty degrees.

The Lord Mistress stumbled back with a hiss, gritting her teeth as one hand flew up to her temple.

From the tip of Yaz’s blade, a single drop of blood fell into the dust at her feet.

Yaz grinned. “One”, she breathed.

The Lord Mistress was flying towards her before she could bathe in her victory. This time, as Yaz tried to parry, the blonde stepped to the side, bringing their blades parallel and then shifting even further, until the blade slipped from Yaz’s knife onto the back of Yaz’s hand.

When the Lord Mistress pulled her weapon downwards in one strong swoop, a searing pain shot through Yaz's wrist. 

Instinctively, her right hand let go of the weapon, and she caught the glee in the Lord Mistress’ eyes. The blonde darted towards her, lifting her weapon for another cut.

Yaz ducked down, and caught her messer with her left hand at the last possible moment. Twisting it up into an uppercut, she managed to avoid the blonde’s blade.

The tip of her weapon missed the Lord Mistress’ chin by a hair’s breadth.

“Pays off to be mixed-handed”, Yaz breathed, and with a flash of annoyance in her eyes, the Lord Mistress jumped back, reestablishing some distance between them.

Yaz dared a quick look at the angry wound on her main hand, blood running from it.

In the middle of the rink, the Lord Mistress stood, her chin lifted, a smirk on her lips. 

“One.”

With a groan, Yaz readjusted her stance.

And jumped forward. This time, she did not hold back, forcing the Lord Mistress to parry strike after strike. Every time she thought she was about to score another hit, the blonde managed to twirl herself out of the way, until finally, she ducked, and Yaz felt a familiar pain flash through her left calf.

“Two.”

Stars damnit.

She wanted to wipe the grin off the Lord Mistress’ face so badly. And so she quickened her pace, moving through the same drill she had practised with her longsword before. She saw the Lord Mistress’ face becoming increasingly concentrated and slowly, even frustrated, until finally, Yaz turned her blade at just the right moment.

Her blade sliced into the blonde’s gambeson, and right through it.

"Two."

When they stepped apart, the Lord Mistress was clutching her side. She looked in pain, and furious .

But Yaz couldn’t help the grin that spread across her own face now. Emboldened by her second hit, she rushed into another set of attacks. The next time the blonde tried to run her blade around Yaz’s as their weapons met, the knight decided to try out a more risky play.

Wrapping her free hand around her messer’s blade – a dangerous idea, she knew – she pushed her hilt forward, and hooked it into the crook of the blonde’s elbow, all while keeping her blade pressed against the blonde’s.

It created the perfect lever.

Pushing with one hand and pulling with the other, she managed to force the blonde to lose her balance, sending her stumbling towards her.

For a moment, everything else around Yaz disappeared as the Lord Mistress came literally falling into her arms. Her body – it was smaller than Yaz had realised until now – pressed against Yaz's, and when the blonde looked up, they were so unbelievably close. So close that Yaz's throat suddenly caught on fire with the memory of strong fingers pressing against it. 

She realised too late that the weight against her weapon’s guard was gone.

Somehow, the Lord Mistress had managed to free herself from Yaz’s trap by dropping her arm and winding herself out of the strangely intimate embrace they had found themselves in.

The next thing Yaz knew, she saw a blade coming at her from below, and then its tip sliced into her cheek, deep. 

Letting out a small cry, she stumbled backwards, but the Lord Mistress wasn’t going to let her opportunity slide. Before the knight could properly think to defend herself, the other woman did two things: she hooked her crossguard into Yaz’s blade, and twisted it, and at the same time, used her free hand to wrap it around Yaz's sword hand, twisting her wrist in the other direction.

With a yelp, Yaz dropped her sword – for good this time – and a second later, the Lord Mistress let go of her hand, and reached for Yaz’s gambeson instead, ripping her towards her.

Cool steel settled against Yaz’s throat, and the knight swallowed.

The Lord Mistress’ eyes were gleaming, the golden specks in them even brighter from the way the morning sun was hitting them. Her face was reddened from the exertion, and more strands of hair had fallen free from her ponytail.

She looked manic, and all Yaz could think of was the urge to surge forward, and crush her lips against the Lord Mistress’.

The blonde raised an eyebrow. A challenge. “Well?”

Still staring into hazel eyes, Yaz whispered four words:

“I yield, Lord Mistress.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading :D I'll see you back here on Thursday with the next chapter :)

Chapter 7

Notes:

For those who might have missed it: there was an extra update on Monday :)

And to everyone who commented on the last chapter: thank you! So glad everyone enjoyed the homoerotic swordfight :D

Now, here's a brandnew chapter for you all:

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Stars, Yaz, you look like death walking.”

Yaz let herself fall onto the bench in the dining hall, and let out a low grunt. “Gee, thanks, mate.”

Ryan shook his head. “No I didn’t mean –” He let out a breath. “You just look very tired.”

With a sigh, Yaz reached for the loaf of bread in the middle of the table. “Just haven’t been sleeping well”, she replied. Never mind that she actually hadn’t slept at all the previous night.

Cold steel against her throat, gleaming eyes and soft lips only inches away. For a moment, she leaned forward, and then –

“I’m just worried about you”, Ryan said, ripping Yaz back into the present. She held on to the loaf of bread just a little too tight. “I know Final Shield duty can be tough” He leaned over, and sympathetically patted Yaz on the arm. “You wouldn’t be the first one to be drained from it – other knights have been there before you. Just make sure you’ll get some rest in between shifts, yeah? We are of no use to the Prince if we’re too tired to raise our swords.”

The Prince. Her oath. Treason.

Soft lips pulling back just before she could reach them.

Yaz quickly turned around, and grabbed a steaming mug of tea from the servant that passed by their table.

She took a small sip, and instantly burned her mouth.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

Without noticing, the thumb of her free hand had slowly begun moving up and down her cheek, feeling the smooth skin that had been slashed only hours ago.

The Lord Mistress, one glove pulled off her hand. Yaz, reaching for her, stopping at the last possible moment. 

A quietly whispered "Please", and a questioningly raised eyebrow as the blonde looked up.

“Heal it, please.” And then, in thoughts she knew could be heard: I don’t want him to touch me.

“Huh?” Ryan said, frowning. “Did you say something?”

Yaz pressed her lips shut. Her thoughts were too loud, apparently quite literally so. She tried to push the images away, not quite successfully, as they lingered at the back of her mind.

A glove being pulled off the other hand. Skin against skin, soft yet surprisingly cold.

The Lord Mistress’ thumb pressing into the wound in Yaz’s cheek.

A hiss of pain, a tingling sensation as magic coursing through nerves, then abruptly stopped.

“There.”

And still, a hand that lingered.

Shaking her head – in response to Ryan’s question just as much as in an attempt to chase the memories away – Yaz reached for the cheese in the middle of the table. “I’m all good. I just didn’t sleep a lot last night, but I promise I’ll rest up in a few days, once I’m back on the day shift.”

Ryan, looking less than convinced, popped a grape into his mouth. “If you say so.”

For a while, they ate in silence, even though Yaz’s thoughts were as loud as ever.

After the Lord Mistress had healed the cut in her cheek, Yaz had gotten to ask her two questions, and the Karnish woman had answered as promised. Yaz had been right – the former ruler of Karn, the Lady Beatrice, had been related to the current Lord Mistress, albeit not as distantly as she had expected.

Clenched teeth, and a steely expression in hazel eyes. 

"You've been doing some research."

"Yes."

A pause, then finally, an admission: 

“She was my grandmother.”

Yaz took a bite of cheese, and washed it down with tea. Somehow, the revelation should have made her want to investigate even more, but instead, it had been the answer to her second question that had truly sent her spinning.

“Why do you keep calling me here?”

Before she could dwell on the answer she had received, two more knights appeared at the table. Clara let herself fall onto the bench with a groan, while playfully elbowing Amy in the side.

“I’ll get back at you for that”, she said, a glint in her eye.

“Will you?” Amy asked, grinning. “I didn’t think you really stood a chance.”

“Oi! I was just distracted by… I had the sunlight in my eyes!”

Amy laughed as she reached for some bread. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Did you guys duel?” Yaz asked, curious to hear more, and to finally focus on something that wasn’t the Lord Mistress. The duel between Amy and Clara hadn’t happened in training yesterday, so it must have been a private affair.

Something flashed across Amy’s face for a moment, and she avoided eye contact as she grabbed a mug of tea. “Yeah.”

That was not the usual enthusiastic response one would get from Amy when it came to all things swordfighting, and Yaz frowned. “When?” she asked.

“Today”, Clara replied, apparently much more eager to give details. “We had a little showdown planned for ages. It’s been so long since I managed to beat her.” She let out a dramatic sigh as she looked over towards Amy, who busied herself with stuffing large bites of cheese into her mouth. “And apparently it will be longer still.”

Amy, instead of saying anything, took another sip of tea. For a brief moment, she glanced up at Yaz, and their eyes met.

A strange feeling settled in Yaz’s stomach, and Amy dropped her gaze.

Before breakfast?” Ryan groaned. “How masochistic do you have to be… when did you guys get up?”

Clara laughed. “Before dawn! Sun rose just as we got started. Although this one” – she nodded towards Amy – “was already out there practising when I came down. Swordnut.”

Yaz froze, one hand halfway across the table as she had been reaching for more fruit. All feeling drained out of her face as the meaning of what Clara had just said settled in her bones.

No. No, it wasn’t possible.

“When did you get down there, Amy?” she asked. She was trying to make it sound like a lighthearted question, adding a small laugh at the end. It sounded nervous and distorted to her own ears.

Amy looked at the piece of bread in her hand, then slowly lifted her eyes and fixed Yaz’s across the table. “Early enough.”

The answer slammed into Yaz like a fist, knocking all air out of her lungs. Around her, Clara and Ryan began joking about Amy’s – even for a knight – ridiculous enthusiasm for duels, but to Yaz, it all sounded distant, like somebody had pushed her head underwater. And while she could feel the world come crashing down around her, all while unable to even move a finger, Amy’s gaze persisted, fixing her in place.

“I have to go.”

Yaz almost knocked over her mug as her body suddenly came back under her control and she jumped up with a jerk. Not waiting for her colleagues’ response, she turned around, and walked out of the dining hall as fast as she could.

Just around the corner, she spotted an empty hallway. She had to stop, and try to somehow calm herself down. Her hands sweaty, she leaned against the wall, her eyes darting back and forth as they refused to settle on something. Her heart was slamming into her chest, and her breaths came out short and laboured, as if she had just finished a training session.

Amy knew. Amy had seen . It was over. Yaz’s life was over. Her fellow knight was in line for a captainship, Yaz knew that as well as everyone. There was no way Amy would risk her dream for… well, anything. Certainly not for protecting a traitor.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, and Yaz forced herself to let out long breaths, pushing herself away from the wall.

When she turned, she came face to face with Amy, who froze dead in her tracks.

Even if there was no chance for her anymore, Yaz had to try.

“Amy”, she said quickly. She took a step towards her colleague, who leaned back ever so slightly. Yaz stood still. “Please”, she said quietly. “Can we talk?”

Amy’s expression was stony, and Yaz couldn’t help but notice the way her hand tightened around the grip of her sword. “I don’t think I want to do that, Yaz.” She took a step to the side, but Yaz stopped her before she could pass, wrapping a hand around her arm.

The way the redhead froze under her touch made Yaz let go as if she had been burned.

“I ought to report you to the Dame Commander”, Amy hissed under her breath, and Yaz flinched.

“Please let me explain. It’s not… it’s not what you think.”

She wasn’t even sure what Amy was thinking, but she felt the urge to refute it, to somehow salvage this situation any way she could.

“Not what I think?” Amy whispered. “I –” She stopped as more footsteps could be heard, knights leaving the dining room and getting on their way to perform their duties. With a glance over her shoulder, Amy clenched her teeth, and stepped past Yaz. She quickly threw open a door to her right, and nodded for Yaz to follow her inside.

They found themselves in a cramped storage room, surrounded by fruit, dried meats and barrels of ale. Yaz opened her mouth to speak, but Amy was faster.

“I know what I’ve seen Yaz”, she hissed through clenched teeth. “You’re…” she seemed to struggle with the words, but finally, they came out in a barely audible whisper: “You’re a mage.”

Yaz stared at her. Of course, it made perfect sense that this was the conclusion that her friend had come to, but it still took Yaz completely by surprise. “What?” she breathed.

Amy’s expression turned sour. “Don’t ‘what’ me, Yaz. I know what I’ve seen. You know, when I first saw you this morning, you looked so distressed. I wanted to come over, and talk to you, but then that… that beast landed right in front of you. I panicked, I drew my sword, I was about to sprint outside and throw myself at it to protect you.” She was visibly fighting to hold herself together now, a slight shake to her voice. “But then you opened your eyes, and… nothing. You didn’t look scared, or shocked. I understood then that something was wrong, but then you reached for it and… I saw you perform your magic. Disappearing into thin air.”

So this is what her interaction with Caladrius had looked like, from the outside. She had never thought about it this way, that someone might look at them and think they belonged together. That Yaz was the one practising the forbidden arts, and not –

“Do you know what kind of situation you’ve put me in, Yaz?”

The question ripped her out of her own thoughts, and she locked eyes with Amy once more, only to find tears of frustration shimmering in the other woman’s eyes. “You’re forcing me to make a choice”, Amy said, her voice sounding like it was on the verge of breaking. The knight swallowed, trying to regain her composure. “Either I keep your secret, and become a traitor to the Alliance myself in the process. Or”  – she clenched her jaw, pressing the next words out as if they were causing her physical pain – “I’m going to be the reason my friend will be publicly hanged in the marketplace.” She squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head to the side, and continued: “You know I can’t – I… you’re turning me into a traitor, Yaz.”

“Amy”, Yaz breathed. She stared at her friend, so full of inner torment. This was what she had been afraid of from the beginning.

“I’m not a mage”, she said quietly, knowing that fact would change very little in the eyes of her friend, yet hoping nonetheless.

Amy huffed as her eyes fluttered open. “I’m not an idiot, Yaz.”

“No, it’s not…” She clenched her hands into fists, forcing herself to say the next words: “The bird isn’t mine. I’m not a mage.” Yaz took a deep breath. No use hiding the truth now. “But I’ve been meeting with someone who is.”

Amy’s expression changed at that, settling somewhere between relief and apprehension. “Who?”

Yaz had known she would ask, of course. What she hadn’t known, until the word left her lips, was that she would answer.

“Juliannah.”

The name felt entirely foreign on her lips. She had never spoken it, not in the presence of the Lord Mistress, and not even to herself. Yet somehow, in this situation, it felt like the only right way to reveal herself.

Amy frowned, not a hint of recognition in her eyes. “Who’s –” she began, then stopped. Slowly, her eyes widened with a terrible realisation. “Yaz”, she said. “Are you insane?”

She couldn’t help it. A laugh escaped her at the question. She should have probably asked herself the same thing a long time ago.

“Yaz, I’m not joking”, Amy said as she took a step towards her, sounding panicked. “Is she…”, she dropped her voice again, her eyes darting towards the door, then back to Yaz. “Is she threatening you? Has she put some kind of spell on you?”

“No!” Yaz immediately replied, suddenly feeling the seriousness of this moment return like a weight settling in her bones. “No, she hasn’t. She hasn’t done anything to me.”

“Are you giving her information? Is that what she wants?”

Yaz swallowed. “No.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she wasn’t entirely sure about the truth herself.

“His eyes are blue.”

She pushed the memory away.

Amy was still looking at her like she had lost her mind. Then, her cheeks turned a hue of pink. “Yaz”, she said, “when you say ‘meeting with her’, do you mean…” she dropped her gaze, the tips of her ears turning pink as well.

Yaz’s entire skin was on fire a heartbeat later, and she took a step back. “We haven’t –” she began, suddenly unable to find words, or put them into the correct order. “We’re not… I’m – she’s… We’ve been playing chess!”

Amy’s head snapped up, looking aghast. “What?”

“And duelling”, Yaz continued, now that she had found her words again. “That’s all. We’ve just been spending time together. Like… friends?”

Well, that didn’t sound right. But she had no other way to describe what they were doing, really. And she couldn't tell Amy what she felt whenever she was around the Lord Mistress. She hadn't even properly told herself.

“Friends? You’re friends with the Lord Mistress of Karn? How did you even meet?”

“I – Well.” Yaz racked her brain for something that wasn’t she abducted me or I was kidnapped for information I didn’t have, and then we just kept seeing each other.

“Why do you keep calling me here?”

Her heartbeat stumbling in her chest, Yaz ignored the memory echoing in her head.

Realising that she was not going to get a proper answer out of Yaz, Amy sighed. Something seemed to occur to her, then, and the expression on her face changed. She looked determined, and she nodded. “I know what to do. We’ll go see the Prince about this.”

The fire that had prickled under Yaz’s skin was instantly replaced by ice. “Why?” she asked, her stomach turning. But Amy only nodded once again.

“He’s a good guy, and he seems to like you – he’s been calling you on Final Shield duty a lot. So if we explain the situation to him, tell him you’ve been… taken away by his enemy, I’m sure he’ll be able to help. Maybe he’ll even see to it that you aren’t punished. She must have pulled some kind of mind-trick on you, Yaz. Everyone knows what kind of person she is. There’s talk about her. Lots of it. Terserus is worried she might be out for war.”

While Amy had spoken, Yaz had backed further and further away from her, until her back hit a shelf, causing some apples to fall down to the ground and roll away, disappearing between some barrels.

“No”, she whispered, blood rushing through her ears and drowning out ever other sound. “No, I can’t –”

She could feel his hands on her again, as if they were still lingering, and the way he had leaned in to kiss her. If he knew about the Lord Mistress, he would have Yaz guarded day and night. He would make sure she never left this palace, ever again.

“Yaz?” Amy asked, sounding properly worried now. “Are you alright?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Yaz saw a hand reaching out for her, and out of pure instinct, she slapped it away.

“What in the stars –”

Amy stood, holding on to her hand, eyes wide. 

“I’m sorry!” Yaz exclaimed, shocked by her own reaction. She shook her head, trying to calm herself and chase the image of the Crown Prince from her mind. “You can’t tell the Prince”, Yaz said quickly.

“Yaz, he’s our –”

“He’s not the person you think he is!” Yaz snapped, a familiar anger replacing the fear in her chest. “He’s just… he’s not. Whatever you want to do, however you want to handle this, don’t tell him.” She added, so quiet it barely left her mouth: “Don’t make me go to him.”

Whether it was the look in her eyes or the tone of her voice, it changed something. Amy dropped her hand, and looked at Yaz for a long time.

“Alright.”

Yaz blinked. “Alright?” she asked.

Amy nodded.  “I won’t tell him. I won’t…” she paused, then took a deep breath. “I won’t tell anyone, for now . But Yaz, I’ll be watching. And if it turns out she’s planning anything…” Her expression turned stony once again, and she did not have to finish the sentence for the meaning to be clear to Yaz. She was not going to lie for Yaz if it became a matter of security.

Yaz nodded. This was more than she possibly could have hoped for.

Amy turned towards the door, but stopped with her hand on the handle. “I don’t know what the deal is between you and her”, she said quietly. “But you better remember what kind of person she is. We’ve all heard the rumours. If it turns out she was using you all along… I won’t be able to protect you.”

A moment later, the door fell shut behind her, leaving Yaz alone in the room, her mind reeling.

Amy knew. Amy was keeping her secret. For how long? In a way, finally having somebody who was aware of the situation almost came with an odd sense of relief.

Yaz leaned against the shelf behind her, and squeezed her eyes shut.

And then, even though her world had just almost burned down around her, even though she had been so close just moments ago to losing her freedom and potentially her life, all Yaz could see behind her closed eyelids was this: hazel eyes, the morning sun briefly reflected in them as the Lord Mistress stopped to look over her shoulder, and then a gust of wind caught in her hair, her eyes disappearing behind a curtain of gold as she replied:

“Because I like your company.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading! Next up: Koschei takes things a step further, and so does Yaz.

Chapter 8

Notes:

Hello everyone! This chapter comes with some small content warnings, if you need to know any details, you can skip to the end notes for them.

 

That being said: Here's your new chapter. Enjoy... ;)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The time left on her Final Shield duty ended up stretching out like an eternity in front of her. Shortly after her talk with Amy, the by now familiar pressure on her ribcage had returned, slowly increasing to the point where she woke up from sleep gasping for air on a regular basis.

By the end of her duty, she was exhausted, and restless all at once.

Whenever she was around the Crown Prince now, she kept her distance even more than before, physically as well as emotionally: she strictly stuck to protocol, only ever calling him by his title, no matter how often he would stir her towards using his name, and remaining in full armour in his presence, never taking her gauntlets off or putting her shield away, even when he insisted she didn’t need to carry both in the gardens.

Yaz half expected him to apologise for his unwanted almost-kiss, as she felt her rejection couldn’t have been clearer. But whenever she looked at him, he still had that expectant shimmer in his eyes. He still continued to call her by her nickname, too, and talked to her as if they knew each other in a way that went beyond a member of the royal family and one of his subordinates.

At this point, Yaz began to wonder if the Crown Prince of Gallifrey simply didn’t want to know. And so, the night of her final shift, she had resolved to finally say the three little words to Koschei that would not leave any doubt, and might just set her free.

Standing in the gazebo, her heart pounding, Yaz opened her mouth.

Which was exactly the moment Koschei turned around, and handed her an elegant envelope, wax-sealed. Yaz stood under the moonlight in the garden, her mouth half-open, the words stuck in her throat as she reached for the envelope, hand moving out of its own accord.

“Open it”, he said, smiling. 

Yaz looked around, realising she would need both hands to do this. She quickly unclasped her shield, placing it on the floor so it would lean against her legs. With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope, and pulled out a heavy piece of paper. Her heart gave a painful stumble as she unfolded it, knowing full well what it would be even before she had a chance to read the elegantly curved letters. 

 

Dame Yasmin

Daughter of Hakim and Najia

 

Is hereby invited to attend the Royal Ball

held in honour of His Royal Highness

 

The Crown Prince Koschei of Gallifrey

 

On the fourth day of the month

Dancing will begin at the sixth strike of the bell

 

Yaz stared at the paper, feeling like somebody had closed an iron fist around her heart, and was squeezing hard. 

“Attend with me”, Koschei said. 

Yaz looked up, and when she saw his eyes, panic began to claw at her throat. They were bright, his tone expectant. He looked so confident, so full of certainty about what Yaz's response would be.

And then something inside of Yaz shifted: she felt anger boil up inside her, mixing with all her fears, rattling inside her head so loudly that she didn’t even hear the next thing he said.

Only when she saw his hands reaching out for her face did she snap back into the moment.

That was when she realised that she was no longer holding her shield.

Don’t touch me don’t touch me don’t –

In spite of all her training, in spite of everything she had learned, all the means to defend herself – to the death if necessary – that she had been practising, Yaz realised that she could not move.

His palms settled against her cheeks, and his eyes searched hers, then dropped to her mouth.

Please, don’t –

She squeezed her eyes shut the moment she felt his lips on hers, as if it would make the feeling disappear. Instead, it only amplified it all: His beard, scruffy against her face, and his lips, dry and chapped. She stood, stock still, as they moved against hers, the Prince seemingly oblivious to the fact that she was not reciprocating.

It lasted long. Way too long. When he finally did pull back, he was smiling, his eyes soft. He looked completely enamoured, and Yaz felt like she was going to either black out next, or hit him straight across the face with her metal-gloved hand.

She did neither. Instead, Yaz picked up her shield, turned around, and walked away without a word.

Her blood was rushing in her ears, drowning out everything else as she walked out of the garden as fast as she could, through the palace halls, and back towards her room. At some point, she fell into a light jog, and from there, her heart pounding in her chest she began to run.

Yaz was well aware that she was abandoning her post, abandoning the man she had sworn to protect. But at that moment, she just couldn’t take it anymore. As she rushed through the corridors, she kept running a hand over her lips, as if she could wipe the sensation away. Tears began to burn in her eyes, but she angrily wiped those away, too.

She had done nothing to give Koschei the impression that he had somehow ended up with – that she reciprocated his feelings, that she wanted to go to the ball with him, that she wanted to –

With a shock that ran through her entire system, Yaz realised what the invitation truly meant. The whole point of the ball was for Prince Koschei to find a suitor. If he showed up with Yaz, it would send one very clear message to everyone attending.

By the time Yaz crashed through the doors of her bedroom, she felt like throwing up.

Gripping the edge of her desk with both hands, she tried to calm her breathing, squeezing her eyes shut to concentrate on the deliberately slow rise and fall of her own chest.

“Why do you keep calling me here?”

There they were again: the eyes of the Lord Mistress, shining clear as day behind Yaz’s closed eyelids, as if they were still looking deep into hers from miles and miles away.

Bit by bit, the anger-laced panic abated, and Yaz let her eyelids flutter open.

Caladrius was sitting on her window sill, looking at her with bright purple eyes. She wasn’t sure when she had reached for him, but soon enough, she was seeing the world through his eyes once more.

Yaz practically tumbled into the Lord Mistress’ private study half an hour later, and she barely had time to catch her breath before the words spilled from her lips.

“He wants to marry me. He honest to the stars wants to make me his wife .”

Opposite her, the Lord Mistress’ eyes widened, and then she threw her head back, and laughed.

“It’s not funny”, Yaz snapped, straightening up as she finally regained her sense of balance. “It’s…” she couldn’t find the right words to describe the situation, and ended up simply throwing her hands up in defeat.

The Lord Mistress stopped laughing then, but there was still a glint in her eye as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“You’ve been invited to the ball, I gather?"

Yaz screwed her eyes shut. “Yes.”

“You haven’t told him.”

Her eyes shot open, and Yaz grit her teeth. “I shouldn’t have to!” she shouted, and flinched at her own outburst. “I shouldn’t have to”, she said again, more quietly this time. “He’s never even asked me about my feelings. What does he think? That I’m some poor merchant’s kid, so of course I’ll fall for His Royal Highness? That all it takes is for him to…” Yaz shook her head, the feeling of Koschei’s lips on hers making her want to rip her own skin off wherever he had touched her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Lord Mistress’ expression darken immeasurably, but she was too preoccupied with her own feelings to properly pay attention to it.

“I honestly think he simply doesn’t want to take the hint”, she exclaimed. “Because obviously I’ll forget all about how I prefer women when there’s a Prince in front of me. It feels like he’s got this whole star-crossed lovers fantasy in his head, and he likes it so much he’s never even stopped to think about what I might want.”

Yaz let out a long breath. It felt good to get it all off her chest, at last. She was finally allowing herself to feel properly angry, and not just because of his most recent advances, but for the way he had pushed her into this whole situation from the start. For the way he'd never stopped for even a moment to consider what it all might be like for Yaz.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts that for a second, she forgot where she was.

When she looked up again, the Lord Mistress had taken a step towards her, and before Yaz knew what was happening, the woman had moved right into her personal space.

Instantly, Yaz’s breath stuck in her throat. There was this deep part inside of her again, trying to break out, wishing for the Lord Mistress to wrap her hand around her neck once more, and make Yaz hers.

It made Yaz shudder.

Slowly, the Lord Mistress let the tip of her index finger run up the length of Yaz's throat, stopping underneath her chin. Yaz held her breath as the digit left pure fire in its wake.

“You could be Queen”, the blonde spoke softly – almost gently.

Yaz swallowed, and slowly, shakingly let out her breath. “I don’t want to be Queen. Not his , anyway.”

“Ah. Then what is it”, the Lord Mistress said, her voice dangerously low as she took another, tiny step closer, stopping just before their bodies would touch “that you do want, Yasmin?”

You .

The thought slammed into Yaz with full force. It should have come as a shock to her, but it didn’t. It was true, undeniably true, and the moment it crossed her mind, it was like a pressure valve had been opened, and everything she had so desperately tried to repress since meeting the Lord Mistress broke out and washed over her in one go. 

She knew then that there was no way back, and that there never would be again.

The Lord Mistress must have heard her thought, so loud and bright in Yaz’s mind, but she stood unmoving. Instead of saying anything, she lifted one carefully crafted eyebrow, and waited.

Yaz closed her eyes, and let the flames inside her break free. They rushed through her, threatening to drown her from the inside, making her heart beat painfully hard and the flesh between her legs burn with agonising want.

I want you.

She was so close to her, Yaz realised. She could feel the blonde’s breath on her lips, and Yaz knew that if she leaned forward just a little bit, she would be able to –

The Lord Mistress pulled back, and Yaz almost let out a whimper as her eyelids, half-closed, fluttered open.

The blonde stood, chin raised defiantly, her hand still lingering on Yaz's throat.

Yaz wanted that hand to disappear inside her hair and pull her towards wherever the Lord Mistress wanted or needed her.

Need.  

Before Yaz could stop herself, she had reached out for the blonde’s vest, her hands grabbing fistfuls of the silky material, and pulled.

The moment her lips crushed against the Lord Mistress’, Yaz felt like she was about to die. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, then another and she gasped into the blonde’s mouth as fresh heat pooled between her legs at the mere contact alone. It lasted only a second – or an eternity, Yaz really couldn’t tell anymore – and then the Lord Mistress grabbed Yaz’s wrists, and ripped her hands off of the vest. Without ever breaking the kiss, she went to grab Yaz’s hair instead.

A second later, her tongue was licking into Yaz’s mouth.

Yaz moaned into the Lord Mistress’ mouth as their tongues met, the taste of the blonde filling every conscious thought she still had. Her entire body went soft and malleable, for the Lord Mistress to do with as she pleased.

There was no gentleness about the way the Lord Mistress kissed her, bruising her lips with her fervour. But Yaz let her, every cell in her body rejoicing at the contact. She went to grab the blonde’s waist, searching for some kind of purchase as heat was flooding her body with every stroke of the Lord Mistress’ tongue inside her mouth. In her mind, the thought suddenly appeared of that same tongue between her legs, drawing pleasure from her body.

Yaz’s knees gave out slightly underneath her.

The Lord Mistress’ free hand reached for the front of Yaz’s cloak, and yanked her back upright, kissing her more harshly.

Yaz wanted her to never stop. On the contrary, she wanted her to go further, so much further. Yaz knew at that moment that whatever the Lord Mistress would ask of her, whatever she would want from her, Yaz would do it, if it only meant she would get to feel the woman against her skin.

The grip on her hair tightening to a point where it almost hurt, the Lord Mistress pulled Yaz’s bottom lip between her teeth.

And clamped her jaw shut.

Yaz knew she had drawn blood before she could taste the metallic liquid, but instead of the hiss that Yaz thought was about to come out of her mouth, it was a deep, guttural moan. When the blonde’s tongue darted over the wound, Yaz let out a gasp as she felt the tingle of magic running through her lip.

It was over as suddenly as it had begun. Yaz instantly mourned the loss of contact, her lips red and swollen, the marks on her lower one barely healed. But before she could say or do anything, the Lord Mistress had placed one hand against her chest, and leaned in to whisper into Yaz’s ear:

“Come find me when you’re ready to say it out loud.”

Then, she pushed.

Yaz stumbled backwards, her knees hitting the window frame a second later, and she felt the moment, that dreadful moment, when she began to lose her balance.

Panic shot up inside her.

She’s killing me , she thought, her eyes wide as her body tilted backwards, the cold night air hitting her back. I’m going to –

Before gravity could pull her down, Yaz’s world turned upside down, and then, instead of falling from the second floor of the Lord Mistress’ mansion, she was soaring up into the sky.

Notes:

content warnings for this chapter: non-consensual kissing, biting, and uhm, being pushed out a window I guess?

Thank you for reading :D

Chapter 9

Notes:

*throws extra chapter at you*

I have 0 self-control, and also have had A Week(tm) so I thought why not throw some more of this out into the world. Ergo: here's an extra update for all of you! :D

*slips back into the shadows*

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Yaz was restless. The week leading up to the Royal Ball proved to be pure torture – it felt like a giant clock had begun ticking over her head the second she had received that invitation, and every time she heard the bells in the tower strike the hour, Yaz jumped as if the stars themselves had called on her for her final day of judgement.

It didn’t go unnoticed by Amy, of course, who threw her a look whenever she saw Yaz flinch. She hadn’t asked her about it, however, and Yaz wasn’t sure whether or not she was grateful for that, or disappointed.

Of course, this was the one week she was actually off Final Shield duty, and she didn’t know whether to feel relieved or frustrated by that, either. If she was being honest, she didn’t know much about her feelings at the moment, at all, and there was only one thing she felt clearly about.

It was strange. On the one hand, Yaz’s lips were tingling hot like burning embers from the memory of Juliannah’s harsh kiss. On the other, they were ice-cold from the ghost of Koschei’s softly pressed against them.

As much as she didn’t want to spend time with the Prince, she felt the need to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that she was not going to go to the ball with him. Not that he would listen, after what had happened last time. It didn’t help that he kept shooting her looks across the hallway, and at some point, he even magicked a note into Yaz’s gauntlet somehow.

I can’t wait to dance with you .

How they had gone from Yaz literally running from the gardens, to him believing she actually wanted to go to that damn ball with him, the knight didn't know.

All she had ever done was her damn job.

Obviously, if Yaz were crude and cunning enough, she could just go through with it. Marry him, become Queen, gain unimaginable powers. Work behind the scenes to gradually change the world, shape it however she imagined it to be. 

Which would include, at least on occasion, having to sleep with a man. 

Instantly, she remembered the feel of his beard scratching over her face, but her mind didn’t stop there: it conjured up the feeling of his hands on the naked skin above her waist, and she had to suppress a shudder.

Once his hands morphed into those of another, delicate, yet cold and harsh, the shudder changed into something else entirely.

The alternative to becoming his consort, of course, was to reject him, properly, once and for all, and potentially lose her job – after all, she had no idea how he would react. Given how he had basically refused to acknowledge her clear lack of feelings for him, it might not be the best, she was aware.

It didn’t help that the closer they got to the Royal Ball, the stronger the ache for the Lord Mistress grew all over body. After bringing Yaz back last time, Caladrius had performed a curious kind of… ritual on her, and now there was this connection, slumbering at the back of Yaz’s mind. If she concentrated on it, if she pushed that little door open, all she would have to do was call for Caladrius, and he would waste no time to retrieve her from wherever she would be.

“Come find me when you’re ready to say it out loud.”

Was she? Ready to admit it all out loud, ready to say that she wanted the Lord Mistress, more than she could put into words?

Ready to officially break her oath as a knight, and defect to another country – the most distrusted in the Alliance, of all.

She would never be able to come back, she knew that. But what was the alternative? Living a lie? Or losing her cloak – and with it, her livelihood? She imagined herself, briefly, helping out in her parents' shop until she would grow old. While the work was honest, and she admired her parents for it, she knew it would drive her stir-crazy.

She craved the feel of steel underneath her fingertips, she always had.

The night before the ball, Yaz was staring at her ceiling, barely unable to find sleep because of the storm raging in her head. She lay awake, her mind torturing her with the feel of the Lord Mistress’ lips on hers, her hand in her hair, her nails digging into her skull. She could see the dangerous glint in the blonde’s eye, the way she grinned with her teeth bared.

At some point, she gave up, and as she pushed her fingers past the waist band of her sleeping trousers, she turned on her belly to hide both the shameful moan that escaped her lips, and her face – from whom, she did not know.

She tried not to think about the images that had been in her head once she was done, the physical relief she had experienced only lasting for a fraction of a moment before her restlessness began anew.

By the time the first rays of morning sun shone through her window, Yaz wasn’t sure if she had ever properly closed her eyes all night.

She got dressed and went about her morning shift as if nothing was happening, pushing the incessant worry at the back of her head away and ignoring the ache that was forming behind her temples. Koschei, on the other hand, looked positively giddy with excitement, barely able to sit still all morning as the council went over the final preparations. 

When they showed him the guest list and asked if there was anyone he was particularly interested in, he said “I have my eyes set on someone.”

The council members looked like Alliance Day had come early, but the words made Yaz feel sick to her core.

The moment the bell tower announced the end of her shift, Yaz practically ran to her room. She ripped her armour off, feeling like the thick plates of steel were robbing her of the ability to breathe – the familiar weight for the very first time not feeling like a protection, but a prison instead.

As soon as her armour was on its stand, Yaz let herself fall on her bed, pulling her blanket over her head and burying her face in her pillow. Her stomach grumbled, and she knew she should go down to the dining hall to get some late lunch, but Yaz didn’t want to leave her room.

In fact, she figured that if she just stayed in here until tomorrow morning, and never showed up to the ball, then maybe – just maybe – Koschei would finally take the hint and leave her alone.

Apparently, the Prince had thought of everything.

By the time the bell tower struck the fourth hour of the afternoon, there was a rapt series of knocks on Yaz’s door. She wondered, briefly, why any of her colleagues would need to see her right now, then remembered how excited they all were about the ball. Clara probably wanted to tell her all about some gossip from a noble house that she would try to catch up on tonight – she was stationed inside the ballroom, the perfect spot for eavesdropping.

“Come in”, Yaz called out, her voice muffled by the blanket she had been hiding underneath.

“Good afternoon, Dame.”

Yaz shot up straight in her bed, the blanket falling off her shoulders as she stared at the woman in the doorway.

Dressed in a velvety, dark green dress, was none other than Lady Sybill, the Duchess of Olew.

What the –

Yaz jumped out of her bed, and fell into a deep bow. “Your Grace”, she muttered, trying to keep her cheeks from turning hot at the embarrassment over the state she was currently in: clad in a sweaty tunic and old, ratty trousers, her hair tousled from bed, most of it having fallen out of her braid.

“No need for formalities today.”

As Yaz looked up, the Duchess was winking at her and flashing her a conspiratorial smile. It made Yaz’s head spin with an uneasy feeling as to what had brought one of Gallifrey’s most influential noblewomen into her room.

“I’ve brought you a little surprise.”

Before Yaz could ask any questions, Amy appeared behind the Duchess, a strange expression on her face as she carried a mass of shiny fabric in her arms. She went and laid it out on the bed, and it took Yaz a full minute to put two and two together and realise what it was.

A dress. Dark blue, golden threads woven into both the fabric of the corset and the skirt. It left the shoulders of the wearer free, and would no doubt accentuate the curve above the hips before falling into a wide circle across the floor.

In short, it was everything Yaz could not hate more, and she simply stared at it, completely speechless.

Amy went to close the door, then stood in the corner, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. the Duchess approached Yaz and dropped her voice to a low whisper.

“I hope you don’t mind that I roped your friend into this”, she began. She threw a look at Amy over her shoulder, then returned her attention to Yaz, a gleam in her eyes. “He told me everything.”

Yaz’s head snapped up immediately as her mouth dropped open, but the Duchess lifted a hand in a calming gesture. “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me – and your friend, I’m sure. Besides, there will be no more reason to hide after tonight.” She smiled warmly, then looked down towards the dress. “You put quite the spell on him, you know. This was his mother’s dress.”

Suddenly, Yaz’s vision began to darken along the edges. She couldn’t do this, she thought as panic began to grab at her throat. She couldn’t wear this dress, or show up at the ball, or even be in this star forsaken palace anymore. Without any kind of regard for protocol, she pushed past the Duchess, and grabbed the front of Amy’s cloak.

“Amy”, she pressed out, her throat constricting with every breath. “Help me.”

“Yasmin?” the Duchess asked, her tone worried. “Are you alright?”

“I –” Yaz tried to choke out, now fully unable to properly fill her lungs with air. “I can’t breathe .”

Instantly, Amy’s hands were on Yaz’s arms, keeping her upright. The Duchess moved swiftly, too: she pulled the window open, then manoeuvred Yaz down on her desk chair with the help of Amy. Laying two calming hands on top of Yaz’s shoulders, the Duchess fell on her knees in front of her, trying to form eye contact.

Under any other circumstance, Yaz would have needed a moment to properly take in the reality of a Duchess kneeling in front of a common knight. But as it was, she was still trying to control her breathing, her heartbeat thundering in her ears as she couldn’t formulate a single clear thought except no and please and don’t make me do this I can't do this.

“Yasmin”, the Duchess began again, her voice soft, but Yaz was too deep in her panic to let it calm her.

“I –”, she said, her ribcage quickly rising and falling, completely out of Yaz’s control. “I can’t – I don’t – he…”

She was going to have to marry him. She would have no choice but to show up at the ball tonight, in this hideously poofy dress, and once he’d danced with her there would be no way back.

“Yaz”, she heard Amy’s voice somewhere next to her. Her friend sounded slightly panicked now. “What’s going on?”

But, surprisingly, it was the Duchess’ gentle voice that pulled Yaz back towards the room. “You’ve got to breathe out for me, Yasmin”, Yaz heard her say. “Long, slow breaths out. Alright?”

Yaz nodded through the haze, and tried to focus on her stuttering outtake of breath. It took a few tries, and the Duchess breathing loudly with her, guiding her through it, until Yaz could finally feel her own body again.

The moment she did, embarrassment flooded through her, and she had the sudden urge to hide her face. But before she could lift her hands to instinctively do so, the Duchess had covered them with her own.

“Yasmin”, she said, and Yaz quickly shook her head.

“Yaz.”

The Duchess’ lips lifted into a small smile. “Yaz”, she repeated. “Talk to me.” When Yaz visibly hesitated, she added: “You can trust me. I promise that whatever you say to me in this room will stay between us. Something is clearly very wrong, and me and your friend can only help if you tell me what it is.”

Yaz swallowed heavily, and lifted her head until she saw Amy’s face. The redhead looked somewhat scared, yet she gave Yaz an encouraging nod, who turned her head to finally look at the Duchess. The expression on the noblewoman’s face was soft and caring, and Yaz wanted nothing more but to let the floodgates inside of herself finally break open.

“I don’t love him” , she wanted to say. “I never have, and the fact that he just assumes it is making me feel trapped and alone and scared. I don’t want to live my life as a lie. I want to make my own choices, decide my own future.”

Fresh despair rose up inside of Yaz, and suddenly, she could feel the tears threatening to spill. The Duchess’ eyes widened slightly, but before Yaz knew what was happening, Amy had fallen down next to her, too, and Yaz was being pulled into a hug.

A second later, the tears were suddenly freely running down her cheeks and into the fabric of Amy’s cloak.

“Talk to me”, Amy whispered into her ear. “Please.”

“I don’t know what to do”, Yaz finally breathed back, a painful lump stuck in the back of her throat. “I don’t know how to get out of this.”

Amy pressed her cheek closer against Yaz’s, in order to whisper quietly enough for the Duchess not to hear.

“Is this about… her?”

Yaz shook her head, and Amy pulled back, her hands never leaving Yaz’s arms as she fixed her with a questioning gaze.

The Duchess of Olew, on the other hand, had gone all stiff. She was still kneeling on the floor in front of Yaz, but her expression was stoney. Instantly, Yaz began fearing the worst. If the woman was going to put her in that dress, and bring her out of this room, then –

The Duchess pulled back and stood up, smoothing out non-existent crinkles in her dress before she spoke. “Yaz”, she said slowly. “Do you love him?"

Yaz shook her head, fervently. Amy’s mouth fell upon, and she stared down at Yaz.

"Have you ever told him that you do?" 

Another shake of her head, more forceful this time.

The expression on the Duchess' face darkened. "Yaz, from the way Koschei talked to me, I thought you had clearly stated that you reciprocate his feelings. In fact, he made it sound like something… more might have already happened between you. That he wanted to move quickly now in order to preserve your honour, in case... Is this not true?”

Yaz stared at her, eyes wide. "No", she finally managed to press out. "No, dear stars, that's not – He…" she hesitated for a moment, but the Duchess gave her an encouraging nod. Amy’s presence helped, too. The redhead had one hand clenched around her sword, and the other rested firmly on Yaz’s shoulder. Protectiveness radiated off of her in waves.

"He tried to kiss me, once", Yaz said, her voice small, "but I stepped away. Put my shield between us, even." Her tone grew smaller as her gaze fell to the floor. “I wasn’t holding it the other day, and I couldn’t...” Yaz stopped, and the Duchess’ jaw clicked shut. She could see a muscle twitch underneath the noblewoman’s jawbone. Amy, on the other hand, instinctively pulled at her sword, letting just half an inch of steel shine above the sheath. She looked like she was ready to crash through the palace and hack the Prince to pieces herself, if need be.

A second later, the Duchess had spun around on her feet, and was opening the doors to Yaz’s closet. Under Yaz and Amy’s confused gazes, she began pulling out a pair of trousers and a fresh shirt, as well as a bag and Yaz’s travelling cloak.

“Here”, she said as she handed the clothes to Yaz, proceeding to stuff others into the bag. “Put these on. You’ll leave the palace tonight, it’ll give me time to put his head on straight. Take Dame Amelia with you for protection, I’ll say it was on my orders. If you don’t have anywhere to go, you can go to my estate in the east. I’ll send a letter to my wife letting her know you’re coming, in that case.” She shook her head, anger now clearly visible on her face. “I don’t know what the hell he was thinking but I’ll make this right, Yaz. I promise. You will not lose your livelihood because he’s stuck in some stupid fantasy.”

A wave of gratitude suddenly washed over Yaz, and she fell into a deep bow out of habit. “Your Grace”, Yaz breathed, unsure how to put her feelings into words.

“Bill.” 

When Yaz looked up, the noblewoman was smiling. “Just call me Bill. And I’ll take care of this. I’m so sorry.”

Yaz opened her mouth to tell her that none of this could ever be construed to be her fault, but before she could say anything, there was another knock on the door, and this time, it was the unmistakable sound of steel hitting wood.

“Is the Dame ready to be escorted to the ball?”

Everyone in the room froze. Then, Bill swore under her breath as she closed the door of Yaz’s closet. “Quick”, she whispered, gesturing towards the clothes in Yaz’s arms. “Get changed. I'll distract them.” She turned towards the door. “Almost!” she called, then opened it and slipped out, not before throwing Yaz a final, unreadable look.

Yaz quickly slipped into the clothes. Amy was quiet, at first, doubtlessly processing the information that she had just received. When Yaz was fully dressed her fellow knight turned to her, a guilty look on her face.

“Yaz”, she began, “I had no idea. The Duchess grabbed me in the hallway before, asking me to help with something. I didn’t know…” She paused, swallowing heavily before continuing, her voice small. “I never would have suggested we go to him, if I’d known that he…” She stopped again, looking visibly upset.

Yaz simply shook her head. “You couldn’t have known”, she said, and something in Amy’s expression shifted, then.

“You could have told me”, she said quietly. It wasn’t an accusation more than it sounded like disappointment, which arguably, Yaz found worse. She swallowed down a response – because what would she have said to that, anyway? – and then they both waited with bated breaths for the sound of metal footsteps going down the corridor, away from her door.

But the voices outside never subsided. Instead, they grew more heated, and Yaz felt fresh panic rise up inside her. The guard calling out before had not been anyone from the Prince’s Guard, taking with it any hope for Yaz – or Amy – to sway their friends themselves to simply look the other way as they rushed down the corridor and into the stables. Which meant that if Bill didn’t manage to get them to leave, Yaz would have no choice but to let herself be escorted to the ball, and accept everything that came with that.

“They’re not leaving”, Yaz breathed, her voice laced with panic in a way that she absolutely hated. “Amy, if they’re not leaving, I’ll have no other choice but –”

No other choice.

That wasn’t true. It hadn’t been true for a while now, and Yaz knew it as clearly as she knew the stars would shine each night. But she had been too afraid to say it out loud – be it even just to herself.

She saw the moment in Amy’s eyes when her friend understood what she was thinking. Amy took a step towards her, and put one hand on her shoulder.

“You might not be able to come back”, she said matter-of-factly.

“I know. But I can’t stay here, either.”

She knew it was true. If she stayed, she didn’t know how – or if – she could be free from Koschei. But there was a place that she could go to, one where Koschei would not dare to reach for her, and that meant she had to take that chance. It was a place where she would be free, and not only that: it was one where she could get what she had been wanting ever since slim fingers had wound around her wrists.

“Do you have a way to… call on her?”

“Yes.”

Amy’s eyes searched Yaz’s face, worry shining in them, bright as day.

“Do you trust her?”

Yaz swallowed.

A hand, wrapped around her throat. Magic burning into her wrists. A dangerous laugh, cold and cutting like a blade’s edge. A drop of blood, falling into a vial of poison. Hot and hungry lips on hers. The night air hitting her back as she began to fall.

“Because I like your company.”

“Yes.”

Amy nodded. “Then go. I’ll tell them you climbed out the window when I had my back turned. I don’t want you to…” The knight shook her head. “I won’t have you forced into this.”

Without hesitation, Yaz threw her arms around her friend, and pulled her in for a tight hug.

When they stepped apart, Amy nodded. “Call for her.”

Yaz closed her eyes.

Contact.

The moment the thought had entered her mind, she knew she did not want to take it back. A moment passed, then another, and when nothing happened, Yaz spun around, ignoring Amy’s quizzical lokos as she walked towards the open window.

Cool air hit her, but all Yaz could feel was the way her skin was burning, the way her heart was beating into her ribcage as if it, too, was trying to break free.

Contact!

Something shifted at the back of her mind, and then there was another presence. Yaz’s heart stumbled at the realisation that it had worked, and not even a heartbeat later, her entire body began to sing, blood rushing in her veins with the anticipation of the Lord Mistress’ touch, her lips on Yaz’s once more.

I’m ready , Yaz thought, her pulse beating in her fingertips and her breath catching in her throat as she saw white wings appear in the distance.

I’m ready for her.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! :)

Chapter 10

Notes:

Guys I am still overwhelmed by the response to Sunday's extra chapter, in the best possible way!! Seriously thank you to everyone who took the time to leave a few words for me!! They mean so much.

Now, without further ado, here's the next chapter! Quick reminder that this fic is E-Rated ;)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

This time, Yaz did not have enough will or mind power to concentrate on the gorgeous landscapes that they were soaring past. Caladrius was silent the entire way, although Yaz wondered if he could hear her racing thoughts, given that they literally shared a mindspace right then.

This, of course, wasn’t the first time Yaz had found her way to the Lord Mistress like this – fully conscious – but it still didn’t feel like any other. Even last time, when she had properly gone out of her own accord, when she had wanted to see the Lord Mistress and talk to her, it had felt nothing like it did now.

Because this time, Yaz wasn’t sure whether or not she’d ever be going back.

The fact that the Duchess of Olew – Bill, she reminded herself – hadn’t suggested Yaz stay with her parents, but instead had made it clear that a location further away from the palace would be safer, made Yaz’s stomach turn. Did Bill think that Koschei would go as far as have Yaz pulled out of her parents’ home? Would he be capable of forcing her to come back to the palace, forcing her to marry him? Yaz didn’t want to think that that was the case, but if she was being entirely honest, she wasn’t sure anymore.

He made it sound like something… more had already happened between you.

Yaz shuddered at the thought, and screwed her eyes shut.

“Vision!”

The shout in her mind made Yaz jolt, and she ripped her eyes – Caladrius’ eyes – wide open. The bird was frantically batting the air, trying to regain his balance, and Yaz felt embarrassment wash over her.

“I’m sorry” , she muttered, and the bird let out a huff in his mind, followed by a mumble that sounded a lot like it had involved at least one choice word, potentially two.

When a familiar mansion came into view behind Irlwood, Yaz’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, a strange sensation shifted through her, and then she caught a faint image in her mind, disappearing before she could properly grasp it.

“What was that?”

A pause, then a gruntled answer: “Juliannah. Letting me know where she is.”

“I see.”

Juliannah. Yaz turned the name around in her mind, remembering how it had felt on her tongue, on her lips, the one time she had spoken it. She had never thought of the Lord Mistress by a first name, even though she of course knew it, as everyone in the Alliance did: The Most Honourable Juliannah of House Theta, the Lord Mistress of Karn, the Marquise of Theta. But Yaz suddenly realised – not without anxiety – that she knew little more about the woman than that. The snippets she had been handed over the last few weeks had been small. 

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t much at all.

Before Yaz could dwell on that fact, Caladrius dropped his left wing, flying in a wide circle above the mansion. Finally, he began heading towards one of the windows on the second floor.

Yaz instantly knew where they were going. That particular part of the mansion, she had learned, housed the Lord Mistress’ private chambers.

Yaz’s heart jumped into her throat as they flew through the open window, and then her world tilted out of focus.

Yaz was waiting for the familiar feeling of dizziness, or even nausea, but to her great surprise, it almost felt like she was being gently placed back on her own two feet. She blinked, the fuzziness fading from her vision, and before she could turn around and thank Caladrius for the gentle delivery, the bird had dropped himself out the window again.

“Hm. He’s not usually that careful.”

Yaz spun around, her eyes landing on the woman she had been wanting to see, desperately, ever since their last encounter.

Ever since our first encounter.

The thought had crossed her mind before she had been able to stop it, and she bit the inside of her cheeks as she readied herself for a snide remark from the Lord Mistress.

Nothing.

Instead, the blonde seemed completely focused on a book she was reading. Sitting in a cushioned chair next to the fireplace, she was holding it in one hand, angling it so the flames illuminated the pages. In her other hand, there was a cup of steaming liquid. She was wearing a white shirt with a standing collar, the sleeves messily rolled up, stopping just underneath her elbows. Her legs were crossed, and on the tip of her nose, to Yaz’s great delight, sat a pair of golden rimmed reading glasses, small and round.

Yaz watched as the Lord Mistress guided the cup to her lips, never taking her eyes off the page as she took a small sip. Then, she let her tongue run over her lower lip, and Yaz suddenly felt parched.

“There’s more in the pot.”

Heat creeping into her cheeks, Yaz focused on the elegant china pot that sat on the small table next to the Lord Mistress. As Yaz approached, the blonde – again without looking – put her own cup down and let her fingers dance through the air above it, as if she was holding the invisible strings of a puppet.

Seconds later, the air next to the cup shifted, and a second one appeared, looking exactly the same.

As if nothing had happened at all, the Lord Mistress picked her own cup up again, and took another sip.

Her body moving out of its own accord, Yaz moved to pour herself a cup of tea, then stood awkwardly next to the fireplace as she took her first sip. She felt a mixture of nervousness and confusion – this wasn’t going the way she had expected, at all.

“Well”, the Lord Mistress said, a slight annoyance to her tone. “Don’t just stand around there.”

Yaz let herself fall down onto the chair opposite the blonde, awkwardly holding on to her cup of tea. There was so much she wanted to say to the Lord Mistress, her heartbeat thundering in her ears as she slowly opened her mouth.

Before she could say anything, the Lord Mistress snapped her book shut, and let out a sigh. “Time to go”, she said, and Yaz frowned in confusion.

“Go where?”

The Lord Mistress clicked her tongue as she stood up, unceremoniously dropping her book on the chair and flipping her glasses onto the table. “The ball, Yasmin. Where else?”

The ball

Yaz instantly felt panic return. Why would the Lord Mistress want her to go back to the ball? She had made an entire point about how Yaz should come to her when she was ready. Had Yaz waited too long? Had the Lord Mistress lost her patience? The last thought made Yaz’s head spin and she suddenly felt sick.

“Oh, do calm down”, the blonde said, lifting one hand to angrily rub at her temple. “Your thoughts are practically screaming into my brain right now.” She put down her cup, then turned to face Yaz, looking her in the eye for the first time that night. The corner of her mouth twitching into the hint of a smile, the Lord Mistress took a step towards her, and placed her hands on the armrest of Yaz’s chair. With a devilish glint in her eye, she leaned forward, until her face was almost unbearably close to Yaz’s and the knight’s breath hitched in her throat.

I’m going to the ball. Can’t miss the look on Koschei’s face when he realises you won’t show up.” Slowly and deliberately, the blonde moved her face past Yaz’, and a moment later, the knight’s earlobe was between her teeth. Yaz couldn’t help the soft moan that fell from her lips the moment the blonde gently bit down on it, or the way her back ever so slightly arched into the touch.

“Now”, the Lord Mistress whispered as she let go of the soft flesh between her teeth. “Be a good girl and wait for me here. I won’t be long.”

“Don’t go.”

The words were out before Yaz could think about them, but in spite of how desperate she must have come across, Yaz didn’t want to take them back. Her entire body felt flushed, and she had to swallow multiple times, her throat staying dry all the same. The Lord Mistress pulled back, and looked Yaz straight in the eye, her face still impossibly close and her voice low as she spoke.

“Say it, Yasmin.”

“I want you.”

This time, she didn’t hesitate to speak the words out loud. And oh, how her reward came quickly, and fiercely.

The Lord Mistress’ fingers wrapped around Yaz’ throat, and then her lips were on Yaz’, crushing into them with force.

Finally .

Yaz melted into the touch, allowing the blonde to completely take control as she licked into her mouth, the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Yaz’ throat grabbing her shirt and pulling her up and out of the chair.

A second later, her back hit the wall, and Yaz gasped into the Lord Mistress’ mouth. The blonde continued robbing her of air, both through her relentless kisses and through the fingers squeezing and releasing around her throat, again and again.

Then, it all stopped.

As the Lord Mistress pulled back, Yaz gasped after her as if she herself was the air that Yaz craved. Unperturbed, the Lord Mistress unrolled the sleeves of her shirt as she turned around, and walked over towards a dresser in the corner. There, she picked up a frock coat that had been casually draped over it, and slung it around her shoulders, turning back to face Yaz a moment later.

The way it made her look didn’t help to calm Yaz down in the slightest.

Thick brocade fell from the Lord Mistress’ shoulders, accentuating the curves above her hips only to slightly widen underneath, falling in soft creases around her knees, where the coat ended. Every seam of the thick purple material was embroidered with silver, and the shoulders were covered by epaulettes.

She looked nothing short of royal.

“Don’t worry Yasmin”, she said, at the same time as Caladrius appeared through the window. “I’ll properly take care of you when I’m back.” She turned, but then she stopped, her back turned towards Yaz.

“Dame Amelia.”

Yaz froze. The Lord Mistress had said nothing but her friend’s name, but her tone had left no doubt that whatever she was thinking wasn’t good.

“Yes?” Yaz asked.

“Will she be a problem?”

Yaz's skin turned ice cold in a heartbeat. She should have known. She should have realised that letting Amy know would put her in danger. All she had thought about was the woman hopefully not losing her career – not what the Lord Mistress might have to say about it.

“She won’t”, Yaz breathed, and she took a step towards the Lord Mistress, who finally shot her a look over her shoulder. “I promise she won’t. Don’t…”

Instantly, passages from the war anthology flew through Yaz’s mind, detailing all the things a war mage could do to a person’s mind.

The Lord Mistress tutted as she threw Yaz a look over her shoulder, reaching up towards Caladrius at the same time. “I won’t touch her”, she said, her eyes gleaming with a silent challenge. “Under one condition.”

Yaz sucked in a stuttering breath. “Anything”, she whispered.

The blonde let her eyes wander over the full length of Yaz’s body, then looked her straight in the eye, the usual hazel of her own turning a much darker colour as she said with a smile:  “You are to behave while I’m gone, darling. I’ll know if you haven’t.”

Only when the last hints of purple lightning had disappeared, leaving no trace of the Lord Mistress behind, did Yaz let out a long, shaking breath. Her body felt like it was burning, and a rotten part of her wanted her to simply shove her own hand down her trousers, and finally relieve herself of the pressure that had built there, unbearable. 

“Behave while I’m gone.”

Yaz clenched her teeth.

Her cheeks flushed, she turned her attention towards the now empty chair, desperately trying to calm her breathing and concentrate on something else, anything else but the burning between her legs.

Absent-mindedly, she picked up the book the Lord Mistress had dropped on the chair, and opened the first page.

Karnish Legends and Folktales.

“Huh.”

That wasn’t exactly what Yaz had expected. The surprise was enough to momentarily distract her from everything that had just occurred, and she let her thumb graze over the pages, flipping through the book. Slowly sinking down onto the Lord Mistress’ chair, she began reading the first story in the book.

Time slowly passed by as Yaz momentarily lost herself in the fantastic stories in the book. By the time she properly looked up from the pages again, the fire in the fireplace had almost completely burned down, and Yaz closed the book to gently let her finger run over its spine. She wished the Lord Mistress had left a mark somewhere, so she could have found the exact tale that the blonde had been reading, and find out more about her through her choice, if only just a little bit.

The realisation suddenly hit Yaz that she actually had all the tools in her hands right now to finally catch a glimpse of what the Lord Mistress’ life was like. With her heart beating in her fingertips, she pushed herself out of the chair, and began searching through the room, opening drawers and scanning surfaces. 

To her great disappointment, all she could find were meaningless everyday things – a document from the Council of Lords here, a page with notes about alchemy there.

Wait. On instinct, she held onto the piece of parchment she had been about to put back in place, and looked over it again. Formulas were scribbled all over it, ingredients and their interactions listed, some crossed out, some circled.

Seems to enhance effect of poison. Scrap formula, begin again.

That made no sense. Why would the Lord Mistress discard a formula that would make a poison better ?

None the wiser, she finally placed the piece of parchment back in its drawer. She had looked at everything she could in here, and still, there was no sign of the Lord Mistress.

Yaz knew the blonde probably wouldn’t be returning for a while yet.

Her eyes fell upon the door on the other end of the room.

“Wait for me here.”

Ignoring the Lord Mistress’ words echoing in the back of her mind, Yaz moved towards the door. After pressing her ear against the wood and hearing nothing on the other side, she gently pushed it open, and found herself in an antechamber, multiple doors leading away from it.

The first one she opened led into a small room, shelves with towels covering the walls, another door opposite the one she had walked in through. Yaz assumed that behind that door lay a bathroom, probably luxurious beyond anything Yaz could imagine. She slowly closed the door behind herself again, as quietly as she could, and moved to the next one.

The unmistakably heavy footsteps of a knight in full plate ringing behind it made Yaz freeze dead in her tracks. Her mind racing, she felt panic rise up inside her.

Did anyone on the Lord Mistress’ guard know that Yaz was here? Would she be arrested if she was found standing in the middle of the antechamber to the private rooms of the head of this nation? Would the Lord Mistress rectify the situation, or would she stand laughing at the side as Yaz was hung from the gallows for attempted murder, or whatever they would accuse her of?

Before she knew what she had done, Yaz had slipped through another door, pulling it shut behind her, pressing her back against the wood as she held her breath.

A heartbeat passed, then another, and all throughout it, the antechamber stayed silent. Quietly, in the distance, Yaz could hear footsteps retreat, and the tension left her shoulders.

Only then did Yaz realise which room she had slipped into.

Cast into darkness, Yaz could still make out the outline of a large bed, four posters rising towards the ceiling, dark sheets covering the mattress. Her skin tingling, Yaz took in the Lord Mistress’ bedroom: a desk with an alchemy set stood atop, a dresser, a large closet covering one side of the room, a fireplace, and a series of windows next to the bed, with heavy curtains currently pushed to the side to the let the moonlight in. As Yaz’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, she caught a glimpse of books sitting on a night stand. 

Curiosity taking over, she stepped into the room, and towards the bed.

As she picked up the top book, she once again heard the Lord Mistress’ words echo in her thoughts.

“Behave yourself.”

But the temptation was too strong, and so she opened the first book, angling the pages towards the moonlight.

It was a collection of essays on the essence of magic, and Yaz skimmed over some paragraphs, most of it sounding entirely foreign to her. And so she moved on to the next book – a history of the wars waged between the countries that now formed the Alliance – quickly setting that one aside as well.

Her interest peaked as she saw the final book on the nightstand: a thick volume, the cover made of embossed leather, looking very old and doubtlessly worth a lot.

When she opened it, she sucked in a breath.

A Complete History of The House Theta.

Slowly, Yaz sank down on the floor, holding the book in her hands as she sat with her back leaning against the bed. With her blood rushing in her ears, she flipped the page, revealing a beautifully painted family tree. Her eyes immediately dropped to the newer branches, the paint still brighter than that of the very first names that had been filled in.

In curly handwriting, the name Juliannah had been painted, and underneath it, so small that Yaz almost missed it, a page number had been added.

With trembling fingers, she flipped the pages, and eagerly began to read.

Juliannah of House Theta, formerly of No Name.

Yaz stared at the heading, the weight of what she had just read settling in her chest. The last words had been angrily scratched over with the sharp end of a quill, but they were still there, still readable.

Swallowing heavily, Yaz continued.

Juliannah, born approximately two years before the end of the Great War, exact date and birthplace unknown. Daughter of Harold of House Theta, formerly of No Name, and an unknown mother (presumed of No Name). Granddaughter of Lord Mistress Beatrice of Karn, the Marquise of Theta. Formally recognised as being of Thetan blood through the recognition of Lord Harold, shortly before his death through poisoning. Named heiress to the Marquessate after the death of the Lord Mistress Beatrice behind enemy lines in the final weeks of the Great War.

As of her sixteenth year, Juliannah, the Marquise of Theta.

As of the year thirty-one of The Alliance, The Most Honourable Juliannah, Lord Mistress of Karn, the Marquise of Theta.

“What are you doing?”

The fireplace rushed to life, warm light filling the room and momentarily blinding Yaz. Yaz’s heart jumped into her throat at the voice that had sounded very close to her, and when she turned her head, the expression she saw on the Lord Mistress’ face made her skin turn ice cold.

The woman’s face was contorted in anger, her eyes blazing with fire that rivalled the one roaring in the fireplace, and before Yaz had time to defend herself, she was ripped off the ground and thrown onto the bed. The Lord Mistress was on top of her a second later, hands crackling with magic as they wrapped tightly around Yaz’s wrists.

“What did you read?”

“I –”

A dull pain flashed through her wrists, and Yaz wondered if it was going to leave scars again.

And whether or not she would be allowed to keep them, this time.

“What”, the Lord Mistress repeated, her eyes sharp and cold, pulling Yaz back into the reality – and the danger – of the situation, “ did you read ?”

Yaz swallowed, and her answer came out as nothing more but a low whisper. “The paragraph about you. The one that says you were…” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

The Lord Mistress didn’t let her go.

“That I was what, Yasmin?”

Yaz turned her face away, her cheeks burning, both from the knowledge that she now held, and the fact that the blonde was currently straddling her. “Illegitimate”, she finally whispered.

For a moment, the Lord Mistress kept her gaze fixed on Yaz, and the knight was convinced that she was going to strike her. But then, she suddenly jumped off the bed, and Yaz felt the pressure on her wrists disappear.

“Leave.”

“What?” 

Yaz scrambled to sit upright, watching as the Lord Mistress pulled her frock coat off her shoulders, and carelessly threw it over the desk chair in the corner.

“We’re done here, Yasmin. You need to go back to your pet Prince.”

“No!”

The Lord Mistress spun around, her jaw set, a silent warning in her eyes.

But Yaz wouldn’t let her speak again. She, too, jumped off the bed, and was next to the Lord Mistress in two quick steps.

“I’m not leaving. I came here because of you! You told me to come here when I was ready for you. And I am!”

I don’t give a damn how you were born , she added silently, knowing full well the blonde would still be able to hear.

The Lord Mistress snorted, turning her back to shrug off her coat. “Don’t embarrass yourself, Yasmin. I’m not about to be your girlfriend . I’ve had my fun with you, but I’ve had enough. I’m bored now.”

Her words were dripping with contempt, and shame and embarrassment threatened to drown Yaz. But she pushed it away, suddenly realising that the Lord Mistress’ life must have been one filled with incredible loneliness.

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to think, because the Lord Mistress snapped around, her eyes blazing.

“How dare you!” the blonde hissed. “You pity me because I was born of No Name?” She let out a humourless laugh, baring her teeth as she took a sudden step towards Yaz. “At least I am worth something now .”

Yaz wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. All she knew was that the Lord Mistress’ hand was suddenly cupping her own cheek, her eyes widening as she stared at Yaz. The knight, in turn, couldn’t stop staring at her own hand, still hovering in the air between them, her palm tingling from the impact of striking the blonde right across the face.

“Yasmin”, the Lord Mistress breathed, and for the very first time, there was something akin to admiration in her tone.

And then her expression shifted into something, something Yaz had seen once before – when she had told the Lord Mistress she wanted answers.

And Yaz understood, in that moment, what it had been then, and what it was now: respect.

A second later, lips crashed against Yaz’s.

Yaz stumbled backwards, the back of her legs hitting the desk. She grabbed fistfuls of the Lord Mistress’ shirt in order to keep her balance, and when Yaz’ tongue ran over the blonde’s lower lip a moment later, the other woman granted her entrance with a low moan.

“Stars”, the Lord Mistress’ breathed into Yaz’s mouth, her voice gravelly as her hands pushed up Yaz’s shirt, finally, finally touching naked skin for the first time. “I hate how much I want you.”

Yaz gasped, her entire body flooded by pure desire as the Lord Mistress’ nails dug in the curve above her hips. “Show me”, she breathed, in between bruising kisses, “show me what you want.”

For a heartbeat, the Lord Mistress stilled. Then, her hands flew up towards Yaz’s temples, painfully pressing against them, and something pushed against the back of Yaz’s mind.

A second later, Yaz’s eyes flew wide open, even though she could no longer see the room that existed around her. Instead, her thoughts were flooded with images, vivid as if she were living them, one more depraved than the last. They all had one thing in common, however: the Lord Mistress using Yaz, however she pleased. And all Yaz could do was stand frozen in place, desire burning through her as she let the blonde’s fantasies wash over her, one by one.

Yaz, sitting on the desk, the Lord Mistress’ face between her legs.

Yaz, bent over the bed, the Lord Mistress’ fingers pushing her open, mercilessly thrusting into her.

Yaz, on her back, her fingers buried in wet heat as the Lord Mistress moved on top of her.

Yaz, on her knees, something thick and hot moving inside her mouth.

Before she could dwell on that last one, her back hit the desk with full force, and the air was knocked out of her lungs as the room around her came back into focus.

“Yasmin”, the Lord Mistress said, bent over her, her voice low as her hands were still pressed against Yaz’s temples. “Be sure”, the blonde said, her look piercing. “Be very, very sure.”

Because there will be no going back.

The words weren’t spoken, but they stood clear as day in the air between them. And as Yaz stared back into the Lord Mistress’ eyes, hazel and gold, she spoke the words she knew were true:

“There is freedom”, she said quietly, her tone steady even though her heartbeat was thundering in her ears, “in giving myself to you.”

And it was all the Lord Mistress had needed to hear.

Notes:

I don't think I need to announce what's gonna happen in the next chapter... Just treat that vision from Juliannah to Yaz as a little preview. So let me just leave you with this Juliannah quote from the next chapter:

"Sometimes, it pays off to dabble in artifice."

Till next time, friends ;)

Chapter 11

Notes:

*deep breath* alright folks, here we are. Before we get into this, fair warning that any kind of sex these two are going to have is always going to lean more towards the rough, with some D/s vibes to it.

Quite a bit goes on in this chapter, so if you have any squicks or triggers concerning sex, you can check out the end notes for a more detailed rundown of what these two get up to.

That being said, here we go.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Yaz was soaring. 

The Lord Mistress had not wasted a moment after Yaz had given her consent: she was straddling her atop the desk, nails scratching at her skin, no doubt drawing blood in places. Yaz’s shirt, which the Lord Mistress had made short work of by simply ripping it apart, was hanging off her shoulders, her nipples hardened the moment the air in the room had hit them.

She longed to touch the other woman, the image of the Lord Mistress moving on top of her still burned into her mind – but apparently, the blonde had other plans.

Before Yaz could have protested, hands had wrapped around her wrists, pressing them against the wood of the desk next to her head. Then, a familiar crackle of light illuminated the room.

If Yaz hadn’t been wet before, she was the moment the magical binds snapped her into place. The Lord Mistress’ lips pressed against the side of Yaz’s throat, sucking on the skin just above her pulse point. It made Yaz’s head spin.

The Lord Mistress released her skin, and let her tongue run over it. “I’ll have my way with you first, Yasmin”, she groaned into Yaz’s ear, causing Yaz to squirm underneath her as she pressed her legs together, suddenly desperate for friction – any kind of friction.

But the Lord Mistress slowly sat upright, and looked over Yaz with an expression in her eyes that made the knight’s head spin.

Hungry, wanting. Merciless.

The moment her teeth pressed into Yaz’s nipple, the knight’s back arched off the desk.

Oh ”, she moaned, eyes wide as the new feeling flooded all her senses, electricity rushing through her body. “Oh stars .”

The Lord Mistress took her cue.

As her tongue flicked over Yaz’s nipple, her hand came to knead at Yaz’s other breast, hard and almost painfully so. For the stars knew how long, she was simply lavishing Yaz’s breasts in attention: licking, sucking, biting, kneading, drawing gasps and moans from the knight until Yaz felt she couldn’t take it any longer.

“Please”, Yaz finally gasped out as the Lord Mistress bit into her other nipple, hard. “ Please.

The reply came swift, with the Lord Mistress stopping her ministrations and a hand instead wrapping around Yaz’s throat.

“Impatient”, the Lord Mistress tutted, her pupils dark and large as she stared Yaz in the eye.

“Please”, Yaz whined again, her hips bucking up as best as they could with the Lord Mistress’ weight settled atop them. “I need –”

The grip on her throat tightened, and Yaz was cut off mid-sentence as her air supply was suddenly gone.

Slowly, the Lord Mistress nudged Yaz’s legs apart with her own, and pushed one knee up, pressing straight into Yaz’s core through her trousers.

The knight closed her eyes, a strangled moan falling from her lips.

Yes , she thought, yes, please. Thank you.

She immediately began grinding herself against the other woman’s knee, as well as she could, desperate for relief. And to her great surprise, the Lord Mistress let her, her free hand coming to rest on top of Yaz’s breast, pinching her nipple as Yaz’s moans grew louder and her pleasure wound higher.

With a jolt, Yaz realised that she wasn’t going to last long, at all.

If she hadn’t been so desperate to come, she would have felt embarrassed. But this way, she simply ground down harder against the Lord Mistress, pulses of pleasure coursing through her with every twist and squeeze of the blonde’s fingers. Her breaths came out short and laboured now, and she closed her eyes as she let her head fall back against the desk, clenching her fists. She immediately felt the arousal rush through her that came from the way her arms were forced to remain in place. Then, the Lord Mistress’ knee pushed up, hard, into Yaz, and the knight gasped as she arched her back off the table.

Her eyes flew wide open as she realised what was about to happen.

“I’m going to –”

It all stopped, all at once. The Lord Mistress’ knee was suddenly gone, as were the hands on Yaz’s breast and throat, and the knight let out a desperate whine as her core throbbed painfully.

“I told you to be patient.”

A whimper fell from Yaz’s lips as the Lord Mistress climbed off of her.

All protests disappeared the moment she saw the blonde's fingers reach for the string of her own shirt. Never breaking eye contact, the Lord Mistress untied it with one hand, the fabric falling loose. She shrugged it off her shoulders, and Yaz’s mouth went dry.

The Lord Mistress’ torso was made of perfect, milky white skin, and Yaz followed every curve of her body until her eyes finally landed on small, firm breasts, with dark nipples already hard.

Stars, she wanted to put her mouth on them.

But the Lord Mistress wasn’t done yet. She reached for her trousers, too, and pushed them down, stepping out of them and carelessly flinging them aside with one foot.

Yaz couldn’t help the needy moan that fell from her lips when she saw soft, curly hair.

Slowly, the Lord Mistress approached the desk once more, and she lifted herself up to straddle Yaz again.

“I’m afraid if you’re behaving like this, I’ll have to take the edge off, first”, she hummed, and then, without any kind of preamble, she sat back, and pushed one hand between her own legs.

Yaz moaned as she watched the blonde circle her own clit with deft fingers, her eyelids fluttering half-shut as she herself let out a sigh.

Please , Yaz screamed in her thoughts, so desperate to be a part of the blonde’s pleasure.

“Fine”, the Lord Mistress breathed, and she leaned forward, using one hand to steady herself just above Yaz’s head. It gave the knight a perfect view of the blonde’s fingers moving between her legs. “You can help.”

Without any warning, the Lord Mistress shoved her breast into Yaz’s open mouth. 

The knight spluttered for a moment, taken completely by surprise, and then instincts took over. She began lapping at the other woman’s breast, sucking at her nipple, and biting down, hard. Each action came with its own reward: moans, sighs, and once, as Yaz bit down particularly hard, a quietly mumbled fuck .

All the while, the blonde continued moving above her, rocking into her own hand as her breaths became shorter and she pressed her breast deeper into Yaz’s mouth.

Then, the Lord Mistress stilled, and with a groan that reverberated through her entire body, she came.

When the blonde pulled back and sat back up, her hair was mussed, and her eyes glassy. In short, it was the most gorgeous thing Yaz had ever seen. But her attention was immediately pulled somewhere else as she realised the angle at which the Lord Mistress’ hand sat between her legs.

Yaz’s heart fluttered. Did she –

Her answer came in the form of two fingers being pulled out, covered up to their knuckles in wetness. The Lord Mistress moved her other hand towards Yaz’s face, and pushed her mouth open. A moment later, two sticky fingers were pushed against the pad of Yaz’s tongue, and the knight groaned as a new taste flooded her senses.

Stars, the Lord Mistress tasted good.

“Clean up after yourself, dear.”

The words sent fresh heat into her core, and Yaz did as was asked of her. She sucked the Lord Mistress’ fingers clean with gusto, unwilling to let even a single drop of her go to waste. When the blonde was seemingly satisfied, she pulled out her fingers, inspecting them.

With a smile, she looked at Yaz.

“Good girl.”

Seldom had two words had a bigger effect on Yaz. She wanted to hear them again, wanted to do all the right things so she could hear them forever. Against her wrists, the magic burned as bright as the fire underneath Yaz’s skin.

“Now”, the Lord Mistress continued, and she shuffled off the desk, her hands suddenly on the rim of Yaz’s trousers. “About your reward.”

Yaz’s trousers were gone a second later, and she whined as cool air hit her clit, instantly throbbing with desire once more. Her mind flashed back to one of the images the Lord Mistress had shown her, and her heart stumbled in her chest at the possibility that it might become reality.

Standing at the foot of the desk, the Lord Mistress simply looked at Yaz with hungry eyes. She should have felt embarrassed by the way she was being inspected, but all Yaz could feel was the throbbing of her clit, and the heat underneath her skin. Then, the Lord Mistress took a step forward, and after she had slung one of Yaz’s legs over her shoulder, she pressed her lips against her inner thigh.

A second later, a sharp pain ran through Yaz, and her back arched off the table as she realised the Lord Mistress had bitten her. That she was leaving her mark on her, in the most intimate of places.

Apparently, one mark alone wasn’t enough for the blonde.

She began sucking spots into Yaz’s thighs, left and right, occasionally lapping with a soothing tongue over burning skin, only to bite a second later. After a while, another, more sharply painful sensation began to accompany each bite, and when Yaz looked down, she saw purple energy cracking around the blonde's lips, leaving scarred skin behind. Every painful mark was causing the moans that were falling from Yaz’s lips to grow louder, and she found herself getting ever closer to begging the Lord Mistress for what she wanted.

Remembering what asking for it had gotten her the last time, Yaz bit her bottom lip. Stars, she did not want the blonde to stop again.

At the first stroke of a warm tongue through wet folds, Yaz almost came.

Her eyes wide, Yaz gasped as the blonde pushed both legs over her shoulders, and began dragging her tongue over her in languishing, slow strokes. Yaz wanted nothing more but to bury her hands in blonde hair, but they were still bound in place. For the first time that night, Yaz found herself truly struggling against them, and she was rewarded by a burning sensation rushing through her arms, causing a cry to fall from her lips.

Yaz pressed her legs against the Lord Mistress’ back, trying to draw her closer in the only way she could. Someway, at the very back of her mind, she was distantly aware that the skin on the blonde’s back was somehow not smooth like she had expected, but strangely rough, and –

At that exact same moment, the Lord Mistress pushed a finger into Yaz, and the knight saw stars.

Her orgasm crashed through her, leaving her breathless and shaking underneath the other women, clenching around her finger as she pushed her hips up, desperate to feel more of the blonde’s tongue, her lips.

She came down from her high a moment later, but the Lord Mistress didn’t stop.

Something pushed against the back of Yaz’s mind, and a second later, she heard the blonde’s voice in her head.

“One.”

As she pushed another finger into Yaz, the knight gasped both at the unfamiliar intrusion and the momentary overstimulation.

“What –” she breathed, her brain unable to keep up with what was happening. Her oversensitive core was throbbing, but the Lord Mistress continued pushing into her, mercilessly fast and hard, and all Yaz could do was close her eyes and let her.

Soon enough, her pleasure was winding up once again, almost painfully so, and moans filled the room around her, accompanied by the slick sounds of the Lord Mistress pushing into her. It took Yaz a moment to realise she was making those depraved sounds herself, begging for more, whining and moaning and gasping at every stroke of the blonde’s tongue and fingers.

With a particularly hard thrust, the Lord Mistress enveloped Yaz’s clit with her lips, and sucked.

With a strangled sob, Yaz came a second time, and this time, she did not have the strength to rock into the blonde, instead letting the other woman simply take her, guiding her through the waves of pleasure.

Boneless, Yaz fell back against the desk.

“Two.”

She was distantly aware of the Lord Mistress letting go of her legs, and placing them back into their previous position, half on the desk, half dangling off. Then, warm fingers gently traced along her wrists, and a second later, the pressure of magic had disappeared. To Yaz’s great surprise, the Lord Mistress lifted both of her wrists in turn, and placed a lingering kiss against each scar.

“Beautiful”, she mumbled, then stepped away from the desk.

Yaz was too out of it to sit up, or register what the blonde was doing. All she could hear was drawers being opened and closed, and all the while, Yaz let herself simply lie still and breathe, her body trying to recuperate from the pleasure that had just been wrung from it.

When she couldn’t hear anything from the Lord Mistress anymore, she slowly turned her head to look for her.

The blonde was leaning against the closet, her eyes closed and a wistful expression on her face as her hand wrapped around something between her legs.

Yaz had never seen anything like it: a leather sort of harness that the Lord Mistress had slipped into, and attached to its front, what looked like… Yaz did not have a lot of experience when it came to male anatomy, but she certainly knew what that was.

“How?” she mumbled, still groggy from her orgasms, and the Lord Mistress grinned as her eyelids fluttered open. Her fingers were still covered in Yaz’s come, and she was slowly spreading it over the shaft.

“Sometimes”, she said, “it pays off to dabble in artifice. Off the table, Yasmin.”

The sharp tone of the last command made Yaz shiver, and she slowly pushed herself upright. Awkwardly, she shuffled off the table, leaving her ruined shirt behind somewhere on the floor next to it. Her eyes were fixed on the member in the Lord Mistress' hand. The blonde had begun to stroke it lazily as she came closer, hungry eyes roaming over Yaz's body. 

As soon as Yaz stood opposite the Lord Mistress, she was pulled into a bruising kiss. She could feel a hardness pressing against her stomach, and she involuntarily moaned into the blonde's mouth as the Lord Mistress grabbed a fistful of Yaz's hair in an - unsurprisingly - almost painful way. 

Before Yaz could enjoy the moment, however, another hand landed on her shoulder, and she was being shoved down so hard she crashed onto her knees. 

When she opened her eyes, Yaz came face to face with the leather harness, and the member attached to it. She could smell her own arousal on it, and she looked up at the Lord Mistress, who still had one hand buried in Yaz's hair. The blonde let her other hand travel to Yaz's cheek, her thumb grazing over Yaz's bottom lip, and pulling it down. 

Yaz understood a second later, and her heart skipped a beat in her throat. 

Mouth dry, Yaz lifted one hand and enveloped the Lord Mistress with it. To her great surprise, she was warm, as warm as real skin would be, and Yaz gave it an experimental tug. It caused the blonde to let out a sharp groan, and suddenly, Yaz's mouth watered at the realisation that somehow – through magic she presumed – the blonde was able to actually feel her touch.

Finally, finally it was her turn to please the Lord Mistress. 

Eagerly, she leaned forward, and let her tongue run up from the base of the shaft, swirling it over the tip. 

The moan that fell from the Lord Mistress' lips was all Yaz wanted to hear for the rest of her life. She gave another, slow stroke of her tongue, and then, her heart thundering in her ears, took the tip into her mouth. 

She couldn't help it. A moan got stuck in her throat as fresh wetness gushed between her legs. Slowly, she swirled her tongue around the tip, causing another groan to escape the Lord Mistress, and then Yaz was overcome by an urge. She eagerly pushed her head forward, taking in as much of the Lord Mistress as she could. 

"Stars", the blonde moaned above her, and when Yaz tilted her head, her mouth full of the Lord Mistress, she saw the blonde looking at her with pure elation in her eyes.

Yaz couldn’t help it. At the same time as she began bobbing her head, she let one hand travel down between her legs, and pushed two fingers into herself.

“You look so good like that”, the blonde moaned, and Yaz was filled with pride at the praise, but she didn't have time to revel in the feeling, because the next thing she knew, the Lord Mistress' grip on her hair had tightened, holding Yaz firmly in place. For a moment, the knight was confused. Wasn't she supposed to -? 

Of course, a moment later, her questions were answered when the blonde started rocking her hips into her mouth.

As with everything, she wasn't gentle about it. Yaz spluttered around the warm member, her eyes watering every time the tip hit the back of her throat, and at the same time her heart was beating fast at the pure joy of being used this way. Every time her nose hit the blonde’s pubic bone, she could smell the Lord Mistress’ own arousal underneath the harness, and it was driving Yaz mad with desire. She held onto the Lord Mistress' thigh with one hand, the other clumsily pushing into herself, winding up her own pleasure. At some point she simply let her head be shoved forward in rhythm with the blonde's hip movement. All the while, she kept listening to the Lord Mistress' moans, desperate to hear the sounds that would announce the blonde's release, chasing her own with her fingers. Driven by the need to please the other woman, Yaz hollowed out her cheeks to suck, and began swirling her tongue around the hardness in her mouth. The movements of the blonde became more erratic in response, an unspeakable excitement filling Yaz at the thought of causing the oh-so-composed noblewoman to lose control like this. Because of her. Because of how good Yaz was being, how she was doing all the right things. 

"Yasmin", the Lord Mistress hissed out, and Yaz felt her own release so, so close, but the moment that she was longing for so desperately never came. All of a sudden, her head was ripped back, and she couldn't help the eager whine that fell from her lips as the Lord Mistress slipped out of her mouth, spit trailing from Yaz's mouth to the tip of the glistening shaft.

Under any other circumstance, Yaz would have felt embarrassed at how needy and desperate she was being, but they had passed the point of no return so long ago that there really was no point. 

"Fingers out of yourself", the Lord Mistress commanded. “Or do you want to waste your final one?”

Her final –

Stars. Yaz suddenly realised what the Lord Mistress had been doing.

Yaz’s pleasure was the Lord Mistress’ prize, for every cut she had placed on Yaz in their duel. 

Swallowing heavily, Yaz quickly shook her head.

“Good. Stand up."

To Yaz's great satisfaction, the blonde's voice sounded a bit strained, as if she was fighting hard to keep control.

As soon as Yaz stood, the Lord Mistress grabbed her, blunt nails digging into her arms, and then she was being turned around. 

A moment later, her torso slammed into the desk, and the air was knocked out of Yaz's lungs. The Lord Mistress grabbed her hands, bringing them together behind Yaz's back, and almost immediately the by now familiar feeling of magical binds was burning across Yaz's skin. 

Stars, her wrists would be littered with all those scars, and Yaz couldn’t wait to see them.

The Lord Mistress moved up behind her, nudging Yaz's legs further apart, and then the knight suddenly wasn't sure she remembered how to breathe as she realised what was about to happen.

"Now, Yasmin", the Lord Mistress said, her voice low and dangerous as Yaz felt the blunt pressure of something hard and hot against her entrance, "be a good girl for me and take what you're given." 

The moment the tip was pushed into her, Yaz let out a hiss as she felt herself flutter around the unfamiliar intrusion. She took a deep breath, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to adjust to how much bigger the Lord Mistress felt like this, in comparison to how she had felt inside her mouth.

To Yaz's great relief, the blonde went mercifully slowly, stretching Yaz open carefully as she pushed into her inch by inch. The movement was accompanied by a low burning sensation, but the pleasure that came with it was louder than anything else. With every bit that Yaz was stretched further, she could feel the other woman deeper inside her, and Yaz thought she was going to come from that alone.

When the Lord Mistress' hips were pressed flush against Yaz's butt, the blonde stilled, and Yaz silently thanked the stars for it. She took a deep breath, trying to adjust to how impossibly full she felt, and then the blonde let out a long, drawn-out moan that was almost half-sigh. 

"Stars, Yasmin", she said, and her tone was so appreciative it made Yaz's heart sing. "You are so tight."

The words caused the last functioning bit of Yaz's brain to short-circuit, and then suddenly, the Lord Mistress pulled almost all the way out. A whine escaped Yaz, and she bit her bottom lip.

When there was only the tip left inside of Yaz the Lord Mistress stilled for a moment, and Yaz felt herself clench around her, as if trying to pull her back in. Now that she knew what it felt like to have the blonde inside her, she needed her back. Driven by pure need and desire, she tried to push her hips back. But the punishment came swiftly in the form of a hand coming down on her butt cheek, hard and bruising. A spike of arousal flashed through Yaz, and she let out a sound, half cry, half moan. 

"Impatient again", the Lord Mistress tutted, and Yaz bit her bottom lip harder as she screwed her eyes shut, trying to regain control. “Haven’t you learned?”

“Yes”, Yaz breathed out, “yes, I have.”

“Good girl.”

All rational thought was lost the moment the Lord Mistress suddenly snapped her hips forward, hard and rough, burying herself to the hilt once again and filling Yaz completely.

A moan fell over Yaz's lips, and then: "Mistress." 

Seldomly had a word felt so strangely right on her lips. 

It seemed to have been all the encouragement the blonde had needed. The surprising gentleness she had exhibited while pushing Yaz open for the first time was gone in an instant, and instead, she began fucking into her with vigour. The blonde grabbed Yaz's hips, nails digging into Yaz's skin as she went fast and deep, each thrust jostling Yaz on the desk, her hard nipples grazing painfully over the wood underneath. 

And it felt so good.

Every time the blonde bottomed out inside of her, a wet slapping sound echoed around the room, and for a brief moment, Yaz wondered if there were guards stationed somewhere outside, and what on earth they’d be thinking. But then the blonde angled her hips in a different way, and Yaz almost saw stars as the Lord Mistress hit a spot within her that the knight hadn't even known existed. With every thrust, her pleasure wound higher, almost painfully so, and she felt herself clench around the Lord Mistress, as if to keep her inside forever, to make sure the blonde knew Yaz was truly, only ever hers, to do with as she pleased. 

A hand landed in Yaz's hair once again, and pulled, ripping her head off the desk, and then suddenly the Lord Mistress' cheek was right next to hers as she draped herself over Yaz’s back. In this position, every thrust made Yaz’s front snap into the edge of the desk, and Yaz’s mouth dropped as she felt the Lord Mistress’ breasts press into her back. Behind her, the blonde's low grunts mixed with Yaz's own desperate moans, and Yaz felt more wetness gush between her legs, letting the Lord Mistress’ slip in and out of her with even more ease. 

"You already are, Yasmin", the Lord Mistress said, her voice sounding beautifully strained as her hips snapped harder, causing the knight to cry out as the blonde pushed herself impossibly deeply into her. "You're already mine." 

With a cry, Yaz came. She clenched around the Lord Mistress, and her entire body went stiff as pleasure crashed through it, threatening to drown her as it stole every last molecule of air from her lungs.

She could feel the moment the Lord Mistress let go. She heard a deep groan as lips pressed against her ear, and then, to her great surprise, Yaz could feel something warm spill inside of her. The moment she realised what was happening, Yaz's world went hazy along the edges as she came, again, one orgasm blending over seamlessly into the next, tensing every muscle in her body all at once as fire burned through her, consuming her whole, flames flickering to the rhythm of the Lord Mistress' now shallow thrusts as she pushed her release deep into Yaz.

Then, the Lord Mistress let go, and Yaz simply slumped forward.

The next thing Yaz consciously realised was that she was slowly blinking her eyes back open. 

She was no longer lying on the desk, a softer surface underneath her back now. Slowly, she began to realise that she was lying in the Lord Mistress’ bed. The woman must have carried her over, somehow.

The realisation was immediately accompanied by confusion at the stickiness on her thighs, and the slow trickle that ran out of her core.

Then, she remembered, and she instinctively tried to squeeze her thighs together at the memory. But when she tried to move, she found that she couldn't, as both her ankles and wrists were bound by magic.

Slowly, Yaz moved her head to the side, and past the purple crackle that ran around her wrist, she saw the Lord Mistress, stark naked, sitting casually in a chair next to the desk, her legs crossed – she was no longer wearing the harness. 

"Ah", the blonde said, and her voice sounded rough in a way that made Yaz shiver. "You're back."

Before Yaz could say or do anything else, the blonde had pushed herself up. She was next to Yaz in two quick strides, sitting down on the bed and wrapping one hand around Yaz's neck. But instead of squeezing, she shifted her hand, until it came to rest on Yaz’s nape as she pulled her up into a kiss. 

It was surprisingly soft, and Yaz caught herself sighing into it. 

"Mistress", she said, and she had never thought the word would sound so natural, so strangely comforting to her. 

Never thought it would mean freedom to her, of all things.

"You know, Yasmin", the Lord Mistress said as she pulled back, and there was a darkness pooling in her eyes once again that made Yaz squirm on the bed, "if you're a good girl and make me come again, you can call me Juliannah."

"It's Yaz", Yaz managed to croak out, still boneless from her previous orgasm, and entirely transfixed by the fresh hunger in the Lord Mistress' eyes. "Most people call me Yaz." 

The blonde lifted an eyebrow, and let one hand slowly glide across Yaz's collarbone. It finally came to rest on Yaz's breast, and the knight sucked in a breath as the Lord Mistress took the nipple between her index finger and thumb, and pinched it sharply. 

"I prefer calling you Yasmin", she said, her voice a low husk, and before Yaz could stop herself, she replied:

"I prefer calling you Mistress." 

The grin that spread over the blonde’s face wasn’t anything less than elated.

Without any kind of preamble, the Lord Mistress swung her leg over Yaz, her knees coming to rest on each side of Yaz’s hips. The hunger with which she fixed Yaz was causing the knight’s skin to catch fire once again. If she was being completely honest, she wasn’t sure how much more she could take right now – she felt wrung out, and quite sore, albeit in a deliciously satisfying way. 

The Lord Mistress’ grin grew wider. “Oh, don’t you worry, Yasmin. This one won’t be about you.”

Yaz’s mouth instantly went dry at the implication that the blonde was going to simply use her for pleasure again. An eagerness to please washed over her, but just like before, she did not have the energy to feel embarrassment at it, nor the willingness to.

No, she was loving all of this too much for that.

The Lord Mistress leaned down, catching Yaz’s lips in another bruising kiss, quickly demanding entrance with her tongue. The brief moment of softness from before was entirely gone the moment a hand wrapped itself around Yaz’s throat mid-kiss, squeezing sharply. Yaz’s back arched off the bed as much as was possible as the lack of air hit her, combined with the Lord Mistress’ tongue licking into her mouth.

Just before Yaz would have begun to panic, the grip on her throat loosened, and the Lord Mistress pulled back. Wordlessly, she reached for Yaz’s wrist, and for a moment, the purple light grew brighter as it crackled up the blonde’s arms.

She moved Yaz’s arms so they were stretched out, and came to rest next to the Lord Mistress’ knees. Then, the blonde let go, and Yaz realised that only one hand was now bound to the bed.

She understood why when the Lord Mistress moved herself up on the sheets, only stopping once she was kneeling directly above Yaz’s face.

The view that Yaz was getting was making her head spin, and it took all her self-restraint not to surge up towards it. The Lord Mistress’ core was swollen and glistening wet, so ready for Yaz, but the knight knew what being impatient would get her.

The Lord Mistress reached behind herself, and grabbed Yaz’s unbound hand, placing it on her butt.

“Tap me if you can’t breathe”, she said. “I’m not about to let you die before I’ve finished.”

The words sent a strange thrill down Yaz’s spine, but she couldn’t dwell on it, because the Lord Mistress was already lowering herself onto Yaz’s face, one hand grabbing a fistful of Yaz’s hair.

It was clear to Yaz by now that the blonde loved holding her like that, and Yaz loved letting her.

The taste of the Lord Mistress' core was beyond compare, even better than it had been to lick it off the blonde’s fingers, and it made Yaz’s heart soar. She opened her mouth, letting her tongue glide over the blonde’s core in its entirety, and the moan that immediately followed was music to Yaz’s ears. She began lapping eagerly, her tongue dragging through wet folds and pressing into the hard bundle of nerves above, again and again, and the Lord Mistress responded by gripping Yaz’s hair harder, and rocking against her face. Then, Yaz dared to go further as she pushed her tongue into the Lord Mistress, dragging it along the other woman’s inner walls.

A moan vibrated deep in Yaz’s throat as she tasted even more of the Lord Mistress, and she felt the rhythmic tensing and releasing of the Lord Mistress’ muscles around her tongue, and under her hand that was digging into the soft flesh of the blonde’s butt.

She could feel the Lord Mistress’ movements growing more and more erratic, and then Yaz pulled her tongue out, only to suck on the Lord Mistress’ clit, causing a curse to tumble over the blonde’s lips. 

Multiple things happened at once.

Somewhere – Yaz couldn’t tell where because she had lost all sense of orientation – a door (or was it a window?) was thrown open. The Lord Mistress stilled, and Yaz would have whined at the sudden stop – she had been so close to making the other woman orgasm once again – if she hadn’t heard someone suck in a shocked gasp at the same time.

“Get off of her!”

Yaz’s entire body went cold. She knew that voice. She knew that voice because she heard it almost every day.

Before Yaz could do anything else, however – not that she had a lot of options either way – the Lord Mistress ground down again, once, twice, and then, with a long, drawn out moan, she came.

In spite of everything, Yaz’s brain simply short-circuited for a moment as she instinctively lapped up the wetness from the other woman, drinking every drop as if she had been dying of thirst – and in a way, she had.

Only when the Lord Mistress swung her leg over her to jump off the bed and the room came back into view did reality truly crash into Yaz.

Standing next to the open window, his eyes wide with shock, a sword in his hand and his mouth gaping, was the Crown Prince of Gallifrey.

Notes:

Everything that happens, in order:

Bondage, breath play, edging, masturbation, oral sex, overstimulation, vaginal fingering, magical ejaculating strap-on, blow job, slapping, penetration, face sitting.

All of this comes with a garnish of praise kink and a side dish of possessiveness.

 

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 12

Notes:

I hope you've all recovered from last week ;D Here we go!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Dear stars”, Koschei breathed. “Yaz!”

He was next to the bed in two quick strides, and unclasped the cloak that had been wrapped around his shoulders. He quickly covered Yaz with it, who barely had time to dwell on the fact that her face was currently covered in the Lord Mistress’ come before she realised that the cloak seemed oddly familiar. It took Yaz a moment to register why.

Stars, he’d kept her old city guard cloak all these months. This was worse than Yaz had thought.

The Prince, as had happened so often, entirely misinterpreted Yaz’s stunned silence, and gently stroked her hair.

“Don’t worry Yaz”, he said, his eyes fixed on the Lord Mistress as he lifted his sword and pointed it at her. “I’m going to get you out of here. Whatever she has done to you, we can –”

Next to the bed, the Lord Mistress let out a snort. Leaning casually against a shelf – seemingly not bothered in the slightest by the fact that Koschei was seeing her stark naked – she waved one hand dismissively. 

"Oh, do calm down", she said, and then the corner of her mouth lifted into the most devious smile as she added: “Nothing was done to her that she didn’t beg me for."

“Don’t you dare”, Koschei snapped. "You had the gall to show up at my ball, having her tied up here the whole time for your… sick fantasies." He grit his teeth, and then his hands began to glow golden.

Yaz felt just a dash of panic.

"You are going to pay for this, Juliannah”, he said. “I know what you are now - you made a mistake exposing yourself like this."

A brief moment of surprise had passed over the Lord Mistress’ face as she looked at Koschei's hands, but it was quickly masked by a condescending look and a raised eyebrow. “Really? This is worse than I thought.” She let out a chuckle. “What are you going to do, heal me to death?” The chuckle turned into a grin, and then suddenly the air in the room changed as the Lord Mistress’ hands began to crackle with energy. “Here, let me show you how it’s –”

“Juliannah”, Yaz snapped, finally done with being ignored. “Cut it out!”

Two heads snapped towards Yaz, and the expressions on their faces couldn’t have been more different. The Lord Mistress looked surprised, yet pleased, whereas the look on Koschei’s face was one of pure shock.

Juliannah?” he repeated, sounding absolutely incredulous. 

Her cheeks flushed, Yaz turned towards the Lord Mistress, and snuck her free hand out from underneath the cloak. She waved it towards the rest of her body. “Would you mind?” she asked, and with a sigh, Juliannah let the light around her hands go out, and moved them to unbind Yaz instead.

As soon as she was free, Yaz grabbed the cloak with one hand, pushing it against her front. She quickly shuffled off the bed on the side of the Lord Mistress, briefly turning her naked back towards Koschei.

The Prince immediately sucked in another breath, and Yaz spun around on her heels. She craned her neck, looking over her shoulder to try and figure out what he had seen on her back that had somehow shocked him even more than the rest. When she couldn’t see anything, she threw the Lord Mistress a questioning glance, and the blonde grinned. 

“Might have left a mark on you, darling”, she said, and slapped Yaz on the butt.

The impact was accompanied by the typical pain that came from hitting against an already forming bruise, and Yaz felt her entire face turn burning hot as she remembered how exactly that particular bruise had formed.

Yaz cleared her throat, and averted her gaze. Juliannah disappeared somewhere behind her, and when she came to stand at Yaz's side again, she was wearing her frock coat from before. She had made no effort to close it, however, the garment hanging loosely from her shoulders and leaving quite a fair bit on display. Yaz followed the milky-white strip of skin with her eyes, down from her collarbones, past the barely visible side of her breasts, over her belly, to -

“Yaz”, she heard Koschei say, a pleading tone to his voice, and Yaz almost flinched as she was suddenly pulled back into the moment.

“It’s Yasmin, actually”, the Lord Mistress replied, sounding slightly annoyed.

In spite of everything, Yaz had to suppress a smile. Possessive, much? she thought, and the Lord Mistress replied with a nonchalant shrug.

The Prince clenched his jaw, and chose to ignore the Karnish woman. “ Yaz ”, he repeated, and Yaz finally dared look back up at him. His eyes were hopeful, pleading. “Come home with me”, he said. “I don’t care what has happened, what she has made you do. I know she forced herself on you with her magic, and none of it is your fault. We can forget any of it ever happened.”

A familiar anger briefly flickered inside of Yaz, but then Koschei had sheathed his sword and moved around the bed. He reached for her hands, pulling them towards his chest, and Yaz quickly pressed her upper arms against her torso, trying to keep the cloak pinned in place.

She could feel the Lord Mistress’ annoyance grow beside her.

“I just want you to be safe. I was worried to death when I found that feather." Koschei squeezed her hands, and it made Yaz’s entire body tense up as her heart gave a sickening flutter in her chest. "Whatever happened, I forgive you. I know you had no choice." 

Yaz practically ripped her hands out of Koschei’s grip as she stared at him. Inside of her, she could feel something growing like a deadly tide.

When she finally found her words, they came out sharp and angry.

Forgive me? Who do you think you are?”

Koschei’s jaw dropped, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Juliannah’s doing the same – although her expression quickly morphed into a grin instead. And was that pride shining in her eyes? Yaz didn't have time to dissect how that particular expression was making her feel. 

“I –” Koschei began, then stopped. His jaw clicked shut, and then something happened. His face changed into an expression Yaz had never seen him wear before: anger and contempt.

“You’re coming back with me”, he said, his voice calm yet cold. “That is an order, Dame .”

Instinctively, Yaz took a step back, and suddenly, Juliannah’s arm was wrapped around her waist, and she saw purple light crackling at the blonde’s fingertips. 

“Koschei.” The word was spoken quietly, yet with the sharpness of a dagger. The air in the room shifted as what had been an almost playful kind of tension turned into something else – something decidedly dangerous.

“You get your hands off her”, Koschei growled. “She’s not yours .”

“I’m not anybody’s!” Yaz snapped.

A heartbeat of silence, and then Koschei turned to her, an apologetic smile suddenly on his lips. "Of course not, Yaz. I didn't mean –" 

"I get to make my own choices”, she said, daring to interrupt in a way she never would have at the palace. Almost imperceptibly, she leaned into the Lord Mistress behind her.

Koschei dropped his shoulders, his expression properly softening again. "Of course", he said softly. "Let me just call Sty, and he’ll bring us both back. You first, Yaz, before she” – he nodded his head towards the Lord Mistress – “can put any more of her dark spells on you.” 

Koschei turned around, and walked over towards the window to search the sky for his familiar. 

It was in that exact moment that Yaz realised she'd had it. Properly had it. 

“Who says I choose you?”

Yaz watched as the man froze dead in his tracks. Then, he mumbled something under his breath, something that Yaz strained her ears to understand. When she did, her blood froze.

“The King’s Guard should have taken care of this.”

For a moment, Yaz’s mind was spinning as she tried to make sense of it. The King’s Guard would never leave the palace without the Sovereign – they would not have come here to get Yaz, no matter how much Koschei would have demanded it. He might have a lot of power, but that fact was out of his control.

Then, Yaz remembered.

“Is the Dame ready to be escorted to the ball?”

The knights that had been sent to bring her from her room to the ball. Yaz hadn’t recognised the voice of the one who had called for her, and now she finally understood why.

“You knew”, she breathed, and then finally, everything she had barely held onto for weeks broke out of her. White-hot anger crashed through her, setting her veins on fire. She took a step towards, her heart slamming into her ribcage as she balled up her free hand into a fist. Koschei still stood with his back to her, frozen in place, and it took all of Yaz’s self-control to not simply grab him and forcefully spin him around. “You knew I didn’t have feelings for you”, she hissed, her voice shaking with the effort to somewhat restrain herself, “so you sent the fucking King’s Guard to what, drag me to the ball?”

At the swear word, the Prince finally turned around, a shocked expression on his face. But in that moment, Yaz realised that she was not to be intimidated by him anymore. No, this was it. This was where her torment would end, once and for all. 

“I’ve made my decision", she said, her voice clear and confident. "I’m staying.”

A moment of shock passed over Koschei’s face, and then his jaw clenched. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

Yaz’s blood was rushing in her ears, and she could barely hear herself think over the noise it was making. But the one thing she knew for sure was that she did not want to set foot in the Gallifreyan palace, ever again.

Koschei took a step towards her, and suddenly there was something about him, something that frightened Yaz in a way nothing about Juliannah ever had.

“Yaz”, he said, his voice a low whisper. “Wouldn’t you like to see your family again?”

A jolt ran through Yaz’s system, and the fire in her blood was blown out as effortlessly as one would snuff out a single candle.

Her next words came out a lot quieter than she would have liked. “Are you threatening them?”

Koschei scoffed. “Of course not". He dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand, then fixed his gaze on Yaz once more. "I am merely pulling your attention to the fact that someone who is publicly known as a traitor to the Crown cannot be allowed to enter the country.”

At that, Yaz finally faltered, just a little bit. An image of her mother’s face flashed in front of her inner eye, and a dull pain sliced into her heart.

"You wouldn't have to publicly accuse me", she whispered, but Koschei shook his head, a sad smile on his lips that in no way reached his eyes. He threw a brief look over Yaz's shoulder, then back at her.

"I'm sorry, Yasmin. But these things just have a way of getting out. There will be questions about the knight who disappeared. It will be a matter of national security - especially once people find out about her twisted powers."

Yaz stood, frozen in place, her brain trying to catch up with the reality of the situation. 

A traitor to the Crown cannot be allowed to enter the country.

Koschei held out his hand towards her, and his tone grew soft once again. 

"Come home with me."

She looked up into his brown eyes, and there it was, clear as day in Yaz's mind: an image of herself, standing next to him, crowns on their heads. In her mind, he was holding her hand, firmly, painfully. Instantly, her chest constricted, and Yaz felt like the walls were closing in on her, like she couldn’t take a single breath anymore.

She stumbled backwards, away from Koschei, and almost lost her balance. But then two slender yet strong hands came to rest on her shoulders, and Yaz felt the warmth of another person against her back. It sent a wave of calm through her, and she knew in that moment that she could not, and would not change her mind.

A life in a golden prison, loveless, with a man she had come to despise, only to sometimes maybe be granted the privilege of seeing her family.

No, it could not be.

“I’m staying”, she said, and this time, there was no more doubt left in her heart. “I’m not coming with you. Say whatever you want about me in Gallifrey, Koschei. But your power over me ends here.”

Oh, the satisfaction of seeing his face fall. Here she was, finally doing what he had begged her to do for months before - finally using his name. And it was only to send him away, to reject him. 

Koschei took a step back, towards the window. There was a fire in his gaze, but it did not frighten Yaz any longer. For a fraction of a second, his eyes glazed over strangely, and when he lifted his arm, his familiar came flying in through the open window.

“You’ll come to regret this", he said as Sty landed on his arm. His eyes darted past Yaz’s shoulder, and locked with the Lord Mistress’. “Both of you.”

“Cut your losses, Koschei”, Juliannah said. And to top it all off, she slung one arm around Yaz's torso, pulling her closer as the other one snuck around her waist and casually drifted underneath the cloak. Yaz did her best to suppress a moan at the touch of cool fingers against her skin.

Koschei looked like he was about to spit fire, but Yaz could hear the smirk in Juliannah's voice as she continued: "And good luck trying to prove my powers without exposing yourself.”

“Oh, that won't be a problem”, Koschei said, and there was something in his expression that made Yaz’s pulse quicken. “Terserus and Polarfrey will be most interested to know about your abilities, and the twisted ways in which you choose to use them, once I show them my evidence.”

Yaz's stomach twisted. If Koschei had any kind of evidence that the Lord Mistress was a war mage, then they were both doomed. 

But then she could practically feel the woman behind her raise an eyebrow. “And what evidence would that be, Koschei?”

The hand underneath her cloak disappeared, and Yaz bit her cheeks in order not to let out a whine at the sudden loss of contact.

With a self-satisfied smile, Koschei reached into the pocket of his trousers.

And frowned. 

And reached into his other pocket.

In the periphery of Yaz’s vision, elegant, slim fingers re-appeared, holding between them one singular, white feather.

“Are you looking for this?”

Koschei stared at her for a moment, and his fist clenched at his side. Yaz thought he might dare to fight Juliannah - which would doubtlessly end badly for the Prince - but then his shoulders relaxed.

“I’ll find a way to expose you”, he said, his voice low. “I promise.” He threw Yaz one final look as he reached for Sty's feathers. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, Yaz."

Koschei closed his fingers around Sty's feathers, disappearing in a flash of golden light.

And Yaz let out the longest breath of her life, immediately being overcome by dizziness.

Juliannah let go of Yaz, and stepped into her field of vision, a broad, devilish grin on her face. 

“Dame Yasmin”, she said. “I have to admit, I am somewhat… impressed.” She took a step towards Yaz, her frock coat falling open just a tad bit more, exposing the sides of soft breasts. Yaz’s eyes were drawn towards the skin on display, and the grin on the Lord Mistress’ face only broadened as she took a step towards her, reaching for the dark red cloak that Yaz was still, almost absentmindedly, holding in front of her own body.

“Can’t say I’ll ever forget the look on Koschei’s face when he walked in”, she said, a wistful expression on her face. “His own fault for having such abysmal timing. What do you say we celebrate the occasion? I wasn’t entirely… done with you before.”

She tucked on Yaz’s cloak, but suddenly, something didn’t feel quite right, and the knight’s grip on the cloth tightened. 

The Lord Mistress’ cocked her head, but Yaz’s mind was racing. There was something, just out of her grasp, that was telling her that she had missed something. Something important.

Something that Koschei had said.

Her eyes dropped to Juliannah’s hand, and the object still between her fingers.

The instant the puzzle pieces fell into place, Yaz slapped Juliannah’s hand away from her cloak. The Lord Mistress let out an angry hiss, a fire instantly lighting in her eyes.

“What in the stars’ names are you –”

“Caladrius has never left any evidence behind before.”

Oh, how she knew she was right the moment she looked into the Lord Mistress’ eyes, and how she wished she wasn’t. Gritting her teeth, Yaz continued.

“You didn’t go to Gallifrey because of the ball.”

Slowly, Juliannah straightened her back, and simply stared into Yaz’s eyes, her expression devoid of any emotion. Again, Yaz continued, desperately waiting for some kind of reaction from the Lord Mistress, a moment in which she would stop her to tell her that Yaz had come to the wrong conclusion.

“You went back to leave the feather there, so Koschei would know where to look for me.”

Silence. Then, the terrible realisation as the final piece of the puzzle slotted itself into place, right in front of Yaz’s eyes.

“This was your plan all along", Yaz said, and her heart sank as the truth settled into her bones like led. "You did all of this just to humiliate him."

And still, the Lord Mistress didn’t say anything.

“When?” Yaz whispered, taking a step towards Juliannah as she searched her face for any kind of clue, hoping for just a sliver of denial. “When did you decide?”

“Well…” the blonde began, and a playful smile danced across her lips once more. 

It struck a match inside of Yaz. From one moment to the next her anger from before had returned, now burning hot with the fuel of humiliation as it rushed through her. It filled every nerve in her body, and when it had nowhere left to go, Yaz took a step forward. Her hand flew out towards the Lord Mistress’ chest, and she pushed.

The Lord Mistress stumbled backwards, briefly looking shocked as she regained her balance. 

“The truth, Juliannah”, Yaz said, and the words came out with a force that surprised both of them. “For once in your damn life, the truth!"

Juliannah’s face darkened at that, and she averted her gaze. A perfect curtain of hair fell into place, obscuring her features.

A heartbeat passed, then another, and when she finally turned her head to look back up at Yaz, the Lord Mistress’ expression was perfectly smooth.

“Since I found out you didn’t reciprocate his feelings.”

Yaz might have asked for the truth, but she had not been prepared for the way it cut through her like the edge of a sword. She stood, frozen, staring at the Lord Mistress, as panic slowly began to set in.

From the day they had met, this had been the plan. Every touch, every word, every look - it had been carefully orchestrated to get Yaz to this exact point. To get her into the Lord Mistress’ bed, at exactly the right moment.

Shame and embarrassment washed over her a second later, as her mind began cruelly playing back everything that had transpired between them before Koschei had shown up.

The way she had let the Lord Mistress take her, control her. The way she had squirmed underneath her, desperate for her touch. The sounds she had made, lost in her own lust, begging for more. The way she had enjoyed it all, and thought the same was true for the other woman.

What had she thought? She had let attraction and, frankly, lust cloud her judgement to the point where she had believed in the genuineness of the attraction between them.

To the point where she had left her country and her family behind for the woman who now stood, letting her know that it had all meant nothing. 

“Yasmin”, the Lord Mistress began, but Yaz shook her head, taking a quick step back.

“Don’t”, she snapped. She pushed past the other woman, and began picking up her clothes from where they had landed all around the desk. As she slipped into her shirt, ripped down the middle, Yaz had to bite the inside of her cheeks. She put on her trousers as quickly as she could, all while trying to calm down her breathing and somewhat organise her thoughts. 

She couldn’t go back to Gallifrey. There was no more livelihood for her there, she had made sure of that herself. Even without having evidence about Juliannah's powers, Koschei had made it clear that he would accuse Yaz, and that he would do so publicly. Even if she somehow managed to steal across the border, Yaz would have to live in hiding, if not for her own sake, than to protect her family at least.

When she was fully dressed – holding the front of her shirt closed with a balled up fist – she turned back towards Juliannah, but refused to look her in the eye. 

“I’m staying here”, she said. Juliannah immediately opened her mouth to say something, but Yaz didn’t let her. “Don’t”, she growled, one more time. “I’m staying here because I have no other choice. I’ll work here, if it gives me the means to earn a living. You owe me a job, at the very least. But don’t you think”, she said, her breathing heavy as her voice went quiet, “don’t you dare think you’ll ever get to touch me, ever again. We’re done.”

Finally, Yaz dared to look into the Lord Mistress' eyes, and what she saw in them was so much worse than the anger she thought she'd find. 

Nothing. Hazel eyes, devoid of any kind of emotion, just empty. 

Not knowing what else to say, Yaz turned around, and walked towards the door. She wasn't sure what she would do once she had left this room - find a guest room, if she wasn’t arrested by the Karnish guard on the spot, and then think of her next step there. 

Just as she was about to open the door, the Lord Mistress finally said something.

"You knew who I was when you said yes to me, Yaz."

And for some reason, the way she said her name, for the first time not using her full one, hurt more than anything else ever had.

Notes:

See you next week😇

Chapter 13

Notes:

Here we are, a chapter I think quite a few of you have been waiting for. I hope it lives up to your expectations :)

Minor content warnings apply, as always, they can be found in the end notes.

That being said, here we go!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A trickle of green liquid slowly made its way through the glass pipes, winding through its twists and turns. There was a small flame, burning bright underneath the construct. As the newly introduced component made its way towards the main vial, she held her breath.

As soon as the first drop made contact, most of the liquid in the vial evaporated with a low puff. Once the air cleared, the remainder had turned a most unpleasant brown. 

With a low curse, she pushed herself away from the desk, shifting her glasses into her hair.

She was so close. It had taken her years to find out the exact components to the poison, and now, she was one final ingredient away from creating its antidote. 

A step which was absolutely crucial, and she kept failing at it.

In the corner, she could feel Caladrius’ eyes on her.

“Don’t say it”, she hissed, reaching into the drawer for another vial, and more of the powder she had shaved off the green crystal she had procured last week. She had been so sure it would work, but apparently, she had been wrong – at least about the dosage.

“You’re distracted.”

Not even looking into his direction, she flung the empty vial across the room. She heard the sound of glass breaking against the wall, followed by the flutter of wings, and an annoyed hiss in her head.

A second later, the bird landed on the other side of the room, perched on top of a bookshelf.

“Very mature” , he said drily.

She shrugged. “If you won’t shut up about her, I will keep throwing things at you. Your choice.”

“Juliannah” , he said, sounding annoyed. “It’s clearly a problem.”

With a flick of her wrist, she sent a small bolt of lightning his way. He was off the bookshelf before it could hit him, and this time, he landed right in front of her, on the desk.

“It’s not a problem”, she growled, annoyed that he was blocking her view of her alchemy set. 

Caladrius didn’t say anything to that, and Juliannah stood up. She went to grab a book from the shelf he had previously sat on, and busied herself with flipping through its pages, looking for a guide on how to use the crystal.

Loud clanging sounds coming in from the window announced that the guard had begun their daily training sessions in the courtyard. With an annoyed huff, Juliannah snapped the book shut, and went to close the window. She didn’t need the sound of people bashing each other with steel to distract her from her work. Not today.

She paused with her hands on the wings of the window, unable to keep her eyes from wandering over the crowd underneath.

The brown braid was impossible to miss, flying in the air behind the knight as she moved to strike her opponent. Her moves were fluent, powerful, precise, and her duelling partner didn't stand a chance as her sword came crashing down on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. 

Juliannah frowned. It had been exactly five days since Yasmin had found out. Too early, way earlier than Juliannah had thought she would. It had messed with her timeline, in a colossal way, and if she was being honest, Caladrius had a point. She was distracted by it.

At least Yasmin had clearly accepted Juliannah’s offering, and the blonde let out a satisfied huff at that. She had sent the knight a uniform two days ago, one with a Captain’s mark stitched into the front of the tabard nonetheless. After all, that was what the knight had always wanted – a good career. Well, Juliannah was ready to give it to her, if that was what she needed to stop pouting.

You’re already mine.

As it had so often in the past week, her mind conjured up an image of a naked Yasmin, splayed out on Juliannah’s desk, sinful noises tumbling over her lips.

Mistress.

With an annoyed groan, Juliannah threw the window shut, with more force than was necessary.

“Juliannah, you –”

She lifted a hand, interrupting Caladrius before he could say anything more. 

“Enough.” Juliannah was through the door a second later, catching the knight behind it off guard.

“Lord Mistress!” he exclaimed, falling into a deep bow. She waved him over, annoyed.

“Sir…”

“Daniel.”

“Right”, she said. “Bring me Dame Yasmin.”

The man bowed. “Of course. The meeting room?”

She shook her head. “Here.”

If the man was surprised, he was hiding it well. After all, Juliannah knew most of the Karnish Guard at least had their suspicions about the Gallifreyan knight who had suddenly appeared in their midst – and was sleeping in a guest room instead of the barracks like everyone else. 

A fool who thought the Lord Mistress didn't have ears everywhere. 

“Very well”, he said, and with another bow, he walked away.

Juliannah watched for a while as the knight hurried down the corridor, then closed the door behind herself. 

All she would have to do was seduce Yasmin back into her arms. Juliannah had done it once before, and she knew she could do it again. After all, the plan had always been to fuck the knight for as long as was necessary – and Juliannah was not about to let something she’d worked on go to ruin because said knight turned out to be so bloody stubborn. That, and too smart for her own good.

Caladrius sat on top of the shelf again, throwing Juliannah a look that she knew very well.

She decided to ignore it, and went back over to the window overlooking the courtyard.

The knight she had sent arrived a couple of moments later, obviously a little out of breath from running. Juliannah was too far away to see the details of the faces below, let alone hear what was spoken, but the man must have called Yasmin’s name, as she stopped mid-duell, and turned around to face him.

Juliannah watched as Yasmin stepped out of the duelling rinks, and they walked aside together.

For a moment, they stood opposite each other, unmoving, as Sir David doubtlessly relayed the order.

Then, Yaz lifted her head, and looked straight up at Juliannah.

The Lord Mistress felt a familiar fire catch underneath her skin, and she clenched her teeth, holding the gaze from afar – even though there was no way to actually see the other woman’s eyes.

Brown pupils blown and wild with desire, so dark that –

Juliannah squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to let out a groan. When she let her eyelids flutter back open, she didn’t have to hear the words in order to understand what was happening down in the courtyard. 

Yasmin turned her back to the knight Juliannah had sent, reached for her helmet that was lying on a bench next to her, and pulled it on. With a final look over her shoulder and up towards Juliannah, she ostentatiously clung her visor shut with force, then turned back towards the training rink.

A second later, she began walking through a set of drills, and Juliannah sucked in a sharp breath.

Yasmin had refused her order. She had the gall to stay in Juliannah’s palace, under Juliannah’s rule, and –

She took a deep breath. Pulling her face into an annoyed scrunch instead of sending a bolt of lightning straight into the duelling grounds, Juliannah turned away from the window, and went back to her alchemy set.

Fine. So what if Yasmin refused her orders? She was but a knight among many, and if she wanted, Juliannah could get rid of her quickly enough – one way or another.

Except that would mean having to change everything, again. And if Juliannah hated one thing, it was having to rethink something that had been perfect to begin with.

“She refused your order” , Caladrius said, matter-of-factly, earning himself an annoyed huff from Juliannah.

“I was aware, yes”, she snapped back as she put her glasses back on, fiddling with one of the valves on the tube in the middle of her set. If she could just get that bloody dosage right, she would –

“What are you going to do about it?”

Her finger slipped, and a gush of liquid ran through the tube, way too much of it. A puff erupted as it hit the final vial, and Juliannah jumped back just in time before the glass exploded, spraying its contents all over the desk.

“For fuck’s sake!”

Her anger finally overtaking her, Juliannah swept her arm across the table with full force. The alchemy set flew to the side, the delicate glass breaking against the wall just next to her window, shards raining down onto the expensive carpet underneath. Juliannah didn’t pay it any attention. She grabbed the edge of the desk with both hands, purple crackling all around her hands and up her arms, her eyes burning with magic. But as she looked down, all she could suddenly see was Yasmin, her cheeks hollowed out, her eyes wide as she was gagging on –

With a thundering crack, the desk broke straight through the middle.

Juliannah stepped back from it, squeezing her eyes shut as she forced herself to rein her magic in. Slowly, she picked up the threads of her volatile energy, and pulled them back, closer to herself, until she could feel it sitting tightly around her chest once more, and the light disappeared.

She was in control. She always was.

When she opened her eyes again, she tugged on her jerkin, readjusting it. Then, she ran one hand through her hair, smoothing it out.

“I could just get her for you, you know” , Caladrius said, completely ignoring the outburst that had just happened.

But Juliannah shook her head, her eyes flitting over towards the window, where the sound of steel hitting steel was still ringing loudly.

“No”, Juliannah said. “I’ll find a way to take care of this myself.” She looked over her ruined desk, and the broken shards of her alchemy set in the corner, then took a deep breath.

“I’m going to the library.”

“Juliannah…”

“Leave me alone!” she hissed, a clear warning in her tone that she had reached her limit. She was out the door a second later, throwing it shut behind her with force. As she stepped out into the corridor, she saw Sir Dennis hurrying back towards her.

“Lord Mistress”, he began, looking like a man about to either faint or throw up from fear. “My deepest apologies, Most Honourable –”

“Find someone to fix the mess in my chambers.”

The knight stared at her, mouth open, confusion flickering over his face.

Now! ” 

With a jolt, he fell into a deep bow, then hurried away. Once he had disappeared around the corner, Juliannah set about following him.

She walked down the corridor, not really minding her steps, just letting her feet take her down a familiar path as her thoughts rattled loudly inside her head. She hated how bothered she was by all of this, and Caladrius wasn’t helping, for once. When the familiar usually managed to pull Juliannah’s outbursts into concentrated thoughts, this time, his comments only made the blonde rage more. She didn’t want to talk about the situation. She most certainly didn't want to talk about her .

Juliannah didn’t know when exactly her feet had betrayed her, but she stopped as the sunlight hit her eyes and her cheeks turned warm from the afternoon rays shining on her face.

Everything stopped.

It only took a second for the knights to realise her presence. They gasped, then jumped into action, and a more or less coordinated shout of “Lord Mistress!” went through their rows as everyone fell into a deep bow.

Everyone except one.

In the middle, helmet under her arm and hand wrapped around the hilt of her sword, stood Yasmin, a gaping hole in the front of her tabard.

The Captain’s mark, Juliannah realised. Ripped out.

Oh, how it made her blood burn. Yasmin was looking directly into her eyes, so defiant, so bloody strong that Juliannah had to ball her hands up into fists in order to suppress the urge to rush towards her, wrap her fingers around her throat and teach her a lesson. Have her come undone underneath Juliannah's fingertips, making her beg for more, regardless of who was watching them, or who could hear.

Yasmin’s grip around her sword tightened, and the image changed, pulling up a memory of how that very hand had felt wrapped around Juliannah's –

Without a word, Juliannah spun around on her heels, and walked away. She made it onto the first floor – where she had been headed in the first place – and crashed through a door and into the library.

It had barely closed behind her before she had turned around, one hand coming to rest onto the smooth wood, while she shoved the other straight down into her trousers.

She groaned, closing her eyes when she felt her own wetness there, the hand on the door clenching into a fist and her arm moving towards her forehead as she grit her teeth.

It had always been the plan to sleep with Yasmin, she reminded herself. It had been supposed to be the easiest part, and now the knight had the audacity to ruin it.

Anger and lust mixing into a strange drink in her chest, Juliannah finally sunk two fingers into herself, with little regard for her own comfort. As she began rolling her hip into her hand, she closed her eyes, and for the first time since Juliannah could remember, she begged the stars for relief.

She came quickly, biting down onto her own wrist to stifle a moan.

But her release brought none of the calm or satisfaction she had craved. Letting go off her own wrist - a perfect outline of her teeth now visible on it - she let her head fall against the door, her fingers still buried deep inside of herself.

She clenched her jaw as her eyes shot back open. She needed to be back in control. Over Yasmin, over this entire star forsaken situation.

And over herself.

Pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and her fingers out of herself, she set about wiping her digits clean, meticulously, until there was no trace of her own weakness left behind.

Time to change the plan. 

Notes:

Contains a very brief non-explicit masturbation scene, as well as brief callbacks to chapter 11 smut throughout.

Thank you for reading, as always I am so very excited to hear your thoughts :)

Chapter 14

Notes:

Ah here we are – I got quite a bit of writing done yesterday and today, so I thought, why not throw out this chapter a bit early :D

As always, content warnings are in the end note for those who need them!

That being said, here we go :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Yaz’s days among the Karnish Guard of the Most Honourable Lord Mistress ended up being surprisingly similar to her time in the Royal Guard of Gallifrey – minus the constant evading of a certain Prince’s advances. She went to training, cleaned her sword, stood guard on the walls and patrolled the hallways. There were only two things she had refused so far.

The first was when they had tried to put her on the night shift in front of the Lord Mistress’ door. Her poor Captain had seemed torn between her fear of the Lord Mistress, and her fear of angering the knight who might or might not be the Lord Mistress’ lover.

In the end, Yaz had gotten her way, and Juliannah, she was sure of it, was gritting her teeth somewhere in anger, plotting her next move.

Then, there was the Captain’s mark, of course. Yaz’s tabard, with a gaping hole in its front where she had ripped it out, had not been replaced – and Yaz had a feeling it was Juliannah’s way of telling her she disapproved.

When the uniform had arrived in Yaz’s room, she had been filled with a blind rage. She had almost destroyed the entire tabard in her hurry to get it off the armour, and then she had pierced the fabric with her sword. When that hadn’t been enough, she had ripped at the mark with her bare fingers, until there had been nothing left of it.

She had been humiliated enough, and she wouldn’t allow the Lord Mistress to throw what was supposed to be a career achievement after her like one would throw a scrap of meat to a street dog.

Yaz was worth more than that.

That was also what she told herself whenever the other knights threw her looks. They always stared at her when they thought she wasn’t watching, but she could feel their eyes on her at all times. It had been almost two weeks now since Yaz had left the Lord Mistress’ room that night, and if the whispers among the knights hadn’t been there from the start by the mere fact that she was Gallifreyan – and slept in a guest room, instead of the soldiers’ barracks – the rumours had truly picked up once the Lord Mistress had rushed into the courtyard that afternoon.

The fact that Yaz hadn’t bowed hadn’t escaped anyone.

Since then, she had kept her head down even more. She avoided spending more time than was necessary with the other knights, waiting around after training, disappearing back to her room straight after her shifts.

There was only one other knight who somehow had managed to get through to her a little bit – the one Juliannah had sent to order Yaz to her room. Yaz had been unnecessarily curt with him as she had refused the order, and when he had approached her at dinner two days after – daring to sit down opposite her at the edge of the long table – she had swallowed her pride and apologised. Since then, he came to sit with her at every meal, and Yaz had to concede that he was growing on her, despite her efforts to keep up her defences. 

Besides, it felt good to have something like a friend.

Yaz fumbled around with her helmet, Dan having already gone ahead to the baths. He knew by now that she liked waiting for everyone else to dissipate after training, and take care of her own personal hygiene in peace. The knights filed out of the courtyard one by one, and she glanced at them as they disappeared through the doorway into the mansion.

The same doorway the Lord Mistress had appeared in last week.

The image of Juliannah flashed through her mind, standing there, the air around her strangely distorted, as if there was an invisible fire burning all around her. The look of sheer, pure possessiveness in the woman’s eyes had driven a different kind of fire straight into Yaz’s core, and she had been so ashamed of it.

Sometimes, Yaz thought shame was all she was able to feel these days.

Swallowing hard, Yaz pushed the feeling down as she got up from the bench. There was no use dwelling on it. It had happened, she had made a mistake, and there was no way for her to change it now. All she could do was go about her work, and be glad that at least nobody was trying to force her into a marriage she didn’t want anymore.

That was one positive at least.

As planned, Yaz was the last one to enter the armoury after training. She liked to take her time with taking off her armour, placing every piece onto its stand with great care until she was only wearing her tunic and trousers. Then, she pulled on her soft boots, and started to oil her blade, carefully wiping it off after it had set for a while.

She went about it until there was nobody left in the armoury.

She wasn’t exactly keen on sharing a bath with people that looked at her like she was a puzzle waiting to be solved. Besides, she had the distinct impression that some of them wanted to get a good look at her body, figure out what it was that the Lord Mistress had seen in her – if she even had seen anything, given that Yaz was just a knight among many right now, albeit one that lived in suspiciously nice quarters. They probably thought that she lived in the guest room so the Lord Mistress could come visit whenever she wanted, and the thought of that made Yaz want to talk to one of her new captains, and have a room in the barracks assigned to her.

She slotted her training sword in the barrel with the others’, and then, without any major hope, walked down the corridor to look into the small wooden compartments that held letters sent for the knights. She had sent a letter to her parents the first day after Koschei had walked in on her and the Lord Mistress, urging them to not believe whatever they were about to hear, promising them that she was safe, but unable to return. Since then, she had waited to hear something back – anything, even if it just was a small note telling her that her parents were alright, that they hadn’t been arrested, or worse.

As she looked through the compartments, her heart skipped a beat.

One single letter was lying there, unclaimed. With trembling fingers, she reached for it, telling herself that it must have been left behind, overlooked by the knight it was actually for.

Dame Yasmin

Her name, written in her mother’s familiar handwriting. Yaz had ripped the envelope open before she could take another breath, pulling the paper out and unfolding it in such a haste that it dropped to the floor, revealing a second, smaller note that had been tucked into the envelope behind it. She quickly picked both back up, her eyes darting hungrily over the page of the letter first.

 

Yasmin,

I hope this reaches you. They came to our shop yesterday and asked questions about you – wanting to know if you’d been in contact. Your father, stars bless his conspiracy-loving heart, had already burned your letter, in spite of my protests. We told them nothing.

We are so very worried. I know you said that you were safe, and that you could not explain what had happened. But please, try. Whatever would lead you to stay in Karn, of all places? Rumours say that their Lord Mistress cannot be trusted, that she is out for blood, and war. But you ask us to send this letter to the Karnish Guard?

We are scared for you – the men that came here said you betrayed the Crown. But I know you. I know my own daughter, and so does your father. Even Sonya says that they are lying.

Yaz, whatever is happening, we love you. I’m sure all of this is a terrible misunderstanding, and if you just come home, you can explain.

We are praying to the stars every night that all of this will clear up.

With all of our love,
Najia,

Hakim and Sonya

 

Yaz could feel the tears well up in her eyes, and she forced herself to take a couple of slow, deep breaths. So the Royal Guard had been at her parents’ house, but they were safe. Nothing had been done to them. She carefully put the letter back into its envelope, then went to read the note.

 

Yaz,

I added this after mum was done, she doesn’t know I’m sending it. Whatever you do, do not come home . I know mum wants you to, and she thinks they’ll let you explain. But I saw the people that came into our house, and they won’t give you the chance. They are out for you.

Please be careful.

x Sonya

 

Somehow, Sonya’s words of caution cut even deeper into her heart than her parents’ had. Her sister had always been one to search out a quarrel, but when it had really mattered, she had also always been by Yaz’s side.

Yaz added the note to the envelope, and took a moment to let it all set in.

She would have to be careful what she wrote back. She knew that she probably shouldn’t reply at all, however, she wanted to let them know. But how could she explain? She had been seduced into betraying her oath, pure and simple. The thought alone of putting this to paper made her cheeks burn with shame so bright that it made her feel sick. 

Yaz decided that before she would do anything else, she would go and take a bath. It would calm her body and her mind, she knew.  

As she reached the baths, she only ran into one knight, already on their way out with a towel slung around their waist.

Yaz froze - Knight Robin hadn't exactly been quiet about hiding their distaste for the Gallifreyan in their midst. The knight stopped, and then, in a way that made Yaz’s skin crawl, slowly dragged their eyes over Yaz’s – thankfully still clad – body. 

“Dame Yasmin” they said slowly, disdain dripping from every word. “You bathe with us lower folks? What a surprise.” They shook their head, then went on past Yaz. She was ready to let out a breath of tension she had been holding, but then Robin stopped just next to her for a moment, and leaned over.

“I thought a Marquise’s courtesan would at least get to use her bath.”

Courtesan. The archaic insult struck Yaz as if Knight Robin had just slapped her straight across the face. She wanted to retaliate, strike back with a comment, but found her body and mind frozen. A slow smile dragged up the corner of Knight Robin’s mouth, and they went on to a bench in the back, dropping their towel without a care in the world before getting into their clothes.

Yaz stood frozen in place until she heard the door fall shut behind them, then ripped herself out of her own stupor.

Clenching her teeth, she went over to a bench, and began taking off clothes. It was simply the words of a jealous person, that was all.

And still, it stung. Yaz knew there was no shame in exchanging pleasure for pay, but that was if it had been agreed on , beforehand .

She thought back to the Captain’s mark stitched into her tabard, and felt sick as she suddenly thought of it less like a scrap of meat thrown to a stray dog, and more like a payment for something she hadn’t even realised had been a transaction.

Payment for the unknowing courtesan, for a job well done.

Her boots landed next to the bench with a thunk , a little too much force behind Yaz’s movements. As she took off her tunic, she tried to ignore the black scars winding around her wrists, and even more so those that shone dark on the inside of her thighs. In spite of everything, they still sent a thrill down her spine, and Yaz hated herself for it. So, she had judged that it was better to not look at them at all. She went to grab a set of fresh towels, and pushed the door to the baths open. 

Humidity and heat greeted her inside, and she could feel her hair curl at the back of her neck as it sucked it all in. She was in luck tonight: all of the baths were completely empty.

It was a simple room, yet nonetheless luxurious if one had grown up with making do with a wooden barrel, as Yaz had. Here, brick paved the ground, and spaced around the room where different sized baths, let into the ground so one could simply walk down into them. They came in different temperatures, so people could choose whatever they preferred. 

Yaz passed the cold water tub, and the warmer ones as well, and went straight for the hottest, all the way in the back. She felt like she needed to sweat, clean her body and mind of the images that were still plaguing it.

As soon as she sank down into the hot water, Yaz couldn’t help but let out a low moan. This was exactly what she had needed. She sat down on one of the brick benches that had been built into the tub, and, trying to chase the bitter feeling in her stomach away as Knight Robin’s words resurfaced again and again, Yaz let her head come to rest against the edge.

Just as her muscles began to relax, she heard the unwelcome sound of the door opening.

Repressing a groan, she closed her eyes, trying to make it clear to whomever had come in that she was not in the mood to socialise.

When the water in her tub shifted a moment later with the indistinguishable motions of someone else sinking down into it, Yaz clenched her teeth. If Knight Robin had come back, Yaz wasn’t going to hold back this time.

Yaz let her eyelids fly open, ready to throw a comment at whomever it was that had just sat down.

And froze.

Opposite her, her arms leisurely spread out across the edge of the bath on both sides, sat the Lord Mistress. The water was lapping at her chest, just about covering her nipples, but there was enough skin on display to cause Yaz’s mouth to go dry.

Yaz swallowed, trying to ignore the way her body was reacting to the other woman and cursing herself for it.

The Lord Mistress, on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow, and smirked.

Now that look was enough to spark Yaz’s anger.

“What do you want?” she snapped. It came out harsher than she had expected, but the Lord Mistress didn’t even flinch. Instead, the blonde simply moved her right arm, and let the tips of her fingers graze over the water surface, creating small ripples in their wake.

“I’m just here to take a bath.”

Yaz huffed. If the Lord Mistress of Karn wanted to take a bath, there was a private bathroom right next to her bedroom. One that Juliannah would not have to share with sweaty knights, covered in the grime and dust of the training grounds.

One that Yaz definitely didn’t have access to, no matter what the other knights thought. 

“Well then, have fun”, Yaz said. She pushed herself off the bench and stood up, not caring how it would reveal her body to the woman opposite her. The Lord Mistress had already seen everything, anyway.

Yaz turned around, reached for her towel, and felt the water move behind her.

A heartbeat later, a slender figure pressed against her back, and lips brushed against her ear.

“Stay.”

Yaz bit her bottom lip. She hated the way the simple word made desire shoot straight into her core. Why, after finding out how the Lord Mistress had used her, did her body still want her this much? She felt betrayed by it all.

When Yaz didn’t reply, an arm slung around her from behind, gently pulling her back, closer. Yaz gritted her teeth in order not to moan as soft breasts pressed against her back. As the Lord Mistress placed a kiss against Yaz’s neck, the knight felt her eyes flutter shut and her muscles relax.

“Yaz.”

Yaz’s eyes snapped wide open.

She reached for the arm around her waist, and pushed it away.

Instantly, the contact vanished, and when Yaz spun around, the Lord Mistress stood a couple of steps away from her, water lapping at her waist.

“What do you want?” Yaz asked again, angrier this time. “You’ve had your fun with me. You’ve really shown Koschei who’s boss.” 

“What I want…” the Lord Mistress said slowly, and a familiar darkness pooled in her eyes. 

Yaz looked away.

“You’ve gotten what you wanted, haven’t you?” she hissed. “Congrats, you got to fuck me, Koschei didn’t. You can leave me alone now, Juliannah.

She took a step back, but somehow, her body wouldn’t just turn away.

Juliannah looked into her eyes, gold dancing across her irises, captivating her. “Is that what you want? For me to leave you alone?”

Her body’s reaction to the simple question was visceral, her mind immediately assaulting her with memories of the blonde’s head between her legs. 

As soon as the smirk spread across the Lord Mistress’ face, Yaz wanted to slap herself. It wasn’t enough that her own body betrayed her, now it was her mind, too.

“Yasmin”, the Lord Mistress said. She took a step closer, tentatively, carefully.

Dangerously.

Yaz stood, unmoving, trying to quench the flame inside of her that was screaming to be captured.

Juliannah took another step, then reached forward with both arms, letting her hands come to rest on the edge of the tub on either side of Yaz’s waist. Her eyes fixing Yaz’s, she leaned forward, and let the tip of her nose run along Yaz’s neck.

Despite the hotness of the water she was standing in, goosebumps broke out all over Yaz’s body as the Lord Mistress’ lips began just so grazing over her skin, travelling downwards. First her neck, then her collarbones, then –

The blonde stopped, her breath ghosting over Yaz’s instantly hardening nipple. “Don’t you like the way I make you feel? I do.”

A strangled sound escaped Yaz’s lips, and she snapped her jaw shut.

Liar , she thought, as loud as she could.

Juliannah very slowly lifted her head, moving until she was properly facing Yaz again. The knight was trying to look anywhere but into that perfect, beautifully carved face.

“You asked me for the truth last time”, Juliannah said quietly, her voice sounding almost gentle. “Then let me give you one, now.”

Yaz couldn’t help it, she felt her gaze being drawn to the Lord Mistress, to those eyes that were shimmering with desire.

“What I want, very much so in fact”, Juliannah said, and Yaz held her breath, “is to make you come again.”

Damn you , Yaz wanted to say, but she found the words got stuck in her throat as a familiar desire flooded her senses. When the Lord Mistress moved just a little closer through the water, Yaz didn’t move away. And when she lifted Yaz’s chin with her index finger, Yaz let her. And when, after that, she slowly leaned in, Yaz let her do that, too, her chin moving into an almost imperceptible nod.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle, nothing of the force of their first encounter behind it. Juliannah’s lips moved lazily against hers, the blonde clearly taking her time, waiting for Yaz’s cue.

The thought had slipped out before Yaz could stop it, traitorous.

More.

And the Lord Mistress was happy to oblige. One hand snuck back around Yaz’s waist, and pulled her flush against herself, with force. A low moan escaped Yaz as she felt Juliannah’s soft body pressed against her front, and an odd sense of relief flushed through her body, giving in to a forbidden craving.

If Yaz had planned on resisting, it was over the moment the blonde’s other hand left Yaz’s chin in favour of her breast, flicking her thumb over Yaz’s nipple.

She slung her arms around the Lord Mistress, and held on for dear life. The skin on the blonde’s back felt strangely rough against Yaz’s hands, and a murky memory flashed through Yaz’s mind.

And then Juliannah was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against Yaz’s neck, and the thought was gone as the knight clenched her jaw in order not to moan, her core burning with desire.

Courtesan.

She shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be giving herself to the Lord Mistress, not after knowing how she had used her. She shouldn’t –

Juliannah’s hand grazed the inside of her thigh under the water at the same time as her hot mouth closed around Yaz’s nipple, and the last of Yaz’s clear thoughts flew out the window.

She heard herself whimper into the humid air as the Lord Mistress let her hand travel closer to her core, only to retreat once again and stroke her thigh instead. “Please.”

A hard flick of a tongue against her nipple, drawing a low gasp from Yaz before she could stifle it.

“Please what, Yasmin?”

Yaz let her head fall against Juliannah’s shoulder, hiding away before she spoke her next words:

“Fuck me.”

Courtesan.

The Lord Mistress’ fingers dragged through wet folds, and Yaz gasped against the blonde’s shoulder, trying to muffle the sounds she was making. It all felt too good to not want it, the way the blonde was toying with her, slowly circling her clit only to leave the sensitive spot in order to dip the pad of her finger into Yaz’s heat, just a little bit , repeating the process again and again.

Then, the Lord Mistress let her finger rest against Yaz’s entrance, and the knight was ready to bite into the other woman’s shoulder from the effort of holding back what she knew her body’s reaction would be to what the Lord Mistress was about to do next.

But instead of pushing in, Juliannah pressed more kisses to Yaz’s neck, then moved to whisper into her ear:

“I like hearing you, darling.”

The moment her finger pushed into Yaz, the knight let her head fall back, and let out a long, drawn-out moan.

“Just like that”, Juliannah praised, and Yaz couldn’t help the way the words made her grow wetter. The Lord Mistress was pushing into her at a languidly slow pace, and all Yaz could think was more, more, more.

Courtesan, courtesan, courtesan.

Once again, the Lord Mistress obliged. Pushing against Yaz, she shoved her backwards until her legs hit the bench under water, and she sank down onto it. The blonde’s finger slipped out of her in the process, and Yaz whined at the loss, but a second later, the Lord Mistress was flush against her, licking into her mouth as she pushed back into Yaz, adding another finger this time.

Yaz moaned into the blonde’s mouth as fingers curled inside of her, drawing pleasure from her with every stroke. Juliannah began pushing into her harder, jostling Yaz in the water and causing it to slosh over the edge of the tub, but Yaz didn’t care. She knew the door to the bath was always open, and someone could walk in at any moment. Embarrassingly, it only made her grow wetter, until all she could think about was the coil in her stomach, winding tighter with every move of the blonde’s fingers inside her.

Juliannah was holding on to the edge with one hand, the fingers of the other buried inside of Yaz. With a groan, she moved, and then Yaz felt herself being stretched further as another finger slipped into her.

Yaz slung her legs around Juliannah’s waist, drawing her closer. Words were tumbling over her lips as she let the blonde stretch her, move inside of her, fuck her. But they didn’t make sense, just a string of low curses interspersed with “please” and “yes” and, finally, “Mistress”.

Juliannah angled her hand at that, her palm hitting Yaz’s clit with every stroke, and Yaz knew she wasn’t going to last much longer. Her arms tightened around the Lord Mistress then, and she buried her face back into the blonde’s shoulder, who continued kissing and nipping at her neck.

And then Juliannah curled her fingers inside of Yaz just so , and Yaz’s back arched as her orgasm slammed into her, hard and fast.

She pulsated around the Lord Mistress’ fingers, and the blonde kept moving them inside of her, guiding Yaz through her orgasm, coaxing more pleasure from her, until finally, all tension left the knight’s body and she slumped against Juliannah.

The Lord Mistress didn’t withdraw her fingers immediately, instead, she stayed pressed against Yaz, allowing the knight to hold on to her for just a little while.

It was just as well, because Yaz’s limbs were still trembling from the aftershocks running through her system. She squeezed her eyes shut, and pressed her face against Juliannah’s shoulder, letting her hands drift over the blonde’s strangely uneven back. When the Lord Mistress finally withdrew her fingers, Yaz gasped, and to her greatest embarrassment, found herself reluctant to let go when Juliannah pulled away.

The Lord Mistress’ face came into view, a self-satisfied smirk on her lips as she let her eyes run over Yaz’s flushed body, lingering on Yaz’s breasts before their eyes met.

Her smirk was gone an instant later. Instead, her eyes widened ever so slightly, just for a second, before her face closed off again into perfect inscrutability. 

For the briefest of moments, Yaz was reminded of the great marble doors of the Star Temple in Arcadia, falling shut soundlessly, yet with immeasurable weight. 

Then, she realised that she was crying.

She didn’t know when the tears had begun to fall, but they were still on her cheeks now, more of them flowing down and dripping off Yaz’s chin, into the steaming bathwater underneath. She watched as they caused small ripples on the surface, feeling oddly detached from them, and from herself.

The Lord Mistress stiffened, wordlessly, and took a step back. For what felt like forever, she simply looked at Yaz, unmoving. Then she reached for a towel at the side of the tub. In the periphery of her vision, Yaz could see the blonde wrapping the towel around herself, its edges soaking up the water from the bath. Then, she turned around and stepped out. A stone dropped into Yaz’s stomach, and for a moment, she was sure the Lord Mistress was simply going to leave her behind like this. Feeling used, once again having fallen for the blonde’s seduction in a heartbeat. 

But then Juliannah stopped, and turned her head just a little bit.

She stood like that for a moment, a curtain of hair obscuring her features, and when she spoke, her voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Come to my library”, she said. “I will tell you whatever it is you want to know.”

And then she walked away, leaving Yaz behind who was shivering despite the steam rising all around her.

Notes:

Content warning: the second half of the chapter contains explicit content. It is consensual in nature, but one of the characters feels a lot of shame around it.

 

Thank you for reading! As always, I can't wait to hear your comments!

Chapter 15

Notes:

Oh boy, here we go. Juliannah backstory time!

Once again, there are content warnings for this chapter. As always, for those who need to know, you can find the details in the end notes!

With that being said, here we go.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The fireplace was roaring next to her, drying her still wet hair which was falling freely down her shoulders. She had tried to braid it, after the Lord Mistress had left, but her fingers had been shaking and her mind had been unable to focus, and so she had given up on it entirely.

The small library was quiet, except for the occasional crackle of the firewood next to Yaz. On the small table to her left, a teapot stood, steam rising from a cup placed next to it.

A few moments ago, a member of staff had arrived, and, with a bow, served it to her.

“Tea for the Dame”, was all he had said, and as he had exited the room, he had left Yaz in a sort of stupor.

The Lord Mistress was not the kind of person who would have tea sent to someone she knew was waiting for her. No, she was the kind of person who would let people simmer in their own discomfort, relishing the additional moment of it before releasing them from the limbo of waiting.

Yaz hated how the small gesture instantly fanned that delicate flame inside of herself: the hope that she had buried deep over the last two weeks, that there was more to what had transpired between them than crude calculation and revenge for an injustice that Yaz knew nothing about.

That some of it, and be it even the smallest flicker of passion, had been true.

When the door to the library finally opened again quite a while later, Yaz still had not touched her tea.

Juliannah’s hair was pulled back into a small, messy ponytail. Her cream-coloured shirt was tied loosely, albeit not in a way that would border on the provocative. The arms of it were loose-fitting, tightening around her wrists and falling into ruffles that covered part of her hands. Her trousers looked like the kind of soft, wild leather that Yaz had seen on hunters, and her boots were of similar material, designed to both make as little noise as possible, and offer maximum comfort at the same time. It was casual in an almost intimate way.

The Lord Mistress closed the door behind herself, but instead of joining Yaz in front of the fireplace – or even just acknowledging her presence for that matter – she went over to the escritoire that stood between two shelves. Her back turned to Yaz, she took a small, brass key out of her trouser pocket and opened the front latch. It dropped open to reveal a writing surface – beautiful cherry wood inlays all over it – as well as countless small drawers. Reaching into her other pocket, Juliannah pulled out yet another key, delicate and golden, and opened the lowest of the drawers.

Once she had pulled it open, she stood unmoving for a moment. Yaz wondered if she should say something, ask her questions, at least about what it was that the Lord Mistress was doing. But then the woman reached into the drawer and retrieved a small bundle of papers, neatly held together by a piece of string.

She turned around to face Yaz, but still did not look at her. Instead, she turned the papers around in her hands, regarding them with a curious expression on her face. When she finally crossed the room, she wordlessly handed them to Yaz.

When the Lord Mistress sunk down in the chair opposite her, her gaze was drawn to the flames.

This was… different.  Yaz, confused and curious all at once, looked at the bundle in her hand.

They were private letters, she realised at first glance. Not just that, but letters that someone had gone through a lot of trouble to preserve.

She looked up at the Lord Mistress, unsure how to proceed.

“Should I…?”

A nod, nothing more. The blonde sat with her legs crossed, the flames reflected in her eyes and one curled hand resting underneath her chin.

With trembling fingers, Yaz undid the string, and unfolded the first letter.

 

Dear Trix,

(and yes, I shall continue to refuse to call you by your title, no matter how much you will bristle at it. You were Trix to me when we hid under the banquet tables in the Lord Chancellor’s ballroom, and you shall be Trix to me now that we stand on opposite sides of this divide.)

I write to you again, as it will not surprise you, to ask you to join forces with me. The horrors have gone on for far too long. You claim that Karn has enough mages at its disposal to triumph once and for all, yet I ask you: If this is true, then why have you not ended the war? Why are soldiers still bleeding out in the battlefields in the Terserian mountains, why are mages still torturing each other endlessly in their hidden fortresses, and why are alchemists still poisoning us at night? You know the answer to this as much as I do: we are all equally tired, equally worn out, equally out of resources, and, so it seems, equally unwilling to simply stop tearing each other apart.

I beg of you, Trix, to honour our past, the days we spent free from worry and with only childish desires in our hearts, when we promised to always stand beside each other.

I offer you my hand, to end this war. If Karn and Gallifrey stand together again, after all this time, we can convince Terserus to stop its efforts, and Polarfrey shall follow. Do not misunderstand me: my intention is not to subjugate the two countries through our combined military might. It is to free us all of the burdens we have faced for far too long now.

Without hope, without witness, without reward.

Ali

 

Yaz stared at the letter, its ink well-preserved despite the obvious age of the parchment. Ali – that could only be one person, as the name was not a common one. But if Juliannah was in possession of these letters, then they could have online been addressed to –

“They were friends”, Yaz breathed. “King Alistair, and the Lord Mistress Beatrice - your grandmother. But” – she stared at Juliannah as the woman finally drew her gaze away from the flames, meeting Yaz’s instead – “that doesn’t make sense.

“Does it not?” Juliannah asked, one eyebrow raised in her telltale expression that said keep up. Do better.

It made heat rise to Yaz’s cheek and at the same time fuelled her on. She looked over the letter again, her eyes landing on the very first line.

“They came of age together.”

A small, pleased smile teased at the Lord Mistress lips as she nodded, and Yaz tried to ignore the warm feeling of pride that settled in her chest. “Correct.”

That answered some questions, at least. The King of Gallifrey had come of age before the war, and as was tradition, had been shipped around the ballrooms of noble families of importance all over the country, as well as abroad. It was a time-honoured tradition among the noble families, to show off their newest member entering into society – a grander affair even when said member was no one other than a Crown Prince. If Alistair and Beatrice had come of age together, they would have spent an entire year meeting over and over again at various events. Some sort of kinship must have formed between them, then, and from the little Yaz could gauge from the letter, it was because they had both wanted to be anywhere but at these events.

“Read on.”

Her thoughts still reeling from what she had just learned – and her questions about this Lord Mistress’ intentions suddenly pushed to the back of her mind – Yaz folded the letter back up, and reached for the next one.

It was another plea from the King, softer in tone, reminding the Lord Mistress of their shared past, of the fondness they had felt for each other before the world had started to burn. The one after that was more accusatory in tone, written with burning passion after war mages had destroyed an entire village in the North of Gallifrey. Apparently, all that had been left had been a charred crater.

Yaz shivered, but she reached for the next letter, engrossed in this one-sided conversation of which she now found herself desperately longing to hear the other half. Back and forth it went, the tone of the letters varying from pleading to angry to almost humorous in nature. At some point, they began trying to convince the Lord Mistress of the impossibility of something which Yaz found was never named.

Finally, Yaz arrived at the last letter, much shorter than any of the ones that had come before.

 

Trix,

I have done as you asked. How very you to make me create a tomorrow for myself that I now both dread and long for.

I only ask that you keep your promise in return – the ninth battalion shall meet you at the designated spot.

Ali

 

Yaz blinked, her eyes dry and itchy from staring at parchment for so long. Her mind was reeling, trying to put the pieces together. When it all fell into place, her jaw dropped.

“The theory” she breathed. “In the war anthology. It was right. She was in Terserus to make peace.”

Slowly, Juliannah uncrossed her legs, and leaned forward in her chair. She reached for the letter, but instead of taking it from Yaz, she simply let her index finger run along its edge. The expression on her face was one that Yaz had never seen the woman wear before, and she committed it to memory, tucking it away to look at later, when she was alone and her head was clear.

“Yes”, she confirmed, slowly.

The Lord Mistress’ finger stopped moving along the edge of the letter, and her gaze rose to meet Yaz’s. There was that expression, now clearer, etched deeper into every soft line on her face.

Yaz recognised it at the same moment as the Lord Mistress realised that she had let herself be read, and once more, her face closed itself off to Yaz, leaving no trace of the previously visible grief behind.

Smooth marble, unyielding, cold.

“There was no Gallifreyan army waiting for her, was there?”

“No.”

“Why would he do that?” It didn’t fit. This was not the image of the King that had lived in Yaz’s mind since she had been a child. Kind. Altruistic. The one who had ended the suffering for everyone. The peacemaker. The saviour. The father of the Kasterborous Alliance.

The Lord Mistress leaned back in her chair. “What happened at the end of the war, Yasmin?” she answered with a question of her own, once again challenging the knight, who thanked the stars for having read that book in Koschei’s library.

“The Crown Prince and Princess of Gallifrey were murdered.”

“Do you know how?”

Yaz shook her head.

“They were found in their bed, with black scars winding around their throats.”

Yaz’s eyes widened. She hadn’t been taught about that detail back in school. “War Mages”, she breathed.

“And who do you think”, Juliannah continued, the muscles in her jaw standing out as she clenched and unclenched her teeth, “did Ali blame for that?”

Yaz’s heart was pounding in her chest. She had grown up knowing that the great King Alistair was the one who had brought peace to the Alliance once more. He had forged an agreement with Polarfrey, and Karn and Terserus had had no choice but to stop their war efforts after that.

Gallifrey and Polarfrey.

It had been supposed to be Gallifrey and Karn .

No wonder the Karnish had a disdain for her people. Yaz remembered the theories in the War Anthology she had read, and suddenly wondered if this betrayal was common knowledge to anyone who lived inside the Karnish borders, and something that was to be cast away as rumour and speculation to everyone else.

Finally, Yaz spoke the words that burned like acid on her tongue, even though she had heard Juliannah say them once before. It was different, now that she knew them to be true.

“He left her alone, to die.”

“Yes.”

“So that only left you with –” Yaz stopped mid-sentence, remembering what she had read in the book of House Theta in Juliannah’s room.

“My father died of poison shortly after my grandmother had left for Terserus.” Juliannah had answered her unfinished question, reading whatever she needed from Yaz’s mind. It should have unsettled her, after everything that had happened between them, but it didn’t.

“And your mother?”

“Died in childbirth.”

Yaz studied the Lord Mistress’ face, wondering whether or not she could – or should – ask her next question.

“Who raised you, then?”

For a moment, Yaz was sure she had overstepped. If it was possible for the Lord Mistress' face to turn any darker, it did. A hint of steel appeared in her eyes, and Yaz was reminded of the casual cruelty the blonde was so easily able to display if it struck her fancy.

“The Viscountess Vez.”

Yaz frowned, her heart pounding in her chest. “I have never heard of House Vez.”

Juliannah let her right hand wander over the front of her shirt, picking off invisible fluff and flicking it towards the fireplace. “That’s because it doesn’t exist anymore.”

Yaz’s skin went cold at the clear implication of it. But before she could say anything more, the Lord Mistress let out a humourless laugh.

“Your imagination still does far outmatch the reality of me, I’m afraid, Yasmin. They are alive. They are just no longer… them.”

That did nothing to alleviate Yaz’s confusion – or concern. “What does that even mean?”

Juliannah bared her teeth in a horrible, humourless grin.  “When I came of age, I erased their memories. Messy job, since it was the first time I tried it on humans.” To Yaz’s shock, there was glee in the Lord Mistress’ voice as she continued: “Half of them could barely remember how to talk. I made them disappear overnight. Cal dropped them off in some run-down village somewhere.” Her grin got broader. “They are living their worst nightmare. Of no name, of no importance, always thinking that there is something they should remember, but it will forever escape their grasp. The House Vez is no more.”

Yaz stared, her hands suddenly feeling numb. For the first time since meeting the Lord Mistress, she had the urge to run from her. This was beyond anything she had imagined the woman capable of doing, and she was retelling it to Yaz with what the knight realised was a sense of pride .

“Why?” She couldn’t help but breathe out the question.

The Lord Mistress was quiet for a long time before she spoke again, her gaze once again fixed onto the fireplace, the grin slowly disappearing from her lips.

“The Viscountess liked to… remind me of the way I had come into the world. ‘A bastard daughter of a bastard son’, she liked to say. ‘Even more worthless than the bound mages who now lie as beggars in the dirt in front of the city gates.’”

Juliannah of House Theta, formerly of No Name. Yaz could see it in front of her inner eye now, the angry scratch of a quill over the last two words, and with a jolt, she realised: it hadn’t been grown-up Juliannah who had attempted to erase it. It had been a child.

“Of course”, Juliannah continued, seemingly not caring about Yaz’s thoughts for once, “it got worse when she found me practising magic.”

The blonde stopped, and Yaz barely dared ask her next question, but she did so nonetheless.

“What did she do?”

“You’ve felt my back.”

Yaz frowned, remembering the odd roughness underneath her fingers.

With a sigh, Juliannah shifted around in her chair, until her back was turned to Yaz. Then, she reached for the back of her shirt with one hand, and pulled it up.

Yaz sucked in a breath.

Juliannah’s back was littered with scars. Thick, bulging stripes in different shades of faded pink, criss-crossing with no apparent pattern. Some of them had jagged edges, others were sickly smooth. Yaz followed the lines with her eyes, feeling her throat close up as she found no beginning or end to them.

She didn’t know when she had sunk down from her chair and onto her knees, but she found her hand outstretched towards Juliannah, the tips of her fingers ghosting over damaged skin as she breathed out the awful truth.

“She had you whipped.”

Juliannah let go off her shirt, and it dropped back into place. Yaz pulled her hand back quickly, snapping back into the moment with force. 

When Juliannah turned back around, her expression was a perfect display of nonchalance. Not a muscle was twitching in her perfectly composed face, and her eyes were the same kind of empty they had been the night Yaz had stormed out of her room.

The words Yaz had spoken as nothing more than a whisper still hung in the air between them, heavy as lead. Juliannah, avoiding Yaz’s gaze, adjusted the sleeve on her shirt, and Yaz saw just a hint of her composure slip.

“She dragged me out into the courtyard, and Caladrius, too. For all her family to see my failures. Her children pulled out Caladrius feathers as they held him down. Almost killed him, if he hadn’t managed to get away.”

Something about Juliannah changed then, and at first, Yaz thought the fireplace was playing a trick on her eyes. Then, she realised that small flickers of light had begun to jump over her skin. 

“The Viscountess called me helpless and pathetic, just like my grandmother had been. A healer. The worst of my kind. Worthless.”

Yaz was staring at the Lord Mistress. The blonde was telling her all this with a voice completely devoid of emotion, as if it meant nothing to her. Yet at the same time, there was the light, now appearing in Juliannah’s eyes, too, purple like her magic. As if a part of her was trying to break free from her own carefully crafted composure.

“After that, I did my research”, Juliannah said, and now her voice had gone dangerously quiet, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she stared at the fire. The sparks that were flickering in the corner of her eyes rivalled the ones in the fireplace. “It took me a couple of years. But I found out how to never be helpless, ever again.”

Yaz let out a staggering breath. “You turned yourself.”

“Yes.”

She asked her next question slowly, quietly. As gently as she could. “How old were you?”

At that, the Lord Mistress finally pulled her gaze away from the fireplace, and looked down at Yaz, still kneeling on the floor in front of her. “Fifteen.”

Yaz swallowed heavily. It was unbelievably cruel – both what had been done to Juliannah, and how she had extracted her revenge. But yet somehow Yaz couldn’t stop imagining a small, blonde child, curled in on herself in the dirt as braided leather descended on her, over and over again, as she was told how little she mattered.

The Lord Mistress’ eyes turned ice cold.

“Don’t pity me, Yasmin.” Her words were as sharp as a knife’s edge. “Don’t you ever dare pity me.”

“I wasn’t –”

“You were.”

Yaz clicked her jaw shut, and she pushed herself off the ground and back into her chair.

The air in the room was heavy, laden with everything that had been spoken. Inside Yaz, a storm was raging, and her thoughts kept turning to the same question:

Why was Juliannah telling her all this?

Opposite her, the Lord Mistress suddenly sat up straight, flicking a loose strand of her hair back with her index finger as if nothing had happened at all. A moment later, she was standing up, an air of finality around her.

“Well” she said, that cocky nonchalance suddenly returning to her. “I think that’s all for tonight. I guess we’re done here.”

She looked like she was about to leave, and Yaz froze. She couldn’t be serious. She couldn’t seriously believe that after everything that had happened between them, these were the only questions that Yaz might have. Those concerning Juliannah .

“We’re not.”

The Lord Mistress cocked her head as she looked down at her.

“You said you would tell me whatever I wanted to know. Well, I have a question for you.”

“Careful, Yasmin”, the Lord Mistress warned.

“No”, Yaz said, suddenly feeling the anger she had bottled up for two weeks now boil up inside of her. “No, you owe me an answer to this!”

She didn’t know when she had gotten up from her chair, but suddenly she was standing, her heart thundering in her chest and her fingers trembling. She balled her hands into fists to keep them from shaking, but it didn’t help. When the Lord Mistress remained quiet, Yaz forced herself to take a deep breath, readying herself for the embarrassment that she was sure would follow. 

“Was it all a lie?”

The blonde let out a humourless laugh. “Really? I show you all this evidence of your dear King’s betrayal, and you ask if I was lying ?”

Yaz shook her head, unwilling to let this go, even though the potential answer scared her. “You know that’s not what I mean.” 

If Juliannah was intent on having Yaz say it out loud, then she would. Forcing herself to continue through the burn rising up her neck and cheeks, she said: “I mean us. Me. The way you touched me that night. What you showed me in your head, how you thought about me, what you wanted from me. Was any of it real? Or did you use me for your revenge and nothing more?”

Because when you let me hold you in the bath before, it didn’t feel like it.

She wanted to slap herself for the thought, but there it was, and it was true. Why would Juliannah show her all of this, tell Yaz about her past, if Yaz had simply served her purpose and she might as well just get rid of her? She was sure Juliannah would find a way to make Yaz disappear if she wanted to. The Lord Mistress had just proved with her story that she was well capable of it.

Opposite her, Juliannah had stiffened. The cockiness displayed moments ago was gone, and her face was unreadable again.

“I told you”, she said, her voice ice-cold. “I wasn’t about to be your girlfriend, Yasmin.” She let out a huff, then turned around as she walked towards the door. “You should have listened.”

“I’m not asking if you love me, for stars’ sake, I want to know if you pretended to want me!”

Absolute silence settled between them as both women froze. 

A piece of wood cracked in the fireplace, and they snapped back into the moment with force.

“Tell me”, Yaz said, trying to hide the way her voice was shaking, trying to not think about how embarrassed she was at the fact that it still was. “Was it all a lie?”

For a long time, the Lord Mistress stood still, and Yaz stared at her back, as if she could force her to answer by simply willing it strongly enough.

“No”, Juliannah finally said, her voice quiet. “Not all of it”

“What wasn’t?"

“Stars, Yaz”, Juliannah exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air as she spun around on her feet and took a step towards Yaz. “You wanted it! Can’t you just say ‘we had great sex’ and leave it at that?”

Yaz clenched her jaw. “No.”

Juliannah huffed. “Fine”, she said, taking another step, getting dangerously close. “Fine! I wanted to have sex with you.” Another step, entering Yaz’s personal space, the air around her suddenly feeling charged, snapping and crackling all around her. “Those images I showed you in your head, I –” She paused, huffing, clearly struggling to find the right words for once. “Believe me”, she finally snapped, “if it were possible to lie through a telepathic connection, I’d have it figured out by now. So yes, what I showed you was true. I wanted you. I craved you. There.” Her voice was dripping with disdain as she spat out her next word: “Happy?”

You knew who I was when you said yes to me.

The words suddenly rang in Yaz’s ears, loud and almost painful. She had known, right from the start. The Lord Mistress might have lied about her plan to get back at Koschei, but she had never lied about the kind of person she was.

No, she had been unapologetic about that, right from the start, and it was the reason why Yaz had wanted the Lord Mistress in the first place. Why she wanted her right now.

She felt herself leaning forward.

Before she could do anything, the Lord Mistress had taken a step back.

“I’m going to bed”, Juliannah snapped. “Do whatever you want, Yasmin.”

Yaz watched in stunned silence as the Lord Mistress went to the door, but before she could leave, Yaz finally jumped into action, words coming out her mouth before she could stop them.

“Juliannah”, she said, and the Lord Mistress froze, one hand on the door handle, not turning back around. “There is a difference, you know. Between pity and empathy.”

Without another word, Juliannah stepped out of the room, letting the door fall shut behind her.

And as Yaz stood alone in her library, she realised that all she wanted to do was follow her, wherever she may want to go next.

 

 

“Juliannah.”

She shook her head, standing outside in the corridor, one hand still on the door handle. Her blood was raging like fire in her veins, and she let out a deep, long breath. Once again, she found herself having to consciously pull her magic back around herself, holding it tight and firmly against her chest.

Why did that woman get under her skin like this? It was ridiculous. It was infuriating. It made her want to wrap her hands around Yaz’s neck. It made her want to push her fingers into her and pleasure her senseless.

With a groan, she let her free hand run over her face, as if she could wipe her own desires away. They hadn’t been part of the plan. 

Caladrius came to land on her shoulder, pressing his head against her cheek, and Juliannah froze.

She remembered the last time he had done that, when they had both been children, and promised never to let someone hurt the other ever again.

“You’ve never told anyone.”

It was a statement, not a question, but it pushed Juliannah back into action. Straightening her back, she loosened her grip on the door handle and dropped her hand from her face.

“I just needed her to stop pouting”, she thought, “and start trusting me again. A necessary deviation from the plan. It doesn’t change anything else.”

“Juliannah –”

“It doesn’t. Change. Anything.”

A beat of silence, then Caladrius pushed himself off her shoulder. “If you say so.”

“It doesn’t!” she called after him, anger rushing through her as she watched him fly down the corridor. 

Juliannah remained standing still. For a brief, intense moment, she felt like a thousand hooks had sunk themselves into her skin, pulling her back into the room on the other side, and what lay inside. 

Yasmin

She let go of the handle as if she'd been burned. A second later, she was walking down the corridor with determined steps.

Because whatever was happening to her right now, it really didn’t change anything.

It couldn’t.

It wouldn’t.

Yaz. 

Notes:

content warning: discussion of childhood physical and psychological abuse, mind wiping

Thank you for reading!!

Chapter 16

Notes:

First of all: thank you all for your response to the last chapter - it made me so happy that you guys liked that chapter in particular.

Second: I got so much writing done this week that I decided to do another extra upload :D

Hope you enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Mopping the sweat off her brow, Yaz let herself fall down onto the bench inside the armoury. The sun had been blazing again today, making it hard to concentrate on her steps when she felt like she was being cooked alive inside her armour.

At least, that was what she told herself was the reason she had been losing her duels all week.  

She began taking off her armour, trying not to burn her fingers on the metal. She swore she saw it glow reddish at some point.

“Not used to a good Karnish summer, Gallifrey?”

Yaz snorted as Dan sat down next to her, patting her on the shoulder. “I would like to see you deal with snow, Karn.”

The man let out a good-natured laugh, and shook his head. “The hinges in my armour would probably just freeze together!”

“Ah, see, that’s the thing: you’ve got to keep moving. Not like this here.” Yaz sighed as she relieved herself of her arm guards. “All I want to do is find the shadiest room in the mansion with the thickest walls and curl up on the cold floor.”

Dan laughed, and Yaz felt the corner of her lips lift. Somehow, the knight made everything just a little bit easier, and Yaz found herself more grateful for his company every day. Certainly his jest had been a good distraction from the noise in Yaz’s head ever since the Lord Mistress had opened up to her.

She still couldn’t really wrap her head around it all – and it didn’t help that Juliannah had been avoiding her like the plague ever since. It gave Yaz whiplash: the opening up, the admitting to her desires when it came to Yaz, and then – nothing. 

Next to her, Dan took off his metal boots, then leaned a little closer, a cheeky grin on his lips. “At least you’re not getting grilled in the soldiers’ quarters. I swear they put a fire underneath the floorboards every night. It’s impossible for the rooms to get this hot on their own.”

Yaz froze, discomfort creeping into her chest. She and Dan usually avoided this kind of talk, and she knew the knight didn’t mean ill. But still, it stung, and Yaz suddenly remembered Knight Robin’s words.

It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she stood up to undo her gorget, snapping it in place on the stand.

“I'm sorry”, Dan said, having picked up on Yaz’s change in mood and looking guilty as he pulled back. “You know I’m not one to judge.”

Yaz forced herself to relax her shoulders. “I know, Dan”, she said, letting herself fall back down onto the bench, tugging at her sleeves in an automatic motion – making sure her wrists were covered. “It’s just weird to talk about, that’s all.”

They sat in silence after that, Yaz’s tensed muscles slowly relaxing. After a while, she realised that she had been searching the crowd of knights around them for someone, and that said someone was not there. Yaz frowned.

“Knight Robin ill or something?”

Dan, who had fiddled with his gauntlet in order to give Yaz a moment to feel more comfortable again, suddenly looked over. “You haven’t heard?”

“Haven’t heard what?”

A grin appeared on Dan’s lips. “They were reassigned. Out of the manor, to somewhere in the countryside. Nobody knows where to exactly though.”

Yaz’s mouth dropped open. If the Karnish Guard was anything like the Royal Guard of Gallifrey – and she had a feeling that the only difference was the Karnish people’s even bigger tendency to elevate protocol above anything else – then Knight Robin must have really, tremendously messed up to be taken away from their current posting.

“Who did they piss off to deserve that ?” she finally asked. 

Dan looked at her, incredulous.

“What?”

“Don’t you…” he paused, then leaned over, dropping his voice. “Yaz, everyone knows they have been saying stuff about you. They’ve been throwing insults left and right.”

“So?” Yaz asked, confused.

Dan swallowed, averting his gaze. He seemed to weigh his next words carefully. “Yaz, don’t you think it shows open disrespect towards the Lord Mistress if people disrespect her…” – he paused, and for a brief moment, Yaz thought he was going to use a certain word. But when he continued, his voice was soft, understanding – “Well”, he said, “the woman she is with.”

Yaz’s heart slammed into her ribcage, then stumbled. “I’m not –” she said. “We’re not…”

But Dan shook his head, lifting a hand up to interrupt her. “You don’t have to justify anything to me, Yaz.” He smiled at her so warmly that Yaz suddenly felt herself reminded of her father, all the way back in Gallifrey, and it made her throat constrict.

“I just hope Knight Robin hasn’t been dumped into the ocean by the boss”, Dan added, laughing. “They did disappear rather suddenly.”

Somewhere in the countryside.

Yaz suddenly remembered another person’s fate, and her skin went ice cold.

“You don’t think…”, she began slowly, unable to say it out loud.

"I was only joking!", Dan said, lifting both his hands in an appeasing motion. “Stars, I know she’s ridiculously scary, and I'm the first one to admit I'm terrified of the woman. But even she has her limits, I’m sure. I know there's plenty of rumours about her, but she's the Lord Mistress, after all. Can’t just go around disappearing people.”

“Hm.”

But it was too late. Something had sunk its claws into Yaz’s chest, and it was unwilling to let her go.

And it only added to her confusion, already so consuming since her talk with Juliannah.

Had the Lord Mistress truly gotten rid of a knight just because they had dared say some things beyond Yaz’s back? Whatever ‘gotten rid of’ entailed.

The memory hit Yaz with the force of a racing horse, and she gasped, causing Dan to flinch next to her. 

“Yaz?”

The bath. Yaz’s thoughts, loud and screaming, Robin’s voice in her head. If Juliannah had heard them –

Yaz had jumped off the bench, causing Dan to scramble to his feet next to her.

“I need to go”, she said, already spinning around.

“Yaz, wait, what’s going on?”

She briefly turned back to Dan, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m sorry, Dan. I can’t explain. I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

She had rushed away before he could say anything else, trying to fight down the panic that was rising inside her chest.

Juliannah wouldn’t.

Except she would .

But she wouldn’t for Yaz .

Except maybe she would. 

Yaz was already up the stairs and through the doors that separated servant quarters from living quarters. She grabbed the first page boy trying to run past her, catching him by his wrist.

“Where’s the Lord Mistress?”

The boy looked at her with wide eyes, then said, stammering: “The dining room, Dame –” He stopped, then his eyes widened as he properly looked at Yaz’s face.

“Madam!” he practically shouted, then bowed. “May I escort you –”

Yaz felt her cheeks grow hot. Did people in this starsdamned manor have nothing else to talk about than whatever might be going on between herself and the Lord Mistress?

She quickly shook her head. “Just point me in the right direction”, she mumbled, letting go of the page boy.

“Second floor, west corridor, third door, Madam.”

“It’s Dame , for crying out –”

Yaz stopped herself, and simply turned away with a sigh, leaving the page boy behind. She followed his directions, down the corridor, up a flight of stairs, and then around two corners until she found herself face to face with another guard – a Captain – his shield raised in front of his chest as he blocked her way to the dining room.

His eyes narrowed. “You're not on this shift", he hissed. “Get out.”

Well, at least someone who didn’t seem to care about Yaz’s standing with the woman on the other side of this door. Of course, it came at the most inopportune moment.

“I’m here to talk to the Lord Mistress.”

The Captain took a step towards her, his eyes gleaming. “She’s busy. Get out .”

“Just tell her I’m here!”

“What about she’s busy don’t you understand? She is not to be disturbed.”

“Well, maybe she would want to be if she knew it was me.”

Ah, there it was. Just a hint of understanding in the Captain’s eyes as they drifted over Yaz’s face. His expression hardened a second later, and to Yaz’s great dismay, his free hand wandered to the hilt of his sword.

Oh, for stars' sake –

“I am under orders to –”

“Just tell her!”

A glint of metal, and Yaz suddenly became aware of the fact that she was currently very much unarmed. She took a step back, ready to admit defeat, but then the door behind the Captain was thrown open, and the man stopped dead in his tracks as an angry voice rang out.

“What in all the stars and constellations is going on out here? I am trying to have dinner.”

Juliannah appeared, taking a step into the corridor. She was holding an embroidered napkin in her hand, and her purple doublet was unbuttoned at the top.

“Not that the cook’s food has been particularly enjoyable today”, she snarled, wiping off her fingers. “Perhaps I should –”

Their eyes met, and Juliannah stood stock still.

“What are you doing here?”

It wasn’t a reproach, or a telling off. Rather, there was a hint of genuine curiosity behind the blonde’s words, and something else that Yaz couldn’t place.

“We need to talk.”

Something flickered over Juliannah’s face, too quickly for Yaz to grasp it. For a moment, she thought she was going to be turned away, but then Juliannah stepped aside, and motioned for Yaz to come in.

Yaz could feel the Captain’s gaze burning into her back until he closed the door behind them.

The walls of the dining room of the Lord Mistress of Karn were covered in tapestries, depicting Karn’s great history in exquisitely crafted detail. In the middle of the room stood a long table made of oak. There was a single, cushioned chair in the middle of it, standing opposite platters of food, a small candle holder and a glass of wine. Next to the plate, some glazed meat and roasted potatoes still on it, Yaz caught the cover of a familiar book of folktales.

It all looked incredibly lonely.

When Yaz turned towards the Lord Mistress, she was looking at her with one eyebrow raised. “Well?”

Yaz took a deep breath, trying to calm her heartbeat as she remembered the reason she had come here for.

“What did you do to Knight Robin?”

Juliannah’s face instantly hardened, and she turned away. She went to sit in her chair, and tucked the napkin into the top of her doublet as she picked up a bit of meat with her fork.

“Nothing”, she said, then popped the meat into her mouth, chewing slowly as she regarded Yaz. 

“Juliannah”, Yaz said, a familiar anger rising inside of her. “They got reassigned. That doesn’t just happen.”

“Doesn’t it?” Juliannah asked, and she lifted her wine glass, her eyes still fixed on Yaz as she took a sip. When she lowered her cup, there was a drop of red in the corner of her mouth, and Yaz looked away.

“It doesn’t”, she mumbled.

There was a beat of silence, and Yaz busied herself with looking over the tapestries, trying to keep her thoughts in check. The artwork was spectacular, and she wondered how many hours, weeks, months , must have gone into creating every single one of those.

“I don’t like them”, Juliannah said. “Too pompous. But they wouldn’t let me get rid of them.”

Yaz frowned. “They?”

Juliannah let out a sigh, untucking the napkin from her doublet once more and carelessly throwing it onto the table next to her plate. “Council of Lords. Bunch of old idiots, clinging to the past as much as they are to their last breaths.”

Ah yes, that was right. Even though Juliannah had full control over Karn, she still had been voted into place by a council – and said council clung to power wherever they possibly could. She wondered, briefly, why Juliannah hadn’t gotten rid of them yet. 

Then she remembered why she had come here in the first place.

“Is Knight Robin alive?”

In her chair, Juliannah burst out into sudden laughter. “My stars, Yasmin”, she said. “Will you ever stop having those ideas about me?”

No , Yaz wanted to say. Yes , she also wanted to say.

“Knight Robin is fine”, Juliannah finally said, folding her hands in her lap as she crossed her legs. “Just far away. Fort Morbius, to be exact.”

Before Yaz could ask, Juliannah explained.

“Lovely bastion all the way down south. Holds exactly two prisoners, and there are two other knights stationed there. They do nothing but stare at the cells all day, making sure they stay locked.” A grin tugged at the corner of her lips. “It’s all underground. Quite stuffy, I'm told.”

“Why?”

There was the question Yaz really wanted an answer to. As expected, Juliannah was not ready to give it willingly. The blonde simply shrugged, but Yaz was not about to just let her get away with it.

“Juliannah”, she said, letting her impatience shimmer through as she took a step towards the other woman. “ Why ?”

Slowly, Juliannah rose from her chair, unwilling to let Yaz tower over her. She, too, took a step closer, the distance between them shrinking in a way that made Yaz’s skin tingle.

Juliannah looked into Yaz’s eyes, then said: “I didn’t like the way they talked.”

“About?” Yaz asked, and she realised how quiet her voice had gone. 

“You.”

Yaz’s pulse was thrumming in her fingertips, her head spinning. She didn’t understand. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was that the Lord Mistress really wanted from her.

Juliannah had used her, thrown her aside, then seduced her in the baths and told her about her past. She had admitted to truly wanting her, only to pull back and disappear the next moment.

Had she been waiting for Yaz to come to her?

“Dame Yasmin”, Juliannah said, and Yaz could feel the air around them thicken as the blonde somehow came even closer, leaving barely any space between them at all. There was a fire in her eyes, burning so bright that Yaz could feel the heat in her own skin. “You are not my courtesan.”

Yaz breath caught in her throat.

She didn’t know when she had decided, or when her body had chosen to act on that decision.

All she knew was that her lips were pressed against Juliannah’s.

The Lord Mistress stood stunned for a moment, and then something broke loose between them, a tide too strong for either of them to resist.

“Yasmin”, Juliannah gasped, and then her hands were on Yaz’s hips, gripping them with force as she pulled her flush against herself.

Her tongue hungrily brushed over Yaz’s lip, and Yaz opened her mouth, welcoming the  Lord Mistress’ hot breath, her tongue brushing against Yaz's own.

The kisses were hungry, uncontrolled, as was the grip on Yaz’s hips. Soon enough, she felt herself being manoeuvred somewhat, and then the back of her knees hit the table behind her, and she was being lifted onto it.

The moment she was sitting on the table, she wrapped her legs around Juliannah’s hips, pulling her even closer.

The Lord Mistress moaned into her mouth, her hands lifting up Yaz’s tunic to reach for the naked skin underneath, nails grazing over skin, deliciously painful.

Yaz felt like she was burning. Where their encounter in the baths had felt like a calculated seduction, every touch well-placed, this felt real, fuelled by the same desperation their first time had been.

And Yaz was more than willing to let herself be swept up in it.

When Juliannah’s mouth abandoned her lips in favour of her neck, Yaz let her head fall back, her arms wrapped around the Lord Mistress’ torso as something akin to a relieved sob fell from her lips.

Juliannah let go of her as if she had been burned.

She practically stumbled away from the table, and for the briefest of moments, Yaz caught that same expression she had seen on her in the baths – when Yaz had cried.

Oh .

Juliannah’s chest was heaving with desire barely held in check, her face turned away from Yaz.

With a twinge in her chest, Yaz reached out for Juliannah's hands.

Juliannah’s teeth clenched, but then Yaz pulled her back towards herself, placing Juliannah’s hands on her hips.

“Juliannah”, she said softly. “I want this.” She swallowed, then added: “I always have.”

Finally, their eyes met. Juliannah’s were burning with desire so great that it made Yaz feel dizzy with the force of it.

A second later, Juliannah’s lips were back on her neck.

Yasmin .”

Her name, again, this time growled against her throat as the Lord Mistress pushed up her tunic, desperate for more of Yaz’s skin. Yaz obediently lifted her arms, letting Juliannah pull the garment off. It landed somewhere on the floor next to them, but there was no time to dwell on that.

Juliannah was practically clawing at the cloth wrapped around Yaz's chest. She ripped at the pin holding it in place, then pulled it all off as quickly as she could. Her mouth came down a heartbeat later, closing around Yaz’s nipple, and the knight moaned – loud, unashamed, drunk on pleasure. She arched her back, pushing more of her breast into Juliannah’s mouth, and the woman’s own moan reverberated against Yaz’s skin as her nails clawed at Yaz’s sides.

Yaz knew at that moment that she wanted this, more than anything.

She wanted Juliannah.

Without a second thought, she shifted her hands to cup Juliannah’s cheeks, pulling her away from her breast and up towards her mouth, engulfing her lips in a hungry kiss.

Once her tongue was brushing against Juliannah’s once more, Yaz moved her hands, blindly reaching for the front of Juliannah’s doublet. To her surprise, Juliannah abandoned her continuous scratching of Yaz’s hips and lower back, and guided Yaz's hands to where they needed to be.

As soon as Yaz had managed to open the first button, Juliannah’s hands were back on Yaz’s skin, now scratching all the way down from her shoulder blades to her lower back.

Yaz was sure she was drawing blood, and it was driving her insane with want. Her fingers made quick work of the doublet's buttons, and she moved to push the garment off Juliannah’s shoulders. It had barely fallen to the ground when she tugged at the blonde’s shirt, desperate to feel her skin against her own.

They pulled apart barely long enough for Juliannah to pull the shirt over her head, throwing it to the side before she crushed her lips back against Yaz’s.

Yaz was waiting for the moment when Juliannah would take control – slap her hands away, push her down onto the table – but it didn’t come. Thus emboldened, she broke their kiss. 

Juliannah’s lips were swollen, her skin flushed as she panted heavily, her chest rising and falling with it.

Yaz leaned down, and flicked her tongue over Juliannah’s nipple.

The moan it coaxed from the Lord Mistress was the most beautiful thing Yaz had ever heard. She lifted her other hand, pinching Juliannah’s nipple, while sucking and biting at the other one. When she felt the blonde teether on the edge of overstimulation, she began kissing her collarbones instead, her hands travelling downwards to tug at Juliannah’s trousers.

Juliannah let her open them, and push them down. She took over from there, kicking off her shoes before stepping out of her trousers and flinging them to the side. A second later, she was pulling Yaz’s off, too, who had to lift her butt off the table to let her.

As soon as Juliannah was back between her legs, Yaz slung them around her once more, pulling their cores as close to each other as she could. 

Sucking and licking at her neck, Juliannah suddenly shifted, and then Yaz startled from a loud clanging noise to her right. 

A heartbeat later, she was being pushed down onto the table, the Lord Mistress’ lips kissing a trail down her chest, her belly, until finally –

Yaz’s hand flew into Juliannah’s hair with the first swipe of a warm tongue between her legs. Juliannah’s hands were digging into Yaz’s hip, and she was lapping at her core as if there was no tomorrow. She licked and sucked, applying delicious pressure with the flat of her tongue before flicking it over the tip of Yaz’s clit, making her jerk on the table.

Stars, Juliannah felt insatiable between Yaz’s legs, and all Yaz could do was hold on to her, hold on to her hair and her shoulder, writhing against Juliannah’s mouth as the woman expertly wound her up.

There was something so desperately wanting about the Lord Mistress’ movements, even stronger than on their first night, and it made Yaz go dizzy with the way she kept gasping and moaning against her throbbing clit. Juliannah’s mouth was burning hot against her, and Yaz couldn’t have formed a clear thought if she wanted to.

Another deep, strong stroke of Juliannah’s tongue, and Yaz felt every nerve in her body tingling, waiting with baited breath for the pleasure she knew was about to rush through her. Between her legs, Juliannah was lapping with fervour, occasionally moaning against Yaz’s skin with such need that Yaz thought she would come just from that alone.

Then, Juliannah’s tongue dipped into her, dragging over Yaz’s inner walls, and her orgasm crashed into her, making her gasp and arch off the table.

Her grip on Juliannah’s hair tightened as her orgasm washed over her, and the blonde hissed against her as she continued to drag her tongue through her, until the last bit of pleasure had been wrung from Yaz’s body. 

A second later, she was on top of Yaz, latching on to her lips as if she could drink from them. Yaz barely had time to register her own taste on Juliannah’s lips before Juliannah had reached for Yaz’s wrist.  A fresh spike of arousal flashed through Yaz as she prepared herself for the pain of the binds snapping into place.

What happened instead was even more wonderful than that.

Pulling back, Juliannah looked Yaz in the eye, her pupils blown as she guided Yaz’s hand down, and pushed it between her legs.

Yaz gasped the moment she felt wetness underneath her fingertips, and Juliannah closed her eyes above her, sucking in a breath. With a jolt, Yaz realised that Juliannah had never let her touch her like this.

That realisation alone almost pushed her over the edge a second time.

Her free hand flew up, digging itself into Juliannah’s hair once more, and she pulled her back down into a searing kiss.

With Juliannah’s hot breath in her mouth, she began swiping at her clit, coaxing moans from the blonde that she swallowed right up. Her mind filled with images from Juliannah’s vision, shared during their first night, she pushed one finger inside of her.

She was greeted by the most delicious, wet heat that wrapped around her finger. Above her, Juliannah moaned even louder, and Yaz drank it in, licking into her mouth. Juliannah began rolling her hips into Yaz’s hand, and all the knight could do was marvel at the sensations.

“More”, Juliannah groaned against Yaz’s lips. "Now."

Yaz pushed another finger inside, and the heat grew tighter around her. Instinctively, Yaz pushed her hips up, thrusting her fingers deeper into the woman above.

Fuck ”, Juliannah gasped. She broke their kiss, letting her head fall against Yaz’s shoulder instead, her nails digging into Yaz’s shoulders.

Yaz pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses against Juliannah’s neck, and pushed her hips up again, drawing gasps and moans from the blonde. It was an intoxicating sound, one that Yaz realised she would never be able to get enough off.

Drunk on the way the wetness felt coating her fingers, Yaz pushed a third finger into the blonde, and Juliannah made such a sinful sound that Yaz felt her own wetness grow with it.

Juliannah’s grip on Yaz’s shoulders tightened almost painfully as she began to rock herself harder and faster against Yaz, her breaths growing shorter and more laboured with every move.

“Yasmin”, she moaned as Yaz pushed her hips up again, hard. “Fuck, Yaz –”

I want to make you come , Yaz thought, as loud as she could. I want to make you come around me.

She could feel the change. The erratic movements, losing any kind of rhythm. The fluttering around her fingers, and then –

A sound, half moan, half cry, ripping through Juliannah’s entire body, only muffled by the fact that she was biting down on Yaz’s shoulder as she came. Her hips were still rolling into Yaz’s hand, prolonging her orgasm as much as she possibly could.

Juliannah stilled, and all tension left her body at once as she slumped against Yaz, her full weight suddenly on top of the knight.

Yaz kept her fingers buried inside of Juliannah, just like Juliannah had done in the baths, and Yaz now understood why – the delicious little aftershocks of pleasure, the small flutter every now and then.

And the tight heat. Stars, the heat.

Slowly, she released Juliannah’s hair, and went to gently let her hand drift over her back instead, careful not to apply any kind of pressure on the scars.

“Stay with me.”

The words had escaped Yaz, involuntary as a breath. They hung in the air between them – still heavy with their pleasure –, a soft and breakable thing. 

She knew it was naive, and she knew she was asking for something she couldn’t have, from someone who could never give it to her.

But she couldn't help it, couldn't help the desire that was filling every fibre of her being. 

Because Yaz now knew, with a clarity unlike anything she had ever experienced, what she wanted. And with that came another knowledge: that she would never be able to stop herself from wanting it, no matter what would happen.

Above her, Juliannah lay still, and Yaz closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable rejection.

Her voice rough from pleasure, Juliannah replied:

“Yes.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading! As always, I'm so excited to hear your thoughts :)

Chapter 17

Notes:

*slaps roof of this fic* this baby can fit so much smut in it

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Yaz was panting, her mind numb with desire as she struggled against the magic that was curled around her wrists, keeping her in place. She was desperate to touch the woman above her, desperate to feel more.

This was how it had been since Yaz had walked into the Lord Mistress’ dining room, two weeks ago now. During the day, she went about her new duties as a Karnish knight: training, guarding, and protecting the mansion. At night, however, Yaz belonged to the Lord Mistress, and the Lord Mistress alone.

Yaz was well aware that this was not what the path to betrothal looked like – she knew what it meant, to be moving into Juliannah's chambers without a golden bracelet shining on her arm: she was to be the Lord Mistress’ lover, not her wife.

But stars, who needed marriage when they could have this

Right now, the woman was moving at a languishing pace, the thick artificial shaft moving just deeply enough inside of Yaz, hitting just the right spots for her to be kept on the precipice for what felt like an eternity now.

The Lord Mistress had been inside of her all evening, yet Yaz had not been allowed to come. And it was driving her mad .

When Yaz had tried to wrap her legs around the blonde’s waist earlier in an effort to keep her deeper inside, Juliannah had pulled out, and moved to tie her ankles to the bed as well.

Oh, the look on her face as her eyes had come to rest between Yaz’s legs as she lay there, spread for her, desperate.

With a groan, Juliannah angled her hips to hit that spot inside of Yaz again, and Yaz was so close . Stars, she was so goddamn close. She had to do something, anything to get relief.

Without thinking about it, she lifted her head – the only part of her body she could still properly move – and sunk her teeth into Juliannah’s shoulder.

The reaction was instantaneous, and exactly what Yaz had wanted. A moan ripped through Juliannah, and then Yaz was being shoved back down onto the bed, and a second later, a hand struck her across the cheek.

As her face fell to the side, Yaz let out a moan that, a month ago, she would have been ashamed to hear leave her lips. Now, however – and more so ever since they had found out how much Yaz liked to be struck from time to time – she was relishing in it.

“Yasmin”, the Lord Mistress groaned above her, and then one hand wrapped around Yaz’s neck, forcing her to look back up at her as she squeezed.

One look between them finally broke the blonde’s resolve.

As her hips began snapping forward in earnest, strangled moans fell from Yaz’s lips. Finally, finally she was being stretched fully like she had been begging for since they had started this tonight. 

And she knew she was not going to last long at all.

Her eyes fell upon the angry mark on Juliannah’s shoulder, a perfect impression of Yaz’s teeth. She must have been smiling at the view, because suddenly the Lord Mistress’ eyes were burning as she reached for the headboard with her free hand and slapped her hips into Yaz with even more force than before. A cry fell from Yaz’s lips as she balled up her fists, unable to find purchase anywhere and thus simply having to take whatever the Lord Mistress was giving to her, letting herself be jostled on the bed with force.

“Yasmin”, Juliannah hissed out again, between clenched teeth. “Know” – a deep thrust, making the edges of Yaz’s vision go dark – “your” – another slap of her hip, at the same time as her hand squeezed around Yaz’s throat, hard – “ place.

With a final thrust, Yaz came. Her orgasm crashed through her so violently that she couldn’t tell anymore where her body began and where it ended. All she could feel was Juliannah coming, too, and tightening her hand around Yaz’s throat as she finally spilled inside of her.

Just as Yaz thought she was about to pass out, Juliannah let go, and slumped forward, a boneless heap on top of Yaz. She was panting heavily against Yaz’s neck, and Yaz was filled with the familiar pride and satisfaction of having brought pleasure to her.

“You’re going to be the death of me”, Juliannah groaned against Yaz’s neck, and the pride in Yaz’s chest only grew at that.

For a while, they simply lay like that, the Lord Mistress too lazy to get up, and Yaz perfectly content with feeling the blonde’s weight draped over her. Then, Juliannah pushed herself up.

They both let out a groan as the artificial member shifted inside of Yaz. 

To Yaz’s disappointment, Juliannah did not decide to take her again – something that Yaz knew from experience was definitely a possibility. Instead, she pulled out of Yaz, who hissed at the sensation, slightly arching her back off the bed as if chasing the contact.

Juliannah let herself fall onto her back next to Yaz, and shuffled out of the harness, which she unceremoniously dropped onto the floor next to the bed. Then, without even looking at Yaz, she just dismissively waved her hand through the air, and Yaz instantly felt the pressure around her wrists and ankles subside.

With a sigh, Yaz stretched out her arms and legs, sore from staying in position for so long. She realised she was going to be sore all over tomorrow, but she didn’t mind it in the slightest. Instead, she relished in the feeling of the wet trickle between her legs, proof that she had made Juliannah come. 

Next to her, Juliannah pushed herself semi-upright, and reached for one of Yaz’s hands.

This, too, was a familiar dance for Yaz now. Juliannnah would sometimes litter Yaz’s body with magical scars, and once the knight was untied, she would reach for her and make them all disappear.

Tonight, as she reached for Yaz’s hand, a pang of longing suddenly erupted in the knight’s chest, and she pulled her hand back.

Juliannah raised an eyebrow, cocking her head.

“Leave them.”

Yaz had breathed the words before she had thought about them. She should have felt embarrassed at the thought of carrying the scars on her skin around, opening herself to the potential of someone seeing them. It was dangerous – there were a lot of older knights who knew exactly what War Mage scars looked like. But instead of feeling scared, it sent a thrill down Yaz’s spine. A brief memory flashed through her mind, of Juliannah, holding her wrist.

You look pretty... marked.

Juliannah's response was an instant smirk spreading over her lips, her eyes shining.

A second later, she had flipped herself back on top of Yaz, one hand placed next to the knight’s head, the index finger of the other slowly tracing Yaz’s neck.

“My, my, Yasmin”, she breathed, looking self-satisfied in a way that made Yaz squirm underneath her. “I see you have learned your place.”

She leaned down, then, her lips grazing Yaz’s ear as she whispered. “Such a good girl. Knowing who you belong to.”

A whine fell over Yaz’s lips, and then the Lord Mistress had taken her earlobe between her teeth, and bit down so hard that the whine turned into a hiss turned into a moan.

Mistress .”

But to her great disappointment, Juliannah pulled back again, and then she patted Yaz’s cheek in a way so condescending that it lit a whole different kind of fire in Yaz’s belly. She had found, over the last weeks, that anger and arousal mixed quite well in the blonde’s presence.

“I’m afraid we’re done for tonight, darling”, Juliannah said as she swung herself off Yaz. “I have work to do.”

Yaz watched as Juliannah got up. She went to the fireplace, and grabbed a silk purple robe hanging next to it, slinging it over her shoulders. After tying it shut, the blonde walked over to her desk, and sat down in front of her alchemy set.

This, too, was part of Yaz’s routine now. After the Lord Mistress’ desires had been fulfilled, she would set to work at her alchemy set, and Yaz would watch her, exhausted from the pleasure the blonde had wrung from her, until she fell asleep.

Tonight, however, Yaz found herself wide awake.

She watched as Juliannah lit the flame underneath the set, and slotted a fresh vial into the wired hold above it. For the first time, Yaz noticed that there were filled vials on the desk behind them, two to be exact: one a deep, blood red, the other light blue.

“What are you working on?” she asked. She had tried to find out once before, but Juliannah had been dismissive enough to keep Yaz from asking again. Now, however, Yaz found that her curiosity was overtaking her.

She remembered that day she had seen the Lord Mistress mix her blood into a vial, and how convinced Yaz had been that she was making a poison. Was that what was going on now, too, she wondered?

Juliannah let out a low huff as she reached for her glasses, perching them on the tip of her nose. “Nothing to worry your pretty head about, Yasmin.”

Yaz sat up in bed, leaning her back against the headboard as she pulled the blanket up over her torso. The flames in the fireplace had gone small, and Juliannah was sitting at the desk surrounded by multiple candles, probably keeping her warmer than Yaz was in the bed, alone, covered only in silken sheets. She searched out the residual warmth of where Juliannah’s body had been before with her feet, digging her toes into the soft mattress underneath.

Juliannah threw her a glance, and Yaz caught that faint purple sparkle in them again, but then the Lord Mistress had already turned her attention back towards the alchemy set.

“I’m not just a pretty face, Juliannah.”

At that, Juliannah turned around fully, flinging one leg over the other in a way that made her robe fall just a little bit open, exposing a milky-white thigh.

It made Yaz’s mouth go dry.

“Oh?” the blonde said, a cocky grin on her lips. “Are you not? I feel like you’ve been very intent on showing me all your… bodily charms.”

How Yaz still managed to blush at that even after being railed into the mattress the entire evening by the woman in front of her, she did not know. All she knew was that there was heat rising to her cheeks, but that she was not about to let this topic go.

“Let me prove it to you.”

The expression on Juliannah’s face turned into one of intrigue. “A wager?”

“Yes.”

“Well, well”, Juliannah said, a spark of curiosity in her eyes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Chess”, Yaz said. “I beat you, you tell me what you’re working on.”

It was risky, giving how stupidly good Juliannah was at the game. But Yaz also knew that the only way to get information out of Juliannah sometimes was to find a way to impress her.

The Lord Mistress leaned forward, palming her chin as she looked at Yaz. “And what would I get?”

Yaz thought for a moment, and then more heat shot up her neck as she dropped her gaze to the blanket. “I’ll let you do that thing you like”, she mumbled. It had been a firm no since the day Koschei had walked in on them, and Juliannah had (begrudgingly) accepted Yaz’s refusal. As Yaz glanced up at Juliannah now, however, the woman was grinning from ear to ear.

“You have yourself a deal.”

The chessboard was quickly set up between them, on the bed, and Yaz willed herself to concentrate on the board in front of her.

And not on the way Juliannah purposefully let her robe slip off of one shoulder, almost revealing her left breast.

Yaz tried, she really did. She reminded herself of the things Juliannah herself had taught her, and for a while, things seemed to be going quite well. They threw teases and taunts at each other across the board, and Yaz was beginning to think that she could maybe actually win at this game.

Then, her luck turned, and more and more white figures began amassing at the side of the board.

Frustrated, Yaz picked up another piece, and pushed it across the board. She had barely placed it when Juliannah was already reaching for one of hers. It was almost as if the blonde was anticipating Yaz’s every move, as if she was –

“You’re reading my mind!” she exclaimed.

Juliannah – who of course had, by now, let the robe slip off of her other shoulder as well – simply grinned at her.

“Of course I am.”

Yaz huffed. “That’s cheating, Juliannah.”

Opposite her, the Lord Mistress shot her an incredulous look, then threw her head back as a laugh broke out of her. “Yasmin”, she said after a while, through her chuckles, “after everything you’ve come to know about me, do you really think I have moral qualms about cheating at a game?”

Yaz clicked her jaw shut. There was absolutely no way she was going to win at this if Juliannah could basically predict her every move. 

Except.

A thought formed in her mind as her eyes fell on Juliannah’s exposed shoulders. If the blonde could do it, so could Yaz.

The Lord Mistress’ eyebrows shot up. “Yasmin”, she said, a warning tone to her voice.

But Yaz had a plan. She let the blanket she had been holding drop by simply letting it go. It was warm enough in the room now anyway – the flames were roaring once more. A curious thing, given no wood had been added to the fireplace – but Yaz had no time to dwell on it.

Instead, she leaned back against the headboard, and uncrossed her legs, planting the soles of her feet on either side of the board.

It gave Juliannah a perfect view.

Slowly, Yaz raised on hand and began kneading at her own breast. Juliannah remained seated, stock still, not moving an inch.

Fine , Yaz thought. At the same time as she flicked her own nipple with her thumb, she let her other hand move down her stomach. Yaz moaned at the first stroke of her own finger against her clit. She moved the tips of her fingers to her entrance, coating them in the remnants of Juliannah's come before swirling them over her clit again. 

She saw something flicker behind the blonde's eyes.

Using the moment, she instantly dropped her hand from her breast, and moved forward to push her figure across the board.

Juliannah blinked. Her gaze flickered to the board, then to Yaz.

“Stop it”, she hissed.

“No.”

Yaz slipped one finger inside of herself, and the chess piece Juliannah had picked up slipped out of her fingers, dropping back onto the board right in the bath of Yaz's bishop. It was undoubtedly not the move Juliannah had wanted to complete – but when she reached for the piece again, Yaz tutted.

“Nuh uh”, she said. “Your move is done.”

“I –” Juliannah began, her anger now clearly visible on her face. “ Yasmin.

Oh, but this was too good for Yaz to stop. With an admittedly exaggerated moan, she added another finger, and started lazily pumping in and out of herself.

With her next move, she took Juliannah’s rook.

In between her own moves, she would grab at her own breasts, gasping and moaning shamelessly to the point where she was sure Juliannah was about to throw the board at her. But at the same time, she could also see it in the blonde’s eyes: she was aroused, and she was desperately trying to hide it, and concentrate on the game.

Yaz decided to add a little bit of spice to it. She began imagining herself, in as much vivid detail as she could, pleasuring herself in various positions: on all fours, Juliannah's come trickling down her legs. On her knees, her mouth wrapped around Juliannah's cock, looking up at her through hooded lashes while she pumped her fingers into herself. 

Yaz’s collection of little black chess pieces grew, and Juliannah's eyes turned darker with every passing moment. 

Soon enough, Yaz was eagerly rolling her hips into her hand, her pleasure rapidly mounting.

And then there were only a few pieces left on the board. That was when Yaz saw her opening.

Relishing in her victory, Yaz fixed Juliannah’s gaze across the board, and pushed a third finger into herself. She was dangerously close to coming now, but she still managed to reach out, and move her Queen.

“Checkmate.”

Juliannah stared at the board, then up at Yaz, then back at the board again. Yaz rolled her hip into her palm again, her eyelids fluttering half-shut at the impending orgasm.

Juliannah slammed her hand against the board, and threw it off the bed. Yaz stopped mid-movement, dangling over the precipice of pleasure as chess pieces flew everywhere and the board slammed against the shelves next to the bed with a loud crack .

The next thing she knew, Juliannah was ripping Yaz's hand out from between her legs.

It wasn’t gentle, and Yaz let out a hiss of pain, but then the Lord Mistress’s nails dug into Yaz’s hips as she pulled her down onto her back. A second later, Yaz’s arms were pulled up over her head and pinned in place by one delicate yet strong hand around her wrists.

Juliannah pushed three fingers straight into her, and Yaz’s eyes widened in shock and pleasure.

Ah!

The Lord Mistress wasn’t wasting any time. She was slapping her palm against Yaz’s clit as she thrust into her, and there was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure inside of Yaz, so strong that it made her head spin.

When Yaz looked down, she saw purple sparks flying around the fingers that were buried inside her.

She came instantly. With a drawn-out cry, her walls fluttered around Juliannah’s fingers that kept relentlessly pushing into her. There was a brief moment of overstimulation, and she realised Juliannah was not about to stop. She simply kept going, looking like a woman possessed as she stared into Yaz's eyes with pure want.

"Juliannah", Yaz gasped, and the overstimulation turned into pleasure as Yaz arched her back up into the other woman. "I –" 

"Come for me again, Yaz. I know you can."

Yaz gasped at the words and then, without wasting another thought, pushed her own hand down between Juliannah's legs. 

Stars, the woman was wet, and she sucked in a breath at Yaz's touch. Yaz began circling her clit with deft fingers, and, never breaking eye contact with Juliannah, she said:

"Come with me."

Juliannah's eyes widened, and she canted her hip, pushing it hard into Yaz's hands, who did her best to hold off her own orgasm at the sight. 

Apparently more than just a little wound up from Yaz's little show before, Juliannah came with one more swipe of Yaz's fingers. 

Yaz let go the moment she heard - and felt - the moan of release break through Juliannah's body. 

Blinding lights erupted behind Yaz's eyelids as she orgasmed, burning into every last nerve of her body. She was shaking with pleasure, and all through it they kept touching each other, pushing and circling until both their bodies went slack.

By the time Yaz came down from it, she felt like she was going to break apart into a million pieces.

Juliannah, having collapsed on top of Yaz, let her head fall onto Yaz’s shoulder, pushing her nose against Yaz's neck. 

“An antidote”, she breathed, her breath warm against Yaz's skin, voice laced with arousal. “I’ve been figuring out how to make an antidote. For the poison that killed my father .

Yaz was feeling dizzy, and she asked her next question before it could slip through her pleasure-numbed brain. 

“And have you? Figured it out?”

“Yes.”

Yaz let her head fall back into the pillows, and smiled at the ceiling above, sated and proud.

Her bliss was rudely interrupted by a rather urgent knock on the door.

“Not now!” Juliannah snapped, barely shifting her head. 

There was a pause, then another knock.

With an angry sound, Juliannah pulled her fingers out of Yaz, and pushed herself off the bed. Yaz, left behind, immediately mourned both the fingers inside her and the warmth of the body on top of her.

Juliannah wiped her fingers off on her robe as she went to rip open the door.

“What?” she snapped, but then somebody – Yaz couldn’t see who from her place on the bed – handed her an envelope.

“From Lungbarrow.”

Juliannah’s anger seemed to evaporate at that, and she eagerly ripped the seal off the letter as soon as the doors had closed. Yaz watched, curiosity filling her. Lungbarrow was a Gallifreyan House, and an important one at that – its Marquess was sitting on the King’s personal council. Even though it should have surprised her that Juliannah apparently had spies in such high places, it didn’t.

Juliannah’s eyes widened as she read over the letter. When she was done, she walked over towards the fireplace, and threw it in.

It crumpled as it caught fire, the paper slowly curling in on itself as the ink was hungrily devoured by the heat.

For a long moment, Juliannah simply stood there, staring at the flames.

“What was that?” Yaz finally asked, and as Juliannah looked at her, her eyes were filled with a strange mixture of emotions.

“It appears we will have to prepare for a journey, Yasmin”, Juliannah said as she stood next to the fireplace, a gentle purple current rippling over her skin. 

“The King of Gallifrey is dead.”

Notes:

Buckle up friends 👀

Chapter 18

Notes:

Hello everyone, it's update day! Hope you enjoy :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Yaz was standing in the Lord Mistress’ bedchambers – their bedchambers, she reminded herself – staring at three open suitcases.

The letter inviting the Lord Mistress to the coronation of Crown Prince Koschei had arrived three days after the message from Juliannah’s spy, and the moment it did, the mansion had buzzed to life in a way Yaz had never seen. Around her, a never-ending line of staff was whirring around, dipping in and out of the closet, folding garments, bringing books from the library, placing important letters in official-looking boxes.

It reminded Yaz of a beehive. Much like watching the bees in her uncle’s garden in Arcadia, Yaz found herself baffled at how everyone around her seemed to know exactly what to do, even though it followed no pattern that was apparent to herself.

“Yasmin.”

Yaz snapped out of her stupor, to realise that all movement around her had come to a sudden halt, which could only mean one thing.

“Lord Mistress!”

Juliannah stood in the doorway, the sleeves of her ruffled shirt messily rolled over her elbows, a letter in her hands.

Yaz’s heart skipped a beat. Juliannah motioned to the right with her head, then disappeared, and Yaz followed her – the staff around her falling into awkward half-bows, still unsure how to act around the woman that was sleeping in the Lord Mistress’ bed, but was not wed to her.

Yaz wondered, not for the first time, how much they all disapproved of their Lord Mistress taking a lover instead of a wife. By now, it must have become pretty clear to everyone in the mansion that that was what had happened. Karn was considerably more conservative that Gallifrey in those regards, and Yaz was half-surprised nobody had made some kind of snide remark to her yet. 

On the other hand, everyone at the mansion also knew what had happened to Knight Robin. 

With her head held high, Yaz followed Juliannah into the private library, one door over, and closed it behind her.

“Caladrius brought it this morning”, Juliannah said as she held the letter over towards Yaz. “Begrudgingly so, he wanted me to add.”

Yaz took the letter, her hands shaking as she eagerly ripped the envelope open.

“I guess he’s still not keen on playing messenger?” she said as she took out the letter, unfolding it quickly.

Juliannah rolled her eyes as she dropped into her chair, then began talking in Caladrius’ slightly nasal tone. “ I’m not a carrier bird, Juliannah. Go find yourself a pigeon .”

Yaz bit back a grin. Juliannah had somehow managed to convince Caladrius to bring back and forth the letters between Yaz and her family. It was a big favour, one that ensured that Yaz's family remained safe no matter what they talked about in their writing, as it could not be intercepted. And even though Caladrius did not waste any opportunity to complain, Yaz also knew that if the familiar really didn't want to carry out this task, he simply wouldn't. 

Of course, Yaz’s family knew nothing of how their letters were being delivered. All Yaz had told them was to leave the letters in Yaz’s old room, with the window open and the door closed.

She wondered, not for the first time, if Sonya had ever caught a peak of Caladrius. She did have a tendency to stick her nose in it.

With a smile, she recognised her father’s handwriting.

 

Dear Yasmin,

You say you are coming to Gallifrey, but cannot tell us the reason. Still, your mother and I could not be happier! However, we do also worry about what will happen once you try to enter the capital. Are you sure you will not be arrested? You say you are being protected, but you do not explain how – we would sleep easier if we knew what you meant.

Your mother has also been badgering me to ask you to tell us more about this mysterious person who is in your life. You say you are with someone, but can’t give any details about them yet. We can only assume they are Karnish, and the reason why you fled the country. Your mother doesn’t trust the Karnish, and I myself have heard many a dark rumour about them. Be careful, dear daughter.  

We hope you will be able to come see us when you are here. We so would love to hold you in our arms once more. Even Sonya – though please do not tell her I said so.

All my love,
Hakim

 

Yaz folded the letter up, then looked in the envelope for one of Sonya’s notes. Her sister had taken to always leaving one in there after her parents had already closed the envelope, sending Yaz secret little messages of her own.

As Yaz pulled the little paper up to her eyes, she gaped, her jaw practically hitting the floor.

 

Y az. Oh my stars, Yaz. Mum and dad are dumb, but I’m not.

You’re with the fucking Lord Mistress of Karn , aren’t you?

How did you manage that? 

 

Yaz let out a groan as she dropped the note. 

Juliannah raised a quizzical eyebrow. 

"Well?" 

"Sonya figured it out."

"Ah." Juliannah slowly unrolled her sleeve, buttoning it around her wrist. "Well, I guess she would have known soon enough either way."

"Hm."

Yaz watched as Juliannah unrolled her other sleeve, too. She wasn't entirely sure how to feel about her sister's note - Yaz hadn't exactly planned on telling her family when she visited. Although Juliannah was right, of course - sooner or later, the news about the Lord Mistress' Gallifreyan paramour would spread to her home country, too. 

Unnoticed by Yaz, Juliannah had gotten up from her chair, and stepped up towards her. As Yaz looked up from the letters in her hand, the woman was fixing her with an intense gaze, something unreadable swirling behind her hazel eyes. It was the same expression she had worn when she had received the letter from her Gallifreyan spy, and it caused Yaz's breath to get stuck in her throat without knowing why. It was just the briefest glimmer of an expression she had never seen the woman wear before, and thus could not name. 

"Juliannah?"

Instead of replying, Juliannah snuck one hand around Yaz's nape, and pulled her in for a kiss.

It took Yaz a moment to lean into it, taken by surprise as she had been. When it did sink in, she slung her arms around Juliannah's waist, and allowed the woman to pull her close. 

Their relationship, undoubtedly sexual in nature, did not leave space for many moments such as these, and Yaz caught the smallest flutter in her chest at the sudden show of such casual affection.

She made sure to push the feeling as far down as she possibly could, and then a little farther still. 

When Juliannah let go of her, her usual cocky grin had reappeared on her face, and she gave Yaz's cheek a small tap before stepping away. 

"Better get dressed, darling. Our carriage awaits."

Something small and sharp clawed at Yaz's heart, but she shook herself out of it. 

"Right. I'll be right back."

By the time she had reached the door that led out of the antechamber, Juliannah was already calling after her. 

"Where are you going?" 

Yaz turned around, frowning, one hand on the door handle. 

"To put on my armour?" 

Juliannah laughed, and shook her head, and Yaz suddenly felt just a little bit irritated. "Don't be silly, dear", Juliannah said. "You're not going to Gallifrey as a knight. They'd have you arrested on the spot."

"Well, what am I going as then?" Yaz snapped back, a little more forceful than had been necessary. She wasn't entirely sure where her sudden irritation had come from. 

Juliannah simply raised an eyebrow, and cocked her head. 

Slowly, it sunk in. 

"Oh", Yaz breathed. So that was what Juliannah had meant with people knowing sooner rather than later. 

Well, it looked like Yaz wouldn't get around having that talk with her parents after all. 

"I have nothing to wear", she said, suddenly feeling both silly and a little self-conscious at her misreading of the situation. Her previous irritation had dissipated like summer mist. 

Juliannah shook her head, and beckoned Yaz to follow her back into their room. "Of course you do."

Moments later, Yaz was standing in front of one of the suitcases from before, now filled to the brim with clothes. There were trousers, boots, shirts, jerkins and doublets, vests, and even a stunning frock coat made out of thick brocade.

The contents of that suitcase alone would be able to pay Yaz's wages for a year, maybe two. She stared at it all, her mouth open.

"But", she finally managed to breathe. "They're all purple ."

"Yes."

Yaz pulled her eyes away from the suitcase. Her head was spinning. She had been convinced that she would be going to Gallifrey as a Karnish Guard, under the guise of protecting the Lord Mistress, and protected herself through her standing as a knight of Karn.

Now she was standing here, realising that she would be going to Gallifrey at the Lord Mistress' side – as the woman she took to bed – with her claim on Yaz visible on every single piece of clothing. 

The thought made heat shoot through her core, but before she could say or do anything, Juliannah had placed a finger underneath her chin. 

"There'll be plenty of time to show me you like it on the road, darling. Be good and get dressed now. I want to see how my colours look on you."

Swallowing down her own lust, Yaz nodded, and set about getting changed, the Lord Mistress' eyes burning into her skin as she did so.

 

 

The journey from Karn to Gallifrey's capital took about a week by carriage.

Not that Yaz was complaining. This was the most time she had ever spent one-on-one with Juliannah, and she was relishing in finding out a plethora of small, everyday things about the other woman.

Like the way she scrunched up her nose with the first sip of coffee in the morning, or how she had a habit of pushing her glasses up into her hair after reading a letter, then forgetting them there. The way she sat, casually leaning against the side of the carriage, her legs crossed as she held up a piece of parchment, studying it intensely.

The fact that she liked to take her lunch early, and her dinner late. That during both, she would read in silence, her lips moving along with the text. 

They spent their days sitting opposite each other like this, reading, writing letters, and in the case of the Lord Mistress, occasionally pouring over official documents that were sent her way. 

The closer to the evening it got, the less the Lord Mistress' eyes would stick to the page, hunger growing inside them instead as she fixed Yaz with her gaze.

At night, they stopped at various high end guest houses, and then Yaz would spend the following hours getting intimately acquainted with every piece of their room's furniture.

She was infinitely glad that they always had the entire inn to themselves, and that Dan was usually standing guard at the bottom of the stairs, far enough away from their room to preserve Yaz's dignity when she had to face him the following day. 

The closer they got to Gallifrey, the harder it was becoming to ignore the flutter in Yaz's chest at the thought of entering the palace again. Some nights, after the Lord Mistress fell asleep or disappeared down to the tavern, Yaz would stay awake, her mind plagued by thoughts of her impending return.

How would her colleagues react? Amy, at least, knew where Yaz had disappeared to. Had she told anyone else? Ryan perhaps, or Clara? Or did they all believe that Yaz had become a traitor overnight, selling out her country for no apparent reason?

Did they know of Koschei’s behaviour? 

Her worries were so loud and all-consuming that Yaz became almost completely blind to a different kind of change. 

She only noticed during their final night on the road. Yaz had just collapsed onto the bed, entirely spent from the treatment she had just received. As Juliannah pulled her fingers out, she moved to casually suck them off, her gaze fixed to Yaz’s. It made Yaz want to pull her towards herself and worship her until the early morning hours.

That was when it hit her.

It had been subtle at first: a hand pushed away here, a "not yet, darling" there.

Slowly, tentatively, she leaned over, wrapping an arm around Juliannah’s waist in order to pull her close, her mouth heading towards the Lord Mistress’ breast.

“I’m afraid I have things to do, darling.”

Yaz did her best to mask her disappointment as she watched Juliannah get out of bed and get dressed. That day in the dining hall, something had broken open between them, and from then on out, Juliannah had let Yaz touch her just as much as was the case the other way around – albeit Yaz still usually found herself in a more… subservient position (a fact that she would not want to change either way). But now, she realised Juliannah had been retreating physically – at least in the sense that she wasn’t letting Yaz pleasure her, and had refused to for almost the entire week they had been on the road. 

“Where are you going?” Yaz asked as Juliannah pulled her hair back, fixing the small ponytail with a black ribbon. 

“Tavern”, Juliannah replied. “I have some letters to finish.” She turned back to Yaz, a devilish smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Be good and stay like this until I come back. I might be hungry later.”

And with that, Yaz was left alone, an uneasy feeling settling in her chest. Had she done something to upset Juliannah? Whenever she had been allowed to touch her, Yaz had been careful not to apply pressure to her scars, feeling like it might bother her. Had she accidentally touched Juliannah in a way that had made her uncomfortable? Although she could not imagine Juliannah not instantly letting her know that she didn’t like something – she had done so in the past. The Lord Mistress of Karn, after all, was rather direct when it came to sex.

Maybe Juliannah was simply preoccupied with their impending arrival in Gallifrey, just like Yaz was. After all, as Lord Mistress of Karn, she would get a personal meeting with Koschei and his council, and then there were all the formalities surrounding a Royal Ball and a coronation banquet – all designed to reinforce the Alliance bond between the four countries in attendance.

Stars knew it would all be very awkward and tense, given what had transpired between Juliannah and Koschei the last time they'd met. 

Yaz pulled the blanket over herself, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in her chest. In an hour or so, Juliannah would come back, and then Yaz would distract her from the meeting in the best way she could.

Except the hours ticked by, and the fire in the corner slowly died as Yaz waited. In the early morning hours, she finally fell asleep, anxious and alone.

 

 

The walls of the Gallifreyan capital appeared in the distance on the morning of the seventh day, and an hour later, so did the glimmering towers of the palace behind it. They had crossed the border into Gallifrey without incident – after all, the borders in-between Alliance nations were open ever since the treaty had been drawn.

What wasn’t open for anyone, however, were the city gates, and the palace gates that lay beyond.

Yaz shuffled nervously on her cushioned bench, catching Juliannah’s attention who looked at her over the rim of her golden glasses.

“Sorry”, Yaz mumbled. “It’s just –”

Their carriage came to a halt, and a knock sounded from the door.

Eyes still fixed on Yaz, Juliannah leaned forward, and opened the window on top of the door.

“City Guard”, the man on the other side said. “Just checking your carriage, my Lady.”

Juliannah pulled a face, and leaned back on her bench. “Well, then, go ahead and check.”

Yaz held her breath.

The man pulled back, then opened the door, sticking his head inside the carriage. He looked around, first over Juliannah, eyeing the small box of letters on her side, then over towards Yaz.

His eyes instantly narrowed, and he disappeared from the carriage. Yaz’s heart plummeted as she heard urgent whispers next to the carriage, and a second later, the door was fully ripped open, bringing three more soldiers into view, their hands on their swords.

“You are travelling with a known traitor to the Crown'', the first guard addressed Juliannah. He handed her a piece of parchment, and Yaz caught a glimpse of a drawing of her own face. The soldier turned towards Yaz, then, his eyes cold as steel. “Step out of the carriage”, he hissed.

Yaz sat, frozen in place.

“Oh, don’t be an idiot, man”, Juliannah said, rolling her eyes. “ Look at her .”

The soldier seemed taken aback by that, but his eyes flickered over Yaz, who was still holding her breath, her heart hammering into her chest.

Then, the man’s eyes got stuck on Yaz’s jerkin, and the shining purple stripe that ran across her chest, and they widened slightly.

There was a moment of tense silence as the soldier clearly debated what to do next. 

“You don’t want to start a war now by arresting my woman, do you?” Juliannah asked quietly, her voice a friendly, easy-going tone that Yaz knew bore more danger than any kind of shouting ever could. 

My woman. 

The soldier looked at Yaz, swallowing heavily.

Finally, his grip around his sword loosened, and he pulled back.

“You may pass. But I will have my men escort your carriage through the city, and inform the Royal Guard.” He looked over at Juliannah, and gave a quick bow. “Lord Mistress.” Then, back at Yaz, his face very clearly kept in check with great effort as he pressed out: “Madam.”

The door closed, and after some orders were shouted outside, the carriage jostled. They were back on their way, and Yaz let out a long breath.

That had been way too close, closer than she had ever dared to imagine.

It wasn’t until they were halfway up High Street that Juliannah’s words truly sunk in.

Despite the shock of the moment, she found that she had to suddenly bite back a grin as she looked at the woman opposite her, once again completely preoccupied with a document in her hand. After a while, Juliannah must have noticed her staring, because she looked up, one eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“You’d start a war for me ?”

Juliannah let out a huff, already lifting the document back up to resume her reading. “Don’t be silly. I had to say something to get him to calm down. Who’d keep my bed warm at night if they arrested you?”

The words felt like a slap straight across Yaz’s face. She bit her tongue, forcing her eyes away from the Lord Mistress as she looked out the window to her right instead, lifting the curtain so she could see the street outside.

Of course, Yaz knew what the nature of their relationship was. Juliannah desired Yaz, and had said yes to continuing to live out that desire. Yaz was well aware that was all she would ever get: shared pleasure. 

And yet.

As they left the city and the great gilded gates of the Gallifreyan palace came into view, Yaz told herself that it was enough, that what Juliannah was giving her was all that she wanted, that it was all that Yaz had asked for that day in the dining hall.

As the gates opened around them, granting them entrance to the place Yaz had once called home, she couldn't help but trace the lines of Juliannah’s jaw, her lips. 

She thought of the way the woman would take her at night, and told herself that it was enough. It had to be. 

A part of her believed it.

Notes:

Thanks for reading! :)

Chapter Text

The Gallifreyan palace was filled with staff running eagerly from one end to the other, hanging up banners, putting up elaborate flower decorations, carefully dusting off tapestries and polishing every single piece of silver until one could see one’s own reflection in them. The week had been filled with celebrations, both commemorating the late King, and honouring the next one. It was all coming to a head over the course of the next three days: first a Royal Ball tomorrow, then a banquet the day after, and finally, the day after that, the coronation.

It was a terribly over-dramatised affair.

Juliannah watched the servants flit around her as she waited in front of the closed doors of the future King’s meeting room, Yasmin by her side, Sir Daniel standing behind them.

She tried to ignore the looks Yaz had been throwing her since that moment in the carriage.

Juliannah had heard Yaz's thoughts after her little slip, loud and clear. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at herself as she remembered her threat to the soldier.

She should have toned it down. It was annoying, really, the way being around Yasmin sometimes made the first thing on her mind simply slip from her tongue.

It would be over soon.

A strange mix of emotions swirled in her chest, not for the first time since she had received Lungbarrow’s message, and Juliannah did her best to ignore them. She had no use for last-minute nerves. Not now, not when she was finally so close to everything falling into place.

Finally, the doors opened, two knights stepping into view.

Juliannah immediately recognised one of them – the redhead that knew she was a mage. 

A flash of annoyance rushed through her as the woman threw her – what she probably thought was – an inconspicuous glance.

Really, why had she not simply gotten rid of her? Oh, of course.

Because Yaz had asked her not to.

Another, deeper flash of annoyance rushed through her. At least, she told herself, it meant there would be one more person who would be able to corroborate the important details when the time came.

Inside the Gallifreyan council room, there was a large, cherrywood table, a handful of completely indistinguishable old men sitting around it. One singular woman, who Juliannah knew to be the Duchess of Olew, sat in the corner, fixing her with an intense gaze.

Would she have been Karnish, Juliannah was sure she would have had her way with the woman. 

At the table’s head, his chin lifted and a condescending look in his eye, was Crown Prince Koschei – to be King Koschei of Gallifrey in three days' time.

Juliannah bowed as shallowly as she possibly could, with Yasmin next to her falling into a similar reverence, at least with as much reluctance as Juliannah. It made her have to swallow down a grin.

In front of her, the room was oddly quiet, no greetings being exchanged, no “Lord Mistress” or even a colder – and what would be considered more than slightly rude – “Lady Theta.”

All eyes were on Yasmin.

Perfect.

Without a care in the world, Juliannah sauntered over to the table, and pulled out a free chair, gesturing towards Yasmin. “Sit, darling”, she said, her voice purposefully sultry, and she felt the tension in the room rise.

Keeping her face perfectly neutral, she looked around the room for a servant, and when she found one, she said: “It seems we are missing a chair. Fetch one.”

The poor girl stared at her, wide eyed, and Juliannah cocked her head, letting just a hint of a smile lift the corner of her lip as she added: “Please.”

The woman turned as red as a summer tomato, and rushed out the door.

“Lord Mistress”, the man to Yasmin’s right finally said. Juliannah saw his fists were clenched underneath the table. “This is most… unorthodox.

“What is?” she asked, her voice the picture of perfect innocence. 

You’re devious , she heard Yasmin think, and she placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. Thankfully, Yasmin had agreed to this little stunt, somewhat eager to wind Koschei up after everything he had put her through.

It made things a lot easier for Juliannah.

Just having fun, darling , she thought back at her, then let go of her shoulder as another chair was finally brought. She pulled it to the head of the table, opposite Koschei, and sat down.

“Well, then, let’s talk politics, shall we?”

Silence, once again. Then, finally, Koschei spoke.

“I’m not having this meeting with her here, Juliannah.”

All eyes went to him, and Juliannah smiled her most innocent smile as she leaned forward across the table. “Well, why ever not, Your Royal Highness?

She said the words with as much painful sugary-sweetness as she could, and she could feel Koschei’s anger practically radiating off of him in waves.

“Because”, he said, his words coming out as a hiss between clenched teeth, “I am not having a meeting while your… while she’s in the room –”

Juliannah slowly raised an eyebrow. “My what, Your Royal Highness?”

Oh she was riling him up, and he knew she was, but he couldn’t stop his anger. It made it that much sweeter.

Until the nobleman to Juliannah’s left leaned forward, and spoke, his voice cold:

“Your whore, Lord Mistress.”

A jolt ran through Juliannah’s system, as if somebody had just cut the ties to her magic and they were flying loose, burning through her nerves. As if controlled by someone else, Juliannah felt herself jump out of her chair, grab the man by the lapels of his frock coat, and drag him halfway across the table towards her.

Chaos erupted.

“Lord Mistress!”

The knights at the door moved into the room, their swords drawn, while everyone jumped to their feet, including Yaz – who Juliannah could see in the periphery of her vision, eyes wide and shocked. 

Well, this hadn’t been part of the plan.

But Juliannah found that she could not stop the raging fire in her veins, and despite the flash of steel in the corner of her eye, she pulled the man closer, whose face had gone white with fear and shock.

“What”, Juliannah said slowly, the cold calmness of her voice surprising even herself, “did you just call Dame Yasmin?”

The man stammered something unintelligible, and suddenly, Juliannah felt a different pair of hands on her own, wrapping around them, gently pushing them down.

She felt herself let go in spite of herself, and looked over to see Yaz, her eyes wide as she pulled Juliannah’s hands towards her chest, pressing them firmly against her beating heart.

Juliannah , she heard the woman’s thoughts, loud and clear in her head. She realised, with a strange emotion, that, with the exception of Caladrius, she couldn’t hear anybody else’s thoughts as clearly as Yasmin’s.

You need to breathe , Yasmin said. Her voice sounded urgent in Juliannah’s head, and she frowned. Your magic.

Oh.

Juliannah could feel it now, the flicker around her hands, hidden by Yasmin’s own. She took a deep breath, pulling the strings of her magic close, and readjusted her face into a practised facade of perfect nonchalance. 

All the while, Yasmin was looking at her intently, making it unnecessarily hard for Juliannah to concentrate.

When she was done, she simply slipped her hands out from underneath Yasmin’s. It couldn’t have taken more than a few moments, but she felt everybody’s stares on her as she sat back down at the table as if nothing had happened.

“Right”, she said, brushing invisible crinkles out of her jerkin. “Now that we have all gotten our insults out, let’s get to work.” Before anyone could protest, she looked over her shoulder at Yasmin, and nodded her head towards the door. “Go”, she said. “I’ll be fine here.”

Stars, if only Yaz would stop looking at her like that whenever Juliannah was being pragmatic. It was the same look she had thrown her in the carriage, and Juliannah quickly averted her gaze.

She ignored the knight’s thoughts, and as the door closed behind Yasmin, Juliannah faced the table once more. “Let’s begin, then.”

The meeting, as foreseen, took forever. And the entire time, Juliannah had to rein in that fire in her veins, resurfacing every time she laid eyes on the Baron to her left, hearing his words echo in her brain, causing new rage to break out every so often. After all, with Yasmin officially at Juliannah's side, disrespecting her in such a crude manner meant disrespecting Juliannah herself. More than once, she found herself imagining what it would feel like to slap him, to strike him across the face with just a little bit of magic behind the assault to make it hurt good.

Thus distracted, she probably agreed to a thing or two she hadn’t exactly planned on, but she didn’t find it in herself to care.

Trade agreements were not what she had come to Gallifrey for.

By the time the meeting room doors closed behind her, it was past dinner, and Juliannah could feel her entire skin tingling with the effort of holding back for hours.

She looked down the corridor, realising there was only one way for her to calm her magic, and whatever else was raging through her veins.

By the time she threw open the door to their guest room, Juliannah’s skin was on fire.

Yasmin was sitting at a small table, dinner obviously having been brought to her. A forkful of meat stopped halfway to her mouth as she stared at Juliannah, standing in the doorway, her chest heaving.

Slowly, Yasmin lowered her fork, her eyes growing dark.

“Juliannah.”

She was at the table in two quick steps, gripping Yaz by the waist and pulling her out of the chair. Yaz let out a small welp, and then a gasp as her back hit the bookshelf behind with full force.

“Yasmin”, Juliannah growled, and then she enveloped Yasmin’s lips with her own, hungrily, pushing her tongue inside her mouth a moment later.

Yaz opened up with a low moan, her arms coming up to wrap around Juliannah’s neck.

Juliannah felt mad with hunger.

She ripped at Yasmin’s jerkin until the buttons opened, some of them being pulled off the expensive garment in the process. 

There was something about the sight of Yaz in purple, marked as Juliannah’s and Juliannah’s alone, that almost drove her insane with want.

Soon enough, the jerkin lay on the floor beside them, and Juliannah was mouthing at Yaz’s breast through her shirt.

“Juliannah”, Yaz breathed, “wait, what hap –”

She came back up again, swallowing the rest of Yasmin’s words in a kiss as she ripped at her shirt, pulling it apart at the seems to reveal naked flesh underneath. By the time she had both hands on soft breasts, Yasmin’s back was arching off the shelf and into her, and the woman’s thoughts had dissipated.

“I need you .”

The words were out of Juliannah’s mouth before she could stop them, and Yasmin seemed to  swallow them right up, suddenly desperately pushing and pulling at Juliannha’s doublet. She took a step back, ridding herself of the garment and her shirt as well in the process.

A second later, her naked front was touching Yasmin’s, and the moment she could feel Yasmin’s breasts pressing against her own, Juliannah felt dizzy.

She pushed her hand down Yasmin’s trousers before the woman could say or do anything else, and the moment she touched wet heat, she heard herself moan unashamedly against Yasmin’s lips.

Fuck ”, Yasmin cursed, “Juliannah, I –”

Juliannah could feel Yasmin’s desire, knew what she wanted to do, but she pushed past it, instead dragging her fingers through Yasmin’s sodden undergarments, rubbing at her clit. She pushed her knee up, and then pushed two fingers inside at once, causing the other woman to hiss, then moan as she began thrusting into her as best as she could while the woman was still in her trousers.

One of Yasmin’s hands flew out, trying to find purchase on the bookshelf behind her. Some books toppled over as she mistakenly grasped them, pulling them out of the shelf and onto the carpeted floor. 

Juliannah didn't pay it any mind. She continued pushing into Yasmin, only ever breaking their kisses when she felt the woman starting to gasp for air.

One of Yasmin’s legs was wrapped around her now, and Juliannah grabbed a hold of it with her free hand, keeping the woman upright as she used her hips to thrust her fingers deeper into her.

“Yasmin”, she groaned, her mind foggy with the way their movements were causing friction against her own core, “I need you to come.

Yasmin’s head fell back against the shelf, and Juliannah watched her eyes grow wide as her mouth fell open and her entire body tensed.

It was Juliannah’s favourite view, she realised, and she took pleasure in making it last as long as she possibly could.

Yaz shuddered before she slumped against Juliannah.

Juliannah closed her eyes, her face buried against Yasmin’s neck, and took a deep breath, as if she could inhale the other woman.

“Juliannah.”

Yasmin’s voice was soft in a way that made Juliannah’s skin tingle, and when she asked her next question, Juliannah didn’t find it in herself to refuse.

“Please let me touch you.”

Just this once. Just one more time, before it would all change.

Slowly, she unbuttoned her trousers, and pushed them down her legs. She kicked off her boots, then stepped out of her trousers, and the look in Yasmin’s eyes was doing nothing to calm the heat between her legs.

She walked over, her own back now against the bookshelf, and pulled Yasmin in front of her. Then, she placed her hands on Yasmin’s shoulders, and with a firm shove, pushed her down onto her knees.

When Yasmin slung one of Juliannah’s legs over her shoulder, she held onto the bookshelf just like Yasmin had done before, her core throbbing with desire as the woman kissed her inner thigh, then looked up at her through hooded lashes.

The moment Juliannah could feel Yasmin’s tongue drag over the entire length of her, she almost came.

Her hand flew down onto the other woman’s hair, keeping her in place. Yasmin took her cue, not moving, leaving the flat of her tongue pressed against Juliannah’s clit as the Lord Mistress took a shuddering breath.

When she was sure that she wouldn’t be falling apart embarrassingly quickly, she rolled her hip against Yasmin’s face.

The woman sprung into action. She lapped at her, dragging her warm tongue across her, swirling its tip over Juliannah’s clit, sucking lightly on it in a way that was driving Juliannah mad. Her grip on Yasmin’s hair tightened, and the woman moaned against her, sending reverberations through Juliannah’s entire body.

Stars, she had deprived herself of this for too long.

It had been necessary, of course. Juliannah had opened a door that day in the dining room, one that she had not planned to open, when she had Yasmin let her touch like that. It had been annoyingly hard to close, and made everything unnecessarily harder.

Juliannah had relinquished control for way too long, and she had fought all week on the road to regain it.

A string of curses fell from her lips as Yasmin pushed a finger into her, sucking at her clit at the same time. On the arm that was wrapped around her thigh, Juliannah saw the familiar black scars winding around Yaz’s wrist.
The ones Yaz had asked her to keep, had wanted to carry around with her.

Juliannah closed her eyes, and let her head fall back against the shelf.

Just this once, she told herself, just this one more time. It wouldn’t change anything.

With a flick of Yaz’s tongue and an expert curling of fingers inside of her – when had it become two? – Juliannah came all over Yaz’s face, trembling and cursing and moaning and –

Yaz.

She felt Yasmin’s heart flutter at the nickname, and cursed herself. She knew better than to use that name, knew better than to let go of that last bit of distance, but her lust-riddled brain had defied her.

As she came down from her high, slowly riding it out against Yasmin’s face, she became aware of her grip on the woman’s hair, unwilling to let go.

She only relinquished it when pleasure turned into overstimulation, and Yasmin gently placed her leg back down on the ground before standing up and kissing Juliannah, too softly.

Too lovingly.

“Thank you”, the knight whispered against Juliannah’s lips, and Juliannah closed her eyes, allowing herself just a moment to relish the closeness, the familiarity.

 

 

She waited until Yasmin had fallen asleep. Then, she slowly got out of bed once more, and opened the hidden compartment in her suitcase.

Four things came into view. A ring – a golden band, with a large ruby set into it – and three vials, neatly slotted next to each other: one very small, filled with blood-red powder; two slightly larger, filled with a pale blue liquid.

First, she pulled the ring onto her finger. Then, with the greatest care in the world, she extricated the red vial, and placed it onto the table in front of her. She reached for the ring on her finger, and pressed the almost invisible button on its side, causing the ruby on top to snap open and reveal a miniscule, hidden compartment underneath.

She uncorked the bottle, and with a silver spatula, carefully transferred a small amount of powder into her ring.

When she was done, she took a handkerchief, and wiped the spatula clean.

Juliannah snapped the ring shut, and reached for one of the blue vials. This one, she uncorked, and raised to her lips, emptying its contents with a long gulp. It tasted bitter on her tongue, and she scrunched her face up in disgust. The second vial she left in the case, snapping it shut.

The effects of the antidote would last all through tomorrow, until the early morning hours of the following day. Hopefully, she would not need the second one. The banquet on the eve of the coronation would be a possibility, of course – if all else failed – but Juliannah was well aware tomorrow’s ball would present her with more opportunities.

Ensuring herself with a look towards the bed that Yasmin was still fast asleep, she walked over to their suitcase, and opened it.

She found the frock coat for tomorrow’s ball neatly folded on top. When she had pulled it out, she hesitated.

Something flashed through her, clawing at her heart with a sudden viciousness, ripping at her with force. A feeling Juliannah had not come across since she had been a child, until that moment when she had received the letter from Lungbarrow. It had resurfaced the other day, as she had watched Yasmin read that letter from her parents, and Juliannah had gotten up to kiss her.

Of course, she had thought her time with Yasmin would span months – a year, maybe even two. She had known that King Alistair had been of bad health, but Juliannah also knew that House Gallifrey was a stubborn brood, known for holding on as long as they could.

It didn’t change anything, of course. They had always been headed here, and it had just happened a little sooner than expected. Maybe even a little sooner than Juliannah had wanted .

Juliannah sat down on the chair, and her eyes were drawn to Yasmin, her naked form splayed on the bed, only marginally covered by the sheets.

She remembered before, how the woman’s nickname had fallen from her lips so easily as she had come.

Juliannah forced herself to look away, ignoring the feeling that was twisting her stomach.

Weakness. 

She was finally where she had wanted to be, she reminded herself, and she was not going to let anything get in the way of her plan now. This was what she had been working towards, since the day she had turned herself inside out, forcing her magic into unnatural twists, nearly breaking herself in the process.

She remembered the agony of it, the way she had thrown up all over herself from the pain, yet had forced herself to keep going. An irreversible change, one that would forever detach her from the essence of who she had once been. She could still feel it when she closed her eyes: the blinding pain, making her scratch at her own skin until she bled, until there hadn’t even been a single spark of that warm, golden light left instead of her, and her entire body felt cold with power.

All for one, singular purpose: revenge.

For her father’s murder, and for her grandmother’s death, abandoned, left alone behind enemy lines. For her own childhood, spent hiding in shame.

All because of House Gallifrey.

She had kept her scars to remind herself, every day, of why she was still here.

When Yasmin had walked into her life, and revealed her disinterest in Koschei, she had finally presented Juliannah with an opportunity to get back at Gallifrey – and to do so without erasing her grandmother’s own line completely in the process.

She was perfect, really: A woman who had found herself backed into a corner by a Prince who wanted something she was unwilling to give – something he in turn was more than willing to simply take if he had to. A woman whom Juliannah had gently manoeuvred towards betraying her country, with no way back - thanks to Koschei. 

A woman with a motive.

Like so often over the past week – when she had forced every fibre of her being to resist the urge of Yaz's touches – she told herself: it had always been the plan.

Yasmin , she reminded herself. Yasmin, not Yaz.

With clenched teeth, she forced herself to let out a long breath as she looked away from the woman in her bed.

Tomorrow, Crown Prince Koschei of Gallifrey, during the ball to celebrate his impending coronation, would die a quick – and very painful – death, through an unknown poison.

Of course, Juliannah would present as the prime suspect. But she would have made sure to ostensibly drink from the same cup as Koschei before offering it to him, in front of a number of witnesses. And when the guards would lock the doors and search the guests, they would find the poison quickly enough. 

Juliannah felt for the hidden pocket inside of Yaz's frock coat, and slipped the small vial of red powder inside. She sat still for a moment then, letting out a long breath as she kept her eyes fixed on the garment, away from the woman in her bed. 

Tomorrow, Juliannah would finally get the revenge she had wanted since the day the whip had descended on her back, making her scream for mercy that had never come. 

Tomorrow, Juliannah would kill a future King. 

And Dame Yasmin would hang for his murder.

Chapter 20

Notes:

First of all: the response to last chapter has been absolutely INCREDIBLE. I don't think I've ever gotten that many reactions to a chapter and I wanted to thank everyone! You guys are all amazing and I am so so happy this many people are enjoying the story :)

Now, without further ado, here's your next chapter!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“So she’s taking you to the ball tonight? And the banquet tomorrow? I have to admit, that woman has guts. The Prince is already barely holding it together at this point.”

Yaz let out a sigh, and looked at the shirt, trousers and frock coat, lying all neatly folded on the guest bed. Juliannah had gone off to a meeting with the Noble Chancellor of Polarfrey about an hour ago, and Yaz had been left to get ready on her own.

That was, until Amy had showed up.

Yaz had practically fallen into her arms, and hugged her so tight and so long that Amy had pretended to gasp for air at some point, dramatically letting her knees buckle and sinking to the floor.

“She really pulled a number bringing you into that meeting yesterday.”

Yaz bit her bottom lip. “Yeah”, she said. 

Juliannah had asked her if she wanted to come and rile up Koschei with her. Her smile had been so mischievous that Yaz had found herself agreeing, but after seeing the way the room had reacted to her presence, a part of her had regretted it.

Then there was, of course, the way Juliannah had seemingly lost control when Baron Hond had insulted Yaz.

Warmth blossomed in her chest, and Yaz quickly reached for the trousers on the bed, and unbuttoned her own.

“How has it been since I left?”

Amy sighed, and stretched out her legs. She was sitting on the desk chair, mindlessly playing around with the fork that was still lying there from Yaz’s lunch.

“Well, Koschei became unbearable for a while. Had us all questioned, about you. It was proper weird, and the more people only said good things about you, the angrier he got.” Amy shot Yaz a pregnant look across the room. “He seemed to know exactly where you’d gone to, although I can’t imagine how. I certainly didn’t say anything.”

Yaz’s cheeks flushed bright red at a memory, and she did her best to chase it away as she pulled her trousers on. The material was fine, and even though she’d been wearing the clothes from Juliannah for over a week now, she still couldn’t get used to how soft they felt against her skin.

“Yaz?”

Yaz cleared her throat. “He might have uhm… seen me with her.”

What an understatement , she thought drily. But she wasn’t about to give Amy that kind of detail.

Amy leaned forward in her chair, dropping all pretence of casualness. “What? How?”

Yaz’s eyes nervously flitted towards the door, then back at Amy. Her heart was beating loud and fast in her chest, but Yaz ignored it. She did not owe Koschei loyalty anymore – and she had kept his secret for far too long. Dropping her voice as low as she could, she said:

“Juliannah’s not the only one.”

Amy stared at her as if Yaz had just grown a second head. She sat, not blinking, the moments flying by as her mouth slowly opened, then closed, then opened again.

“What the –”

“Nobody can know”, Yaz added, urgently. “If he finds out I told someone, he’ll try even harder to expose her.”

Amy slowly closed her mouth again, and let herself fall back in the chair. She still looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Shit”, she mumbled. “I never thought…”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you known?”

“Since the beginning, basically.”

“Did he ever…” Amy stopped, and bit her bottom lip, clearly unsure how to phrase her question. When she did, her voice was quiet, and uncharacteristically anxious. “Did he ever use it? On you, I mean. To… force you into… anything. Like that kiss you mentioned.”

Yaz’s heart warmed at her friend’s worry, and she shook her head. “No, don’t worry.” A humourless laugh tumbled over her lips, and she added: “He didn’t need any magic to force that kiss on me. He was just smart enough to catch me off guard.” She reached for the hem of her shirt, about to pull it over her head – she and Amy had bathed together often, and besides that, Yaz’s chest was still bound anyway. “Besides”, she said as she tugged at her shirt, “I don’t think he could if he wanted to. He has healing magic.”

Amy let out a snort. “The irony. I mean, I know all magic is inherently bad – or that’s what they say, anyway – but weren’t healers supposed to be the noble ones? That’s what the old stories said, anyw–”

As Yaz pulled her shirt over her head, Amy stopped mid-sentence, and sucked in a breath.

Cold dread crept up Yaz’s skin as she realised her mistake.

Her scars.

They had become second nature to her, and nobody ever saw them, given that she wore either full armour, or long-sleeved shirts every day.

Now, however, she had put them on full display in front of Amy: the black nets winding around her wrists, the dark-rimmed lovebites all over her collarbones, the imprint of Juliannah’s hand on her shoulder where she had grabbed her a couple of days ago at the inn –

Yaz pulled her shirt for the ball over her head as quickly as she could, as if that could erase in any way the reality of what Amy had just seen. She pulled at the hem self-consciously, and tugged the sleeves down as far as they would go.

“I can explain”, she whispered, but Amy was already out of her chair, and to Yaz’s great panic, the look in her eyes screamed murder.

“I’m going to kill her. I’m going to fucking murder that bitch for –”

“Amy –”

“– daring to lay a hand on you. I don’t care what kind of hold she has over you, but I will make sure she never hurts you again, Yaz. I should never have sent you to her, I should have –”

“Amy, that’s not what –”

“– protected you myself." Amy balled her hands up into fists, her breath short as she clenched her teeth and began pacing up and down the room. "I can’t believe I thought I was saving you from Koschei, when I just sent you into the arms of a fucking War –

“Amy, stop !”

Amy froze, her head snapping towards Yaz, who had grabbed both her arms. 

“None of this was done to me, Amy!" Yaz blurted out, holding on to her friend. "I…” – Yaz felt the tips of her ears burn, and heat creep up her neck – “I wanted all of it”, she whispered.

Amy stared at her, unmoving.

Stars, Yaz was going to have to spell it out for her, wasn’t she?

“She’s… rough with me, when we…” She stopped, letting go of Amy and resisting the urge to cover her face with her hand instead. How, after all the things she had done with Juliannah, was it still possible to feel any embarrassment about simply saying it out loud? “The point is”, she added quickly, “that I want her to be. I like it. And she used to heal it all away after, but I asked her to stop doing that because I…” Stars, this was hard. “Because I like the way it looks on me. I like feeling like I belong to her.”

She finally dared look Amy in the eye, and felt somewhat relieved when she saw the knight’s cheeks had turned bright red, and she looked at least as embarrassed as Yaz felt.

“I see”, Amy finally mumbled, and Yaz let out a stuttering breath.

There was a moment, which felt way too long, where an awkward silence stretched out between them. Not knowing what else to do, Yaz reached for the vest on the bed, and began buttoning it over her shirt.

“Did you always know what she was, too?”

Yaz kept her gaze fixed on the buttons between her fingers. “Yes.”

“And you don’t… mind?” 

“No.”

Amy took a step towards her. “Yaz”, she said, her voice calm and understanding and at the same time filled with unspeakable worry. “Her kind… they’re murderers. That’s the only reason they exist.”

At that, a sudden anger rushed through Yaz, and she let go of her vest, spinning around on her heels to face Amy.

“That is not true!” she snapped. “Juliannah’s not – She wasn’t born like this, and if you knew how she grew up you’d –” She stopped herself, reminding herself that this was not her story to tell. “What I mean is, just because she had to turn herself in order to survive doesn’t mean she’s automatically evil. She can be a right bastard, that’s true, but if you knew her, if you'd seen –”

She paused again, suddenly remembering the way Juliannah had looked at her in the bath when Yaz had cried, the way she had pulled back in the dining room the instant she had thought Yaz was crying again. 

The way she had kissed her before they had left for Gallifrey.

Her voice turning quiet, she finally said: “She’s not evil.”

She took a step back, and reached for the frock coat, quickly pushing her arms through the sleeves and pulling it over her shoulders. When she turned back towards Amy, the knight had a strange expression on her face. 

“What?” Yaz asked, probably more forceful than was necessary.

“Yaz, do you love her?”

The words hit her with the weight of a brick. Her eyes widened, and she stared at Amy as a familiar feeling bloomed in her chest like a flower.

She closed her fist around it, and ripped it out of the ground, roots and all.

“That’s not the kind of relationship we have.”

Amy cocked her head. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Well, that’s the answer you're getting. There are things in life one just can’t have, and that’s that.”

“Yaz –”

"Don't!" 

Amy snapped her jaw shut, and Yaz closed her eyes, pressing out a long breath through her nose. Her voice quieter, she said: “Please, don’t.”

At that, Amy’s face softened.

There was a quick knock on the door, and, without waiting for a reply, it swung open. Juliannah took a step into the room, then paused, her eyebrows rising as she looked Amy over from head to toe without saying a single word. Then, she turned to Yaz.

Her eyes stuck to her clothes for a moment, a strange expression flitting over her face, but then she was half-smiling, a glint in her eyes. “A knight without armour in my room and my woman half-dressed. Do I need to be jealous?”

Yaz’s heart clenched in her chest. She wished Juliannah would stop using those words.

She quickly shook her head. “Dear stars, no.”

At her side, Amy deadpanned. “Well, thanks.”

Yaz rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah”, Amy said, trying to sound lighthearted, but Yaz couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes kept flitting towards Juliannah. “I’ll leave you two to it. See you at the ball, Yaz”, she said, and then she turned towards Juliannah with a curt bow. “Lord Mistress.”

“Dame Amelia.”

Amy froze mid-bow, her eyes slightly widening at the use of her name. But she recovered quickly, and left the room.

“Darling, your buttons are done up all wrong.”

Juliannah walked over, and reached for the front of Yaz’s vest. All Yaz could do was watch her hands as they redid her buttons: slim, elegant fingers gently working away. When Juliannah was done, she looked up at Yaz, their faces mere inches away from each other.

“There.”

Yaz’s breath caught in her throat as Juliannah simply looked at her. Again, it was such an unusual display of casual affection, just like the kiss in Juliannah’s library had been.

The flower inside Yaz’s chest reappeared, its roots reaching for her heart like a weed – a pain to get rid off completely. 

Juliannah stepped away, opening their closet. She was already dressed in an elegant military-style coat, the cloth a deep purple velvet, with black buttons polished to a shine, like a dark diamond. Out of the closet, she pulled a black half-cape, and slung it over her shoulder. She fiddled with the clasp under her neck, and after watching her struggle for a moment, Yaz stepped forward, reaching for the clasp almost automatically.

“Let me.”

Juliannah froze, the intimacy she had displayed towards Yaz clearly coming much easier to her than it did to accept the one coming from Yaz. Yaz waited, patiently, until Juliannah dropped her hands, and nodded.

“Fine.”

She took another step, re-establishing the closeness from before, and closed the clasp. Yaz didn’t let go of it as she was done, the tips of her fingers instead lingering against Juliannah’s throat, her eyes tracing her neck, until –

When she looked into Juliannah’s eyes, she suddenly felt like all air had left the room. For the briefest of moments, there was such open want written all over her face, and Yaz thought that she was going to kiss her again, like that , like she had in the library when Yaz had seen something in her eyes that she so desperately wanted to believe to be –

“We should go.”

And just like that, the spell was broken, and Yaz wondered, not for the first time, if Juliannah had listened to her thoughts, and that was why she had stepped away.

The blonde’s face was unreadable once again as she stepped back, and held her arm out towards Yaz.

“Let’s go to the ball, Dame Yasmin.”

Yaz slung her arm through Juliannah’s, and tried to ignore the thundering heartbeat in her chest, hoping against all odds that Juliannah wasn’t listening.

 

 

Juliannah’s head was pounding. She had barely caught any sleep the previous night, tossing and turning until the early morning hours – something that she wasn’t accustomed to at all.

Nerves were an annoying thing.

Still, it was all in motion, now. She had entered the ball with Yasmin a few moments ago, and now everyone was waiting for the arrival of the man who they thought was going to be King in two days.

Of course, instead of a coronation, they would be planning a funeral.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a group of Terserian nobles approaching them, exchanging pregnant glances as they laid eyes on Yasmin at Juliannah’s side.

It irked her, the way nobody knew how to act around Yaz, skirting around calling her “Dame” by addressing her as “Madam”. She could feel Yasmin tense on her arm as the men approached. They stopped in front of the two women, and bowed – ostensibly only towards Juliannah.

“Lord Mistress”, they said, and none of them even threw Yaz a glance, acting as if she wasn’t present. “We were wondering if you would like to discuss the Karnish-Terserian flax trade. Our estates have recently been unable to fetch good prices –”

“What a shame”, Juliannah snarled. “Maybe you need better tradespeople. Excuse us.”

She pushed past them, taking Yasmin with her who was still hanging on her arm. She felt the woman’s questioning glance, and chose to ignore it, instead reaching for a tray of drinks. Juliannah handed one glass to Yasmin, and emptied one herself in one long gulp.

She immediately handed it back to the waitron, and reached for another one.

A loud clanging noise echoed through the ballroom, and all eyes drifted towards the large doors at the top of a marble staircase on the other end of the room.

“His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince Koschei of Gallifrey!”

A flash of hate so intense that it almost made her physically sick flashed through Juliannah as she saw the man appear at the top of the steps. He smiled, nodding at the people underneath who had fallen into deep bows.

All except Juliannah and Yaz.

Juliannah emptied her second glass, and set it back onto the waitron’s tray with so much force the man had trouble keeping it all balanced for a moment.

As people around them slowly rose again and Koschei reached the bottom of the stairs, Juliannah extricated her arm from Yasmin’s, and slung it around her waist instead.

“Let’s dance.”

She pulled Yaz towards the dance floor, which was filling with people already lined up for the first dance – clearly a formation one.

“Wait”, Yasmin breathed behind her, and Juliannah felt a sudden anxiety radiating from the woman. She turned around, to see Yasmin awkwardly half-smiling. “I… don’t exactly know how.”

“Well”, Juliannah said, “that won’t be a problem. I’ll lead.” She couldn’t resist it, couldn’t help herself as she leaned in to whisper into Yaz’s ear: “You like it when I’m in control, after all.”

She could practically feel the heat rising to Yasmin’s cheeks, and a moment later, she had swirled her around, bringing them both into place in the line-up, opposite each other.

The orchestra played a drawn-out chord, alerting the guests that the dance was about to begin.

Juliannah didn’t notice Koschei joining the end of her row at the last moment.

It was an easy dance, one that Juliannah could lead Yasmin through without a problem – besides, the woman was a quick learner.

They approached each other across the dancefloor, and Juliannah held out her hand. As soon as Yasmin laid hers into it, Juliannah slung her arm around Yasmin’s waist, motioning for her to do the same. They turned around each other, their free hands lifted next to their bodies, and Yaz was looking into Juliannah's eyes with intensity. 

She couldn't help the amusement that filled her voice as she said: "Darling, you're supposed to look the other way." 

Yaz's cheeks warmed delightfully, and she quickly turned her head away. After another turn, Juliannah lowered her hand towards the dip above Yasmin's waist, and gently pulled, coaxing her to dip towards the side. 

Surprise morphed into delight as Yasmin let herself be spun around the dancefloor, and at the next musical cue, Juliannah twirled her around, pulling her flush against her as she lifted their now intertwined hands high above their heads. 

They turned, slowly, their eyes fixed to each other, and Juliannah suddenly became very aware of Yasmin’s thoughts, loud and uncontrollable inside her head.

She pushed them aside.

She knew what they were, anyway.

She didn’t want to hear.

They stepped apart, and with a brief bow, Juliannah placed both hands behind her back, and moved in a half-turn, her back now to Yaz. She took a half-step to the right, her legs crossing over each other, and briefly bent her knees, then did the same towards the right.

When she turned back around, the line on the other side had moved, and she found herself with a new dance partner.

Right. Formation dances. The switch of partners was a quintessential part of them, but Juliannah found herself suddenly unreasonably annoyed with it as she took whatever noblewoman’s hand who now stood opposite her.

While they turned, her eyes drifted towards Yasmin, held tightly by Lord Orli of Karn.

A flash of ill humour ran through her, but then she was spinning the woman in her arm around, listlessly, her line of sight broken. Finally, it was time to turn her back once more, and when she turned back around, there was Baron Hond opposite her, and Juliannah had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

His hands were clammy, and he was bad at letting himself be led, but Juliannah humoured him – briefly stepping onto his right foot, fully on purpose, making him hiss as he stumbled away from Juliannah.

The turn came at the perfect time, and she hid her smile from him.

When she turned back towards the line, her next partner came as a pleasant surprise.

Lady Vita of Karn, heir to the Count of Mae. She was a vision in a long red gown, and took a step towards her. Juliannah couldn’t help the smirk that lifted the corner of her lip, and the other woman blushed.

Oh, Juliannah remembered it well: seducing the woman in the back of a carriage they had shared on their way to Lord Orli’s annual summer ball.

With Juliannah’s head between her legs, Lady Vita had told her everything she had needed to know about her father’s – and his friends’ – votes for the future leader of Karn.

The Lady Vita, it seemed, remembered well, too. Juliannah’s mind was practically assaulted with vivid images of herself, looking up at Vita from her place between her thighs, skirts carelessly bunched up around Vita's hip.

She should have done that with Yasmin, Juliannah realised. Take her in that carriage instead of waiting for a room each night to –

Juliannah saw it as she turned Vita around in the middle of the dance floor.

Koschei, his arm firm around Yaz as he pressed her flush against himself, much closer than the dance demanded, his cheek against hers, his lips moving towards her neck.

As they turned, Yaz’s face came into view, pale as a ghost as she stood frozen in the Prince’s arms.

Juliannah let go of Lady Vita’s hand, and moved across the dancefloor.

She twirled in-between other pairs, never breaking the dance around her, flowing seamlessly through the moves on her own, her eyes fixed on Koschei the entire time as a blind rage burned through her veins, as hot as her magic had the day she had twisted it.

As soon as she got to them, Juliannah put both her arms on Yaz’s waist from behind. She pulled the other woman around, and into her own arms. She felt Yaz tense, and then relax against her as she realised what was happening. A second later, Juliannah had twirled her to the right, down the line, away from Koschei.

The Prince stood on the dance floor, humiliated with all eyes on him. 

He'd just had his dance partner stolen from him, and Juliannah could feel his rage even from a distance, could hear the distant murmur of the curses in his thoughts. 

Juliannah turned away from him, and pulled Yaz’s hand up above their heads, slowly turning her as they slotted back into the row of dancers.

Yaz was looking at her with wide eyes, and then she smiled, so brightly, so adoringly

"Juli", she breathed, and Juliannah's breath somehow caught in her throat. 

Yaz, do you love her?

Juliannah let go of her as if she had been burned, and Yasmin’s face fell.

Something hot wrapped itself around Juliannah's chest and throat, burning, constricting, making it impossible to breathe. 

“I need some air”, she managed to press out.

Before Yasmin could say anything, Juliannah had turned away, disappearing into the crowd and walking towards the balcony doors as fast as she could without running. 

Notes:

Ah, that good old balcony... It had to show up in this one, too ;D

Chapter 21

Notes:

So, I finally got out of my little writer's block and managed to write two full chapters over the last two days, soooo... in order to celebrate, I have once again succumbed to the temptation of an early update ;)

hope you enjoy! :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Yaz didn’t understand what had happened. One moment, she had been in Koschei’s arms, unable to move away or even say anything. She had found herself caught in a familiar paralysis as she had felt the man’s hand pressed against her back, his chest flush against hers, his lips grazing over the skin of her neck.

Then, Juliannah had been there, appearing out of nowhere, pulling Yaz into her arms as if it was the only safe place in the world. Looking at Yaz, raw, possessive, and so upset.

And then suddenly it had all changed, and Juliannah had run away, disappearing into the crowd to leave Yaz behind on the dance floor, alone.

It felt like every single pair of eyes in the entire room landed on Yaz all at once.

Her pulse thrumming and her skin flushing, she dove into the crowds. They made way for her, reluctantly, some of them returning their attention back to the people around them, others tracing Yaz’s walk with lingering gazes.

When she broke out of the throng of people near the buffet table, she felt like she was suffocating.

She needed to get away, needed to clear her head, needed to –

Her eyes fell upon the small, inconspicuous wooden door next to the table, half-hidden behind a curtain.

The servant’s entrance.

Quickly making sure that people had found more interesting things than her to look at again, Yaz rushed through the door.

The kitchens, she knew, were to the left, so she turned towards the right instead, hurrying down the corridor until she found an abandoned little alcove, one she could be almost sure she wouldn’t be found in. She stopped, letting her back fall against the wall, and slowly sunk down on the floor. Yaz buried her face in her hands, clenching her teeth as she felt her body starting to tremble.

She reached for the weeds inside her chest, ready to yank it out once more.

A quiet sob fell from her lips when she found an entire field of flowers, swaying gently in the wind.

 

The balcony doors flew open, and Juliannah stumbled out into the night, gulping for air. She came to a halt at the edge, both hands crashing down onto the railing as she held back a scream.

She felt like retching, felt like pulling off her own skin to get rid of whatever this feeling was that was tormenting her.

This was her moment. This was her moment .

She couldn’t let anything get in the way. If she did, she would fail her father, her grandmother, her entire legacy.

Tonight, Dame Yasmin would be arrested, and then Juliannah would go back to Karn and she would never have to see her again.

Never would have to feel like this ever again – out of control, spiralling, losing .

I am not weak , she told herself as she balled her hands up into fists, and again, to make herself believe: I am not weak.

With force, she pushed herself away from the railing, and adjusted the ring on her finger.

It was time.

 

 

It took Yaz a while to calm herself, but when she finally managed to do so, she felt embarrassed, and just wanted this entire evening to be over.

She wanted to go home.

With a jolt, she realised that she didn’t mean her parents’ house.

Slowly, she pushed herself up from the ground, considering whether or not she should return to the festivities.

“I swear to you, I have turned every single page in that star-damned library and there is nothing . No letter, no sealed document, no whatever it is he wants. Maybe the old King was going a bit mad in his final –”

Yaz froze, the voice having come from around the corner of her little hiding place. A tingle ran down her spine.

“Mind your tongue”, another voice hissed. “His Royal Highness says it’s there. Just look again.”

“Mate, it’s not. I checked. I even cranked open the floorboards!”

A pause, then the second voice again. “He insists it is, so you better find it. Get Jay to help you if it’s too much for you.”

The first person snorted. “Well, how about you help me?”

“Not my job.”

“Gee, alright.”

“Listen”, the second voice said, and it was dangerously close to the alcove now. “From the tantrum he threw the other day, it's bloody important. So you better find it before you get yourself on his wrong side. Before he’s even been crowned!”

A grumble, then: “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

“Good.”

Footsteps, leading away from Yaz’s hiding place, echoing through the hallways until somewhere, a door fell shut.

Then nothing.

Yaz could hear her own blood rushing in her veins.

What in all the constellations had that been about? A mysterious document Koschei was apparently losing his mind to get his hands on, something the former King had felt the urge to talk about as he had been dying –

Yaz’s entire body snapped upright, her back rigid, her eyes wide.

She had no idea what the contents of this document were that Koschei was looking for, but she knew exactly where to find it.

 

 

Juliannah re-entered the ball room with her usual confidence and swagger. She watched the crowds around her, the dancers in the centre of the room, the Lords and Ladies and Nobles all clinking glasses and gossiping about everything under the stars.

She hated it all.

She manoeuvred herself over towards a small table, a short distance from Koschei. He was surrounded by a throng of young nobles, all unmarried, Juliannah had no doubt. She watched him bask in their attention, smiling his most charming smile, flicking the lock of hair out of his eye as he winked at one of them.

Juliannah couldn’t wait to see him choke on his own blood. She had spent so much time imagining it: she would watch his chin be bathed in an elegant cascade of red as his eyes widened in that beautiful moment where he understood it was all about to end. 

All she needed was a drink.

“Juliannah.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, then turned around with a smile.

“Lady Vita. Apologies for abandoning you on the dance floor before.”

Not like I care.

The woman took a step towards her, a faux-shy smile dancing across her lips.

“I have often thought about you, Lord Mistress.”

Great .

Lady Vita lifted one hand, and gently placed it on top of Juliannah’s. “Maybe we could repeat our little… adventure from last year.” Her eyes went dark, her voice sultry. “You gave me quite the taste for it, I have to admit.”

Maybe she should. Grab Vita, pull her into a servants' entrance somewhere, finger her until she came and until it had taken the edge off Juliannah.

Juliannah looked into the lady’s eyes: brown and warm, filled with a barely held back desire.

Not quite the right shade of brown.

Not quite warm enough.

She pulled her hand back, the touch suddenly sending dread through her body.

“Maybe some other time. If you’ll excuse me.”

As soon as she had extricated herself, she stopped the first passing waitron, and took two glasses off of him. She placed one on the table behind her, and then – with her back turned and her nerves tingling in her entire body – she snapped open her ring.

The powder disappeared in an instant, dissolving into the golden colour of the mead. She picked the cup up again, and looked across the room for Koschei.

He would refuse a drink from her, of course, but Juliannah would simply take a sip out of the offered glass, smile her best smile and say “see? No reason to worry.” It was the perfect plan, really, one that would keep her free of suspicion. There was only one thing missing now.

Letting her eyes drift over the crowd, she searched for Yasmin.

 

 

Yaz stared at the locked library door, her mind racing. She had managed to sneak her way through the palace – knowing its hidden pathways well, ironically thanks to Koschei. With a final, careful look down the corridor, Yaz pulled a pin out of her hair, praying to all the stars that she would be able to do it.

For all she knew, tonight was her only chance to get in there.

Trying to keep her fingers from trembling, she pushed the pin into the lock, wiggling it, straining her ears to hear anything.

A second later, she heard a faint snap , and for a moment, her heart sped up. 

Then she realised that her hairpin had simply broken. Gritting her teeth, she carefully pulled it out, pushing it into the pocket of her coat, and took out another pin.

This time, she went about it more carefully. It felt like it took forever, and sweat was beginning to form on her brow.

Finally, she heard a soft click , and the door in front of her swung open.

Yaz hit the ground running. She closed the door behind herself, then rushed towards the desk to grab the chair there and pull it all the way through the library, towards the section on War History.

Her heart beating fast, she reached for the fifth volume all the way on the top shelf, and pulled it out. With trembling fingers, she thumbed the pages, until she reached the section on Lord Mistress Beatrice.

The letter was still in there, still slotted in the same place, still sealed.

Feeling like her heart was about to hammer through her ribcage, she pushed her thumb underneath the seal, and gently pulled it off without breaking it.

Every single word, in a now familiar handwriting, burned itself into Yaz’s very soul as she read the document, understanding with a force unlike anything she had ever felt that what she held in her hands now had the power to change everything.

I, King Alistair the Twelfth,
Star-Blessed Sovereign of Gallifrey,

Do hereby declare Lord Harold of No Name, born in the final year before the beginning of my reign to the Marquise Theta, now the Most Honourable Beatrice, Lord Mistress of Karn, as being of my own flesh and blood.

He shall henceforth be known as His Highness, the Prince Harold of House Theta-Gallifrey, and as my firstborn child claim his rightful place in the line of succession on his sixteenth birthday, by receiving the title of Crown Prince of Gallifrey.

I am declaring this while being of sound mind, and out of my own free will, through no threat, physical or mental, from outside.

May the stars bless us.

Signed Alistair Rex

Slowly, Yaz dropped the letter to her side.

 

 

She waited, her hands holding on to both glasses just a little too tightly, ignoring the way her stomach twisted every time she thought she caught sight of a familiar braid in the crowd.

In the corner, Koschei was still surrounded by his admirers, although the group was thinning, Juliannah’s opening slipping further away with every tick of the fob watch tucked into her pocket. She needed witnesses.

In front of her, the crowd parted, and she finally saw her.

She was clearly looking for Juliannah, too, her cheeks flushed and her entire body language screaming eagerness as she looked around.  She had taken off her frock coat, holding onto it as it lay folded over her arm, and her hair looked somewhat dishevelled. 

Finally, their eyes met.

Yaz smiled, a barely held-back excitement radiating off her in a way Juliannah had never seen.

Juliannah felt her hands drift down slowly at her side, the glasses tilting dangerously as she stared across the room.

It was in that moment, through something she could not quite understand, something that she would never be able to put her finger on, that a profound shift occurred inside of Juliannah. For the first time in her life, she understood the words that she had read so many times:

Without hope. 

Without witness.

Without reward. 

In a single moment, it all became crystal clear to her. The realisation washed over her in an odd mixture of relief and grief as she found herself capitulating in a way she never had before.

She couldn't go through with it. 

For all the games she had played in her life – moving everyone around her across the board, regardless of whether or not they would make it out in the end – she now realised that Yaz was not a pawn to be sacrificed, at all. 

No. Yaz, Juliannah now knew without a single doubt, was the one piece at the centre of it all: to be protected at all costs, lest Juliannah lose everything – for good.

Juliannah watched as if in a trance as Yaz rushed towards her, her eyes shining as she pulled Juliannah over into a corner, who had no choice but to simply let herself be moved.

“Juliannah”, Yaz whispered, her voice urgent, her smile bright. “Juliannah, you won’t believe what I just –”

Her eyes drifted towards Juliannah’s hands, still hanging limply at her sides, still holding on to the glasses.

“Stars, I need a drink.”

She snatched the glass out of Juliannah's right hand, and before Juliannah could have said or done anything, Yaz had lifted it to her lips and taken a long gulp.

The world around Juliannah turned unbearably bright as she stood frozen in place, watching the golden liquid disappear down Yaz’s throat. It shimmered beautifully underneath the candlelight from the chandeliers – as if to mock them both.

Finally, the bounds around her chest broke, and Juliannah snapped back into the moment.

“Yaz, don’t –” she managed to press out, panic suddenly drowning her from the inside.

But when Yaz turned to her, cheeks red and a smile on her face – so trusting, so happy – her cup was empty.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! As always, I am very excited to hear your thoughts 😇

Chapter 22

Notes:

Brace

Content warnings in end notes as always.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Everything slowed down, and then the entire world turned so loud it made her want to cover her ears.

She was perceiving everything all at once. Every sentence that was being spoken in the room, every flicker of a candle on the walls, every single scent of perfume, food, drink, every –

“Anyway”, Yaz said, handing the empty glass to a passing waitron. “I overheard some staff talking in the corridors, and –”

Yaz stopped, and frowned. 

Juliannah’s blood went cold.

She still couldn’t move.

Yaz shook her head, and began again. “I heard them talk and they said –”

This time, she swayed slightly on her feet, and Juliannah could see the colour draining from her face.

“Sorry”, Yaz mumbled, but her words sounded strangely slurred all of a sudden. "Just a bit dizzy." She turned to Juliannah, a crooked smile on her lips. "Must be the alcohol. ‘M not used to it."

She seemed to grapple with herself for a moment, and then she was suddenly handing Juliannah her frock coat. “I wanted to give you…”

Her words drifted off, and she looked confused as her eyes darted around the room without focus. 

Suddenly, she reached for Juliannah’s arm, her nails digging painfully into flesh as she held on tightly. “Juliannah”, she said, and all of a sudden there was fear in her words. It was written all over her face, too. “Something is wrong. I can’t –”

A single drop of blood ran from the corner of Yaz’s mouth, and Juliannah finally sprang into action.

She enveloped Yaz’s hand with her own, and began pulling her towards the doors. If she could get Yaz to their room in time, if she could administer the antidote in the next couple of moments, then Yaz would be alright. Juliannah pulled her past a group of nobles, her pulse thrumming in her fingertips, cold sweat running down her back.

And froze dead in her tracks as she realised a second later that she would have to drag Yaz past Koschei.

She couldn’t do that.

There was only one other way out.

Too many people , Juliannah thought, over and over again as she pulled Yaz through the crowd. The woman’s grip on Juliannah’s arm was weakening, and Juliannah slung an arm around her waist, until finally, finally they stumbled through the open balcony doors.

“Yaz”, Juliannah said urgently as she turned around, letting go of Yaz’s arm to cup her face with both hands. “Yaz, you have to stay calm.”

Yaz looked at her, panic filling her eyes. There was a trickle of blood running from her nose now, too, and her skin had gone a sickly pale grey. “I can’t –” Yaz spluttered, and her eyes went wide as more blood trickled out of her mouth. “I can’t breathe .”

Without wasting another moment, Juliannah slung one arm around Yaz’s neck, and the other underneath her legs, and lifted her off the ground, against her chest.

“Hold on Yaz”, she breathed, pushing her own panic deep down, far away. “Just hold on.”

She stepped onto the balcony railing, and pushed off.

As she landed on the smaller balcony underneath, Juliannah let out a hiss, her ankles screaming from the impact. But there was no time to waste, no time at all.

“Juliannah”, Yaz said, her eyes wide as she looked up at her, her words barely intelligible through the gargle of blood. “What’s… happening… to me?”

Juliannah ran.

She ran through the corridors, not caring if somebody saw them. She ran like her own life depended on it, with her mind running in circles, repeating the same things over and over again.

Yaz doesn’t deserve this. 

Yaz can’t die.

I can’t lose her.

She crashed into their room, the door splintering behind her as she used her foot to kick it shut. The frock coat finally slipped out of Yaz’s hands – she had been holding on to it, cradling it against her chest as if it were a great treasure – and slipped onto the ground next to the bed. 

With as much care as Juliannah could muster as time ran out way too fast, she put Yaz down on the bed, and threw open her suitcase.

There it was. The box containing the antidote. A faint sense of relief flooded through her as she wrapped her hands around the cold vial. 

Yaz would be safe. Yaz wouldn’t die.

She uncorked the bottle, and was over at the bed a second later.

“Yaz”, she urged. The woman’s eyes had begun darting aimlessly across the ceiling, and with a jolt, Juliannah noticed the black creeping through the veins in her throat, up towards her face. “Yaz”, she repeated, her tone pleading. “You need to drink this.”

Yaz opened her mouth, and a second later, her body began violently thrashing on the bed. Juliannah managed to pull the vial away before it could be snapped out of her hand, and then she reached for Yaz’s throat, as she so often had before, holding the woman in place.

It had never felt wrong to do this before.

“Drink, Yaz.”

Juliannah poured it down Yaz’s throat, clenching her teeth as she held her breath. For a moment, Yaz lay still, and hope blossomed in Juliannah’s chest. 

Then, Yaz began coughing violently as her entire torso arched off the bed, and suddenly there was blood seeping down her chin – too much of it, way too much of it.

Blood and blue liquid.

“No. No, no, no !”

She knew it wouldn’t help. She knew the antidote had to be consumed in full, and still, Juliannah helplessly scooped at the mix of blood and potion on Yaz’s chin, trying to push it back into her mouth.

“You need to drink this. Drink it!

Yaz’s eyes finally met hers, and she looked so scared that Juliannah froze, stopping mid-motion with her hands covered in blood.

“I’m dying” , she heard Yaz’s thoughts, screaming in panic as the realisation hit her. "Juliannah, help me, please, stars, help me, I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm  –”

An old, long forgotten instinct taking over, Juliannah’s hands flew out towards Yaz’s chest, and she pressed them down.

The moment her mind flung itself out of her body, Juliannah thought she was going to die. It felt like someone was slicing into her soul, cutting it out of her body and flinging it too far away for her to still feel it. But she didn’t pull back. Instead, she looked around inside Yaz’s body, driven by a pure animalistic instinct.

Thick and grey, the poison was crawling through Yaz’s veins like oil, infesting every last corner of her body. The moment Juliannah saw it, she began clawing at it, willing it away, and finally, trying to burn it with her magic.

Yaz screamed.

She couldn’t do this, Juliannah realised with a shock unlike anything she had ever felt. She didn’t have the right magic, not for this kind of healing, not for –

Juliannah remembered. 

Without sparing a further thought – and with no regard for herself – she grabbed at a strand of her magic, and ripped it open.

She thought she was going to pass out from the sheer agony. Juliannah felt like she was turning her own skin around on her body, pulling herself inside out. And still, she did not let go of her magic.

She clawed at it, bit into it, pulled it apart into a million pieces, again and again, until it happened.

The faintest shimmer of warmth, the slightest hint of gold in her veins. 

She threw it at the poison, with all the remaining force she had.

Underneath her hands, Yaz went still, and her heartbeat slipped out from between Juliannah’s fingertips.

Juliannah grabbed another strand, desperate, and repeated the process. She felt like she was tearing herself apart, and she could feel her own body at the end of the tether, covered in cold sweat, every inch of skin burning at the same time, as if somebody had put hot iron to it.

She wanted to scream, but instead, she broke another strand open, and flung the light into Yaz’s blood.

When she could no longer keep going, her own consciousness darkening around the edges as she felt herself slipping away, she stopped, and listened. She kept her hands pressed to Yaz’s chest even though she could no longer feel her own body, and was only vaguely aware that she was kneeling on the floor next to the bed.

It was faint at first. A stuttering drumbeat, then another, then another , until finally, Juliannah could feel the rush of Yaz’s blood, clean and free of poison, being pushed through her body by a heart beating out of its own strength.

Juliannah let go, and her mind crushed back into her body with such force that it sent her stumbling backwards, away from the bed. She crashed into the wall, and sank down along it, until she half-lay on the floor, her chest heaving, eyes fixed on Yaz.

Yaz who was breathing, normally, her eyes closed.

Yaz who was covered in blood.

Her stomach turned, and a fresh rush of adrenaline went through her as she scrambled to the bed. She ripped at the buttons of Yaz’s vest and shirt, finally managing to pull it off. Then, Juliannah grabbed a jug from the nightstand, splashing cold water all over the floor as she poured it over the still clean part of Yaz’s shirt. She set about wiping off the blood from Yaz’s face, determined not to leave a single stain behind, all while ignoring the raging storm in her head. 

When she was done, she threw both shirt and vest into the fireplace without a second thought. The smell of the fire turned metallic as the flames licked over the blood, but Juliannah ignored it. She pushed herself up, and swayed on her feet.

She just about made it into their small washroom before throwing up.

When her stomach was emptied, she used the back of her hand to wipe away at her mouth, gulping in air as best as she could. 

She looked up, into the small mirror above the washbowl, and saw the smear of blood across her cheeks.

More bile rose at the back of her throat, but when she retched over the bowl, nothing more came out. With her entire body trembling, she dragged herself over to the jugs of water standing neatly on one side of the room.

She had to get herself clean.

Juliannah kept almost fainting as she went to wash her hands, then cleaned out the washbowl. She ripped at her own clothes, carelessly throwing them into the corner, and leaving them there.

By the time she was dressed again, she could barely stand anymore, and her entire body was covered in cold sweat. She grabbed one of Yaz’s sleeping shirts from a shelf in the washroom, left there folded neatly by staff.

She dragged herself back out, back to the bed.

Back to Yaz.

She reached out for her, her knees giving out just as she reached the bed, crashing painfully onto the hard wooden floors.

“Yaz”, she managed to breathe out, just before the world went black. “I’m sorry.”

 

 

Yaz was dreaming. She was in a field of flowers, surrounded by golden light. It was pretty, more warm in its glow than anything she had ever seen. Yaz wanted to reach out, touch it, feel it between her fingertips.

It felt soft underneath her hands, and she smiled.

The world around her shifted, and then her hand was actually in Juliannah’s hair, and the blonde was looking at her in that way she almost never did.

Like that day in the library.

Like when she let Yaz touch her.

Juliannah slung an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. They were dancing a moment later, Juliannah leading Yaz across the field of flowers. Little specks of gold were floating all around them like petals, and then there was a faint hint of familiar music, as if playing from another room, like a memory from a different life:  a harpsichord, slinging ribbons of ornamentation between two violins, elegantly chasing each other through the bars of song. 

When Yaz looked down at her feet, all the warmth suddenly disappeared.

Her face felt cold. So very cold.

“Juliannah”, she said, but her voice came out all wrong, distorted. “Juliannah, the flowers are dying.”

But when she looked back up, Juliannah had changed. She was looking at Yaz, her chin lifted, a cruel glint in her eye as her grip on Yaz’s wrist tightened.

“A fool”, she whispered as she leaned in, her lips grazing Yaz’s ear, “who crowns a liar.”

Yaz gasped.

And blinked as confusion washed over her.

The first thing she noticed was that a throbbing headache was sitting right behind her eyes, and her mouth felt as dry as the dust on the training grounds. She tried swallowing, but her throat was swollen, and her tongue felt strangely… fuzzy.

Fuzzy was a good way to describe her body in general, right now.

Her vision was blurred, and she blinked again, harder, willing the world around her into focus. The room she was finding herself in was not the Lord Mistress’ – no, this one looked different. The sheets felt less silky underneath her skin, and the posters of the bed were carved into sharp edges, instead of the delicate curves of those on Julianah’s bed. In the corner, she noticed expensive leather suitcases, neatly stacked.

The letter from Juliannah’s spy. Their travels. The council meeting - the ball.

She was in Gallifrey. At the palace.

Underneath her right hand, she could still feel something soft, and as she looked down along herself, she found her hand buried in Juliannah’s hair.

A soft gasp escaped her as she saw the blonde, kneeling next to the bed, her head resting on Yaz’s stomach, face turned towards her. Her lips were slightly parted, and she looked… unnaturally pale. For a moment, Yaz worried that something was terribly, terribly wrong, but then Juliannah let out a small huff of air, and Yaz couldn’t help but smile.

She had never seen her like this, Yaz realised – asleep. The other woman looked vulnerable in a way Yaz had not witnessed before, with her tousled hair and her nose scrunching from time to time as she slept, peacefully, seemingly completely exhausted.

Yaz’s smile turned into a frown as she noticed that Juliannah was wearing a different shirt than when she had last seen her. Actually, Juliannah was in her sleeping garments, and as Yaz took herself in properly, she realised that she herself was not wearing a shirt. Her sleeping shirt, however, was lying crumpled on the floor next to Juliannah.

Everything felt strange and wrong, and a faded image floated through Yaz’s mind, of wilted flowers and golden light.

“Juliannah”, she said softly, finding herself both reluctant to disturb the other woman’s sleep, and curious as to what exactly had happened.

She hadn’t had that much to drink, had she?

Under her hand, Juliannah stirred, and without opening her eyes, the corners of her lips lifted. “Yaz.”

Warmth exploded in Yaz’s chest at the softness on Juliannah’s face, and for once, she didn’t try to push it away.

“Hi”, Yaz said, smiling back at Juliannah as the blonde finally opened her eyes. Yaz’s voice sounded croaky, scratching her throat in a way that made her cough.

To her surprise, Juliannah was up on her feet a moment later, handing her a glass of water from the desk. Yaz noticed that the woman was faintly swaying on her feet, and as soon as Yaz had taken the glass, Juliannah let herself fall onto the bed next to her.

Yaz took a long sip, the cool liquid somewhat easing the burning in her throat.

She took her time drinking, finding herself drawn to the strange changes in Juliannah’s posture: slumped, her shoulders low, her hands on either side of her on the bed to stabilise herself.

Yaz didn’t know whether or not she should say something – although the woman probably had already read her thoughts anyway.

Maybe they’d both overdone it at the ball, she suddenly realised.

She chose to inquire that way, for now.

“Juliannah”, she said, feeling her cheeks flush, “did we uhm… did we have sex and I was too drunk to remember? I don’t think I went to the ball dressed like this.” She let out a small laugh, but Juliannah’s head snapped over towards her, eyes slightly widening.

“You don’t…” she began, and then that vulnerability that Yaz had seen before was suddenly wiped off the blonde’s face with the speed of a cracking whip. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Juliannah asked, her voice sounding strangely tight.

Yaz pulled herself further up, into a sitting position. “I remember getting to the ball… We had some of that mead, and then”, she felt herself smile at the memory, “we danced. After that it’s… just a blank canvas, somehow.”

Juliannah looked at her with such intensity that Yaz felt herself squirm. She felt like she was missing something, something big.

“So did we?” Yaz pushed herself to ask. “Have sex, I mean.”

Maybe if Yaz had been more alert, or if her headache hadn’t been throbbing, she would have found the change she witnessed more jarring: The way Juliannah’s back straightened, the way her face morphed into a sultry smile as she crossed her legs and her entire body relaxed.

“Of course we did, darling.”

Yaz let out a huff, to mask the embarrassment that was suddenly rushing through her. Stars, she must have really overdone it. “Sorry”, she mumbled. “I haven’t had a lot of alcohol in ages. Must have not paid attention.” Then, she added, once again with a small laugh – desperate to dissipate the tension that was filling the room –, “No idea what they put into that mead.”

Juliannah’s fingers twitched on the mattress, but other than that, she remained still. Yaz wanted to say something, but she felt her eyelids droop, a sudden bone-deep exhaustion overcoming her.

A second later, Juliannah had pushed herself up from the bed, her hands clenched into fists.

“You better sleep it off, Yasmin”, she said, her tone painfully condescending as she walked over towards the desk, pulling a book towards herself.

“What about you?” Yaz asked, already sinking down lower onto the bed. It was soft, and warm, and so welcoming. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”

Not looking at her, Juliannah turned away, opening the book on the desk.

“Not yet.”

Yaz felt too tired to resist. She let sleep envelop her, welcoming her home in a soft embrace – even though she wished it were in fact Juliannah’s arms, holding her close.

As her eyes fell shut, she could have sworn she saw Juliannah open her hand, and stare at a droplet of golden light seeping out of a crack running through her palm. The warm colour seemed oddly familiar, but Yaz was too tired to think clearly. It must be a trick her hungover mind was playing on her, she thought – clearly, she was already half asleep once again. 

And then Yaz watched Juliannah's face contort, and something happened, something so strange and absurd that Yaz knew that she was sleeping already: 

In her dream, the Lord Mistress of Karn was crying.

Notes:

👀 Can't wait to hear your thoughts 😇

 

CW: blood, near death experience

Chapter 23

Notes:

Thank you all so much for the response to the last chapter 😭❤️ You guys are all amazing!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

When Yaz woke up, her headache had abated somewhat, only a distant tension remaining. She groaned against the light that hit her eyes as soon as she blinked them open, and immediately noticed her throat still felt dry and raw.

As she reached for the cup of water on her nightstand, she remembered Juliannah rushing to get it for her last night. Her mind conjured up another image, too: Juliannah’s face, having just woken up, her head resting in Yaz’s lap as she looked up, a soft smile lifting the corner of her lips.

Yaz pressed her eyes shut, trying to banish the storm that was brewing in her chest.

As she put the cup back down on the nightstand, she realised that Juliannah wasn’t in bed. That in itself wasn’t a surprise – the Lord Mistress seemed to need very little sleep, always coming to bed after Yaz had long drifted off, and already busy again by the time Yaz woke up. What was surprising to Yaz was the fact that the blonde wasn’t sitting at the desk as usual, either going through her correspondence or working on some alchemical experience. There was no trace of her, and as Yaz looked over at the wide open windows, she wondered if Juliannah had left with Caladrius to take care of something.

In spite of the morning breeze flowing through the room, there was a strange smell that hung in the air around Yaz. She tried to place it, but couldn’t, and before she could dwell on it for too long, the door to their washroom opened, and Juliannah stepped out.

Yaz’s mouth fell open, and she quickly closed it again.

Juliannah was in full riding gear: Black riding trousers, a purple sash around her waist, hanging down at her side. She wore a matching purple shirt, and a black leather vest over it. As she stepped into the room, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, she was tugging a black leather glove over her hand.

“I’m going out for a ride”, she said, not looking at Yaz as she sat down at the desk to slip into her soft hunter’s boots.

“I can see that”, Yaz replied, somewhat dumbfounded.

Boots fastened, Juliannah stood up, tugging at her vest. “I won’t be back for a while, so just have lunch and don’t wait for me. I’ll see you at the banquet at the latest.”

Something about this felt strange, and wrong, but Yaz couldn’t put her finger on it. So, instead of trying to unscramble her hungover brain, she said:

“Can’t I come with you?”

Juliannah stopped mid-movement, her right foot halfway inside her boot. “I did not bring another set of riding gear with me here”, she finally said.

She was still not looking at Yaz, and it was starting to rub the knight the wrong way.

“Well, I made due with regular clothes before I met you, so I’m just going to wear those now”, she snapped, already flipping the blanket to the side.

“Dear stars, Yaz, maybe I just want some peace and quiet for once!”

Yaz froze, her half-naked body stuck half-way between lying and sitting. She felt her cheeks burn, and slowly pulled the blanket up to cover herself again, more out of reflex than a conscious decision.

What followed was a moment of heavy silence, and then, very stiff and quietly spoken: “Apologies.”

Yaz’s head snapped up, her mouth slightly agape. Juliannah was still not looking at her, and her jaw was clenched. There was a flicker of purple running over her right cheek, and for a second, Yaz could have sworn there was gold in the corner of her eye, too.

There was a brief flash of memory, of golden light and a scream. Stars, a scream so feverish and desperate that it suddenly made Yaz feel a little bit sick.

Yaz blinked, and sure enough, both the flickers and the sound in her head were gone once she’d refocused herself.

Stars, that mead must have been so much more potent than Yaz had thought. She couldn’t remember having that much of it at all, but she also hadn’t had alcohol for what felt like ages before the event.

Yaz missed the flicker of emotion that rushed over Juliannah’s face, too quick for her to catch, and finally got up to.

She was dressed quickly enough, picking the most suiting clothes out of the ones that had been brought for her. Most of them were too stiff or flashy for riding, but she finally found a jerkin and trousers that were more on the practical side – as practical as clothes like that could be, anyway.

Juliannah remained silent as they made their way to the stables, and she only spoke when she asked the stableboy for two horses to ride out. The boy, who couldn’t have been older than sixteen with his spotty face and approximately three hairs sticking out of his chin, stared at Juliannah’s purple shirt with pure terror. He babbled unintelligibly as he handed her the reins for two mares, never breaking eye contact with her.

Yaz had to bite her tongue in order not to grin. The effect Juliannah had on other people amused her, and this poor boy was sure to run to the first person he could find and tell everyone about his terrifying encounter with the Lord Mistress.

Juliannah hadn’t even threatened him.

Yaz only realised how much she had missed being on a horse once the palace gates had closed behind them, and they were riding out towards the surrounding forests. The summer was much milder here than it had been in Karn over the last few weeks, and Yaz closed her eyes as she turned her face upwards, soaking in the light.

She felt Juliannah’s eyes on her, and turned towards her. Leaning across the gap between their horses to get as close as she could, Yaz grinned.

“Fancy a little race, Lord Mistress?”

Juliannah snorted, and Yaz leaned in closer, her grin turning devious. “Or are you afraid I’ll beat you?”

Juliannah’s eyes turned dark at that, and she let go of the reins with one hand, lifting it to wrap it carefully around Yaz’s throat instead, only the ghost of a touch.

“Careful, Yasmin”, she said, the tips of her fingers grazing skin, and Yaz felt a familiar thrill run down her spine.

She lifted one hand, too, and wrapped it around Juliannah’s wrist. “Show me my place, Mistress.”

The next moment, she had ripped Juliannah’s hand away, and pressed her knees against the side of her horse. The mare took off without warning, rushing towards the line of the forest, and she heard Juliannah curse behind her.

“Yasmin!” she hissed after her, and Yaz’s heart stumbled in her chest as she urged her horse to go even faster.

Soon enough, they were rushing through the forest, branches flying past Yaz at neck breaking speed. She couldn’t help it when a laugh bubbled up inside her chest, finally breaking free. Yaz couldn’t remember the last time she had felt like this – the last time she had been on a horse, crashing through the world, her head clear and free of worries.

She could hear the hooves of Juliannah’s horse trampling behind her, trying to catch up with her. Yaz’s heart fluttered in her chest at the thought of the blonde, and she turned around briefly, grinning.

“Having trouble keeping up?”

Juliannah’s mouth twitched, and she looked like she was about to throw a sentence or two back at her that would make Yaz go weak at the knees.

But then her eyes went wide instead, and instead of a tease (or a well-placed threat), what came out of her mouth instead was a panicked shout.

“Watch out!”

Before Yaz could turn around, she felt her horse rear up without any warning. She tried to hold on to the reins, tightening her grip as much as she could. But she felt the moment she lost her balance, her breath catching in her throat as she realised she was about to crash onto the forest floor with full force.

An arm wrapped itself around her waist, strong and safe, and then Yaz was being pulled in a different direction.

She felt a saddle appear underneath her, and the hold around her waist tightened as she was being pressed against a body. A head disappeared in the crook of her neck as the body wrapped itself around her like a protective shell.

“Yaz.”

It wasn’t more than a breath. Yaz’s heart was racing in her chest, hammering against her ribcage.

And Juliannah didn’t let go. She could hear the woman’s heavy breaths, and Yaz was close enough to feel Juliannah’s heart beat hard and fast in her chest.

“Don’t –” Juliannah began, but she couldn’t finish at first. She took a stuttering breath, then tried again. “Don’t do that.”

Yaz, her eyes closed, couldn’t help but press her cheek harder against Juliannah’s chest, her arms finally able to move again as they wrapped around the woman. Something about this felt so familiar, as if she had been in Juliannah’s arms like this before.

“Don't do what?” she breathed against Juliannah’s vest.

Juliannah pulled back, and when Yaz looked up, hazel eyes were filled with emotion.

“Get hurt.”

Yaz’s breath hitched in her throat, her head buzzing. But Juliannah did not look away, and for a moment, such a brief moment, her face was open and honest and true.

And then Juliannah was kissing her, so fiercely and deeply that Yaz forgot everything around her. She was still cradled close against the other woman, but apparently not close enough for Juliannah. She snuck one hand into Yaz’s hair, deepening their kiss and letting out a wistful sound Yaz had never heard from her.

Somewhere in her mind, a distant memory reared its head – of a field of flowers, blooming under golden lights, and music, music from far away, like from another lifetime. It filled Yaz’s body with warmth until only one thought remained:

I love you .

There it was, the one thing Yaz had never dared say out loud – not even to herself. It crashed into her with force, making her chest expand and her blood rush, a strange mixture of calmness and excitement flooding through her entire body all at once.

She braced herself for the inevitable, then: Juliannah, pulling away, telling her that this was not what they had agreed on, that she had told Yaz – more than once – that she wasn’t her girlfriend. That their relationship didn’t work like that.

That it was sex. Sex that they both wanted very much, but that was all.

But instead of any of these things, Juliannah’s grip on Yaz’s hair tightened as her kisses grew in fervour. Suddenly, Yaz’s head was spinning.

Juliannah wasn’t pulling away, she wasn’t rejecting her, she wasn’t –

Her blood rushing in her ears, Yaz’s own arm tightened around Juliannah’s torso, pulling her as close as she possibly could as she melted into the other woman’s touch, sighing against soft lips.

When Juliannah did finally pull back, she looked at Yaz for a long moment, an unreadable emotion swirling behind the golden specks in her eyes. Yaz’s heart was still beating against her ribcage like a marching drum, threatening to burst out of her.

“Juliannah –”

“Let’s get you back”, Juliannah interrupted.

And then the moment was gone, their eye contact broken as Juliannah, without another word, reached for the reins of Yaz’s mare. 

Yaz shuffled a bit on the saddle, half-ready to jump off and get back on her mare. Juliannah, however, had other plans, as she gently pressed her knees against her own horse, urging it into a slow trot.

Yaz didn’t know what to say or think, so she simply curled herself against Juliannah’s chest, relishing in the closeness. She tried to keep her thoughts as quiet as she could, even though they were racing. She didn’t want Juliannah to hear – or at least, not hear too much.

As she sat there, breathing in Juliannah’s scent, she fought to keep the words from bubbling up inside herself again. Juliannah hadn’t rejected her, but she hadn’t replied, either. By all accounts, she was simply letting Yaz… feel, even though she did not share the emotion herself. 

Who’d keep my bed warm at night if they arrested you?

Yaz’s grip on the back of Juliannah’s vest tightened, and she squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassment flaring up her cheeks.

Another image pushed itself to the forefront, then, chasing away the memory from the carriage. The golden lights dancing in front of Yaz’s inner eye as Juliannah led her through a dance felt like they were mocking her, telling her that there was something just out of her reach, something crucial that she was missing.

“We’re here.”

Yaz looked up to see the palace walls come back into view. They rode in through the smaller gate, and Yaz could feel the looks of the soldiers on the wall burn into her skin like hot coal. But instead of hiding her face, she sat up a little straighter. 

No matter in which way, she was still with Juliannah, and there was no reason to hide that fact. No reason to feel ashamed that she had allowed herself to reach for what she wanted.

When Yaz jumped off the horse a few moments later in front of the stables, she did so reluctantly, not wanting to let go of the close contact. She watched as Juliannah handed the reins over to the stable boy, then tucked her riding gloves off.

“Juliannah, I –”

“I need a bath.”

Juliannah spun around on her heels, and began walking towards the palace. Yaz stood frozen in place for a moment, once again taken aback by the Lord Mistress’ sudden change in behaviour. She set about following her, but somehow, Juliannah was always a step ahead, and by the time Yaz walked into their room, the door to the washroom was closed, and bolted.

It reminded her of the previous night, how Juliannah had gone from jumping up to bring her a cup of water, to taking on a mocking tone at the fact that Yaz didn’t remember their night. Had been so drunk that she didn’t even remember being taken to bed. And for the first time that day, she felt anger bubble up inside herself at that fact.

Why had Juliannah done that? Surely, she would have noticed if Yaz had been that out of it. Back in her dining room, Juliannah had stepped away at the mere notion that Yaz didn’t want her touch. And now she suddenly hadn’t cared that Yaz had been in a state where she couldn’t even remember what she had wanted?

Yaz angrily wiped the tears away that had sprung up in her eyes. She knew who Juliannah was, she reminded herself, once again. She had always known what this was all about. There was no use getting upset about it now.

As she properly turned towards their room, she noticed a board placed on the desk, and suddenly realised that they must have missed lunch. Her stomach let out a soft growl, and she walked over, popping a grape into her mouth as she sat down. 

Judging by the number of bellstrikes coming from the tower in the courtyard, Yaz realised that she should probably think about what she was going to wear to tonight’s banquet. Not that she was looking forward to spending any more time surrounded by nobles who thought her a –

What did you just call her?

The sudden memory jolted Yaz, the anger in Juliannah’s eyes as she had grabbed the Baron after he had insulted Yaz.

I love her .

With a frustrated groan, Yaz pushed herself up from the chair. She would keep herself busy until Juliannah got out of the bath, she decided. Looking around the room, she figured it was best to start with tonight’s outfit, and she went to open the suitcase that had her clothes in it.

On top, neatly folded, lay her frock coat from last night. She lifted it up. The coat was heavy, and Yaz suddenly remembered how warm it had felt on her last night. Still, it was gorgeous, and maybe she would enjoy wearing it again at the banquet. She began gently running her fingers over the thick brocade, until she reached the pocket on the left side.

And felt something rustle inside.

Frowning, she pushed her hand into the pocket, and felt paper underneath her fingers. She pulled it out, finding the back of a letter, written on heavy parchment.

Turning it around, she saw the perfectly preserved seal of King Alistair.

The alcove in the servants’ corridor. Koschei’s library. Using the pins in her hair to open the door. The fifth volume of the War Anthology.

Prince Harold of House Theta-Gallifrey, to be named Crown Prince on his sixteenth birthday.

With a gasp, Yaz’s eyes widened. She had to show Juliannah, had to let her know before the coronation could go through –

Spinning around on her heels, Yaz simply let go of the frock coat, and took a step towards the washroom door, Juliannah’s name on her lips.

She froze. Slowly, Yaz turned back around, her eyes landing on the frock coat on the ground. It had fallen with a dull thud . Had she forgotten something else inside, something important?

Something tugged at the back of her mind, the same sound she had remembered before, like a distant scream, distorted, feverish.

A shiver ran down her spine, and Yaz knelt down next to the frock coat. She searched the pockets first, but there was nothing. Still, determined that she was missing something , she let her hands run over the material.

When she got to the right sleeve, she realised it felt heavier than the left.

Yaz reached into it, letting her fingers glide along the silk lining, until they caught an opening – small, hidden away.

When her fingers slipped into it, they touched something cold and hard.

Glass , she instantly realised. Her stomach was twisting now, as if her body already knew what it was about to see, even though Yaz’s mind had not yet caught up.

Yaz extricated the small object from the hidden pocket, closing her fist around it as she pulled it out of the sleeve.

When she opened her palm, the world stopped moving around her.

Then, all air was knocked out of her.

“I’m dying, Juliannah, I’m dying –”

“Yaz, you have to stay calm. Yaz!”

Blood. So much blood. Everywhere, drowning her as thorns grew inside her throat, pressing into her flesh –

“Yaz, we need to talk. I have to –”

Yaz looked up, finding Juliannah standing outside the washroom, her hair still wet as she stared at the small vial in Yaz’s hand with eyes wide open.

“I can explain”, she breathed, but all Yaz could see was Juliannah’s face from her dream, morphing into a cruel grin as the flowers underneath their feet wilted away.

A fool who crowns a liar.

Notes:

Here we gooooo!!

Thank you so much for reading :)

Chapter 24

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

“You poisoned me.”

Slowly, Yaz pushed herself off the ground. She was dizzy, all feeling having left her body except for the sick twisting of her stomach. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw up.

“You tried to kill me .”

The words were bitter on her tongue, and bile rose up at the back of her throat, threatening to spill.

It reminded her, with a sudden brutality, of the feeling of her own blood spilling from her mouth.

She swallowed heavily, forcing the bile back down. “Why?” she finally asked, turning to properly face Juliannah now. The feeling returned to her body in a sudden rush, and she realised her blood was burning with rage. “You could have just… banned me from your mansion, or something. Sent me out to Fort Morbius like Knight Robin. Was this part of your plan?”

Juliannah stood, still frozen in place, her mouth half-open. She looked almost helpless, something Yaz had never thought to associate with the powerful Lord Mistress of Karn. A part of her wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the moment.

“The poison wasn’t for you.”

Yaz blinked. Juliannah had finally spoken, her words quiet. Confused, Yaz looked down at the vial, still in her hand. She frowned, her already overwhelmed mind trying to make sense of what was happening, of what Juliannah was saying.

Yaz, don’t –

Yaz gasped as another memory slotted itself into place in her mind. Two cups in Juliannah’s hands, and Juliannah’s panicked gaze as Yaz had grabbed one of them.

“The poison wasn’t for you.”

Koschei.

“But…” Yaz began, trying to push her mind past that final step, where it all finally would make sense. If Juliannah had wanted to poison Koschei, then why was the vial in Yaz’s –

This time, she had to slap her own hand in front of her mouth as the realisation finally hit her. Her entire body tensed up as she sucked in a stuttering breath through her nose, her eyes going wide, burning with the first sign of tears.

Juliannah took a step towards her, but Yaz stumbled back, away from her. She fought back against her tears as the full scope of the woman’s betrayal washed over her, and when she finally dropped her hand, her words came out through clenched teeth.

“They would have hanged me for this. They would have chased me through the streets, whipped me –” She stopped, unable to process it all.

Juliannah had tried to kill her, but not in the way Yaz had originally thought. It had all gone wrong, forcing Juliannah to give Yaz an antidote, in order to salvage her original plan.

The banquet.

“You were going to try again tonight”, Yaz said, and she realised that tears were now freely streaming down her face. “That’s why you…” She could feel it, so real that it made her want to tear off her own skin: the way Juliannah had pulled her close on her horse, kissing her fiercely after Yaz had thought the words that now felt like thorns wrapped around her throat.

I love you.  

“It’s why you were so affectionate”, Yaz finally continued, her voice small. “It’s why you didn’t pull away when I thought… You still needed me, for tonight.”

“Yaz, that’s not… You don’t understand.”

Oh, if Yaz’s blood hadn’t been boiling before, those words did the trick. She rushed towards Juliannah, closing the distance between them as she resisted the urge to grab the blonde with both hands and shake her.

“I don’t understand ? What, that you planned to frame me for murder, that you brought me to this palace like a lamb to slaughter? All for your own petty revenge?”

Juliannah’s face instantly hardened at that. “You have no idea about the past, Yasmin.”

Yaz shook her head. “No, I don’t. But not for lack of wanting to know! After you lied to me, after I came back to you, I thought…” She felt shame rise up inside her, until finally, it broke out of her, and she looked Juliannah straight in the eye as she spoke again. “When I asked you to stay with me that day, I didn't mean just for sex. I wanted to be with you, and you know that. You always knew that."

“Yaz, I –”

“Stop calling me that!” Yaz snapped. “I know you only ever call me that when you are trying to manipulate me!”

Juliannah clicked her jaw shut, her entire body taut with an unspeakable tension.

“I came back to you”, Yaz whispered. “I came back to you after you lied to me, and I learned to trust you again. And after I heard your story, after you said you’d stay with me, I told myself that whatever you could give me would be enough. I pushed my feelings for you away, not wanting to scare you off, not wanting to lose you, and you –”

“Yaz, please –”

“You were using me this entire time. I meant nothing to you.” Yaz spat the words out, her voice slowly rising. “And the worst thing is, if you would have asked for my help to keep Koschei from getting to that throne, I would have probably said yes!"

" Yaz.

"Stars know he doesn’t deserve to be King. But you, you only had your revenge in mind, and nothing else. This was all a game to you.”

“I couldn’t go through with it!”

“And to think that I abandoned my family for you. I put them in danger, just because you –”

Yaz stopped, Juliannah’s words only now registering with her. “What?” she breathed.

Juliannah stood in front of her, hands closed into fists, jaw clenched, her entire body trembling. “I was so close to everything I’ve ever wanted”, she pressed out. “My entire life, Yaz, I’ve been waiting for the moment where I could burn House Gallifrey to the ground. For my grandmother, for my father, for myself . It was the only reason I survived turning myself. I kept thinking of that day when I would destroy them all.” Juliannah’s chest was heaving now, and Yaz resisted that urge deep inside of herself to reach out for her.

Liar , she reminded herself.

“Ever since I got that letter from Lungbarrow, I’ve –” Juliannah swallowed, shaking her head. “I told myself I wouldn’t be weak. Not now, not when I was so close to getting what I had always wanted. And then –” her breath caught, and her head twisted to the side as her eyes squeezed shut, as if she was trying to chase something away, something inside of herself. “I couldn’t go through with it", she finally breathed, eyes still closed

"The moment I saw you across that dance floor, I knew I couldn’t.”

Yaz couldn’t help it, she scoffed, chasing away that small flame of hope inside her chest. She had fanned it for too long now. 

“Liar”, she spat back. “You’ve never done anything but lie, why should I believe you know?”

“I haven’t –” Juliannah said, and now the despair was getting clear in her voice and her face as her eyes fluttered back open. 

When their gazes met, Yaz sucked in a breath at the look in Juliannah's eyes. She had never seen anything like it from the other woman before. 

“Yaz", she said, her tone pleading as she suddenly took a step towards Yaz. "You just don’t understand. I –” She opened and closed her fists, then took another step towards Yaz, entering her personal space. Yaz stood frozen, unable to tear her eyes away from the myriad of emotions that were rippling across Juliannah’s face like waves.

“Stop saying that”, Yaz said, but her reply sounded weak to her own ears. “Stop saying I don’t understand, when you won’t –”

“I could have had everything I’ve ever wanted!”

Juliannah was almost shouting now, her voice trembling.

“Then why didn’t you take it?” Yaz simply threw back, bitter.

Juliannah’s hands flew out towards her, reaching for her arms, and then Yaz was suddenly confronted with the full extent of the Lord Mistress' despair. 

“Because none of it would be worth anything without you!”

The moment Juliannah’s hands made contact with Yaz’s arms, Yaz felt like she was being knocked sideways out of her body as all air left her lungs. She tried to rip her eyes wide open, but she couldn’t see the room around herself anymore, couldn’t see anything as everything turned unbearably bright.

Something raged through her chest, then, something wild and raw and uncontainable. It clawed at every part of Yaz's being, as if in a fight for survival. It was filled with need, with want , so vast that it hurt, burning her from the inside out. There was something else, too, deep inside of it, pulsating like a flame through a closed fist: an urge to protect, to keep safe, to not lose, please by all the stars and constellations, please not lose again.

Yaz’s vision returned the moment Juliannah stumbled backwards, away from her, holding on to her head with both hands as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Yaz”, she groaned. “Yaz, I can’t –” She stopped, gasping for breath.

At first, Yaz thought it was the side effect of whatever had just happened to her. Her vision must still be blurred, and she felt dizzy, too. But then she blinked, hard, and everything came into terrible focus. 

All over Juliannah’s body, light was coursing. There were ripples of purple, winding around her, flickering. And then there was the gold, breaking out of her skin on her arms, her face, as if somebody was cutting her open.

“What’s happening?” Yaz asked, her mind still reeling.

“You need to get out”, Juliannah hissed through clenched teeth. “I’m not in control!”

For the first time since Yaz had known her, she saw panic on Juliannah’s face. Somewhere deep inside of her, Yaz instinctively knew that she should run, as far away as she could. But instead of taking off, another instinct inside of her took over, and she took a step towards Juliannah.

“Look at me”, she said, reaching out for Juliannah’s face with both hands. The woman startled, but then let Yaz touch her as she looked up at her. Yaz sucked in a breath as Juliannah’s eyes flew open, and they were filled with pain.

“What’s happening?” Yaz asked again, praying to all the stars that Juliannah was able to give her an answer that would somehow help. “Why is some of your magic golden?”

“Yaz, you need to leave, now . If I –”

“Juliannah, tell me what’s happening!”

“I –” Juliannah began, gasping. “I healed you.”

Yaz took in the words, but they didn’t make sense. Juliannah had healed her before – first the sickness from being taken against her will by Caladrius, then the numerous times she had healed Yaz’s scars and cuts.

The back of Juliannah’s hand broke open, more golden light emanating from it. Juliannah bit her bottom lip, so hard that Yaz was sure she was drawing blood.

And Yaz remembered. Her inability to swallow the antidote, followed by the pain of something cold and powerful clawing at her from the inside, nearly ripping her apart and then – warmth. Warmth and golden light. Yaz stared at Juliannah, still cradling her face, unable to move. 

“How much”, she whispered. “How much of your magic did you change back?”

“I don’t –” Juliannah jolted, her entire body folding in on itself as she crashed to her knees, inadvertently taking Yaz with her. “I don’t know”, she admitted. “As much as it took."

Stunned, Yaz knelt, holding Juliannah's face in the palms of her hands. 

"Why would you do that?" 

Juliannah swallowed, hard. "I couldn't – I can't… you're –" She squeezed her eyes shut again, and Yaz could not tell whether she was in pain from the magic wrecking through her body, or the words she could not find. "I could not bear it", Juliannah finally said, her voice barely audible.

"What?"

Suddenly, Juliannah was doubling over, a broken sound emerging from her throat. The purple crackles snapped across her body, violent, out of control. 

She reached for Yaz’s wrists, grabbing them hard. “Yaz”, she whispered. “Yaz, I can’t stop it. I thought I would be able to keep the two strands separate, but –” Her body shook, her teeth clanging together uncontrollably for a moment. “You can’t be here”, she finally pressed out. “It’s not safe.”

With a force that knocked the air out of her, Yaz suddenly understood. The panic in Juliannah’s eyes, the way her body was clearly losing a fight of enormous proportions right now, how she wanted Yaz to leave because it wasn’t safe, it all lent itself to one singular, horrible conclusion.

Juliannah was dying.

This couldn’t be happening. Yaz felt like she was being pulled into a hundred different directions at once – her anger and hurt over Juliannah’s betrayal, her feelings for the woman, nonetheless screaming inside her chest, her confusion over Juliannah’s half-confession.

Whatever happened, whatever was going to happen, Yaz couldn’t let her die.

“Contact.”

Frantically, Yaz reached for that part inside of herself that was connected to Caladrius. He was the only one she could think of at that moment, the only one who could help. When there was no response, she called out again, louder.

“Contact!”

“Contact.”

“Caladrius”, Yaz thought, her words barely coming out straight even in her own mind. “Caladrius, you need to come here. Juliannah turned her magic and she is burning, I can’t help her, there’s light everywhere, it’s like it’s breaking her open –”

She barely managed to finish her sentence when she heard the frantic beating of wings approach, and she closed her eyes, forcing herself to let out a long breath. Caladrius would help. Caladrius would know what to do.

He flew in through the window, stopping mid-air in front of Juliannah. He was radiating as much panic as Yaz was feeling, and she felt the hope crumble inside herself.

“You stupid, stupid woman!” he said, seemingly too agitated to keep his thoughts channelled towards just Juliannah.

“Caladrius”, Yaz breathed, Juliannah’s grip still tight around Yaz’s wrists. “ Help her .”

There was a beat of silence, only interrupted by Juliannah’s low whine as the skin on the side of her throat broke open.

“I can’t.”

Yaz’s body went ice cold as all feeling drained out of her face.

“What?”

Caladrius batted his wings, looking back and forth between Yaz and Juliannah with bright purple eyes.

“The change she went through… we both went through as children, it’s irreversible. What she did should have been impossible, and now she’s paying the price for it.” He sunk his claws into the front of Juliannah’s shirt, pushing his forehead against hers. “There are two kinds of magic colliding inside her body right now, and the energy doesn’t know where to go. The only way to stop this would be a Binding –”

“Don’t you dare,” Juliannah growled, her face contorted in pain and anger. “Don’t you dare!

Caladrius rubbed his forehead against Juliannah’s, as if to soothe her pain . “I have to take her away from here.”

“What? No!” Yaz snapped. She had called him for help, and now he was telling her there was nothing he could do, that Juliannah would die. Worse – that she would do so far away from Yaz. 

“Don’t take her away”, she said, her voice sounding distorted to her own ears, far away. “Please, Caladrius, I –”

“She’ll take half the palace with her, Yaz. I’m sorry, I have to –”

“I love her.”

The grip on her wrists tightened, and then they went slack, falling to Juliannah’s sides. The woman was hunched over, eyes closed.

She looked like she had given up.

“Yasmin”, she whispered, and Yaz reached for her hand, wrapping her own around it.

“I’m here.”

“I’m sorry.”

Before Yaz could react, Juliannah had lifted her free hand, and all Yaz could do was watch as the other woman reached for Caladrius’ feathers. “No”, Yaz breathed. “No, don’t –”

She felt the moment Juliannah’s hand slipped out of hers, leaving nothing but light behind. Her own hands closed around nothing, desperately trying to hold on to the woman as she disappeared in front of her eyes, until nothing was left but a white bird with bright purple eyes.

“Give her back!” Yaz said, her blood rushing in her ears as she tried to get back to her feet. But Caladrius was already turning towards the window, and Yaz followed him, scrambling forward on all fours before she finally managed to stand up and properly run after him. She reached out with her hand, desperate to catch him, to somehow hold him back.

"Caladrius", she called, panicked, " please ." 

She could almost feel the softness of feathers on the tip of her fingers. 

It was too late. He was through the open window before she could reach him, and her hand, instead of wrapping around feathers, came crashing down hard against the wooden frame.

Without looking back, Caladrius flew away, and as Yaz shouted after him, the scream ripped through her throat, breaking her entire being in two.

“Give her back to me!

Notes:

Thank you for reading! As always, I can't wait to hear your thoughts :D

Chapter 25

Notes:

This chapter comes with a small content warning. As always, you can click the End Notes to see the specifics!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Sonya, put that down! I won’t have you fill your stomach before dinner.”

“Mum, if I don’t have this bread now, I’ll probably starve.”

A huff, and then the door was pulled open, revealing a very exasperated looking Najia. “Your father’s pakora isn’t anywhere near as bad as you –”

She stopped, her mouth dropping open as she stared at the person on the other side of the door. 

“Hiya, mum.”

“Yasmin.”

For a moment, Najia stood with her eyes wide open, frozen in place. A second later, however, she was practically falling out the door and throwing her arms around Yaz.

Yaz felt the familiar embrace. She breathed in the scent of her mother’s clothes, and let herself savour the warmth of her hug.

Yaz had held on. She had held on as she had watched Caladrius disappear into the clouds. She had held on as she had stood, alone, in the room she had shared with Juliannah. She had pulled herself together as she had walked out, into the courtyard, and taken a horse from the same stableboy who had looked at Juliannah with fear in his eyes. She had bit the inside of her cheeks so hard she had tasted blood as she had ridden through the city gates, and given her horse to the stables there.

But now, with her mother’s arms around her, all of that resolve was gone. Her knees buckled the moment tears began to run down her cheeks, and she heard a sob, distantly aware that it was her own. 

“Mum”, she breathed, struggling to make sense of what she really wanted to say. “Mum, I –” She stopped, unable to say any more. All Yaz could do in that moment was feel.

Anger, betrayal, love, grief. And, binding it all together and holding her heart in a vice-like grip: pain. Pain so vast that it made Yaz unable to breathe, unable to speak, unable to move.

“Hakim!” she heard her mother call out, the woman’s arms tightening around her as she was clearly struggling to hold her upright. Yaz could do nothing to lessen her own weight. “Hakim, come here!”

“Najia”, her father said, “I was just about to put the pa– Yaz!”

She felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her from the side, and then she was being lifted off the ground. Yaz curled in on herself, cradled against her father’s chest. For a moment, she could almost smell Juliannah’s scent, as if the blonde was holding her once again.

Another sob broke out of her, and her father’s arms tightened around her.

“I’ve got you, Yaz. Don’t worry. We’re here.”

Everything around her was a blur. She was brought through a room, one that had to be the kitchen – she could smell something on the stove, but her brain couldn’t place any of the spices that reached her nose. There was a soft gasp, and some questioning words, then Najia’s voice, and the questions stopped.

Floorboards creaked under the combined weight of two people, and then Yaz was moved sideways, and a door was pushed open. She simply tightened her grip on her father’s shirt, quietly fighting against more sobs that were sitting at the back of her throat, fighting to break out of her.

The world shifted, and then there was something soft and familiar underneath her back. Hushed voices, and then a blanket was pulled up over her shoulders, and a hand stroked her hair.

“I’m here.”

Her mother’s voice, gentle, soft, yet distant. There were more words after that, but Yaz couldn’t make them out.

Her mind, cruel as it was, kept playing out memories to her, in excruciating detail, to the point where she could almost feel them.

Juliannah, kissing her in her library.

Who would keep my bed warm at night?

Juliannah, dancing with her, holding her tight after whisking her away from Koschei.

A fool who crowns a liar.

Juliannah, asleep, her head in Yaz’s lap.

Don’t get hurt.

Juliannah, hair wet, standing in shock as Yaz held the poison vial.

It wouldn’t be worth anything without you.

Juliannah, bathed in light.

I couldn't bear it.

Juliannah, scratching at her own skin.

Dying.

Dying.

Dying.

Yaz screamed.

From somewhere, arms appeared, pulling her into an embrace and holding her tight as something violent crashed through her. More words that she could not make out, spoken in a soothing tone as Yaz clenched her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut in a desperate attempt to make it all stop. The pain, the tears – time itself if she could.

She did not know how long until the stars finally took mercy on her, and she fell into a state of unfeeling. It was odd, in a way; she was still awake, her eyes open. But for all intents and purposes, Yaz was asleep. Her mind and body felt numb, and her gaze never moved from the same spot on the wall, where the wood grain looked like an eye – staring back at her, just as unmoving as she.

At some point, she could smell some food. Her stomach turned at the thought of forcing herself to eat anything – but she couldn’t move anyway. Shortly after that, the room around her turned darker, until it was only lit by a candle on the desk. When the door opened, there were hushed voices once again, and then, once the door had closed, she could feel the mattress next to her dip with the weight of another person sitting down.

“Yaz.”

Sonya’s voice sounded uncharacteristically gentle, and under any other circumstances, Yaz would have made a comment about her going soft. As it was, she simply kept staring at the eye on the wall.

“Mum and dad have gone to bed, it’s just us two now.”

A beat of silence, in which Yaz’s sluggish brain tried to catch up with what Sonya was saying. She felt the mattress shift as her sister leaned over her.

“If you want to talk, you can”, Sonya said quietly. “About anything.” There was a pregnant pause before Sonya continued, clarifying Yaz’s suspicions. "I’ve seen how your letters got delivered. I assume it’s… hers?”

Yaz closed her eyes, but the image of the wood grain remained vivid in her mind. “His name’s Caladrius”, she said. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, and her throat was scratchy and dry.

“You should drink something.”

The weight next to her disappeared, only to return a moment later. When Yaz cracked her right eye open, she saw a cup hovering next to her. Reluctantly, she forced herself to reach for it, and her arm felt as if it were filled with stones. She pushed herself up just enough to be able to drink without choking, then fell back onto the covers the moment her sister had taken the cup from her. Yaz heard the tell-tale sound of the cup being placed on the ground, then a small sigh.

“Yaz”, her sister said again, quietly. “Did something… did she get hurt?”

Yaz couldn’t help it. A humourless snort escaped her, soft, barely audible, and she shook her head. “I don’t think anyone else I know would assume that she’s the one who got hurt.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sonya frown. “Well, I know you can take care of yourself.” Sonya closed her eyes, and grimaced. “Ugh, you’re never gonna let me forget that I said that, are you?”

At that, Yaz finally felt her lips move into the hint of a smile. “No”, she said. Then, with as much grace as a siege engine, Yaz slowly rolled over, and pushed herself up until her back came to rest against the wall. She felt exhausted, and her head was pounding from all the crying.

Wordlessly, Sonya handed her the cup once more, and this time, Yaz emptied it. She avoided looking her sister in the eye, although she was grateful that Sonya refrained from repeating her question and pushing for an answer, giving Yaz time instead.

Where should she even start? Sonya knew that Juliannah was a mage – had been , a small voice inside Yaz’s mind corrected, and she had to clench her jaw in order to fight fresh tears down. Her reaction must have been visible, because a warm hand came to rest on hers, gently squeezing it.

Yaz swallowed. “Juliannah lives” – lived , a small voice in her head corrected – “for revenge. She had a plan to finally get it, to make people pay for everything that happened to her. It…” – Yaz squeezed her eyes shut, the hurt of the betrayal still fresh – “it involved me taking the fall.” She felt her sister’s grip around her hand tighten, and Yaz forced herself to continue, her voice quiet. “For weeks, that was what she had planned. Every time she kissed me, or…” She stopped herself, warmth creeping up her neck. “Whenever we were together, she knew I was going to take the fall for her. She was manoeuvring me towards it, the entire time.”

“Yaz”, Sonya said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

Sonya didn’t push Yaz after that, instead simply waiting for her sister to explain.

“I ended up accidentally…”, Yaz continued, unsure how to phrase what exactly had happened. Even though she remembered what had happened now, it all still felt somewhat muddled in her brain. “I ended up being the one who got hurt, instead of the person she had planned for”, she finally said. “But then she… she did something to her magic. Changed it in a way that should have been impossible – to save me. When I found out, she told me that she hadn’t been able to go through with her plan. Because of me.” Yaz tried to fight the tears down at the memory of the desperate expression on Juliannah’s face as she had practically shouted the words at Yaz that had taken her entirely by surprise. “The thing she did to her magic”, Yaz finally continued, her voice small, “It’s killing her.”

This time, Yaz couldn’t help the tears from falling once again as she remembered the sight of Juliannah, on her knees in agony as her magic ran haywire all over – and inside – her body.

“She’s dying”, Yaz pressed out. “She’s probably already dead, and I don’t –” The words got stuck in her throat, and a sob escaped her instead.

Without another word, Sonya pulled her into a hug. Yaz slung both arms around her sister, holding on to her with complete desperation, as if she could make everything alright if she just held Sonya tightly enough.

“I’m so mad at her, for lying to me”, Yaz said between sobs. “But I can’t stop…” Another sob, her fingers doubtlessly digging painfully into Sonya’s back. “I can’t stop hurting over losing her.”

“Oh Yaz”, Sonya breathed. She held on to her big sister, and Yaz simply let her pain course through her, until finally, her breathing slowly turned less laboured.

When she pulled back, Sonya still held on to her hand. There was a frown creasing her brow, and something about the expression caused a flutter in Yaz’s stomach.

“What?” she asked quietly.

Sonya took a long time to answer, and it felt to Yaz as if her sister was weighing her words carefully before speaking them. She granted Sonya the same chance she had been given before, and leaned back against the wall once more, allowing her sister time to think.

“I think it’s normal that losing her hurts more than her betrayal right now”, Sonya finally said. “You loved each other.”

The words gripped Yaz’s heart like a vice, and she inadvertently turned her face away, resisting the urge to pull it into a grimace of pain.

“Juliannah didn’t love me”, she whispered. The words burned like acid on her tongue and pierced her heart, yet she forced herself to say them once more, in a vain attempt to ease the pain that was accompanying her every breath. “She did not love me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

Yaz’s head snapped back, fixing her sister’s gaze across the bed. “You don’t even know her!” The words flew out of her mouth, and Yaz flinched at the unnecessary sharpness of her tone.

Her sister didn’t react to it. Instead, she held Yaz’s gaze as she spoke. “You’ve told me enough. You said all she ever lived for was revenge. Yet she gave up on it for you?”

“Just because she couldn’t go through with her plan –”

“Yaz”, Sonya interrupted. “Just because the love someone has for you feels different to you than the one you have for them, doesn’t mean what they feel for you isn’t love at all.”

Yaz stared at her younger sister, open-mouthed. “Well”, she finally managed to say, “somebody’s grown up.”

She watched the corner of Sonya’s lip lift into a smile, and her expression turned just a tad wistful.

Yaz understood in one second what it meant. “You’ve met someone.”

Oh, if Yaz hadn’t suspected before, the darkness on Sonya’s cheeks gave her away. Sonya bit her bottom lip, then nodded.

“Do I need to give someone the ‘break her heart and I’ll break your kneecaps’ speech?” Yaz asked. 

Sonya shook her head. “You remember Sven?”

“Kip’s kid? I recall you beating the living daylights out of him for stealing your sweets.”

Sonya laughed. “Well, that was a long time ago. He’s not a kid anymore.” She looked at Yaz, and her expression turned sombre once again. “But back to you. What I’m trying to tell you is, loving you might feel very different to Juliannah than loving her feels to you. For the little I know about her, she does sound like a complicated person. Maybe she’s not entirely sure what love is supposed to feel like in the first place, and maybe she mistakes it for something else.”

Yaz didn’t know what it was, but something about Sonya’s words hit a nerve inside of her. She suddenly had the feeling that there was something she had overlooked – something very important that had simply passed her by.

“From the sounds of your story”, Sonya added, “she at the very least wanted to protect you, in the end.”

Suddenly, Yaz’s entire skin went hot and cold all at once. She felt dizzy, and her vision blurred around the edges, and then she could almost feel it again.

The moment she understood, her entire body snapped upright.

Sonya let out a curse as Yaz practically pushed her off the bed in an effort to scramble to her feet. She ran to the window, and threw it open.

“Yaz, what the –”

“I need to see her”, Yaz said, her heart stumbling in her chest as the memory rushed through her: Juliannah’s hands on her arms, and something crashing into her with unspeakable force.

Possessiveness. Want. Need. Protectiveness . Please I can’t lose her.

“Contact!”

Silence, only lasting for a second that felt like an eternity nonetheless.

“Contact.”

Sonya appeared at her side, placing a hand on Yaz’s shoulder.

“Caladrius, is she…”

She couldn’t even think the words, and the pause that followed them made Yaz’s heart sink. She was too late. Juliannah was –

“She’s spent most of her magic. Not long now.”

Yaz turned to her sister, reaching for Sonya’s hand and squeezing it. “I can’t leave her alone. Not now. Not for this.”

Sonya looked into her sister’s eyes, then nodded. “Go”, she said. “Go, I’ll deal with mum and dad.”

And then Yaz turned towards the window, sending out the same words she had months ago, her heart, once again, hammering painfully into her chest.

“Take me to her.”

One last time.

Notes:

content warning: description of a dissociative-like state

Thank you for reading :) I know this was a bit of a transitional chapter but I promise we jump right back into it next chapter – with Yaz rushing to Juliannah's side.

As always, I am excited to hear your thoughts :)

Chapter 26

Notes:

Here we go. This chapter is a rather heavy one, but also one I'm very proud of. I hope you guys like it :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Caladrius had been quiet ever since picking Yaz up, but she could feel the silent resentment bubbling underneath his stony exterior. She was sharing his body after all, now that they were flying over the Karnish plains bathed in moonlight.

She couldn’t even blame him, really. Yaz was the reason Juliannah had turned her magic in a way that had proven lethal to her, and Yaz was well aware that the relationship between Caladrius and Juliannah was far more than a simple partnership. They were family.

A few moments ago, to Yaz’s great surprise, they had changed course. The Karnish meadows underneath them were ones that Yaz had not seen before, and she figured they must be going further south than the Lord Mistress’ mansion. 

The first thing she saw were paddocks, stretching out over a hilly landscape. They were empty, but Yaz figured they must have once housed many horses – maybe the owners had bred them. A small forest divided them off, and then, after the trees had parted, there was an estate. It looked much more homely than the mansion Yaz was used to: warm brown stones, and red tiled roofs. There were small towers, grapevines climbing up and around them. The leaves were a lush red this time of year, standing out even under the light of the stars.

“The Thetan estate.”

Caladrius had offered up the explanation in response to Yaz’s unspoken question. Before she could ask any more, he had flown in through a window in the western tower, and then her world tilted upside down as she felt herself being ejected from his body – with much more force than she had grown accustomed to.

She felt the floor underneath her hands and knees first, and squeezed her eyes shut in an effort not to be sick. After a few deep breaths – in through her nose, out through her mouth – she dared open them again.

The room around her was dusty, every single piece of furniture covered with white cloth. Clearly, this room was unlived in, and had been for quite some time.

Eagerly, Yaz searched for Juliannah, but there was no trace of the woman.

She pushed herself off the ground on shaking legs, and turned towards Caladrius. The bird sat on the window sill, fixing her with his piercing gaze. For a moment, Yaz’s heart sank as she was certain that the familiar had brought her here to extract his revenge for Juliannah’s fate.

“She’s in the next room” , he said instead, and Yaz inadvertently let out a breath. “She’s not…” He stopped, and Yaz could feel the pain even though she could not see it on his avian features. “You’ll see for yourself.”

Yaz nodded, her skin feeling cold as she glanced over towards the door. “Thank you”, she said, earnestly. Caladrius could have well refused her wish to see Juliannah, and there would have been nothing she could have done about it. 

“I’m doing this for her” , the bird snapped back, and Yaz barely stopped herself from flinching at the sharp tone. “I expect you to call me when it’s time. I will stay close.”

“Of course.”

Caladrius pushed himself off and out of the tower, and Yaz turned to the door with her heart pounding. Behind it, there was Juliannah.

The woman she loved.

Dying.

Not long now .

The room was a picture of destruction. While some furniture was still covered in white cloth, it had been burned away from others, leaving the wood underneath charred and cracked. Dark holes ripped through the tapestries on the wall, and one window was shattered. A line, black as coal, ran across the floor, from one side of the room to another, leaving splintered wood in its wake.

In the middle of the room, curled up on the floor and looking so much smaller than Yaz had ever seen her, was Juliannah: skin ashen, a strange, sick glow pulsating around her body, clothes and hair dishevelled. 

A floorboard creaked underneath Yaz’s feet, and Juliannah jerked. Her eyes flew open – they were bloodshot – and her gaze darted around the room, trying to find purchase somewhere.

When her eyes landed on Yaz, Juliannah went stock-still.

“Julian–”

“Go away.”

Yaz stood frozen, Juliannah’s eyes burning with pain, pinning her in place.

“I want to stay.”

For a brief moment, Juliannah’s gaze softened, and then something violent rushed through her, causing the blonde to fold in on herself, her arms tightened around her midriff as she somehow became even smaller on the floor.

Yaz took a step towards her, but stopped with her foot in mid-air as Juliannah let out a pained sound at the same moment as her hand flew out, and a flash of purple ripped through the skin of her palm. Instinctively, Yaz dropped to the ground. She could feel the magic tickle the back of her neck like a breath.

It splintered the door behind her into pieces with a sickening crack .

“Go away”, Juliannah pressed out again, obviously in pain. “I don’t want you… to see me… like this.”

The cold floor pressing against Yaz’s cheek, the knight felt her heart beat painfully into her ribcage. Slowly, she began pushing herself up on all fours, then moved towards Juliannah. When she arrived at her side, the blonde let out a whimper.

“Please”, Juliannah said. The simple word, coming from the proud woman in a tone akin to begging, made Yaz’s throat close up. And still, she could not find it in herself to follow Juliannah’s wish.

Yaz did the only thing she could think off. She took Juliannah’s hand, then turned around as she sat down, her back to the blonde. Slowly, she lifted the palm of Juliannah’s hand to her lips. The skin of it was charred, the flesh beneath dark and doubtlessly painful.

Yaz pressed the softest kiss against it, then lowered the hand into her lap, holding onto it gently with both her own, cupping it like a treasure.

Silence settled between them, during which a shiver ran through Juliannah’s body behind Yaz. It took all of the knight’s willpower to not turn around and pull her into her arms, to chase the cold away. Instead, she respected Juliannah’s wish, and remained seated with her back to the blonde so she would not see her. After a while, Juliannah spoke again.

“Why are you here?” 

Yaz’s heart stumbled in her chest at the question. Her answer was a simple truth:

“Because I want to be with you.”

The hand in her lap twitched, and Juliannah's next words came out sounding bitter and dejected.

“I betrayed you.”

For a long moment, Yaz simply looked at the hand she was holding. She traced every elegant finger with her eyes, committing every line on it to memory, before cradling the hand tighter in her own, still careful not to hurt the burned flesh.

“Do you think”, she said quietly, and the back of Juliannah’s hand still felt soft against her skin despite its charred palm, “I care for you so little that betraying me would make a difference?”

Another beat of silence. Then, she could hear something shift behind her, and a moment later, she could feel Juliannah’s head press against the side of her leg. Out of the corner of her eye, Yaz could just about make out a tuft of blonde hair.

"Yaz."

Juliannah’s tone was quiet, the name spoken with so much raw vulnerability that it made Yaz's breath stutter. It was Juliannah's next words, however, that cracked Yaz's heart in two.

"I'm scared."

It cut through Yaz like a knife, leaving her open to the bone, bleeding out onto the floor without losing a drop of blood. She wanted to turn around. She wanted to hold Juliannah. To kiss her. To make it stop. All of it.

"I don't want to be alone", Juliannah continued, her voice now barely more than a whisper. "When I..."

Yaz clenched her jaw, trying to swallow back her own pain as a tear finally escaped and ran down her cheek. She watched as it fell on her right knee and disappeared into the fabric of her trousers, leaving a small, dark stain behind.

"You won't be", she replied, her voice shaking. "I won't let you."

Another beat of silence, then, spoken not with the voice of a frightening woman, but the voice of a frightened, powerless child:

“Promise?”

Yaz swallowed. “I promise.”

Slowly, Yaz allowed herself to move one hand, gently reaching for Juliannah with it. She ran it through blonde hair, and for a moment, Juliannah stiffened against her. Then, her body relaxed. “Juli?”

“Yes?”

Yaz took a deep breath. “I love you.”

There they were, the words Yaz had fought, then thought, then shouted in desperation. They were quietly spoken this time, with honesty and simplicity – as an unwavering fact. Yaz knew, whatever the response to them might be, she would always be glad to have said them out loud, to Juliannah.

“Yaz”, Juliannah breathed, her voice muffled against Yaz’s leg. “I think…” She paused, her forehead pressing harder against Yaz’s leg. “I feel –” Her body tensed, once again, but Yaz simply remained seated, her heart beating steadfast in her chest. “I can’t…”

“It’s alright”, Yaz said, a small smile lifting her lips. She didn’t know if it was sad, or happy, or relieved, or simply a reflex. “You don’t have to say it. Not now, not ever. Not if you don’t want to. Or if you can’t.”

Yaz finally moved her head, properly looking at the blonde hair that her hand was buried in. Carefully watching for a reaction from Juliannah, she dared push the hair away, revealing the side of Juliannah’s face. There was another wound running through her skin, right across her temple. It was seeping golden light, thick like oil. Carefully, Yaz wiped it away with her thumb. It was strangely warm, and tingly against her skin. 

“I felt it”, she said softly. “The way you feel for me. Back in our room, when we fought. I don’t think you did it on purpose, and I’m sorry if I saw something I wasn’t meant to. I didn’t know how I could have… not.”

Juliannah’s eyes widened slightly, and then Yaz could see the walls going right back up, the woman’s emotions disappearing behind an air of coldness.

This time, Yaz was not to be deterred.

“You don’t have to hide”, she said, brushing more hair out of Juliannah’s face with her hand, as if to move her inner curtain away with them as well. “Not from me”, she added softly.

And then an idea crossed her mind, a way to make Juliannah feel less self-conscious about her feelings having been laid bare in such an intimate way – and, in the end, a way she hadn’t exactly been able to consent to.

“Will you let me show you?”

Juliannah regarded her for a long moment, and Yaz was sure the woman would refuse. Then, she let out a long breath. 

“Close your eyes, Yasmin.”

This time, Yaz’s heart stuttered in her chest. She obliged, closing her eyes, and waited.

“Follow my voice.”

A shiver ran down her spine. Juliannah had done this – very rarely – before, speaking directly into Yaz’s head. It always felt intimate in a way the knight couldn’t describe. She found herself trying to concentrate on the sound, and the faint presence that accompanied it, but found that Juliannah’s voice was everywhere .

“No, it has a clear origin. Listen.”

The words sounded like a challenge, slightly admonishing. For a moment, Yaz could imagine that they were back in Juliannah’s mansion, and the blonde was teaching her – in her typical, sensual yet slightly condescending way – how to properly play chess.

Yaz took a deep breath through her nose, and tried to focus on Juliannah’s presence. It kept slipping away just when she thought she had found the direction it was coming from, and she was growing frustrated.

“I’m right here, darling.”

There. She could feel Juliannah’s presence, very clearly to her left. It was a strange feeling, turning and walking away in your own mind, but Yaz was not to be deterred now. Juliannah’s presence was like a call, like a lighthouse to a ship in the night. Yaz walked into darkness, and then there was a clear moment, running through her system like the flicker of a flame, when she realised she had stepped outside of the bounds of her own body.

“Keep going.”

There was only emptiness around Yaz, and it scared her. Deep down, she knew that if she took a wrong step out here, she might be lost forever.

Then, she felt a faint presence against her hand, and a wave of calm washed through her.

Juliannah .

With the next step, the world around her turned bright. Yaz blinked – could she do that, without a proper body to surround her? – and then she saw her: standing in a white space, a hint of pride shining in her eyes.

“Well done” , Juliannah said, and Yaz couldn’t help but smile.

“Is this…”

“We’re in my mind, yes. I don't have enough... This is the only place we can do this, now. Where the source of my magic lies.” A pause, then: “Or what’s left of it.”

Mind-Juliannah (she wore the same outfit she had the first time Yaz had met her) stepped aside, and revealed what looked like a column of fire flickering behind her. It was obviously weak, purple sparks springing around it and mixing with seeping golden light. Yaz took a step towards it, finding herself drawn to it.

“I’ve used up most of it” , Juliannah said behind her. “Once it’s gone, the flame of my consciousness will go out.”

Yaz’s heart clenched in her chest. The reality of losing Juliannah was crashing through her once more, and made her unable to breathe – as far as this spirit-form of her even needed to breathe.

“You seem stronger in here” , Yaz observed, her eyes still fixed to the column. “Then out there, I mean.”

Juliannah stepped up next to her, her hands behind her back as she followed Yaz’s gaze to the very core of her being. “It’s me in my purest form. The last thing that will remain, before it all disappears.”

“Before you go to the stars” , Yaz corrected.

“I’ve never much believed in them” , Juliannah admitted. “They seem rather… indifferent to our earthly struggles.”

There was a hint of bitterness to her tone, and Yaz understood. The stars hadn’t come to the aid of a little girl, lying bleeding in the dirt. What reason did Juliannah have to believe they were guarding her now?

“Would you believe in them” , Yaz said, her hand reaching out for Juliannah’s, “if it meant we’d get to see each other again, in the end?”

Before Juliannah could have answered, Yaz had taken her hand.

And almost let go of it the same instant as her entire being was filled, from one second to the next, with everything.

It filled her to the brim, crashing through her like the stormy waves of an ocean: the entirety of Juliannah’s being, all in one single moment. Her fear, her pain, her want, who she had once been, who she was and who she longed to be. Finite yesterdays and the potential of endless tomorrows, all mingled up together to form one person. It made Yaz gasp for air, the feeling infinitely more intense than what she had experienced in their room during their fight. She could no longer tell where her own self ended and where Juliannah’s began, such was their melting together as one.

Next to her, Juliannah’s eyes shot wide open as she spun around to face her.

“Yaz” , she breathed, and then Yaz could feel the wonder that was running through the other woman.

It was in that exact moment that Yaz knew she would do anything, anything , to keep Juliannah here, with her.

They would talk about this moment many times, many years later, and all Yaz would ever say to explain what she did next was this: she could not have lost Juliannah, and she hadn’t cared about the cost of saving her.

With her free hand, Yaz reached straight into the source of Juliannah’s magic.

“Yaz!”

Distantly, she was aware of her body jolting, and she could hear her own voice, letting out a surprised hiss of pain.

She didn’t listen. There was only one thing she knew: there was poison inside Juliannah’s veins, and she knew exactly what it looked like.

Without wasting another moment, Yaz wrapped her hand around the strand of golden light, and ripped it out of the column.

Her eyes widened. “Oh.”

The hiss turned into a scream.

Yaz’s entire being was flooded with fire. She could feel her mind fighting against it, contorting, winding, but Yaz held on. She had to hold on. She would not let it get back into Juliannah.

“Yaz, let go!” Juliannah looked panicked, one hand still holding onto Yaz’s. “Let go, you’re not a mage, your body will burn !”

Yaz closed her fist tighter, determined.

Juliannah managed to extricate her own hand from Yaz’s, reaching for the magic in Yaz’s other hand instead. She wrapped both hands around it, trying to pull it toward herself.

“I’m not worth it!”

Yaz let herself be pulled towards Juliannah until they were mere inches apart. She looked at Juliannah: her soft hair, her hazel eyes, the line of her jaw, the fullness of her lips.

“Don’t you understand?” , Yaz finally said, her eyes searching Juliannah's. When their gazes met, she smiled. “You’re worth everything to me.”

Then, she kissed her.

For a brief moment, the pain in her body abated as Juliannah stood still, then melted into her. Kissing like this felt unlike anything Yaz had ever experienced – she could feel every single emotion that ran through Juliannah, could hear every single thought, feel every touch underneath Juliannah’s fingers.

The moment she felt Juliannah’s hands slacken around hers, Yaz pushed away – and ran.

Notes:

Thank you for reading! As always, I am so looking forward to hearing your thoughts 💙

Chapter 27

Notes:

Before we get started on this chapter, I want to let you all know that there is amazing fanart for chapter 24! I honestly can't stop staring at it. It was made my Rosenkranz, and you can find it either on twitter or on tumblr

Please everyone go show the artist some love on whichever platform you're on!

And now, without further ado, here is your new chapter!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The moment Yaz had left her mind, Juliannah’s eyes ripped wide open, and panic flared up inside her chest.

“No”, she breathed, “no no no, not again , Yaz, don’t –”

She scrambled onto her knees so quickly that it made her head spin. Her blood rushed into her head, causing a pounding sensation to rip through it, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut for a moment to regain her senses.

When she opened them again, she knelt opposite Yaz, who was still sitting cross-legged on the floor. The woman’s mouth was slightly agape, and she was staring at her own hands, bathed in a soft golden glow.

Juliannah opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“You’re… you’re alright?”

Yaz turned her head towards her, looking at least as shocked as Juliannah felt.

“A bit tingly”, she said, “quite warm? But yeah, alright I think. The pain stopped when I came back to my body.”

Juliannah stared at the golden light surrounding Yaz’s hands. Her mind was racing, trying to keep up with what had just happened.

Yaz had been inside her mind, and she had reached into the very core of Juliannah’s being. That was her magic, flowing through Yaz’s veins now. It shouldn’t be possible. Not even remotely.

Yaz looked at her, clearly searching her face for an explanation Juliannah was not entirely sure she had.

“Am I”, Yaz began, looking self-conscious all of a sudden. She blushed, unable to finish her question – but Juliannah heard the end of Yaz’s question in the knight’s thoughts, followed by Yaz calling herself ‘absolutely ridiculous’.

Instinctively, Juliannah reached for Yaz’s cheek, placing one hand against it. “I don’t understand what just happened”, she replied slowly. Juliannah guided her hand from Yaz’s cheek towards her temple, posing a silent question, and Yaz nodded.

Juliannah closed her eyes. Her mind felt sore, and inflexible, yet she managed to find her way towards Yaz’s, stepping into the blinding white light a moment later.

Juliannah could feel the difference before she had even seen it: a glow that tingled her fingertips, familiar yet slightly different than what she was used to. And then there it was: around the fiery column at the core of Yaz’s being shone a golden light, winding beautifully around it, flames dancing, licking against the light as it was still in the process of being integrated.

Juliannah pulled back into her own body, and blinked her eyes open. Yaz was looking at her expectantly, clearly worried yet with a hint of excitement shimmering in her eyes.

“It seems to have integrated – or it’s doing so, right now, anyway”, Juliannah said. “It shouldn’t be possible, but… you have magic.” Yaz’s mouth fell open, and Juliannah could hear the way the woman’s thoughts began to race. “We’ll have to see whether or not you’ll be able to… conduct it”, Juliannah cautioned. “To properly use it.”

“You could teach me. If it’s possible, I mean.”

Oh, there was a hint of pride in Juliannah’s chest at the words, and then Yaz’s blush deepened. Juliannah was overcome with the urge to kiss the woman, but then she suddenly became aware again of how what Yaz had just done should have definitely been impossible.

“I need to call Caladrius”, Juliannah mumbled, worry clouding her thoughts. She had no way of knowing that Yaz was actually safe now. For all she knew, the magic was still going to burn her up, just slowly. “He’ll check you over, make sure your body is really able to deal with  –”

She was half-way on her feet when Yaz’s hands wrapped around hers, and pulled her back down next to her.

“Wait”, Yaz said softly. “How are you feeling?”

Juliannah stopped mid-motion. She no longer felt like her magic was burning through her. In fact, as she listened inside herself, she felt her magic to be calmer than it ever had. She felt weak, tired, and her head was throbbing distantly. But she was also very definitely no longer dying.

A sense of calmness rushed through her. She was in perfect control, in a way she had – if she was being entirely honest with herself – never been before.

Slowly, Juliannah lifted her hands up in front of her own eyes. They were no longer charred as they had been before – but they weren’t completely healed either. Instead, her hands and arms were littered with silverish scars, shimmering where her wounds had been.

A myriad of emotions rushing through her, Juliannah froze in place, and then she properly understood what it was that Yaz had done for her. She looked up from her hands, and stared at the woman in wonder.

A crooked, proud smile lifted the corner of Yaz’s lips. “Not bad for a merchant’s kid, huh?”

Juliannah reached for her with both hands, cupping her face and pulling her straight in for a kiss.

“Oh.”

The soft sound escaped Yaz’s mouth, and then their lips were pressed against each other. Juliannah’s chest suddenly felt so indescribably full , and then, for the very first time, Juliannah truly let go.

The moment her emotions burned through her, Juliannah was gasping for breath. Her gasp was swallowed by Yaz’s hungry lips, pulling her closer, a tongue eagerly brushing over Juliannah’s lip, who opened her mouth.

When their kiss deepened, Juliannah felt like she was exploding – like pieces of her were flying off into every single direction, making her disorientated. A second later, time stopped. The world stood frozen in place for a fraction of a moment, the pieces of her very soul rotating around her, showing her glimpses of who she was, who she could be, who she had never dared to want to become – and then she was being pulled back together with force, her heart slamming into her chest as Yaz’s hands came to wrap around her back. 

Her own feelings came to her with crystal clarity, and she gasped at the same moment as she could hear Yaz’s breath hitch in her throat. 

I will never let anyone hurt you ever again , she thought as she pressed closer against Yaz, including myself.

“Good.”

Juliannah froze. Slowly, she pulled away, opening her eyes to look at Yaz, who was blinking sluggishly. It took all of Juliannah’s willpower to ignore the woman’s lips, red and swollen from kissing, and focus on what had just happened instead.

That shouldn’t be possible, but then again, most of this shouldn’t be.

“What?” Yaz frowned, looking suddenly confused. “What shouldn’t be possible?”

The simple question was confirmation to what Juliannah had wondered.

“Yaz” , she thought, “look at my lips.”

Yaz inadvertently bit her bottom lip as her gaze dropped. It only took a second for the knight to already lean in again, but Juliannah stopped her with a hand gently pressing against her shoulders.

“Look at them.”

Yaz’s frown deepened. “Why?”

“They’re not moving.”

“What do you mean they’re not – oh .”

Yaz’s eyes widened in disbelief as she continued staring at Juliannah’s lips, then finally looked back up into her eyes again. “I can –” she breathed. “ How?

“Transference”, Juliannah muttered. “I’ve read about this. A ritual for dying mages to give their magic to a loved one as a final act. But it should only be possible between mages . Your body… It should have burned from the sheer power of it all.”

Yaz looked back down at her own hands, no longer shining golden. She stared at them for a long time, and Juliannah could hear the woman’s thoughts racing, until they landed on one specific detail.

“Do you think –” Yaz began.

“Because it was only a part”, Juliannah finished. But that would mean –

Yaz’s eyes widened. “I have your healing powers –”

“– and I only retained the War Magic.” Juliannah concluded. “The purest essence of it.”

Not wasting another second, Juliannah reached out for her magic. Her reserves were still severely depleted from the ordeal she had been through, but there was enough of it for a little experiment.

She pulled at it, bringing it to the surface, letting it run over her skin.

And gasped as her body was flooded with cold power.

“Oh”, she said, and she couldn’t help the grin that spread over her face as the lightning ran over her skin, richer and brighter than ever before. It felt like her entire body was singing for the sheer purity of the power that was now coursing through her veins. “Oh darling, this is glorious .”

When she looked back at Yaz, the woman’s eyes were dark as coal.

Yaz was sitting in her lap a second later, lips on Juliannah’s – whose magic was still running over her skin – tongue licking eagerly into her mouth. 

A groan escaped Juliannah, and as she wrapped both arms around Yaz, she could feel the woman’s hand reaching up, coming to rest on Juliannah’s heart.

A spark ran through her a second later, and Juliannah hissed, pulling back just in time to watch the golden glow around Yaz’s fingertips dissipating. Of course , Juliannah thought. Two kinds of magic from the same source. They did not like to mix, as she had so painfully become aware after healing Yaz.

When she looked back into Yaz’s eyes, there was a cocky smile on the woman’s lips, and Juliannah thought she was about to go mad with hunger.

“Have you forgotten your place, darling?” she asked, but then Yaz reacted in a way that made her mouth go dry.

The woman reached for Juliannah’s hand, and pulled it towards herself, until it came to rest against her throat. Slowly, Yaz leaned backwards, holding Juliannah’s hand against her throat, never breaking eye contact until her back hit the floor. With a spark in her eye, she said:

“Remind me.”

Juliannah crashed their lips back together a second later, and her hand tightened around Yaz’s throat. The woman let out a moan, and Juliannah abandoned Yaz’s mouth in favour of her neck, pressing open mouthed kisses against it as she let her free hand roam over Yaz’s body.

Stars, she’d missed this.

“Me too”, Yaz breathed.

Juliannah clawed at Yaz’s shirt, then ripped it apart without another thought. She finally let go of Yaz’s throat in order to let her nails dig into soft flesh, scratching at it, drawing blood where she could. When she couldn’t immediately get rid of the bandages that covered Yaz’s chest, she let out a frustrated groan, and then let her magic run up her arm, burning the offending garment open.

Yaz arched her back off the ground at the display of power, and Juliannah closed her mouth around Yaz’s breast, licking and biting at her nipple, causing more moans to tumble from Yaz’s lips, mingled with unintelligible bits of sentences, until –

“Touch me”, Yaz breathed. “ Please .”

Juliannah shoved her hand into Yaz’s trousers a second later, dragging her fingers through sodden folds. Yaz’s eyes flew wide open, and another curse fell from her lips as her arms came to wrap around Juliannah’s back. Eagerly, hungrily, Juliannah circled the woman’s clit, once, twice, watching as Yaz’s eyes fluttered shut and feeling her heartbeat stumble in her chest.

Juliannah needed more.

Yaz let out a frustrated groan as Juliannah pulled her hand out. Undeterred, Juliannah simply pulled Yaz’s boots and trousers off.

Yaz came the moment Juliannah’s tongue dragged over the entire length of her, but Juliannah did not stop. She was going mad with want, emboldened by the new power in her blood.

Pushing both Yaz’s legs up over her shoulders, Juliannah continued licking over her, pushing a finger into wet heat at the same time as Yaz’s hands came to grab her hair with force. The woman tried to chase the friction, but Juliannah pushed her hip back down with one hand, letting her magic course through it and branding the woman underneath her.

Fresh wetness gushed over Juliannah’s chin, and she could feel as the woman instinctively reached for her new-found magic, but found herself struggling to do so under the waves of pleasure rolling through her.

Oh, it would take Yaz years to master her new powers, Juliannah thought, and Yaz let out a frustrated groan.

Grinning against Yaz’s swollen clit, Juliannah pushed in a second finger. “Don’t worry, darling” , she thought. “I will teach you well. ” 

“Fuck”, Yaz breathed as Juliannah addd a third finger – her chest was heaving, her entire body struggling. Juliannah could feel the woman wanting more, needing more , and without wasting another second, she began fucking harder and faster into the woman.

“Julian –”

She pushed into Yaz, moving her fingers in and out of tight heat, stretching Yaz open without giving the woman a chance to recover, licking over her clit at the same time – hungry, desperate, needing to taste Yaz in her mouth. Then, Juliannah closed her mouth around Yaz’s clit, sucking hard, and the woman let out a curse, half-moan, half-scream as she bucked against her face.

The knight’s body arched off the floor, and once more Juliannah had to hold her in place with the force of her magic, burning another imprint of her hand into the woman’s hip.

“Juliannah”, Yaz gasped above her. “Juliannah, I need you. Please.

Juliannah let go of Yaz’s clit, and moved up to kiss her. Her fingers were still buried deep within Yaz, and the knight let out a deep moan. Juliannah could feel her starting to flutter around her fingers, and she grinned into the kiss.

“I need to feel you”, Yaz breathed into their kiss.

Well, if that didn’t send heat straight into Juliannah’s core. She moaned against Yaz’s lips as she pulled her fingers out, and grabbed Yaz’s hands instead, guiding them towards the hem of her shirt. Yaz hungrily tugged at it, and they only broke their kiss long enough for Juliannah to pull her shirt over her head and throw it away. Yaz’s hands immediately flew towards Juliannah’s trousers, pulling at them at the same time as her mouth closed over Juliannah’s nipple.

Somehow, Juliannah managed to get rid of her trousers, sending them flying off into a corner, and then they were pressed against each other, warm skin against warm skin. 

Juliannah felt like she was melting into the woman beneath her as they lay like this, as if the edges of their own bodies had once again become blurred like they had in their minds. She realised then, that she wanted to drown herself in Yaz, disappear into her until there was no more air to breathe except the one that flowed from Yaz’s own lung. Making them one, in mind and spirit. 

Yaz was kissing her, and then Juliannah was clenching around the digit that was being pushed into her, quickly followed by another. No longer thinking anything, Juliannah let her own hand reach back down between Yaz’s legs.

To be one, or to get as close to it as they possibly could.

She sunk two fingers into Yaz, and they moaned in unison as they began moving against each other, finding a rhythm that brought them both pleasure. They never broke their kiss, Yaz’s free arm coming to wrap around Juliannah’s back once more, pulling her close. With every movement of Yaz’s fingers within her, Juliannah coaxed more pleasure from Yaz as well, curling her fingers, pushing deeper inside Yaz. She could no longer tell who was making which sounds, as they breathed them against each other’s lips and into each other’s mouths, their pleasure winding together like the roots of a tree, turning and twisting and pulling them closer together with every passing moment.

When they broke their kiss, Juliannah kept her eyes closed, pressing her forehead against Yaz’s. She didn’t know if it was this contact, or the shared vulnerability of the moment, but somehow, the thin telepathic barrier between them fell, and then, for the very first time, Juliannah felt what it was like to be loved by Yaz.

It broke through every single line of defence Juliannah had so carefully crafted over the years, but it did so without any kind of force. It simply washed over her, taking her breath with it, filling her with one singular, wonderful thing: warmth. It blossomed in every cell of her body, gently holding within it the greatest care and affection. And then Juliannah’s eyes flew open, except she could no longer see the world around her: no, there was a field of flowers, gently swaying in the wind as every single petal sang Juliannah’s name.

Her hand dug into Yaz’s shoulder as they continued their movements. Suddenly, Juliannah didn’t know what to do with herself. She felt restless in a way she never had before, overcome with want for the woman underneath her, the woman currently pushing into her, moaning against her lips.

Juliannah flung herself at Yaz’s mind. For a brief moment, as she felt her own emotions rush through her and into Yaz, Juliannah felt laid bare, as if someone had cut her open in front of the entire world. 

But then Yaz’s breath hitched underneath her, and her eyes flew open. When their gazes met, Yaz was looking at Juliannah with wonder and adoration and everything Juliannah had never thought she could allow anyone to feel about her.

She crushed her lips back against Yaz’s, and a moment later, she came undone, falling apart. Yaz moaned into her mouth, and then Juliannah could feel her fluttering around her own fingers. They kept moving against each other, prolonging each other’s pleasure, moaning and gasping into their kiss until the only clear thoughts left between them were Yaz and Juliannah.

Eventually, they stopped moving, and Juliannah let her full weight come to rest on top of Yaz as she buried her face against Yaz's neck. For a long while, they lay in silence together, connected in more ways than one. Yaz, absentmindedly, let her hand drift over the scars on Juliannah's back, and Juliannah found that she did not mind the touch. 

Eventually, they pulled their fingers out, carefully, both of them gasping softly at the movement, and then Juliannah, without thinking about it, pulled the cover off of the table next to them. She slung it around them both, and pulled Yaz into her arms, holding her close. 

When she felt the woman's breathing quieten against her chest, Juliannah closed her eyes, and reached out. 

"Contact."

"Contact."

A pause, during which Juliannah realised she still had no words for what had just transpired. The risk Yaz had taken to save her, the way they were now connected in minds and magic. So she decided to do the only thing she could: send him her memories of Yaz inside her mind. 

Surprise was the first thing she felt when Caladrius' emotions floated towards her. Then came the relief, immeasurable, and finally, gratitude and something else - something Juliannah now, after all these years, finally understood.

"I shall leave you two to it", he spoke softly. He said nothing more, but Juliannah knew him well enough to feel the unspoken words. Between them, they would never need to be spoken.

When the contact was gone, Juliannah pulled Yaz a little closer against herself. As the woman let out a sigh in her sleep, Juliannah pressed her nose into Yaz’s hair, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. As Yaz’s scent filled her nose, she allowed her heart to flutter in her chest, allowed the warmth that spread through her to take root.

And for the first time since Juliannah could remember, she fell asleep without thinking of tomorrow.

 

 

Yaz woke up to the sunlight tickling her face, and two strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close. She breathed in through her nose, and a mix of burned coal and cherries hit her senses. Turning her head, she pressed her lips against the soft skin, underneath which she could faintly feel the gentle thudding of a heartbeat. 

The woman holding her shifted, and then a nose pressed into Yaz's hair. 

"Yaz."

The name was no more than a soft sigh, and it caused Yaz's heart to flutter and a smile to lift her lips. For the first time in what felt like months, Yaz felt truly at peace.

In the distance, she heard birds sing, and then, somewhere far away, a bell rang in the morning hours. The sound was round and full, different from both the bells at Juliannah's mansion, and the ones that rang at the Gallifreyan palace. 

She wondered, briefly, her eyes still firmly closed as she pushed herself a bit closer against Juliannah, what was happening at the palace right now. Had anyone realised they were both gone? Had there been comments at the banquet last night? Was Koschei delighted at the possibility of them missing his coronation, or disappointed at the thought of not getting to flaunt his crown in front of them? 

His crown.

A jolt ran through Yaz's entire system, and she bolted upright. Juliannah startled next to her, sitting upright too, her eyes alert and a crackle of magic running over her skin. 

"What is it?" she hissed, looking around the room as if to find some kind of threat. 

But Yaz's mind was far away - in their guest room in the palace to be exact, and a frock coat that was (hopefully) still lying on the floor there. 

"Juliannah", she said, her eyes wide as she turned towards the blonde. "Juliannah we need to leave - now."

"What's –" 

Yaz lifted both her hands to cup Juliannah's face, looking deep into her hazel eyes. As she conjured up the clearest memory that she could, she watched Juliannah's frown turn into an expression of shock. Yaz could feel the woman's turmoil – confusion, anger, even disgust at being herself what she had spent her life despising – but Yaz waited patiently, until the realisation fully set in. 

A devilish grin lifted Juliannah's lips, then, and Yaz couldn't help but grin back.

"Oh, Yaz", Juliannah breathed. "Brilliant, brilliant Yaz."

Yaz leaned forward, and placed a short kiss against Juliannah's lips. When Yaz pulled back, she whispered against them:

"Time for your revenge, darling.”

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! As always, I am so excited to hear your thoughts <3

Chapter 28

Notes:

Hello everyone! After the softness of the previous chapter, here is something I think some of you might have been hoping for... ;)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Yaz adjusted the hood of her cloak, casting another glance up and down the street before daring to walk around the corner. Another figure followed behind her with a disgruntled grumble. 

"I still don't understand why we have to do this now, of all times."

It took Yaz a moment to place the voice, and register that it was not coming from anywhere around her - it would, she gathered, take her quite a while to get used to being able to hear thoughts. When the words sunk in, however, she couldn't help but let out a sigh. Ever since she had explained to Juliannah that there was one stop they had to make before the coronation, the blonde had been reduced to a grumbling string of annoyed curses and complaints. 

"I told you", Yaz thought as they finally arrived at their destination - much more used to their communication working this way around, with Juliannah on the receiving end of thoughts. "They deserve to know what's about to happen, and not just find out after the fact from someone ."

She lifted her hand to knock on the familiar door, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. 

"Could have left them a letter."

Yaz rolled her eyes, and let her knuckles hit the wood, once, twice.

This time, there was no discussion behind the door, nothing to announce the person who would open it. Yaz tried to ignore the way her heartbeat was thundering in her chest - as well as the muttered grievances from Juliannah's thoughts. 

When the door finally did open, it was her father on the other side of it. He looked half-asleep still, given the early morning hours. Hakim seemed apprehensive for a moment, frowning at the two hooded figures in front of his door - and Yaz couldn't blame him, given the ordeal her parents had been put through after her escape to Karn. Yaz quickly lifted the tip of her hood, allowing her father to catch a brief but proper look at her face. 

His eyes widened. "Yasmin? How did you –" 

Yaz quickly reached for her father, pressing her index finger against his mouth. "Dad", she hissed. "Not outside."

Her father's eyes went wide, but he nodded, awkwardly shuffling backwards into his house. Hakim turned - not after a curious look at the second hooded figure - then led them into the kitchen. Yaz pulled the hood off of her head as she followed.

Najia was standing with her back to them, hanging a teapot over the kitchen fire. Sonya, as was no surprise given the early hour, was nowhere to be seen. 

"Mum."

Najia turned around, a smile on her face. "Yaz! You're up already. Are you feeling –" She stopped, her smile disappearing and turning into a frown instead. "Did you go out?"

Behind Yaz, Juliannah took a step into the room, and Najia's frown only deepened.

"Did you meet with a friend?" 

Her pulse thrumming in her ears, Yaz took a deep breath. "Not exactly. Mum, dad, this is Juliannah. The woman I've been with."

Juliannah finally lifted her hood, revealing her face to the room. She nodded curtly, and her discomfort practically radiated off of her. 

"Yasmin's father. Yasmin's mother."

The silence that followed could have been cut with a knife. Najia simply stood frozen in place, expressionless, but then Hakim's face turned stony, and he took a step towards Juliannah. 

"Juliannah, huh?" he said, and Juliannah pulled her head back a little bit, her posture stiff. She was taller than Hakim, but that didn't seem to hold the man back. "So you're the Karnish one. The one who stole our Yaz away. Are you aware you've put her in a situation where she has been accused of treason ? Do you have anything to say for yourself?" 

Juliannah stared at Hakim, looking completely taken aback by the way she was being talked to. 

"I –" 

Dad.

"I assume you work at the mansion of the Lord Mistress, given that is where Yaz's first letter came from", Hakim interrupted them both. "I would like to know what the exact nature of your employment there is, and how you intend to care for my daughter?" 

Juliannah blinked, and Yaz was ready to let the ground open up and swallow her whole. This wasn't exactly going how she had hoped. 

"Well, then?" Hakim repeated. "Your position at the Lord Mistress' estate?" 

Juliannah dead-panned. "Lord Mistress." 

To Yaz's horror, her father seemed to only grow annoyed at that response.

"Yes, at the Lord Mistress' estate. I would appreciate an answer if you expect me to agree to this relationship."

"Dad!" Yaz interrupted, having reached her limit. "This isn't the ancient times. I get to choose who I'm –" 

"Of which House?" 

All eyes turned to Najia, who had taken a step into the room. 

"Juliannah of which House?"

Hakim looked back between his wife and his daughter, while Najia fixed Juliannah with a piercing gaze.

“Theta.”

Slowly, Hakim took a step back, and Yaz watched as it all sunk in. Finally, Hakim fell into a bow, stiff as a rod, his voice tense.

“Lord Mistress.”

“I don’t understand”, Najia said, not following her husband and instead remaining standing. “How did you two even meet?”

It was at that moment that the staircase behind the door creaked, and then a bleary-eyed Sonya appeared with tousled hair in the doorframe. She blinked, then lifted her sleeve to rub sleep out of the corner of her eye.

“Morning”, she mumbled, and then, passing in between her father – still suspended half-way in a bow – and Juliannah, she gave the latter one a nod. “Hi, Juliannah.” Without another word, she picked the teapot her mother had hung up off its hook, pulled a mug from the cupboard, and poured herself a cup.

Juliannah looked even more shocked than she had at Hakim’s display of fatherly protectiveness, and Yaz could make out the words insolence and this house in her mind as Juliannah crossed her arms. Yaz turned to her, one eyebrow raised.

“My family” , she thought, pointedly, and with a begrudging expression, Juliannah uncrossed her arms.

“I’m afraid we can’t stay for long, but we should all sit for a moment”, Yaz said, turning to the room. “I’ll explain.”

Never in a hundred years would Yaz have imagined that one day, she would sit around a table with her family and the Lord Mistress of Karn. Juliannah had been Yaz’s secret for so long, and even when they had no longer hidden their relationship while in Karn, it had still felt this way – after all, in Gallifrey, only a select few had known. Which hadn’t included her family.

After Najia had placed a steaming mug of tea in front of all of them, Yaz began the tale she had carefully crafted with Juliannah. Just enough of the truth, and just enough lies to not put Yaz’s family in danger.

They all sat in silence as Yaz explained how the Crown Prince of Gallifrey had been nice to her when she had joined his guard, and then had become a bit too nice, and then finally had crossed the line into forcing his affections on her. When she retold the way he had stolen a kiss from her, Najia looked just about ready to pick up a sword and march to the palace herself.

Then, she told them about Juliannah. Of how they had met while Juliannah had visited the palace – Yaz pointedly avoided telling her parents that their first meeting had not exactly been agreed upon by Yaz. Instead of detailing the numerous times Juliannah had brought her out to Karn, Yaz told of letters being exchanged, and finally (with the tips of her ears burning and her heart stumbling) of the mutual attraction that had formed between them.

When she reached the part where Koschei had made it clear that he intended to make Yaz his wife in spite of her objections, Yaz told them how Juliannah had sent someone to get Yaz out. To save her from a life lived in a loveless marriage, which would have no doubt seen Yaz forced into physical intimacy against her will.

At that point, Sonya wordlessly reached for Yaz’s hand across the table, and gave it a short squeeze.

Now came the more difficult part. Telling her parents the – heavily cut, heavily altered – version of how she and Juliannah had come to be a couple was one thing. Telling them what they were about to do was quite another. Yaz found herself pausing and searching for words. Her parents’ faces grew expectant, and it only made the words escape Yaz quicker.

“For a long time, my lineage was unclear. My father was born an illegitimate child, and so was I.”

Yaz’s head snapped to the side, and she just about managed to keep her mouth from falling open. This was the most Juliannah had talked since they had entered Yaz’s family home. She could feel the unrest inside the blonde, but regardless, the woman pushed herself to continue.

“My father was recognised shortly before his death as being of Thetan blood, and by extension, so was I. However, my father’s father had never revealed himself. That is, until recently.”

Juliannah reached into the pocket of her cloak, and retrieved a letter, its seal opened but intact. As soon as Yaz had told her about it, Juliannah had sent Caladrius to retrieve it from their guest room. Juliannah had then spent a good long moment simply sitting cross legged on the floor, staring at the words, reading them over and over again.

Yaz had only caught a fraction of what had been going on inside the other woman. She hoped they would have a chance to talk about it, and that Juliannah would choose to share with her.

“This is a signed letter”, Juliannah continued as she unfolded the parchment, “from the late King Alistair. Recognising my father as his child.”

Yaz had not expected Juliannah to share the actual letter with her parents’. It was, after all, the most precious thing currently in the blonde’s possession.

Silently, Yaz reached out, and placed her hand on Juliannah’s leg. To her surprise, Juliannah covered it with her own a moment later.

It was Najia who was the first to understand.

“You are intent on taking his throne.”

“My throne”, Juliannah replied. “By birthright.”

The fire crackled in the corner, and sunlight now properly fell through the windows, bathing the kitchen in light as all sat quietly, their eyes on the piece of parchment in the middle of the table. Yaz and Juliannah waited, allowing Yaz’s family a chance to take it all in.

“What about Yaz?”

Sonya was holding on to her mug with both hands, the only person who wasn’t looking at the letter from King Alistair, but at the contents of her mug.

“I do not follow”, Juliannah said, her posture stiff.

“It’s a simple question, really”, Sonya said, lifting her gaze. When her eyes met Juliannah’s, they were steely in a way Yaz had never seen before. “What will become of Yaz? From what I understand, your intentions towards her have not always been… pure.”

Yaz’s skin went cold, and she opened her mouth to stop Sonya from divulging anything that Yaz did not want her parents to know. Her sister was quicker, however.

“What exactly is she to be, once you are our ruler? I see no bracelet on my sister’s wrist. Will she be expected to live as a Queen’s mistress?”

“Of course not”, Juliannah snapped.

Unperturbed, Sonya fired back. “A concubine, then? With some political influence, but tossed aside once you find a wife of suitable lineage? My sister is just a lowly knight, after all. Not even one of noble ancestry, either. And you do seem to be all about those bloodlines, Princess.

“Sonya!” 

Both Najia and Yaz had spoken in unison, the former looking shocked, the latter feeling furious, but Juliannah had already jumped out of her seat, towering over Sonya with fire in her eyes. 

“Do not talk about your sister this way!” Juliannah hissed through clenched teeth.

“Why not?”

“Because she is to be respected .”

“As your lover?”

“As your Queen!”

Juliannah’s hand had come crashing down on the table with her last words. The loud clang echoed through the small kitchen, and then silence fell.

The corner of Sonya’s mouth curled up into a barely hidden smile as she leaned back. “Good”, she said.

Meanwhile, Yaz sat, her entire body tingling, not a single thought crossing her mind as she looked up at Juliannah. It was as if her heart and mind were processing so many things at once that they had simply decided to go utterly silent instead. She could form no words, and could not bring her body to move, only her eyes to stare at the woman next to her.

A muscle in her jaw jumped, and Juliannah slowly pulled back her hand from the table. As if someone had snapped their fingers and given a magical command, she regained her composure in an instant. Juliannah gave a brief nod towards Najia and Hakim, without properly looking them in the eye.

“Apologies”, she said curtly, then reached for her chair to push it back. “I shall go ahead to the palace to prepare.” She plucked the letter off the table, folding it neatly and placing it back inside her cloak. “Good day.”

Without another look towards anyone in the room, Juliannah turned to leave. She was already in the corridor when Yaz’s head finally caught up with everything, and she jumped into action, hurrying out of the kitchen.

“Wait.”

Juliannah took another step at first, but then finally stopped, her back turned to Yaz. Yaz, her head still buzzing, forced herself to let out a breath.

“What did you mean by that?”

Well, that was a stupid question, and she immediately scolded herself internally for it. Of course there was only one way one could have –

“– interpreted it, isn’t there?” Juliannah finished her thought for her. She turned her head, her hood already pulled up and only some blonde strands of hair peeking out. There was something about her, about the way she was hiding her face, that reminded Yaz of those very first times the blonde had allowed herself to be vulnerable with her.

And then she heard it in Juliannah’s thoughts, confirming her suspicion: the doubts, the fear over the silence in Yaz’s head after the words had been spoken.

“Juliannah, I –”

“I shall not force you into a decision”, Juliannah said quietly. The unspoken addendum not like him hung heavy in the air between them as Juliannah continued. “I know you once said you did not desire to be Queen. If that is still your stance, I will accept it, of course.”

Yaz took a step forward, and slung her arms around Juliannah from behind, pressing her face against her back. The blonde let out a small sound of surprise, and grew stiff for a moment.

“I did not want to be his Queen”, Yaz said softly, her heart thundering in her chest. “But I very much would like to be yours.”

Underneath her arms and her cheek, she felt tensed muscles relax. She felt the flutter of Juliannah’s heartbeat underneath her fingertips, too, before the other woman regained her usual composure once more, tucking her thoughts away deep inside herself – a skill Yaz still had to acquire.

“Very well”, Juliannah said. “I shall see you at the coronation, then. As we planned.”

Smiling, Yaz let go of her. “As we planned”, she repeated.

Juliannah spun around, and surprised Yaz by pulling her into a searing kiss. Yaz melted into it, wrapping her arms around Juliannah once more. When they stepped apart, Juliannah’s hand lingered on Yaz’s cheek for a moment before she turned away, and left.

“Well that was disgustingly mushy.”

Yaz spun around on her heels to find Sonya standing in the hallway, her arms crossed, her face scrunched up. Before Yaz could respond, however, a smile began to tug at the corner of her sister’s lips. “You’ll make a decent Queen, I’d say. She’ll definitely need you.” Sonya lifted an eyebrow, although she was still smiling. “Quite a temper she has, your Juliannah.”

For some reason, Yaz felt herself blush at that statement, and the smile instantly vanished from her sister’s lips. “Oh stars you like it , don’t you?” Sonya lifted a hand, and squeezed her eyes shut. “You know what, don’t answer that. I’ve already seen more than I ever wanted.”

Yaz let out a huff. “You’re the one who went all that mushy about your boyfriend last night!”

“Well”, Sonya replied. “That’s different, isn’t it? That was about me.

With a snort, Yaz reached out to try and slap her sister’s arm, but Sonya pulled aside just quickly enough. The younger sister ducked away, trying to cuff Yaz into the side, but Yaz, being trained in close combat, managed to spin around and grab her sister in a mock-chokehold instead.

With all the gravitas she could muster, Yaz asked: “Do you yield?”

“Never.”

A poke into her side, just at the right spot, had a laugh break out of Yaz, and then her sister had already wiggled herself free, laughing herself. They both took a moment to recover, and worry settled in Yaz’s chest the moment she regained her breath.

“Do you think mum and dad are going to be okay?” she finally asked, casting a worried glance towards the closed kitchen doors. Quiet mumbles could be heard behind it, and it twisted Yaz’s stomach into knots.

“I’ll make sure they will be”, Sonya replied.

Her sister looked confident, and much calmer than she was in Yaz’s childhood memories – although the air of mischief around her was still clear as day.

“What?” Sonya asked.

“You’ve grown up.”

You’ve grown old.”

A familiar noise rang out from the street, of wooden shutters being thrown open and the wheels of the first supply carriages rattling down the cobblestones towards the marketplace. No doubt the merchants of the city were expecting great sales today – after all, people had come from all over the country to celebrate a coronation.

And what a coronation they would get.

“I need to go”, Yaz said, and Sonya nodded. Yaz hesitated for a moment before she opened the kitchen door, and the voices behind immediately fell quiet. From the look on her parents’ faces, the topic of their discussion was clear. Yaz, however, had no time to soothe all of their worries now.

“It’s time”, was all she said, and then both Hakim and Najia hugged her in turn, worry and fear etched into their faces, clear as day.

“Be safe”, her mother said as she finally released Yaz from her embrace, and Yaz had to swallow back a lump in her throat as she turned to leave. She had brought her family quite a bit of sorrow over the past few months, and she would make sure to make up for it once the worst of the storm had passed. Hopefully, come tonight, she would have both the means and the freedom to do so.

It was only when Yaz stepped into a side alley, opening her mind to reach out for Caladrius, that she realised she had not been able to hear her family’s thoughts. Before she had time to dwell on it, however, white wings appeared in the periphery of her vision, and she lifted up her hand to reach into soft feathers.

The journey from the city to the palace was one of mere moments, and when Yaz was released from Caladrius’ body inside the guest room, she felt neither dizzy nor otherwise confused from their journey. It was, indeed, a much more pleasurable way to travel willingly than unwillingly, she mused. Caladrius immediately pushed himself off the window sill again. He was going to stand at the ready in the palace gardens – should anything go awry, he would reach them quickest from there.

A shiver ran down Yaz’s spine as she took in the room. The frock coat she had dropped onto the floor had been neatly folded over a chair, and an image of Juliannah, standing frozen in place as she stared at Yaz, was burned into her inner eye. Yaz forced herself to take a deep breath, reminding herself that things were different now. She was aware of the truth behind Juliannah’s feelings, and that aside, Yaz had unwittingly somewhat evened the playing field between them.

Another deep breath, and Yaz set about getting ready. Juliannah was already in the reception hall, cosying up to some nobles no doubt, setting the stage for what was about to happen. 

Yaz decided that she had enough time till the coronation to allow herself the luxury of a bath, albeit not a long one. She went into their washroom, and filled the tub with jugs of hot water. As she sat in it, scrubbing at her skin, it felt like she was not only washing off the grime from the last two days, but the weight that had been sitting on her chest as well. She relished in the warmth of the water, the smell of the soap she had chosen – Juliannah’s – and tried not to think too hard of what was about to happen. More than her nerves over their impending coup, Yaz found herself preoccupied with what Juliannah had said in front of her parents.

Suddenly, Yaz had to stop scrubbing, and hold on to the wooden tub with both hands as her heart began stumbling in her chest as it finally truly set in.

No doubt it was not always going to be easy for them, but Yaz knew now that she was not alone in the way she felt, and they would go from there. Every day, another step towards each other.

Yaz pushed herself out of the tub, and set about combing and then braiding her still wet hair. She rubbed herself dry, then took her time as she picked a shirt – tight-laced over her wrists, as she had grown used to  – and then trousers to match. Finally, she added a deep purple jerkin over it, and as she stepped out of the washroom, she reached for her sword belt, and tied it around her hip.

Whatever was going to happen today, she was not walking into it unarmed.

It was only when she was fully dressed that Yaz noticed a small box sitting on the desk that had most definitely not been there before. It was made of ebony, and polished to shine. Yaz had never truly seen anything like it before, and before she knew it, Yaz had picked it up. The wood was smooth in the palm of her hand.

A note lay next to it, with her name written in familiar, elegant handwriting. She slid her index finger underneath the folded card, and opened it with one hand, still holding on to the box with the other. 

Yasmin,

I admit to not being good with words when it comes to these kinds of matters, and I realise what I said during my outburst before was rash.

Yaz’s heart fell at the words. Of course, Juliannah was pulling back. Sonya had provoked her, and that was all. She almost threw the note away then and there, but forced herself to keep reading.

However, that does not mean the truth was not spoken. I can, as we have well established, be most blind to my own desires. I shall endeavour to hide them no longer.

I asked Caladrius to bring this box from my ancestral estate while you get ready. It contains a family heirloom, one that neither my grandmother nor my mother ever got the opportunity to wear.

Yaz, if what you said before holds true, it is yours.

As am I.

Juliannah

Slowly, almost carefully, Yaz laid the note on the table, and clicked the box open. She lifted its lid, her heart thrumming and hope blossoming in her chest as she dared look at what it was holding.

From inside the box, splinters of amethyst gleamed back at Yaz, laid into precious metal and running like flashes of lightning through a golden wristlet.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it and as always, I am so excited to hear your thoughts :) They truly make my day every time!

Chapter 29

Notes:

Hello everyone!
If you see the final chapter count change - no you don't :P
(Those of you who read Never Cruel or Cowardly... you know the drill 😂)

Also, holy shit this fic has over 11k hits!! I want you all to know that you are absolutely amazing – thank you for all the joy you give me with every kudos, comment, message or reblog ❤️

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Time was dripping slowly, like water from a cavern ceiling. All around her, nobles stood, holding cups of celebratory honey-mead. They were engaged in polite conversation with each other, most of them using these last moments before the coronation for some final political manoeuvring. Stars knew that at the festivities after this, nobody would be sober enough to make any kind of smart deals.

“Lord Mistress, I see you are well again.”

Juliannah spun around on her heels, coming face to face with a young Gallifreyan nobleman. His black hair was cut short, yet it still showed the hint of a soft curl around his neck. From the smoothness of his face and the generally rather shy body language, she gathered he must be young – and still quite new at this whole charade.

She lifted an eyebrow. “I am, Lord…?”

“Matthew”, the young man replied. “Of House Kamishi.”

“Ah.”

Among Gallifrey’s fourteen noble houses, Juliannah knew House Kamishi to not be among the most influential ones, but not among those that people scoffed at, either. She had always found that to be a good position to start from – people always expected the high Houses to scheme, and the low ones to rebel. Seldom were they prepared for the middle ranks to strike.

“I hope that whatever malaise kept you and the Dame Yasmin from last night’s banquet has not been too bothersome”, the young man continued, and Juliannah cocked her head. The man had not only acknowledged Yaz, but done so using the proper honorifics as well.

“Not at all”, Juliannah replied. “But I do appreciate your concern, Lord Matthew.”

The young man bowed briefly, then excused himself and disappeared into the crowd. Juliannah scanned the room, thinking which noble she should try and butter up right now. A trade deal to put herself into the good graces of one of the Houses that resided along the border with Karn. Unfortunately, her mind made it difficult for her to concentrate. An image of a little black box kept flashing in front of her inner eye, and something strange coursed through her body, almost like a tremor. Frowning, she tried to chase it away, but every time she thought she caught a glimpse of a brown braid somewhere, it returned instantly, her skin prickling.

It is yours, as am I.

Those were the words she had written, and she had meant them. It made no sense to her to feel this way now. The wristlet was what Yaz had wanted from the beginning; Juliannah had always seen it in her thoughts. And now Juliannah had given it to her. Everything was falling into place.

The moment Yaz appeared in the middle of the crowd, Juliannah felt her heart rate skyrocket as her gaze was immediately drawn to Yaz’s right wrist.

Her heart plummeted into a bottomless pit as she found it empty. Immediately, the prickling underneath her skin intensified, and her eyes began to sting. Juliannah spun around in order to hide her face – this was not the moment to let her magic show, not in a room full of mage-hating nobles. Trying to keep it all at bay, she reached into herself and found – nothing. No magic spinning out of control, breaking out of her skin or eyes. Then why in all the stars and constellations was she feeling –

“Juli.”

A soft hand on her shoulder urged her to turn around. Juliannah did so slowly, reluctantly, until she came face to face with Yaz. The woman was smiling brightly at her, her left hand still resting on Juliannah’s shoulder. 

Around her left wrist, gold and amethyst shone brightly in the late morning sun.

Juliannah stared at it for a moment, then another.

“You’re wearing it wrong”, she finally said, the words coming out dry and almost sharp.

“Oh.”

She looked over, and Yaz’s cheeks had darkened, her eyes cast downward as she began fiddling with the wristlet.

“I thought, because my sword hand is –”

With both hands, Juliannah reached out for Yaz’s face, and pulled her into a searing kiss in front of everyone.

Yaz let out a soft sound of surprise – the one, Juliannah now carefully admitted to herself, she liked so much – and then she melted into the kiss, slinging her arms around Juliannah’s waist.

There was a whisper going through the crowd, but Juliannah paid it no mind. She simply kissed Yaz, letting the other woman pull her close. When they pulled apart, she could feel everyone’s eyes on them. Without missing a beat, Juliannah gently reached for Yaz’s left hand, and pulled it up to her lips to place a kiss against her knuckles. Around Yaz’s wrist, the bracelet caught the sunlight, gold gleaming bright as purple specks of reflection danced across the floor.

The whispers turned into a murmur going through the crowd, and Juliannah felt the corners of her lips lift just as Yaz was mirroring her smile.

At their side, a man appeared. It was Lord Matthew once again, and he had a genuine smile on his lips, too.

“Well then”, he said. “This is a much better reason for you to miss last night’s banquet, I gather. My heartfelt congratulations, Lord Mistress.” He bowed, then turned to Yaz, and bowed again. “Lady Karn.”

Juliannah thanked him, and as the man retreated, other nobles began stepping up and voicing their congratulations – some with more, some with less enthusiasm. The ones that stayed standing in the corners quietly talking to each other without ever approaching them did not go unnoticed by Juliannah, either.

“Lady Karn?” she heard Yaz’s voice, and Juliannah gave a short nod towards her as the next noble person approached them.

“Your future title, darling”, she replied silently. “Little do they know it won’t be the only one.”

She felt the mix of excitement and nervousness underneath Yaz's skin at the mention of their plan and - out of a newborn instinct - held Yaz's hand just a little tighter in hers. 

Just as the Marquess Lungborrow had left them, Juliannah felt Yaz's attention drift to someone else. She turned to follow Yaz's gaze, and her eyes landed on the two guards flanking the large double doors leading into the throne room. Juliannah immediately recognised one of them.

Dame Amelia must have felt Juliannah's eyes on her, because she turned her head ever so slightly. They shared a look across the room, and Juliannah nodded. Surprise flitting across her face, Dame Amelia nodded back, before fixing her gaze to the room once more. 

Yaz squeezed Juliannah's hand, and Juliannah heard the other woman's unspoken request. 

"Are you sure?" she asked, and next to her, Yaz nodded. 

Juliannah manoeuvred them closer to the door, stopping just long enough at each little group of nobles to not cause any suspicion, and still let them move rather swiftly. When they finally arrived next to the red-headed knight, Juliannah made a show to reach for a glass from a passing waitron. 

At the same time, she carefully reached out with her other hand – now hidden by the way she was leaning towards the waitron – and pushed one finger in between Amy’s gauntlet and her lower arm guard, establishing skin to skin contact. To Dame Amelia's great credit, she did not flinch, and instead continued to stare straight ahead.

When the knight heard what was about to happen, however, her eyes widened ever so slightly. A moment later, they flitted over towards Yaz, and Juliannah heard the knight's unspoken question resonate in her mind. 

They held each other's gaze for a moment, and then Amy’s eyes flitted towards the banner hung all around them, showing Koschei’s future emblem as King.

Juliannah felt the shift within her, the anger that bubbled underneath her skin, the reluctance at serving a man who had so hurt her friend. For a moment, Juliannah felt her tethering on the edge, and then –

Amelia's expression turned grim, and she gave a nod.

Juliannah felt the relief wash through Yaz, and, if she was being honest, herself. An ally in the room could get them a long way – if things went sideways. 

A clicking noise, and then the weight of the doors next to them shifted, the hinges groaning ever so slightly under the strain of the weight. All around them, nobles eagerly turned towards the throne hall, their eyes shining. 

It was not everyday that one got to witness a Gallifreyan coronation. 

"Showtime" , Juliannah thought, and next to her, Yaz took a deep breath. 

The throne hall was lavishly decorated for the occasion: in between the windows, reaching up high towards the vaulted ceiling, banners hung. They were of the deep, royal blue of Gallifrey, and bore the royal motto in the swooping, pompous circles of High Gallifreyan. Underneath each banner stood a guard in full uniform: helmets drawn, shields lifted in front of their chests, cloaks elegantly falling off their shoulders. Juliannah took note of the helmets in particular – for such ceremonial occasions, it was rather atypical to not have the knights show their faces, and have them, essentially, battle-ready instead. She could feel Yaz noticing that little detail, too, and felt the worry nagging at the woman’s mind.

When they found their seats, their own guard, Sir Daniel, placed himself against the wall close to them. If everything went according to plan, they would have need of neither his nor Dame Amelia’s help.

They had barely sat down in their chairs when next to the steps leading up to the empty Gallifreyan throne, two court heralds lifted their trumpets to their mouths, sounding a fanfare to announce the arrival of the future King.

Koschei was barely able to contain his own pride and satisfaction. He was doing a lousy job at looking dignified and humble, even with the long, cloak he dragged behind himself, shining as if the stars themselves had been sewn into it. Juliannah had to hold back a snort as her mind conjured up a delicious image of the man tripping over his own cloak on his walks up the steps.

Unfortunately, his walk to the throne went off without a hitch. What followed was a terribly stiff affair. Koschei was introduced to the nobles in the room by the Master of Ceremonies, who then proceeded to hold a long speech about Gallifrey’s history, of how House Gallifrey, founded by Ruth the Great, had built this nation and brought it peace and prosperity. At numerous occasions, Juliannah had to hold back a laugh. She had done enough research on the great nation of Gallifrey herself to know that most of their big deeds were rather… exaggerated, to put it mildly. 

Finally, the moment came when the Master of Ceremonies addressed the representatives of Gallifrey’s fourteen noble houses. This part of the coronation, Juliannah knew, was supposed to be a mere formality: by Gallifreyan law, nobody was allowed to object unless their House had a claim to the throne that trumped the one currently presented.

“Houses of Gallifrey, do you accept Crown Prince Koschei’s claim to the Gallifreyan throne and the crown, that he may become your King from now until the stars call him home?”

Next to her, Yaz held her breath as nobles began to rise one by one.

“The House of Hond accepts.”

“The House of Osiri accepts.”

“The House of Lungbarrow accepts.”

Juliannah crossed them off in her head, one after the other, until finally, there was only one left.

“The House of Olew accepts.”

Surprised, Juliannah looked up towards the Duchess. The woman stood, her chin lifted proudly, her eyes gleaming with contempt. Usually, the Houses accepted according to their rank and importance. House Olew being undoubtedly one of (if not the) most influential houses in Gallifrey, it was more than just unusual for the Duchess to go last. It was a statement – the only thing one could do if one had no superseding claim. 

Juliannah waited until the Master of Ceremonies was already turning back towards Koschei – a large grin sitting on the Prince's face – before she rose from her chair. With the greatest calm, her voice rang out clear throughout the throne hall:

“The House of Theta-Gallifrey objects.”

The first thing that happened was an almost unnatural silence, as if a blocking spell had been cast around them all. Koschei’s smile froze on his face, no longer reaching his eyes, and the Master of Ceremonies slowly turned around to look for the source of the claim.

Then, multiple people began protesting at once. 

“Lord Mistress”, Baron Hond exclaimed, jumping out of his chair with such aggression that it clattered to the ground behind him. “How dare you interrupt a Gallifreyan coronation!”

There were murmurs running through the crowd, growing louder by the second.

“This is a farce”, somebody shouted from the back, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “The House of what?

"Send her outside! She has no place here!" 

“Quiet!” the Master of Ceremonies called. “Silence!” 

Reluctantly, the nobles in the room calmed down enough for a tense silence to settle. The Master of Ceremonies turned towards Juliannah, barely managing to keep his face in check. "What is the meaning of this?" 

All eyes landed on Juliannah, and she slowly reached into her jerkin, pulling out a familiar letter. She held it up, with the sigil visible for all to see.

“I hold in my hands”, she spoke, her voice booming across the hall with authority, “a letter from the late King Alistair.”

Fresh gasps and murmurs, but the Master of Ceremonies held up his hand, silencing them. Behind him, Koschei’s face had gone ashen, and even at this distance, Juliannah could feel the horrible realisation of what was about to happen sinking into him.

“In it”, Juliannah continued, looking around the room, “King Alistair declares my father, the late Harold of House Theta, to be of his own flesh and blood. More than that: He names him Crown Prince of Gallifrey, as is the custom for a first-born child.”

This time, absolute chaos broke out across the hall. All around, people jumped out of their chairs, shouting at Juliannah, at each other, at the Master of Ceremonies. Koschei stood, frozen in place, seemingly unable to say or do anything.

Not paying any attention to the chaos around her, Juliannah began to walk out of her row, and slowly towards the steps that lead to the throne. As she walked she began talking once more, pulling everyone’s attention towards herself as if she were a master puppeteer holding all their strings. The room around her fell quiet, and she suppressed a satisfied smile at how easily they were stirred towards her.

“My family”, Juliannah said, keeping her voice in check even when she felt a familiar anger rise inside of her at what she was about to say, “was deprived. My grandmother died trying to make peace with Terserus” – a fresh wave of shouts, but Juliannah continued, unperturbed – “and my father was poisoned when I was little. I grew up without their guidance, and was kept from a fate that was mine to hold. And all the while, King Alistair kept the knowledge that could have changed it all a secret. I am here today” – she finally came to a halt in front of the steps, and looked straight into Koschei’s eyes as she spoke her next words – “to claim my throne.”

At that, Koschei finally jumped into action. He took a step forward, his entire body trembling with rage.

Good , Juliannah thought. Let him lose control. It would only make her look like a more viable option.

“You have no claim!” Koschei spat.

But next to him, the Master of Ceremonies descended the steps, and held one hand out towards Juliannah. “If I may inspect this document.”

Juliannah had known she would have to hand the letter over for this reason, but still, she found herself reluctant to do so. She held on almost a tad too long as she finally handed it to the Master of Ceremonies. With a grave expression on his face, he opened the document and began to read.

Everyone in the room seemed to be holding their breath. Juliannah could feel Yaz do the same on the other end of the room, and suddenly wished she were standing beside her still. It was illogical, as it should not truly make what was happening easier, yet somehow Juliannah realised it still would.

One of those things she would have to get used to.

Finally, the Master of Ceremonies turned towards the room, his face pale.

“The document is authentic”, she spoke, a slight tremor in his voice. “It bears the late King Alistair’s seal, and I deem his handwriting to be genuine.”

All around the room, people gaped, some of them sinking back down onto their chairs in shock. Juliannah, her blood rushing in her ears, turned back towards them all.

“Prince Koschei was aware of this document’s existence”, she proclaimed. “King Alistair confided in him on his deathbed, but instead of speaking the truth, the Prince decided to hide his knowledge from me – and all of you! – in order to cling to his power. Power that was never rightfully his to begin with.”

“Lies!” Koschei hissed behind her. “All lies!" His voice grew louder with his rising anger." I knew nothing of the sort. My grandfather never would have –”

“The Lord Mistress speaks the truth.”

Juliannah spun around on her heels, searching the room for whoever had just spoken.

Standing quietly next to the steps, her eyes cast downward and her jaw clenched so hard the muscle on the side of it was twitching, stood the Lord Protector of the Gallifreyan Royal Guard. When she finally lifted her gaze, she looked straight into Juliannah’s eyes.

“The Lord Mistress speaks the truth”, Dame Commander Grace repeated. "I was there to witness it. The late King confessed to his sins on his deathbed. He told His Highness everything – how he abandoned the late Lord Mistress Beatrice behind enemy lines, and how he never revealed her son’s lineage after her death, even though that was the promise he had made her.” Grace turned towards the crowd. “Prince Koschei swore me to secrecy. He forbade me from ever speaking the truth, and sent servants to find the letter and destroy it. Thankfully, it came into the Lord Mistress’ possession before that could have happened.”

All eyes landed on Koschei once more, and Juliannah turned to watch as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. In the front row, Marquess of Lungbarrow rose from his seat. As always, he dutifully pushed the right buttons for Juliannah.

“Your Royal Highness, does the Lord Protector speak the truth?”

“No”, Koschei said, and Juliannah saw in the periphery of her vision how Grace clenched her fists. “No, these are lies. Treason , even!” He pointed his finger at Juliannah, his eyes filled with rage. “You cannot seriously be considering giving her my throne! She’s Karnish! She’s” – Juliannah heard the words form in his thoughts before he was able to spit them out – “a war mage .”

Every last person in the room froze. It was as if time itself had stopped, and not a single movement could be heard in the entire room. A tingle of excitement ran up Juliannah’s back at the realisation that the sheer mention of her powers could make a whole room go quiet in deep terror. 

She almost couldn’t stop her smile. 

Instead, all she did was lift an eyebrow as she looked up at Koschei. “A war mage?" she purred, her voice laced with mock-shock. "Koschei, do you have any proof for such an outrageous accusation?”

A smile lifted Koschei’s lips, and Juliannah felt something cold run down her spine as for the first time that day, she suddenly found herself one step behind him.

“Yes”, Koschei said quietly. “Yes, I do.”

Without breaking eye contact with Juliannah, Koschei lifted his hand and pointed across the room. “Her.”

Juliannah didn't have to turn around to feel the crowd parting behind her like the sea. She knew who he was pointing at, knew who they were making space for.

Knew who Koschei had so expertly chosen to be her downfall. 

Yaz.

Notes:

Thanks for reading :)

Chapter 30

Notes:

So glad everyone enjoyed being tortured with another cliffhanger last week ;) Here we are with the coronation part 2! Hope you enjoy :)

Content warnings as always in the end notes

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Her.”

The air in the throne room stood eerily still. Not a single movement could be seen, not a word heard, however quietly it might have been whispered. 

Silence pressed into her ears, painfully so, and all feeling left her face, her hands, her chest. Everything around her was too bright.

And then people were moving, making way, opening up so that Yaz could be seen by everyone. They were all staring at her, and she felt like their eyes were burning into her skin, laying her bare.

Juliannah’s thoughts rushed through her like a wave crashing a dam.

Yaz’s head snapped up, and she saw Juliannah’s eyes, wide, her hands balled into fists. White-hot anger pricked underneath Yaz’s skin – Juliannah’s, mixing in with Yaz’s own panic. Every single muscle in Juliannah’s body was taut, and Yaz realised suddenly that the woman was about to leap across the room, to Yaz.

“Don’t!” she thought, with all the urgency she could muster.

If Juliannah exposed herself now, that would be it – they would have to fight their way out of the throne hall, and they both knew it would mean carnage. Caladrius could only carry one of them, and Yaz had no doubt that Juliannah would have him take Yaz away so that she could stay and fight off the guards.

“She bears the marks on her body”, Koschei said, his confidence returning as he stood straight once more at the top of the stairs. “The ones we all know from the survivors of the Great War!” He scoffed, throwing a disgusted look Juliannah’s way. “The Lord Mistress likes to keep her woman in check – with her twisted powers.”

Shocked gasps rang out all around Yaz, accompanied by whispers. Yaz still felt strangely removed from it all, as if she was hearing their voices through thickly folded cotton.

Some of the nobles were looking at her differently after Koschei had spoken: with concern, almost empathy. 

The realisation of what they must be thinking made her sick and her dull heartbeat thud louder in her ears. They believed Yaz to be a victim of Juliannah, a poor knight manipulated and then forced into being with a powerful mage.

Koschei was twisting her own story underneath her feet as she stood there.

Juliannah must have read what he was about to do next from his thoughts, because she spun around on her heels, one foot on the bottom of the steps to the throne already. “Don’t you dare!” she hissed, knights flying towards her from the side of the room. “Don’t you dare lay a hand on –”

“Guards!” Koschei called, gesturing towards Yaz. Juliannah stumbled back, the knights that had approached her stopping dead in their tracks as she lifted her arms in a show of peace. Yaz felt the way Juliannah had to physically force herself to pull back from Koschei – if she were restrained, it would only make it harder for her to help Yaz. 

In the periphery of her vision, Yaz saw two other guards approach her. On instinct, she moved backwards, her right hand flying to the handle of her sword. But the back of her legs hit the chair, and she stumbled. Dread crept up her spine as she lost her balance.

A strong, metal-gloved hand closed around her upper arm, keeping her from falling. Polished steel glinted in the corner of her eye.

“I’ve got you.”

Dan. 

Two guards in full uniforms stepped up next to them, their helmets shining. Dan lifted his sword, his teeth clenched, and panic rose inside of Yaz like the tide. She could feel Juliannah’s urge to run to her, to let her newfound pure power rip anyone apart who dared touch her, and she forced herself to swallow down her own panic.

“You can’t” , she thought, fixing Juliannah across the room. “You can’t.

She saw the way Juliannah struggled with herself, how she had to fight down her instincts, her anger, her fear. Slowly, her fists unclenched, and Yaz turned to Dan instead.

“Dan”, Yaz said softly. “Don’t.”

She wasn’t going to risk his life for this. She couldn’t – he was her friend, and if he attacked those knights, it would end in a bloodbath.

“Yaz –”

“No.”

Slowly, he dropped his sword. He did not sheath it, but he was no longer pointing it at the Gallifreyan knights either.

“Show us!” Koschei snapped. 

It was then that  the veil Yaz had been standing behind ever since Koschei had pointed at her broke wide open, and the realisation of what Koschei wanted – what he was asking the knights to do – rushed through her in a wave of shock, shame and disgust. She bears the marks on her body . His proof lay in Yaz being made bare.

Across the room, Juliannah’s jaw was clenched so hard Yaz could almost feel the pain in her own teeth and muscles. 

Hands lifted, and Yaz wanted to shout. She wanted to object, to protect herself, but as the hands came closer, she found herself unable to say a single word. They were almost grazing her arms, and then –

Instead of grabbing Yaz, each one of the guards reached for their helmet, and took it off. Confusion rose inside of Yaz, until two familiar faces were revealed and suddenly, Yaz found herself surrounded by friends.

“Clara”, Yaz breathed. “ Ryan.

Clara and Ryan looked at Yaz, then at each other, and finally, they turned towards the throne.

“Your Highness”, Clara spoke, her voice shaking only slightly. “We refuse to carry out this order.”

A shiver ran down Yaz’s spine. She had wanted to tell Amy about their plan, because she had known the woman would stand by her if things went sideways. She hadn’t dared hope that her other friends would do the same.

In front of his still-unclaimed throne, Koschei looked as if he was about to lose control of himself. He took a step towards the stairs, as far as he dared go without getting too close to Juliannah.

“Do it!” he called across the throne hall. “I command you. Do it, or I will have your cloaks.”

Ryan ground his teeth, and Clara shook her head, taking a step back.

“We will not, Your Highness.”

If they weren’t going to carry out his order, Yaz suddenly realised, someone else would. Which meant strangers’ hands on her, even worse than –

“Prince Koschei.”

It was the young nobleman, the first to have congratulated Juliannah and Yaz on their betrothal. Despite his young age, he looked confident now as he addressed Koschei. 

“Are you ordering these knights to forcefully undress a lady in front of all of us? Surely that cannot be your command.”

A murmur of assent went through the crowd. Only then did Yaz notice how some of the nobles had begun averting their eyes from her, in shock and shame of what had been about to happen.

Across the room, Koschei snapped his jaw shut. He must have understood that he was about to turn the room against himself – he had spun a tale of Yaz being abused, and then gone straight to ordering her undressed. It wasn’t exactly the kind of behaviour one would expect from a maiden's noble saviour.

Taking a deep breath, Koschei visibly forced his shoulders to relax, then spoke again, a calm smile on his lips.

“Of course not”, he said, as if it was an unthinkable suggestion. “She is only to reveal her wrists. I swear she bears the marks there.”

Yaz knew then that they had lost. She couldn’t refuse to show her wrists without raising suspicion, and Clara and Ryan couldn’t refuse this order, either. 

Clara looked at her, her eyes full of regret. “I’m sorry”, she mumbled. And Yaz could almost hear the unspoken addendum. We tried.

Yaz understood in that moment that they knew, or at the very least suspected. She saw it on their faces, the way their expressions were grave with what was about to be revealed. Did they figure it out together, Yaz wondered? She knew Amy hadn’t spoken a word – she had promised, and a promise from Amy was worth more than that of ten other knights combined.

“Dame Yasmin”, Koschei’s voice rang through the hall. “Reveal your wrists!”

Yaz’s head snapped up, a sudden defiance rushing through her as she looked at Koschei. Slowly, she raised her arms in front of herself, wrists turned up. If it was all going to come to an end here, she was at least no longer going to let herself be intimidated by him.

Or by anyone, for that matter.

With her voice clear and full of disdain for the man who wanted to call himself King, Yaz spoke, loud enough for all to hear:

“It’s Lady Karn, actually.”

She felt Juliannah’s pride rush through her at the words, filling Yaz’s own chest with warmth. Yaz watched the corner of Ryan’s lip twist into an involuntary smile as he gently unsnapped the wristlet on Yaz’s arm. She instantly mourned its loss, but then her heart jumped into her throat as Clara began to untie the laces running up her forearms. She felt Koschei’s smile on her, like a poisonous cloud hanging in the air, creeping over her skin like an unwanted caress, and heard the quietly mumbled “I’m sorry”s from both knights as they rolled up the arms of her shirt to reveal –

Nothing.

Yaz blinked as confusion washed over her. She stared at her skin, smooth, brown, unmarked. 

When she finally looked up, she just about still saw a glimpse of Juliannah’s own surprise before the woman quickly exerted control over her face as best as she could. 

When their eyes met, they both understood at the same time.

When Juliannah had healed Yaz from the poison, there had been no finesse to it. She had simply ripped at her magic and flung it at Yaz’s body, desperate to heal. She hadn’t just healed the poison – she had healed everything in, and on, Yaz’s body.

Including her scars.

They had been so enthralled with each other last night that they hadn’t even noticed, and now the only proof for Koschei’s claims was a handprint, burned into the skin on Yaz’s hip. With any luck, enough people in the room would protest any attempt to get her to show it.

Juliannah once again showed her remarkable skill at changing expressions in an instant. With the most devious smirk on her face, she turned back around to look at Koschei. “So?” she said, her voice soft in the most dangerous way. “What were we supposed to see, exactly?”

“No”, Koschei hissed. “No, no!”

Before anyone could react, he had flung himself past Juliannah, past the guards, and straight towards Yaz. Juliannah reacted a second later, practically flying across the floor to catch up with him. Once again, Yaz’s hand reached for the grip of her sword. Before she could unsheath it, Koschei was in front of her, reaching for her shirt, his fingers about to close around it.

A flash of silver and blue as someone pushed past Yaz from behind, and Koschei let out a pained whimper as a metal gauntlet closed around his wrist with force.

“Don’t you dare touch her again!”

The words came out with a growl, and then Amy was shoving Koschei’s hand down, away from Yaz. Juliannah rushed past Koschei, spinning around to stand shoulder to shoulder with Amy. Yaz could feel the air around her starting to crackle, and she was sure Juliannah was going to kill him right then and there, with a single bolt of lightning sent straight into his chest.

Before she could do so, however, somebody spoke up.

“What does she mean, ‘again’?”

At the other end of the room, a woman stood. By the symbol pinned to her long red gown, contrasting beautifully with the rich brown of her skin, she was a member of House Osiri. Judging by the respectful silence that followed, she was its leader.

The Viscountess was fixing Koschei with a piercing gaze. He was still holding on to his wrist, his face contorted in pain. His eyes were flitting across the floor as if he could find an answer to the Viscountess’ question simply lying there, in front of his feet.

When he couldn’t answer, someone else did it for him.

“The Prince Koschei has, on at least one occasion, used his position of authority to force a kiss on Dame Yasmin.”

The entire room went deadly quiet as the attention shifted to the Duchess of Olew, her words hanging heavy in the air. Yaz’s face and fingertips were tingling, the feeling slowly draining out of them once more. 

Bill looked at her across the room. She was silent now, in spite of the rising voices all around them, demanding an explanation.

It took Yaz a moment to realise that the Duchess was asking for her permission.

Swallowing heavily, Yaz lifted her chin, then nodded.

Bill nodded back. “Prince Koschei had been making advances towards the Dame for weeks”, the Duchess said, all eyes now on her, “in spite of her clearly not reciprocating his intentions. He stole a kiss from her, without her consent, and when Dame Yasmin attempted to reject him once and for all, Prince Koschei became intent on forcing her into a marriage. It is why, on the eve of his Royal Ball, Dame Amelia and I helped Dame Yasmin escape.”

The Duchess let her eyes roam over the nobles in the room, and Yaz's blood was rushing in her ears, her heartbeat thundering. 

“Dame Yasmin is no traitor, nor was she ever”, the Duchess continued, her voice firm and filled with anger. “She is a woman who fled the man who assaulted her.”

It started slow. A gasp, a murmur. Then, a shout of outrage from a corner, followed by another, and another. Hands were raised, angry fingers pointing across the room. Yaz wanted to curl in on herself, to reach for Juliannah and hide away from their shaming, until she heard the words that were being thrown across the room, filled with anger.

“– against her will –”

“– a knight under your protection –”

“– forcing the Lady Karn into an unwanted –”

They were siding with her. They heard what Koschei had done to her, what he had put her through, and they were siding with her.

Koschei was clearly panicking now, his anger finally properly burning to the surface. Yaz saw his face change, the same way it had back when he had come to find Yaz in Juliannah’s mansion. It turned cold and angry, and when he turned towards the room, Yaz knew what he was about to say before he even opened his mouth.

“She used me”, he said, turning towards the people around him. “She used me to gain influence in the palace – she tried to seduce me! My only crime is that my heart fell for her lowly plan. She wouldn’t have even been made knight if she hadn’t batted her pretty eyelashes at –”

Something unlike anything Yaz had ever felt broke open inside of her. It was hot as burning iron, ripping at her from the inside, clawing at her as if wanting to break out of her skin. Before Koschei could finish his sentence, Yaz had pushed past Amy, her hand lifted as she felt fire burning through her veins.

The sound of a palm hitting skin rang through the room. Yaz’s hand tingled as she pulled it back from Koschei’s face, an angry red imprint visible across his left cheek.

“How dare you”, Yaz hissed, her voice shaking. “How dare you, after everything you put me through! I wanted nothing from you, except my peace and quiet. I came here to do my job, and you pulled me out into the garden, you forced me to spend time alone with you, you kissed me against my will. You made sure I wasn’t holding my shield so I couldn’t – I –” She was gasping for air now, and then she felt a hand, gently settling on her shoulder as Juliannah stepped up next to her. A second later, Amy appeared at her other side. With the warmth radiating off Juliannah’s hand and her friend by her side, Yaz found herself able to continue. “I wasn’t holding my shield, I had no means to fend you off. And even when I couldn’t move, you – I wasn’t reciprocating. I was frozen." She took a step towards him, reaching for his cloak. "You didn’t stop." Her fingers closed around soft cloth. "You didn’t stop!

She shoved, and Koschei stumbled, his feet catching on his cloak behind him. Surprise appeared on his face, and then he fell. 

For a moment, he sat on the floor in the middle of his own throne hall, gobsmacked.

Then, Koschei’s face distorted into pure rage as he scrambled up from the floor. “Arrest her”, he said, and then again, shouted across the room: “Arrest her!”

Amy shook her head, her jaw set. “No.”

“Lord Protector” Koschei called, craning his neck to look behind himself. “Lord Protector, keep your knights in check!”

But Yaz could feel it: the way his control on the room was slipping, power running through his fingers like water, unable to be held in place any longer.

Behind Koschei, the Lord Protector appeared, and Yaz braced herself.

The woman walked past Koschei, towards Juliannah and Yaz, but as she came to a halt in front of them, she turned back around to face Koschei instead.

Koschei ground his teeth. “You are sworn to obey me”, he hissed.

Grace stood like an impenetrable fortress against an invasion.

“No, Your Highness”, she said. “We are sworn to protect the royal family.”

So they stood, Grace like a shield between Koschei on one side, and Amy, Juliannah and Yaz on the other, the fingers of the latter two now tightly interlaced. A myriad of emotions swirled in Yaz’s chest at the words Grace had spoken.

At the top of the room, the Duchess of Olew walked over to the Master of Ceremonies, and inspected the letter from King Alistair. She took her time, reading the words carefully, making a show of inspecting both the seal and the handwriting. Eventually, she turned back towards the room, and spoke with a voice clear and free of doubt:

“The House of Olew accepts the claim to the throne of Juliannah of House Theta-Gallifrey.”

Koschei spun around on his heels, eyes wide, but it was too late. The Duchess had kicked off a process that was unable to be stopped.

All around them, people began to move towards the steps of the throne. The heads of Gallifrey’s noble houses approached the Master of Ceremonies, and one by one, they inspected the document. They spoke the ceremonial words, some with great reluctance, others with firm certainty:

“The House of Kamishi accepts.”

“The House of Lungbarrow accepts.”

Yaz realised that both she and Juliannah were holding their breath, their knuckles white with how tightly they were holding on to each other as they waited for the last person to accept. It was the Viscountess Osiri who voiced her acceptance last, her voice strong and her expression without doubt.

Yaz let out a long, deep breath, as the reality of what had just happened began to slowly sink in.

“The House of Gallifrey objects!” Koschei said, but even he knew it was futile.

He no longer had the strongest claim to the throne.

“Prince Koschei”, the Master of Ceremonies spoke, “the Lord Mistress’ claim supersedes yours, as her father was the late King’s firstborn child, making him first in line for the throne and his daughter his rightful heir. Your objection is therefore rejected.”

“No”, Koschei breathed, desperately turning around and looking for some form of support. But the nobles all around him either avoided his gaze in awkwardness, or looked back at him with disgust, anger or a mixture of both. 

“Guards”, Juliannah called out, and Yaz could feel her satisfaction at what she was about to do. “If you would please escort Prince Koschei out of my throne hall.”

With a grim smile, Amy stepped forward. “With pleasure, Your Royal Highness.”

Koschei snapped his arms back as Amy and Clara attempted to grasp them. “I can walk by myself!” he snapped at them. 

Just as he passed Juliannah, the blonde leaned towards him, a smirk on her lips. “Don’t worry, Koschei”, she said, her voice a low purr. “If you need a place to stay, it looks like my mansion in Karn will be free for at least part of the year.” Then, leaning even closer towards him, she added in a whisper: “Although you might want to change the sheets.”

She pulled back just in time for Yaz to see Koschei’s face contort into a mixture of disgust and rage, and then Amy stepped behind him, forcing him to continue his walk down the throne hall. All eyes were on him, following him towards the great double doors. There, he stood for a moment, turning back around to fix Yaz with his gaze. She could hear his words resonate in her mind as he sent her one final thought:

“This is not over, Yasmin.”

But then the doors moved behind him, and with the sound of heavy wood falling shut, his fate was sealed.

Notes:

cw: mentions of non-consensual kissing, brief attempt at victim blaming

 

Thank you so much for reading :)

Chapter 31

Notes:

Did the chapter count change again no it didn't everyone move along please.

Content warnings for this chapter as always in the end notes!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The council of Gallifreyan nobles had asked for one week. One week to prepare for the coronation anew, to usher in a new era.

Juliannah and Yaz were still living in their guest room – together, much to the chagrin of the council, who saw protocol crumble in front of their very eyes – while palace staff were getting the royal chambers ready for them. And so, while Juliannah spend her days in endless meetings with both Gallifreyan and Karnish nobles (the, at least partial, merging of the two nations a side effect of Juliannah’s new title), Yaz spend her time having her measurements taken for her royal wardrobe, and being plagued with endless questions about decor for their new quarters. What she had been tasked with, too, however, was overseeing the unification of the Gallifreyan Royal Guard and the Karnish Guard, a task she took to with joy.

When it came to the particularly difficult political topics being discussed, Juliannah sent for Yaz. Whenever there was an unexpected knock on the door, Yaz knew what it meant. There was a guard on the other side – usually someone she knew – and then she was being brought into the council chambers.

Juliannah was making a statement to every noble in the room: this is my betrothed, and you are to respect her and her word, as do I.

It made Yaz want to sling her arms around the blonde and kiss her senseless.

They rarely had a moment for it, however. By the time evening rolled around and Juliannah entered their chambers, the woman was clearly exhausted, and if she was being honest, so was Yaz. 

On the fifth day of this, Yaz found herself called to the coronation hall in order to make sure the Consort’s crown had been fitted right. The thought of the crown on her head made her feel nervous – not because of the responsibility of being ruler, something she had never envisioned for herself, but because of the other thing the crown meant: that she was to be Juliannah’s wife.

With everything that had happened, she had barely had time to truly let this simple fact sink in. Now, however, as she was walking down the corridors flanked by two Royal Guards, her heart thrummed under her purple doublet as she found herself absentmindedly fiddling with the bracelet on her left wrist.

After everything that had happened, after she had nearly lost Juliannah, the woman had finally found it in herself to push herself over that inner threshold that she had held onto so strongly. Yaz was well aware that they had miles to go, that there would be many moments in their future when Juliannah would close up, be harsh – or cruel, even. But she had also seen it in Juliannah’s eyes, and felt it inside her mind: the desire, almost painful in its uncertainty of how to handle it and where to direct it, to let Yaz in. To hold her close, and not let go.

Yaz inadvertently shuddered at the memory of being so intimately entwined with Juliannah – not just in a physical, but in a deeply mental connection as they had let their emotions flow freely. She wondered, silently, if the blonde would let her in like that again. Maybe, so Yaz thought, it might even be easier for her to share that way: simply letting Yaz feel what she was feeling, without having to force herself through the clearly agonising process of determining how and what to say.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she only realised there were more guards in front of the throne hall once they stepped aside to let her own guards open the doors. If there were guards already here, that meant –

In the middle of the throne hall, Juliannah was standing, deep in conversation with the Master of Ceremonies. There was an ornate, heavy looking wooden chest standing between them, and in the corner stood a man wearing small spectacles on the tip of his nose, and a belt with a plethora of fine tools hanging from it fastened around his hip.

Of course, it made sense that their crowns would be fitted together, yet somehow Yaz hadn’t thought that she would see Juliannah until evening. It sent an odd twinge through her chest, to suddenly be in a room with her, with only two other people present. It felt almost intimate, given the usual number of people that surrounded them these days.

When Juliannah noticed her approach, she looked up from the chest, and as their eyes met, the corner of her lip curled up into a familiar cocky smile.

Stars, I miss her , Yaz suddenly thought, the realisation crashing into her. She had to fight down the urge to sling her arms around Juliannah right then and there.

Juliannah cocked her head, and lifted an eyebrow, provocatively, and Yaz felt her cheeks burn. This time, she could feel Juliannah’s immediate satisfaction at the effect she was having on Yaz, and it somehow made Yaz’s cheeks burn ever brighter.

“Your ladyship”, the Master of Ceremonies said, turning to her with a bow. Another thing Yaz still had to get used to – nobody called her Dame anymore, and soon, nobody in Gallifrey would call her ‘your ladyship’ anymore either. 

Her Majesty the Queen Consort, Yasmin of House Theta-Gallifrey, the Most Honourable Lady Karn, the Marquise Consort of Theta.

It was, as Juliannah had drily put it when they had been presented with their new titles by the council, a mouthful. 

“The Royal Goldsmith has fitted the crowns according to your measurements taken at the beginning of the week”, the Master of Ceremonies spoke. With gravitas, he reached for his necklace, and produced an ornate, golden key. He unlocked the chest with it, and opened its heavy lid.

He took the crown of the Sovereign out first, holding it gently. It was a simple golden band, stars etched into the fine metal all around.

“This is your crown, Your Royal Highness. It will be presented to you by a member of nobility – chosen by you – and a member of the people, chosen by the council. I trust you have made your choice already?”

Juliannah was looking at the crown. To anyone else, she probably looked rather indifferent towards the symbol of power. To Yaz however – privy to Juliannah’s thoughts, and also having spent weeks, months even, analysing every detail of the woman’s face – it was right there in the way something flashed through her eyes for just for a moment, and her jaw set right after. Without a word, Yaz reached for Juliannah’s hand, and the other woman, after a moment of startle, took it in her own.

Together, they stood in silence, simply beholding the crown, their fingers intertwined. Like the distant murmur of a river, Yaz heard it washing over Juliannah – the realisation that she had truly done what she had always dreamed of. Her family’s fate, avenged, their name restored.

Her House at its rightful place.

After a long while, the Master of Ceremonies lifted the crown, and Juliannah bowed her head towards him. When she stood straight once more, Yaz could have sworn she felt the stumble of Juliannah’s heart.

“After you have been crowned and recited your promise, I will wed you. You will then present her ladyship with her own crown.”

Yaz’s eyes widened slightly at that. She hadn’t known that Juliannah would be the one to crown her – she had assumed it to be the Master of Ceremonies’ task.

Juliannah wordlessly reached into the chest, and produced the Consort’s crown. It was a simple band, just like the Sovereign’s, except this one was made out of silver, and had the phases of the moon etched into it, running all the way around.

As Juliannah held it out towards Yaz, their gazes met.

“You will be asked to kneel in front of your Queen, your ladyship.”

As Yaz slowly sank down, she was reminded, suddenly, by her urge to drop to her knees in front of Juliannah – not today, but many weeks ago, when she had not understood what her own desire meant. As she knelt on the floor, her eyes downcast, she was once again overcome by her own desire, this time being fully aware of it.

Something cold came to rest around her head, and then a slender finger touched her chin, tilting her head up.

The moment she saw the way Juliannah was looking down on her, heat shot through Yaz’s entire body and straight into her core.

Without a word, Juliannah curled her finger underneath Yaz’s chin, and like a puppet manoeuvred by its master, Yaz rose up until they were face to face once again. Juliannah was looking at Yaz with such hunger in her eyes that it made Yaz want to drop straight back down to her knees and do anything the woman asked of her.

“Leave us.”

Juliannah had spoken the words without breaking eye contact. “Your Royal Highness”, the Master of Ceremonies began, “we still need to –”

This time, she turned her head, and the fire in them made the older man physically shrink away from her. “Out”, Juliannah hissed. “ Now.

The moment the doors fell shut, Juliannah crashed her lips against Yaz’s.

Yaz melted into it, a moan escaping her mouth. Juliannah swallowed it up eagerly, her tongue roughly demanding entrance. Fire blasted through Yaz’s entire body as she opened her mouth, more than happy to grant the other woman entrance. 

Mistress.

The simple word in her mind was enough to make Juliannah snap her arm around Yaz’s waist, pulling her flush against herself with so much force that it knocked the breath out of Yaz. And still, they did not break their hungry kiss. Yaz felt dizzy, dizzy with want and desire and –

It took her a moment to realise that she wasn’t simply feeling her own desire. Juliannah was letting her feel hers, too.

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms tighter around Juliannah’s waist, nails digging into the fabric of her shirt. Juliannah replied with a groan, pressing harder kisses against Yaz’s lips.

For a moment, Yaz was sure the blonde was going to take her right then and there, in the middle of the throne room. The thought sent a shiver of desire down her spine, and she eagerly pressed herself further against Juliannah. But then Juliannah suddenly pulled back, panting, eyes closed.

The frown that creased her brow as she stood there, her chest heaving, sent instant worry into Yaz’s heart.

“What is it?” she asked. She reached out, and grazed her thumb over the crease between Juliannah’s eyebrows, as if she could smooth out the skin there with the simple gesture.

Juliannah’s eyes fluttered open, and she turned away, leaving Yaz’s hand hovering in mid-air. She tried not to feel a pang of hurt at the sudden change in demeanour.

“The Duchess of Olew”, Juliannah said, her back turned to Yaz. “Has informed me that it will be rather difficult for me to gain public support. There are already rumours of rebellion in the city.”

Yaz swallowed thickly. “Wasn’t that to be expected?” she asked. After all, Gallifreyans were never going to take kindly to being, in their minds, basically overtaken by Karn.

“Yes”, Juliannah replied. “The Duchess has an idea, however, to turn public support in my favour.”

“How?”

Juliannah turned around. “You.”

Well, that was not what Yaz had expected. “How am I going to bring you support? The nobles might know the truth, but in the eyes of the people I’m still very much a traitor. Now probably more than ever.”

“The Duchess suggested making your story public”, Juliannah explained. “She said it would help turn them against Koschei, and make me look like…”

“You saved me”, Yaz finished for her. 

Juliannah’s face turned cold. “You know that one thing I do not possess in abundance is scruples. And while I do not care whether or not the people are swayed by a lie, you and I both know that when I seduced you out of this palace, it was not to save you.”

The truth sat like a needle wedged between Yaz’s ribs. It would probably remain there for a long time still to come, she thought. She saw the moment Juliannah heard those thoughts, and her face fell shut like it so often had before. “I’ll let her know it isn’t an option”, Juliannah said. 

Yaz took a step towards her. “Tell them.”

Surprise was evident on Juliannah’s face, but Yaz simply continued. “Tell them. Not for you. For me. I want people to know what kind of a person he really is. What he did to me. I want people to know it wasn’t right.”

Juliannah’s face softened, almost imperceptibly so. “Some won’t believe it”, she said quietly. “I’m sure Koschei will send his own people to spread his version among the masses. Some might end up saying he is telling the truth – that you seduced him , and betrayed him when there was a better chance at power presented to you.”

“Then let them talk”, Yaz said. She was over being afraid of Koschei and what people might think. The moment her hand had struck his cheek, she had felt the shackles break off her. She could still feel the ghosts of them, and she was sure they would stay with her for a long time to come. But the first step had been taken, and she was not going to turn back now. “Some will believe me, and some won’t. It will be worth it for the ones who do.”

“Very well.”

Before Juliannah could change topic, or someone could interrupt them again, Yaz took another step towards her, closing the distance between them once again. “How are you doing?” she asked softly. “With everything, I mean. It’s been a lot.”

She could see Juliannah stiffen the moment the question registered with her, and the blonde simply turned away, took off her crown, and placed it back in the chest. Her gaze lingered on it for a moment. “I have what I wanted”, she said, matter-of-factly.

They both knew it wasn’t the answer to the question Yaz had asked, but Yaz let it be for now. She didn’t want to push Juliannah on the matter, so instead, she walked up to her, and took off her own crown. After placing it next to Juliannah’s in the chest, she looked up at the blonde, and asked, her voice laden with desire:

“Since we have cleared the question of whether or not to tell the people, don’t you want to finish what you started before?”

Yaz would never tire of the way Juliannah’s eyes would turn dark as desire pooled in them.

“Behave, Yasmin”, Juliannah said, her admonishing tone – and the use of a full name – sending shivers down Yaz’s spine. Feeling emboldened, she took another, tiny step towards Juliannah, practically pressing their bodies together as she lifted her chin defiantly.

“Make me.”

With the speed of light, Juliannah’s hand came to wrap itself around Yaz’s right wrist, yanking it up between them. “Chambers”, she hissed. “ Now .”

They left through the staff door at the back of the throne hall in order to avoid their guards. However, when it came to finding their way back to their room, Juliannah took a different turn.

As she pulled Yaz up a flight of stairs, realisation dawned on her.

The furniture in the royal chambers had been set up this morning.

Yaz barely had time to marvel at the large oak doors with the royal motto laid into them, or the antechamber with its elegant chairs and many doors leading out of it, or even the bedchamber itself. Because Juliannah simply pulled her into the latter, and then Yaz found herself with her back pressed against the closed door, and Juliannah’s lips hungrily enveloping her own.

What followed next could only be described as a mixture of pure, ravenous hunger, and worship. Juliannah rid them both of their clothes right then and there, Yaz’s back still pressed against wood, and all Yaz could do was wrap her arms around Juliannah, and take all that the woman was giving to her.

Deft fingers circling her clit, slipping into her – first one, then two – pushing her to the brink as she gasped against Juliannah’s lips, her arms wrapped tightly around her. 

Soft blankets underneath her, Juliannah kneeling next to the bed – her tongue licking over Yaz’s core, making Yaz writhe on the bed with the only purchase she could find being Juliannah’s hair, her hand grasping it tightly.

Juliannah’s eyes widening as Yaz pulled her up towards herself after, and the taste of the blonde’s desire on Yaz’s lips – nails digging into soft flesh, Yaz drinking up every sound Juliannah made as she moved on top of her until Yaz’s face was coated with her.

Juliannah, jumping up,searching through their suitcases and chests like a woman possessed, and Yaz’s mouth going dry as Juliannah pulled out what she had been looking for.

The moment the hot tip slid into her, Yaz’s entire body relaxed, her muscles going loose as her legs fell open wide and welcoming. She heard Juliannah’s soft moans and pants above her as she began moving inside of her, first slowly, then rapidly picking up speed and force.

Yaz took it all, gasping with every thrust until suddenly, Juliannah pressed her forehead against Yaz’s. Sensations washed over Yaz, and for a moment she felt like she was drowning, until she realised what was happening:

Yaz could feel how she herself felt wrapped around Juliannah. She could feel her own skin underneath Juliannah’s fingertips, the way the blonde’s desire was winding higher with every deep thrust.

Yaz came with an explosion of lights behind her eyelids, and Juliannah quickly followed, chasing her own release deep inside of her. The sensations shifted, and then Yaz felt something familiar wash over her:

Lust. Desire. Possessiveness. Care. Protectiveness. Behind it all, the flicker of a flame, burning brighter than last time, and then – warmth.

Yaz let it wash over her, until Juliannah shifted, burying her face in the crook of Yaz’s neck instead. 

“I love you, too”, Yaz whispered, and in response, Juliannah’s hand snuck around her nape, pulling Yaz’s neck closer against her face as she took in a deep breath, then stayed still.

“I hate that I am one of them. That I’m of their House. Of their blood.”

Not having expected the answer to her question, and her brain still feeling a bit muddled from pleasure, Yaz was silent at first. She gently lifted her arms back around Juliannah, careful not to apply pressure on the woman’s scars. “You’re not like them”, she finally whispered, turning her face so her nose was pressing into Juliannah’s hair. “You’re nothing like them.” She paused, then continued, quietly. “I think I understand, though. It makes it all worse – the betrayal coming from the people who were supposed to be your people.”

Juliannah lay still, simply breathing in Yaz. Then, she continued, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain. “I don’t… I wanted this. I still want this. I just didn’t think this is how it would happen.”

Yaz carefully pressed a kiss against Juliannah’s hair. The way they were having this conversation – lying bare, with Juliannah still buried inside of her and Yaz’s arms wrapped around her, fingertips grazing old scars – felt more vulnerable than anything they had ever done before. 

“It’s alright to feel conflicted, my love” – oh that felt new on her lips, but so right . “We’ll figure it out together. No matter what happens, you avenged them. Your father, your grandmother. Everyone.”

A beat of silence, then, as Juliannah’s fingertips moved to Yaz’s temples, she said quietly, almost inaudibly: “I don’t think I did it for them.”

An image appeared in front of Yaz’s inner eye, of a young girl curled up in the sand, blood streaming down her back as she bit down on her own hand in order to quieten her sobs. Yaz gasped – she had imagined it many times, but never seen the reality, the brutality of the actual moment. In her mind, however, something shifted, and then Juliannah appeared – her Juliannah, grown-up Juliannah – and she gently lifted the child off the ground, cradling her in her arms as she carried her away.

And Yaz understood. As she lifted one hand to bury it in Juliannah’s hair, pulling her impossibly closer, she said softly:

“Juliannah?”

“Yes?”

“You’re safe now.”

They lay in silence after that, simply breathing each other in. Yaz was sure they both drifted off at some point – exhausted by both their lovemaking and the ever ongoing tasks of the past days – because at some point, she was woken by a rapt series of knocks on the door.

Juliannah let out an annoyed groan, which quickly turned into a soft gasp from both of them as she stirred inside of Yaz.

“Sorry”, Juliannah mumbled, and as she pulled out, Yaz instantly missed the feeling of having her this close. Juliannah dropped the harness unceremoniously on the floor next to the bed, then went and ripped open the door, still fully naked.

“What?” she snapped.

“Your Royal Highness” – a female voice, unfamiliar to Yaz’s ears – “your meeting with the Noble Chancellor of Polarfrey is scheduled to happen within the hour.” A pause, and then, a hint of amusement in her tone: “I’ll prepare a bath.”

“Who was that?” Yaz asked as soon as Juliannah closed the door once again. The blonde walked over to their chests, and pulled out a robe. 

“Our new lady-in-waiting. The Countess Noble.” She threw a glance towards the door. “Got quite the mouth on her.”

Yaz couldn’t help but smile. “You like it.”

“Maybe.”

Juliannah slipped into the robe, then came over to the bed, bending over Yaz to kiss her. “But the only one I’ll ever allow insubordination from is you, darling.”

Yaz’s heart swelled at the same time as her skin went warm.

When Juliannah had left the room, she forced herself to get up and search through their chests of clothing herself, until she found a simple, knee-length tunic. She pulled it over her head, and went to lie back in their bed.

She was too exhausted to stay awake for long. Her body aching in intimate ways and her heart still full with everything that had transpired, she turned towards the open windows, smiling as a gentle evening breeze blew into the room. As she looked out into the darkening skies, sleep slowly creeping up on her, Yaz felt, maybe truly for the first time, that it would all be alright. 

She did not notice the flash of bronze until it was too late.

Notes:

CW: explicit content, mentions of past childhood abuse

 
Thank you for reading 😇

Chapter 32

Notes:

First of all, thank you to everyone who screamed at me about last week's cliffhanger, I genuinely loved it 😂 Now, let's see what happened...

Content warnings as always in the end notes :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

As the door fell shut behind the Noble Chancellor of Polarfrey, Juliannah pinched the bridge of her nose.

It had been to be expected, really, that both Polarfrey and Terserus would want to reaffirm the Alliance treaty. Karn and Gallifrey being under one ruler – at least temporarily, given that Karnish rulership was non-hereditary – posed a significant shift in the military balance between the four Alliance nations, after all. Besides, Juliannah was still comparatively young, and might hold both positions for decades to come. Decades during which there would be ample opportunities for change to the detriment of Polarfrey and Terserus.

In the end, the skittishness and sense of urgency with which both the Queen of Terserus and the Noble Chancellor of Polarfrey had presented their wish for a renewed promise of peace was understandable.

Still, as talented as Juliannah was at manoeuvring people according to her own wishes, it was tiresome to spend hours balancing these very delicate political situations. With the balance in the Alliance skewed, each step might ultimately prove to be the wrong one. Juliannah wanted many things, but war, at the end of the day, was not among them.

With a sigh, Juliannah pushed herself out of her chair and through the door that led into the main corridor. The knight that had been standing guard outside the room fell into step behind her as she began walking, and all Juliannah could think of was to fall into her bed and sleep, the promise of Yaz’s warm body beside her making it all the more enticing.

Her heart clenched for a moment as she suddenly could feel arms wrapped around her, and Juliannah stopped dead in her tracks. Behind her, Sir Daniel let out a barely muffled sound of surprise, taking a step back to re-establish an appropriate distance between them.

Juliannah stood in the middle of the corridor, the steps leading up to her new chambers right in front of her, and clenched and unclenched her fist. Something was pressing into her chest with an uncomfortable, dull pain, and the image she had projected into Yaz’s mind that same evening appeared crystal clear in front of her inner eye once more.

She had wanted to share it, in that moment, and still, it was twisting her stomach now that she suddenly found herself confronted with the irreversibility of having let Yaz know. 

You’re safe now .

A jolt ran through her, and without a word, Juliannah turned around, away from the stairs. Once she had recovered her sense of orientation in the still unfamiliar private quarters, she headed around a corner, then another. Candles were flickering in the alcoves to her right, illuminating the tapestries to her left. She paid them no mind as she rushed past them. Finally, Juliannah saw the simple oak door she had been looking for, and pushed it open.

She immediately threw it shut behind herself, wordlessly letting her guard know that she was to be left alone.

Inside the room, she kept walking. To her left and right, bathed in moonlight, rows of bookshelves stretched out towards a high window at the end of the room. A desk stood underneath it, and Juliannah only stopped once she stood in front of it.

A lute lay on it, as if put down mid-song and then forgotten. It must have been Alistair’s, Juliannah realised, given that this had been his library before it had become hers. For a moment, Juliannah could envision him sitting in this cushioned chair, his fingers absentmindedly dancing across the strings.

Juliannah let her index finger graze over the strings, and a discordant sound rang out in the quiet of the room.

It struck the same pitch as the bitter note that was humming inside her.

Slowly, Juliannah sank down onto the chair, its arms carved out of heavy wood, and looked out the window. She didn’t light a candle, or move at all. Juliannah simply sat in the dim light, staring out into the night sky. The stars were impassionately blinking back at her, as they always had. After a while, she lifted a hand to her face and bit the pad of her thumb, an old and familiar urge to calm her inner voices by creating a clearer sensation on the outside.

It didn’t work.

She closed her eyes, dropping the hand back into her lap. Her mind swirled, until it settled on one particular image: Yaz, naked underneath her, looking back at Juliannah through warm brown eyes.

She realised then, with a crushing pain in her chest, that she did not want the way those eyes looked at her to change. It was the thing that had been different about Yaz from the beginning: first there had been defiance, then desire, then lust; it had turned to anger, then fresh desire, and finally that desire had softened around the edges into something Juliannah barely dared to think of by its name. 

She could not bear the thought of those eyes looking at her with pity.

There is a difference, you know.

Her eyes flew open at the sudden memory. In the moonlight, the newest of her scars, running across the palm that lay unmoving in her lap, shone a deeper silver; it was clearly visible now where it was easy enough to hide during the day.

As quickly as she had changed course in the hallway before, Juliannah jumped out of the chair. The storm inside of her had changed – there was an urge now, one that made her restless, one that was almost painful in the way it pushed her forward.

To Yasmin.

To Yaz.

Always Yaz.

She surprised Sir Daniel once again as she threw the door open with so much force it hit the wall and bounced back towards her. Juliannah paid it no mind, and rushed out into the hallway, finding her way back to the bottom of the stairs. She practically flew up the steps, leaving the knight panting as he hurried to keep up with her – covered head to toe in armour as he was, he was somewhat at a disadvantage. Juliannah ignored Dame Amelia, who bowed to her in front of her chambers – Yaz was still inside, then – and rushed into the antechamber, through it, and into their bedroom, her heart hammering in her chest. 

She didn’t know what she wanted to say. She didn’t know if she could say anything. But she needed to –

Juliannah froze, and frowned at the empty bed. The sheets, from what she could make out in the moonlight, were messy, thrown to the side. 

Moonlight. That wasn’t right. The night air coming in through the windows was still quite chilly, and Yaz would have stoked the fire at some point – unless she had fallen asleep immediately after Juliannah left.

But then the bed wouldn’t be empty right now.

Of course, If she had left the room soon after Juliannah, the fire would have had ample time to die down.

But then one of the staff would have come to make sure it was lit for her return, and Amy would no longer be standing guard outside.

Juliannah turned towards the fireplace, finding the poker untouched. A cold feeling crept up her skin, and she slowly lifted her hand, sending a bolt of lighting into the fireplace and re-igniting the fire within. It roared to life, bathing the room in warm light.

Juliannah didn’t want to turn around. Something inside of her was screaming at her not to. And still, she did. 

She found the sheets covered in blood.

An iron ring snapped shut around her chest, squeezing so tight that she could not breathe. As if moving out of their own accord, her feet began walking towards the bed, until she saw a small note sitting on the pillow.

She lifted it as if in a trance, unable to feel her own movements as she did so, and flipped it open.

Your girl for my crown.

Juliannah ripped the candle holder off the nightstand and flung it against the wall. A noise broke through her throat, ripping her open in the process. She reached for the next thing, whatever she could get her hands onto – the poker next to the fireplace. She threw it across the room with so much force that it landed in the wooden panelling next to the window spike-first. She could feel the magic breaking out all over her skin – for the first time since Yaz had saved her slipping out of her control. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t, it couldn’t

The door to her bedchamber burst open, Amelia and Daniel running in with their swords drawn, scanning the room.

“Halt!” Amelia shouted, “do not dare hurt –”

Amelia's eyes fell on the bed, and she froze, the horror Juliannah was feeling clearly readable on her face. “ Yaz.

Sir Daniel took a step into the room, the grip around his sword tight, determination written all over his face.

It turned as white as the moon itself the moment his eyes fell upon purple light.

Juliannah flew across the room in a second, her hands reaching for the front of Daniel’s tabard, her magic crackling in the air between them. Her rage was burning through her, pure, uncontrolled.

It had to go somewhere.

In the distance, as if from another room, she heard Amy call out towards her with a shocked “Your Highness!”

Juliannah watched as Daniel’s eyes went wide with fear, purple light dancing across blue irises.

“Lord Mistress”, he whispered.

Juliannah felt the power inside of her break open like a wave.

“Juliannah" , Amy breathed.

For the briefest of moments, Juliannah saw brown eyes blinking back at her instead of blue.

She let go off Daniel's tabard as if she had been burned, and the room around her flung itself into sharp focus. Blinking, she stumbled back, and the note that had been crumpled in her hand fell to the floor in front of the knight's feet.

The man was breathing heavily, his eyes wide, his sword pointing at the floor as if he had forgotten he was holding it.

“I –”, Juliannah began, and then, in the most pathetic and helpless display of herself she could remember: “Yaz.”

The expression of the man in front of her shifted, his fear slowly morphing into something else. Juliannah spun around on her feet before she would have to see it, her body feeling hot and cold all at once. Her breathing was heavy, uncontrollable, and her eyes fell onto the bed. The red stood out on the light sheets, too vivid. Too bright.

Amelia was next to Daniel in two quick steps, picking up the note. The blood on the bed was burning into Juliannah’s eyes. 

Juliannah, I’m dying, I’m –

Juliannah spun around once more, facing away from the bed, rage boiling up inside of her like liquid flames licking over her bones. “Koschei”, she breathed, panic mixing with her anger. “He has her. He’s killing her, if he hasn’t already –”

“He took her”, Amelia said, matter-of-factly, her eyes still set on the note. Behind her, Daniel still looked a bit shaken, but his face had regained its colour. Juliannah ignored him.

“He could have killed her here, but he took her”, Amy continued. She looked up at Juliannah. "He's out for a trade." 

Juliannah knew she was right, of course. Koschei wasn’t killing Yaz as revenge for losing his crown. He was holding her life as his last bargaining chip to regain it.

It gave Juliannah a fighting chance. Koschei’s lust for power, his own need to act so soon and try to regain his lost throne, meant Juliannah could still save Yaz. Whatever he had planned, it couldn’t be as well thought out as it had to be in order to beat Juliannah at what was, at the end of the day, her own game. She turned towards the knights, a cold determination settling in her bones.

“I’m going to find him”, Juliannah said. “And I’m going to murder him.”

The room around her fell quiet, and then, to Juliannah’s surprise, Amelia spoke, her voice cold.

“Not without me.”

Juliannah scoffed. “I’ll be faster on my own”, she snapped. She was already opening her mind up to Caladrius as she spoke, calling out for her familiar. In two quick steps, she was at the window, throwing it open for him. The knights would only slow her down – besides, she didn't need help dealing with Koschei. He was a healer. She would crush him like a bug. 

“With all due respect, I think that is exactly what he will be expecting, Your Royal Highness.”

Juliannah stopped, her eyes stuck on the sky that she was scanning for white feathers. Slowly, she turned around, fixing Amelia with her gaze. Maybe she had underestimated the knight.

To Amelia's credit, she did her best not to squirm underneath Juliannah's gaze. The knight clenched her jaw and lifted her chin, looking somewhat defiant. It reminded Juliannah of Yaz, all those months ago, during their first meetings.

It made her want to break the door off its hinges and set the entire room on fire.

Amelia continued, unperturbed: “This feels like a trap, Your Royal Highness. Koschei wants you to come after him right away in your anger. He either plans to kill or expose you. Which would mean Yaz…” She did not finish the sentence, but she didn’t have to, either. Everyone in the room knew that if Koschei managed to win this, Yaz being alive was not something he’d want to worry about in the future. It was the same thing Juliannah would do, if the roles were reversed.

The thought somehow made her even angrier.

“Regardless of your… talents”, Amy continued. “I believe we will have a better chance at getting Yaz out unharmed if we work together.”

Juliannah realised in that moment that Amelia was not going to back down from this, and she’d probably try and find Yaz regardless of Juliannah’s orders. It made an unexpected fondness for the knight stir inside of Juliannah's chest.

"Fine", Juliannah said. "You can come, Dame. But I will go ahead and search for her. Caladrius will be able to sense her presence."

“Not just me”, Amelia said, her eyes steely. “Sir Ryan and Dame Clara, too.”

Daniel, seemingly finally having regained his senses, stepped up beside Amy. “And me”, he said. He threw Juliannah a quick glance. “For Yaz”, he added, pointedly.

Amy nodded. “We will all go together.”

Juliannah ground her teeth, about to lose her temper once more. “Dame”, she said in a warning tone, but Amelia shook her head.

“This is about Yaz”, she said, and Juliannah could hear the unspoken addendum in her thoughts ‘ not you ’. It simultaneously made Juliannah like the night less and more. Then, Amelia added, softer: “None of us want any harm to befall her.”

The words shifted something inside of Juliannah, in spite of herself. She would be faster on her own, and the best course of action would be to kill Koschei, and rescue Yaz, without leaving any trace behind. Barging in with a horde of knights wasn’t exactly… subtle. But Dame Amelia was also right. If Koschei had set a trap for her, a secret backup would be the most advantageous thing to have.

Before Juliannah could reply, Caladrius flew into the room in a flurry of white feathers, sitting down on her shoulder. He threw one look at the bed and understood, his own anger rushing through Juliannah a moment later.

“Let’s go” , was all he said.

Sir Daniel’s eyes had gone wide once more.

“Just one moment” , Juliannah replied.

Her gaze jumped from Amelia to Daniel, pinning him in place. She could see his Adam's apple bop up and down as he swallowed repeatedly. Her eyes fixed on his, Juliannah took a careful step towards him, then another. Amy tensed beside them, a hand reflexively reaching for her sword.

Juliannah stopped just before she would have entered Sir Daniel’s personal space. His eyes kept jumping back and forth between Juliannah and Caladrius, as if he was trying to determine the biggest threat.

"Yasmin likes you", Juliannah said softly. "So I will not… cleanse your mind of the things you have learned tonight." He blanched, blinking rapidly. Juliannah leaned forward just a little more, her voice turning from softness to a sharp edge, glinting dangerously like a knife placed against his throat. "But if you ever feel the need to reveal my secret, you would be well advised to remember what I am capable of."

Daniel broke eye contact, staring at the floor instead. She heard a grumble in his thoughts, something about how his mother had wanted him to learn a trade, and how maybe he should have heeded her advice.

“I would have made some excellent pans” , he thought.

Under any other circumstance, Juliannah would have found his little inner monologue amusing. As it was she had the urge to place her index finger under his chin, forcing him to look back up and give her a response. But she felt Amelia’s tension beside her, and held back – to her own annoyance.

What was it with the Dames in this palace? 

Instead of reaching out for Sir Daniel, she asked: “Are we understood?”

The man swallowed heavily, then finally looked back up. “Yes, Lord Mistress.”

Juliannah lifted an eyebrow, and his eyes widened slightly.

“Your Royal Highness!” he corrected himself, then, in his panic, added: “Ma’am.”

She backed away from him, suppressing a smile.

Dame Amelia was next to her in an instant, and Juliannah could hear her words before they were spoken. She lifted a hand, stopping Amelia before she could speak.

“Fine”, Juliannah snapped. “Bring them. Quietly . But you will await my command.”

Amelia gave a brief bow. “Understood, Your Highness.”

“Caladrius will let you know when we have found her.”

Amelia’s eyes shifted towards the bird. “How will I be able to –”

Caladrius flew off Juliannah’s shoulder before she could finish the sentence. He stopped right in front of Amy, his wings beating the air. They locked eyes for a moment, and as Caladrius flew closer, Amy instinctively jerked back. He cocked his head, and Amy, pushing her chin forward in a defiant motion once more, finally took a step towards him. Caladrius pressed his forehead against hers, and then the knight's eyes went wide, before she closed them.

It only took a moment, Caladrius making quick work of establishing a mental connection. When he flew back towards Juliannah, Amelia was touching her forehead, a dazed impression on her face.

Juliannah in turn reached for Caladrius’ feathers, throwing one last look at the knights. 

"Wait for my signal”, she said. “And for the future”, Juliannah added, her eyes landing on Amy, “I would appreciate you only addressing me by my title, Amelia.

Amy’s jaw snapped shut, but her thoughts rang clear as day in Juliannah’s mind. “And I would appreciate you not going crazy and attacking people right in front of me like an unhinged –”

Juliannah lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll do my best not to, then”, she interrupted drily.

Amy’s face blanched in realisation at the same moment as Juliannah’s fingers closed around Caladrius’ feathers.

In a flash of light, Juliannah’s world turned upside down, and then she was falling out the window and soaring into the sky. She felt the wind running through Caladrius’ feathers, enjoying as always that first moment of dizzying freedom that came from flying with him. Before they could leave the palace behind, however, Juliannah had to do one more thing.

“Are you sure?” Caladrius asked, and all Juliannah did was stir his wings towards the western tower.

When they left it again only a few moments later, they began their search over Gallifrey. They both knew that Koschei probably wouldn’t have gone too far, given that he was out for a trade. It was also clear to both Juliannah and Caladrius that not everyone had agreed to Juliannah’s claim to the throne with joy. Koschei had allies, there was no doubt about it, and one of them might well have offered him refuge – and aid – after his failed coronation.

For a full hour, Juliannah and Caladrius flew across the Gallifreyan countryside, trying to sense Yaz. A full hour during which Juliannah felt the moments flow by, seeping through her fingers, every lost second one during which Koschei might be harming Yaz in unspeakable ways.

She could not think of it without risking going mad.

It was only when they began circling the estate of House Hond that Juliannah felt Caladrius’ mind finally touch upon another’s. Juliannah strained, reaching out towards it through him, desperate to feel even a hint of the woman who was hers.

When she finally touched upon the edges of Yaz’s mind, Juliannah wanted to scream.

It was empty.

Koschei had broken her.

Notes:

cw: blood

Thank you for reading :)

Chapter 33

Notes:

Hello everyone! Sorry for the unusally late update time – I started a new job this week and am still adjusting to the new schedule. BUT here it is! One brand new chapter coming right up. Hope you enjoy :)

Content warnings as always in the end notes.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“I’ll kill him. I will kill him for everything he –”

Caladrius, calm and collected as ever, sent his mind out to Dame Amelia, directing her to the estate. As soon as he was done, Juliannah attempted to manoeuvre him towards the mansion underneath. She reached for his wings, extending her mind in order to move them.

“We agreed to wait” , Caladrius hissed as he pushed Juliannah’s mind back. Juliannah struggled for a moment, then realised she stood no chance against him inside his own body. All she could do was keep her eyes fixed on the second floor. Yaz was there, and from the small glimpse Juliannah had caught, she was in pain, both physical and mental. Koschei would pay.

The irony of her once having done the exact same thing to Yaz was not lost on Juliannah, but it only made her rage burn brighter.

“Juliannah” , Caladrius said, his tone cautioning. “You know Amelia was right. He is expecting you to come alone.”

“So what?” , she shot back, letting her anger rush through him. “You and I both know I am capable of burning him from the inside out in a heartbeat.” Not that Juliannah wanted it to be over that quickly – oh no, she wanted to make him suffer. For as long as it pleased her.

“He has retreated to Hond’s estate” , Caladrius retorted. “The Baron has a large personal guard. Koschei’s entire goal might be to expose you, like Amelia suggested. You will not be of any use to Yaz if you have to spend the rest of your life on the run to avoid execution. You and I both know that she would insist on coming with you – and be hanged alongside you if they ever found you.”

That finally gave Juliannah pause. She knew that after everything, Yaz at the very least deserved a life of freedom. Juliannah had no right to take it from her – again.

And so they waited, Juliannah’s mind racing, struggling against the confines of a body that was too small for her. By horseback, the distance between the palace and the Hondian estate could be covered in under two hours – if the knights pushed their horses fast enough, which, Juliannah thought, they better did. For two hours, Caladrius circled the estate, careful to stay out of view from anyone who might search the skies. Two hours during which Juliannah thought she was going to go insane.

Every time Caladrius reached out to let his mind carefully brush against Yaz’s – he did not dare going into full contact with her, not with her mind this frayed – Juliannah wanted to rip herself out of his body and fling herself from the sky straight into the mansion.

Caladrius had to calm her down more than once.

Finally, four hooded figures appeared in the periphery of their vision. It took a good half hour before the knights were close to the estate. They descended, leaving their horses tied up at the edge of the estate’s paddock, and a brief communication with Caladrius told Amelia all she needed to know about the mansion’s layout.

“Go” , Juliannah urged Caladrius, her mind tingling with the need to finally find Yaz.

In a wise precaution, Koschei had had all of the estate window’s bolted shut. It left them with only one option to try and get inside – and in spite of Caladrius’ disagreement, Juliannah insisted on it. The knights were already finding their way inside on foot; if Juliannah went to join them and they entered the mansion as one group, they would lose the advantage of surprise.

Caladrius approached one of the windows, batting the air as he floated in front of it. He got as close as he could, the tips of his wings grazing brown stone, and Juliannah focused.

Then, she detached herself.

It was the most dangerous balancing act she had ever performed. She extricated her body with the greatest care, and the first thing she felt was the beat of sweat running down her neck. All around her, molecule after molecule reformed at a painfully slow pace, until it hung on the side of the mansion in the exact position she had envisioned:

The tips of her boots just about touched the thin windowsill, while her nails dug into the gaps between the rough stones above the window. It only took a second for her body to begin aching, and she knew she was drawing blood around her fingernails with how rightly she was pressing her fingertips into the thin wedge. She opened her eyes – Caladrius was still floating behind her, ready to catch her if need be – and extricated one hand from its hold.

For a moment, she was losing her balance as her entire body swung to the side. She could feel Caladrius panic behind her, and her own heart skipped a beat. Then, she managed to lodge her left foot against the boards on the window, stopping her movement. 

She took a deep breath. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer – the muscles in her left arm were twitching – she balled her right hand up into a fist, letting her magic course through it, and swung for the wood in front of the window.

Splinters flew everywhere, followed by shards of glass. Juliannah closed her eyes, turning her face away just in time for a shard to fly past her. She felt another one hit her just above her right eyebrow, but she took the sharp pain into herself, adding fuel to the fire of her rage.

With the boards and the window destroyed, she managed to swing herself into the building, Caladrius following suit. She wiped the blood above her brow away with the sleeve of her shirt. In the past, she might have healed it, but that was no longer possible, given the new purity of her war magic.

“Lead the way” , she thought, and Caladrius flew ahead.

The Baron Hond’s mansion was littered with golden statues and ostentatious portraits of himself in various heroic poses. At any other given time, Juliannah would have taken great pleasure in mocking the man. Now, however, she mostly ignored the decorations, focusing instead on any small sound that might alert them to the presence of guards. 

All around them, the mansion lay silent. It made the hair on Juliannah’s neck stand up, but they continued, the urge to get too Yaz stronger than any word of caution might have been.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door. It was simple wood, not even locked. 

Juliannah reached for the handle. 

“Wait” , Caladrius said, and Juliannah shot him a questioning look. Her magic was already tingling underneath her skin, waiting to break out.

She understood the look Caladrius gave her before he had even spoken the words.

“He’s inside. Both of them are.”

“How far away are the knights?” Juliannah asked, her fingers wrapping around the brass handle. 

“Close. One floor underneath us.”

“Good.”

Juliannah threw open the door.

The first thing she saw was a barren room. All the furniture had been removed, leaving empty walls and rough wooden floors behind.

She saw Koschei, his copper bird sitting on his shoulder, bent over the only object in the room: a chair.

And then she noticed Yaz, and all Juliannah could see was red.

The woman was clad in a sleeping tunic, its front crusted with half-dried blood. It emanated from wounds in her chest, no doubt from the talons of a familiar. Koschei had apparently not bothered to heal the wounds, and they were still bleeding into Yaz’s tunic. He had tied her to the chair, crudely, with rope around her stomach and upper arms.

What truly pushed Juliannah over the edge, however, was the look in Yaz’s eyes as their gazes met across the room. The knight’s eyes were glassy, unable to focus on anything. It looked like Yaz wasn’t even in the room, as if everything she had once been had been wiped away like dust from a table.

When Caladrius had taken Yaz, Juliannah had needed the knight’s sanity to survive the journey, in order to question her.

Clearly, Koschei had had no qualms along those lines.

Like a cat jumping for its prey, Juliannah threw herself towards Koschei, her entire body brimming with cold magic.

She saw the glint in his eye before she noticed the cold metal of the knife heading towards her. She managed to pull away just before she would have collided with the sharp edge, throwing herself to the side.

With a growl, she came to a halt, her hands lifted, lightning crackling all over her arms.

Sty flew off of Koschei’s shoulder, and Koschei used the moment to swiftly change position, moving to stand behind Yaz as he lifted the dagger to her throat.

Yaz let out a soft whimper, her broken mind somehow aware of the sharp edge against her skin. The sound cut through Juliannah unlike anything she had ever experienced.

“Now, now”, Koschei said, his tone disturbingly soft. “You don’t want me to hurt poor Yasmin, do you?”

Juliannah hissed, feeling her magic crackle in her eyes now, too, as she found herself unable to reign her new, vaster power in for the second time that evening.

Koschei tutted. “We don’t have to do this, Juliannah”, he said. “All I wanted was a simple trade. You give me back my crown, and your girl can go, unharmed.” A grin curled his lips. “Well, I say unharmed”, he added. “Physically, for the most part. Mentally, who knows what she’s still capable of at this point. But I know you were mostly having fun with her body, anyway. She should still be well capable of that, at least.”

“He’s taunting you” , Caladrius said.

“I know” , Juliannah snapped back. The true question was, why? He was clearly trying to waste time. Had Amelia been right, and Koschei was just waiting for someone to witness her magic? Either that, or he had prepared another kind of ambush.

Juliannah ostensibly relaxed her posture, pulling her magic back until the light around her arms and in her eyes disappeared. If this situation could not be brute forced, then she had to play to her other strengths.

“I’m sorry” , she thought, hoping that whatever Koschei had done to Yaz, the woman could still hear Juliannah’s thoughts. 

Slowly, she took a step towards Koschei, whose fingers nervously twitched around the handle of his knife. “Oh, Koschei”, Juliannah said, her voice a soft singsong. “Do you really think I’d give up my throne for that ?” She jerked her head towards Yaz, who was still blindly staring ahead. “She’s a drooling mess. Might still be capable physically, but I want someone who's at least a little responsive.” She cocked her head, lifting an eyebrow. “Although you wouldn’t agree, would you? You like yours unable to fight back.”

Juliannah saw the doubt flicker across Koschei’s face, and the knife lowered just the smallest amount. Not enough to no longer present any danger to Yaz, but it was a start. Juliannah did her best to maintain her facade.

She took another step towards Koschei, and his eyes flickered back to her, the grip on his dagger tightening. It was an ornate weapon, Juliannah registered, barely used, the sigil of House Gallifrey engraved in its blade.

Pompous.

“You love her ”, Koschei spat at her. “I know it.”

“No”, Juliannah said, using the same tone one might to teach an insolent child. “I needed her. Do you think the people would accept me as their Queen without my little ‘rescued a common girl from the evil Prince’ story? Frankly, it’ll be even better if you kill her. The public adores a tragic love story. I’ll be their heartbroken Queen.” She pressed a hand against her heart, her face contorting into an exaggerated expression of grief. A second later, she let out a cold laugh. “They’ll be eating out of my hand in no time, like the obedient little pets they are.”

She took another step, and she watched as Koschei’s eyes flickered towards the door behind her. Whatever he had planned, it didn’t seem to be going quite his way.

Maybe she would have to throw a commendation or two Dame Amelia’s way after this. 

“Be a good boy”, Juliannah said, daring to take another step, “and drop that weapon before you hurt yourself.”

Koschei’s face hardened. “No”, he hissed, and then his hand flew into Yaz’s braid, gripping it tightly as he yanked her head back and pressed the knife into her skin. Yaz’s hands, out of some deeply seated instinct, flew up and helplessly clawed at Koschei’s arm, as best as she could with the ropes tied around her. She was too weak to do anything, however, and another small whimper fell from her lips.

Juliannah’s eye twitched, and she clenched her jaw before she could stop herself.

“Ah”, Koschei said, a satisfied smile dancing across his lips. “There she is. The real Juliannah. The one who’s allowed herself to go soft.”

They both knew it, at that moment: Juliannah had lost. Her pretending not to care about Yaz had been the only weapon in her arsenal, and now Koschei had called her bluff. She cursed herself.

“I want my crown back”, Koschei said. “ Now .”

Whatever Koschei had planned, the knights stopping it meant they weren’t here in this room, right at that moment. Juliannah could attack, of course, as could Caladrius, but they would still be risking Yaz’s life, and if Koschei cut her throat, that would be it.

Juliannah had never thought that there would be a time when she would curse the complete absence of healing magic in her blood. But as things were, all she could do now was try and save Yaz’s life.

By whatever means necessary.

She had decided the instant she had asked Caladrius to fly her back into the palace before searching for Yaz.

Slowly, Juliannah reached into the inside of her vest, and pulled out the letter from King Alistair. Taking a careful step towards Koschei, she held it up, and watched as his eyes lit up with eagerness and greed.

Juliannah, on the other hand, looked down at Yaz, and in that moment, she understood with crystal clarity that she would do anything for her. If saving Yaz meant giving up her own future, then so be it. 

Yaz was worth more than any of it.

Yaz lifted her eyes, and their gazes met. Pain shot through Juliannah’s chest at the emptiness behind her pupils, where a fierce fire had once shone so brightly that it had stolen Juliannah’s breath away.

Then, Yaz blinked, and this time, Juliannah managed to keep her face under perfect control.

She felt the shift as the woman pulled herself back into her own body, and a second later, Yaz’s eyes fixed Juliannah’s, shining clear and bright. 

A spark of gold ran across Yaz’s pupils, and, her voice cold and hard in a way Juliannah had never experienced, Yaz spoke two words into Juliannah's mind: 

“Burn him.”

Notes:

cw: blood, mind break, degrading talk of a sexual nature

Thank you for reading! :)

Chapter 34

Notes:

Hello everyone! This chapter once again comes with some content warnings, please check the end notes if you need to know beforehand :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The moment Juliannah had seen the gold in Yaz’s eyes, she had understood. She barely managed to suppress a proud smile – to purposefully pull out of herself as Yaz had done, feigning a broken mind, was nothing short of genius.

Juliannah kept her face in check as she looked back at Koschei.

“Oh Yaz” , she thought as she held the parchment out towards Koschei, anticipation building inside her chest. “You clever, clever girl.”

In the periphery of her vision, she saw Yaz’s grip tightening imperceptibly around Koschei’s arm.

The moment Koschei’s fingers touched the parchment, multiple things happened at once.

Juliannah yanked her arm back, Koschei’s fingers closing around nothing, and then she slapped her other hand around his wrist, her grip tight.

Yaz’s magic broke out first, fierce and bright, gold flowing over her skin like ripples on an ocean. It looked so different than it had on Juliannah, more graceful in spite of the absence of proper control.

Juliannah let her own magic lash across her arm and straight into Koschei.

Above them, Sty and Caladrius collided in a flurry of feathers and glinting talons.

Koschei didn’t have time to pull up a barrier, or attempt to cut Yaz’s throat. It was strangely beautiful, the way his eyes widened, gold and purple reflecting in them just as the two kinds of magic collided on his body. His mouth fell into a silent oh , a look of almost innocent surprise on his face as his hand opened and the knife clattered to the ground.

Then, he screamed.

It was the most wonderful thing Juliannah had ever heard in her life.

High pitched, filled to the brim with despair at the overwhelming pressure that was building and breaking inside of him in a never-ending tide. Juliannah knew what it felt like, to feel the magic rip you apart. She watched as his skin went pale, then grey-ish, and then finally, the first crack appeared on it, gold seeping out of it like blood.

A different kind of scream reverberated in Juliannah’s head, and her skin went cold. Her head snapped up to see Caladrius, suspended in mid-air, Sty’s left talon buried deep within his wing.

“No!” Juliannah shouted, her satisfaction at Koschei’s pain quickly replaced by fresh rage. She let go of his wrist, and he slumped to the ground, spluttering. Juliannah sent a bolt of lightning out towards Sty, then two more in quick succession. He successfully evaded the first two, but the third hit him in the wing with a satisfying crack . The bird released his grip on Caladrius as he was thrown back and down with the force of Juliannah’s magic, managing just about to catch his balance on the ground.

Caladrius fell. Juliannah lurched over, arms outstretched. Her knees crashed into the ground, but she ignored the screaming pain in them, her only thought being to catch Caladrius.

He fell into her arms, and she pulled him straight against her chest. “Cal”, she whispered. “ Cal.

“It’s alright”, he said, but his voice sounded eerily distant.

“I can’t heal you”, Juliannah said, the horror of truth cutting into her lungs and stealing every breath away. “I can’t save you .”

She heard a huff, and as she looked over her shoulder, she saw Koschei, trying to crawl towards the blade on the ground. Yaz was still bound to the chair, struggling against the ropes that were refusing to come undone.

Juliannah let go of Caladrius, gently placing him on the ground, and then she was flying over towards Koschei. She didn’t stop in front of him – instead, she used the momentum of her movement to grip him by the collar, pulling him up on his feet and slamming his back against the wall.

At the same moment as his breath was knocked out of him, four knights crashed into the room, their chests heaving, their appearance ruffled like they had been in more than one fight since entering the mansion. There was a splatter of blood painted across Clara’s chest, and Ryan was holding on to his arm, blood seeping through the fingers over his gauntlet.

Amelia’s hair had come undone, streaks of it pasted to her face where sweat and blood mingled. She looked like a warrior goddess of old, her eyes ablaze.

The knight went straight to Yaz, picking Koschei’s knife off the ground and setting about cutting the ropes. 

“Go on then”, Koschei wheezed, pulling Juliannah’s attention back to him. “Kill me with your twisted magic.” And everyone will know what you are

Oh, the temptation was strong. To burn him, like Yaz had asked. Let her magic feast on his body until there was no life left inside of him. For everything he had done – to her, to Caladrius, to Yaz.

Yaz.

She felt her grip on him loosen. Yaz didn’t deserve a life on the run.

“There are other ways to kill someone, Koschei”, she said, her voice soft. “Or worse. I could make you live a life devoid of magic. Cut off from your power for forever. I say I feel like conducting a little Binding ritual. How would you like that?”

If it was possible for his face to go even paler, it did. There was a glint of fear in his eyes, before it was replaced by pure spite.

“You can’t”, he spat out. “You need life force to conduct the ritual, and you and I both know you wouldn’t kill one of them for this.”

He was right, of course, in a way. It wasn’t that Juliannah wouldn’t , it was that Yaz wouldn’t want her to.

Koschei’s grin returned. “You don’t have a sacrifice”, he taunted, a hint of his usual condescension shining through in his demeanour.

“Actually”, Yaz’s voice rang out behind them, “we do.”

Juliannah’s head snapped around, and there she was: kneeling on the floor, Sty’s wings pinned under her knees as the bird struggled against her, Koschei’s dagger glinting in her hand.

Koschei’s eyes went wide with panic. “No”, breathed. Yaz was looking right at him, pure anger making the air around her almost visibly shift. “No”, Koschei repeated, desperation ringing through. “Don’t. You don’t have to do this, you don’t have to, I will –”

Without breaking eye contact, Yaz plunged the dagger straight into Sty’s chest.

Juliannah closed her eyes as a scream reverberated through her head, loud and full of anguish. It only lasted a second or two, but it burned into her mind like a searing needle. Then, there was silence, followed by a rush going through her as she opened her body up to the energy before it could escape.

Oh, she had forgotten how good this felt.

When she opened her eyes again, there was blood splatter painted across Yaz’s face, and the woman was looking straight at Juliannah.

“Do it.”

Juliannah turned back towards Koschei. All fight had gone out of him as he stood, no longer struggling against Juliannah’s grip, his gaze fixed on his dead familiar on the floor.

If Caladrius hadn’t been bleeding out at that exact same moment, Juliannah would have almost felt sorry for him.

“Koschei of House Gallifrey”, Juliannah said as she stepped back, pointing her palm towards his chest. She reached for the threads of magic that surrounded him, and pulled them tight, until purple light appeared around his torso. It wound around him, circle after circle closing across his chest until he could no longer move. “I cut your connection to the energy that surrounds us” – She flicked her wrist, and a flash of light ran across his skin, cutting –“and the energy within you.” She pushed her palm forward, and drove her magic straight into his chest. It sliced into him, and she could feel it like a thousand knives driving under his skin, severing his own magic from himself. Her hand was trembling with the effort of keeping all these strands of magic together, but she held steadfast. “Koschei of House Gallifrey”, she pressed out through clenched teeth, a bead of sweat running down her neck. “I bind you.”

The room exploded into light. Koschei fell to his knees, too weak – or too broken – to scream anymore. Golden light broke out of his back, taking almost the shape of a human figure as it tried to reach for Koschei, to hold on, desperate like an animal fighting for its survival.

It burst into a million golden flecks of dust, slowly raining down on the floor all around him. Like snowflakes, they melted away at the first touch, until there was nothing left. In the middle of it, Koschei knelt unmoving, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

Juliannah, swaying on her feet, turned around and rushed straight back to Caladrius, pulling him into her arms as she fell down on her knees, the movement uncontrolled.

“Juli” , he said. In her mind, she could feel him smile at her, and for some reason, it only made everything worse. 

“I’m sorry”, she whispered, and there were hot tears burning in her eyes. She hated it. She hated that she was feeling utterly powerless – the one thing she had worked her entire life to avoid. Everything within her was burning, but her magic was of no use to her now.

Somebody appeared next to her, and then there were golden hands glowing in the periphery of her vision. “Let me try.”

Juliannah looked up at Yaz, the woman’s face still covered in specks of blood. She looked as desperate as Juliannah felt, and Juliannah could hear the guilt and reproach raging within her.

“Please”, Yaz said. “Just let me try.”

The chances were slim, but Juliannah was willing to try anything. She looked at Yaz, the tears still burning in her eyes. “He’s the only family I’ve ever had”, she said, the words quiet and filled with anguish in a way that only made her angrier.

Yaz nodded. She knew. As Juliannah carefully held Caladrius out towards her, Yaz pressed her hands against his chest, and closed her eyes.

Juliannah waited.

By now, the knights had come to surround them as they knelt on the floor. They, too, seemed insecure in their own powerlessness, looking stricken as they waited. Juliannah kept staring at the pool of blood on the floor where Caladrius had lain, waiting for something – anything – to happen.

Other people would have addressed the stars, prayed and begged and negotiated. Threatened, maybe even. 

But as Juliannah sat, she remembered how Caladrius had guided her through her first magic attempts as a child. The patience he had shown, in spite of his sternness. He had been strict, yet concise in his teaching.

Juliannah did not believe in the stars, but she believed in him.

Amelia sucked in a breath, and Juliannah’s eyes snapped over towards Caladrius’ wing. Light was shimmering underneath his wounds, and slowly, almost imperceptibly, the skin around them began to move.

She’s doing it , Juliannah realised. She’s really doing it.

Yaz’s face was covered in sweat as the wounds continued to close underneath her hands. Juliannah wanted to reach out for her, to show her that she was here, by her side, trusting in her. But she knew from her own early magic attempts that a thing as simple as a touch could pull one back from a casting, and destroy all the work that had been done. And so she sat, unmoving, until the last hole in Caladrius’ wing had closed and Yaz opened her eyes, looking pale and exhausted.

In Juliannah’s arms, Caladrius blinked his eyes open.

“Well” , he said, his tone dry. “That could have been quicker.”

Juliannah stared at him for a moment, and then she felt a laugh break out of herself, pure and clear, filled with relief and warmth and care. She pulled him close against his chest, and he let out a pained hiss.

“I didn’t figure out how to heal his wing”, Yaz said sheepishly. “Just how to stop the bleeding.”

“Oh Yaz”, Juliannah said, and nothing more. There were no words she could think of in that moment that could express it all.

“Not to interrupt a wholesome moment”, Sir Daniel said. “But we knocked out a bunch of guards on our way up. They were lying in wait, and I assume they will come to at some point soon and find their way up here.”

Ah, so Koschei’s plan had been an ambush. He would have had plenty of witnesses for Juliannah’s magic, unless she would have killed them all – which she would not have been able to do without magic, either, leaving more evidence in her wake.

It had clearly been supposed to be a no-win situation for her.

“What about the Baron?” Amelia asked. “He must have been conspiring with Koschei.”

Juliannah scoffed as she pushed herself off the ground, still cradling Caladrius. “He will take one look at this room and know where his allegiance lies from here on out. Hond is an opportunist. He will side with power.”

Amelia nodded, although she did not look entirely convinced. Juliannah ignored the doubt on the knight’s face. If the Baron did not fall in line, she would have no qualms with making sure he simply didn’t wake up one morning.

He had worn her patience dangerously thin, and hopefully, he knew that.

Juliannah heard a familiar voice, thoughts messy and filled with confusion. She looked down to find Yaz still kneeling, staring at her own hands. Carefully, she reached out for Yaz’s mind, and found it filled with emotions too strong and entangled to properly name. The only thing Juliannah knew at that moment was that it had nothing to do with the powerful act Yaz had just performed. 

“Let’s go”, she said, and then, extending one hand towards Yaz, she added softly: “Yaz. With me.”

Yaz took her hand without a word, her eyes briefly darting across the room as they went to leave it behind.

Koschei sat motionless, his back against the wall, staring at his familiar with broken eyes.

A shudder ran through them both, but then, despite the turmoil inside Yaz, one thought suddenly shone through clearly:

He will never hurt me again .

Notes:

cw: torture, blood, minor character death, and an overall rather dark Yaz

Thank you for reading! As always, very excited to hear your thoughts :)

Chapter 35

Notes:

first of all, rosenkranz-does-things has struck AGAIN and has drawn an amazing dark!Yaz! You can find their art here

Please go and give the artist some love! They also currently have commissions open :)

And without further ado, here's your new chapter!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The knights led them back out of the mansion the same way they had come – they had snuck in through a water tunnel to the east of the main gate, knocking out the guards there and then ripping the grate out with sheer force. Juliannah had to admit that she was somewhat impressed.

They found their way back to the horses, and, wordlessly, the knights offered one of the horses to Juliannah and Yaz. Normally, Juliannah would have chosen to sit behind Yaz, reaching around her to hold the reins – but she was still holding Caladrius pressed closely to her chest, and so Yaz took the reins. She had never ridden like this, with a warm body behind her, and shifted stiffly in the saddle when Yaz’s hands came to reach around her.   

She could feel the storm that was still raging inside Yaz’s head. The woman’s thoughts felt like a ball of yarn, pressed tightly together, no end and no beginning to the tangled confusion. Juliannah knew there was nothing she could do about it until they were alone. In her own way, she knew what was happening inside of Yaz, even though her experience had been very different, and many years ago. 

With a click of her tongue, Yaz pushed her heels into the side of her horse, and snapped the reins. Nobody spoke, and Juliannah could feel the fatigue emanating from everyone. Pressing Caladrius to her chest, she watched the knights as they rode, their eyes hooded and their teeth clenched. Whoever had trained them had done a very fine job, as they remained quietly concentrated, watchful eyes staring straight ahead despite their obvious exhaustion.

The fact that none of the knights had been more gravely injured was another testament to their skill.

For two hours, they rode, and Juliannah felt herself slowly relax into her position on the horse. She still disliked the absence of control, but she kept her eyes fixed on Yaz’s calloused fingers wrapped tightly around the reins. 

She only looked up when Caladrius stirred in her arms. The sun was about to rise, hints of pink and orange colouring the eastern skies. The bird stirred further, moving himself into a sitting position, and Juliannah realised where they were. To their right, the woods surrounding the villages outside the Gallifreyan capital spread out, dark and lush.

She looked down at Caladrius, refusing to give the others a sign to halt.

“No” , she thought.

“You and I both know I need peace and quiet to heal.”

Her fingers tightened around him, and she looked back up, grinding her teeth. “You can have peace and quiet at the palace.”

He cocked his head at her, and she felt his grumpy disapproval run through her.

“Juliannah” , he said, his tone slightly annoyed, but she vehemently shook her head.

“The palace gardens” , she thought. “Nothing further away.”

A pause, until finally, Caladrius agreed. “Fine.”

A moment of silence followed, and then the bird gently pressed his forehead against Juliannah’s chest. She resisted the urge to bend down and breathe in the scent of his feathers, like she had used to do for comfort, once upon a time.

She was no longer a child.

They arrived at the palace gates as the edges of the sky began to glow a brighter orange. Juliannah gave the knights a sign to halt, and reached out with her mind. She did not want to cause a scene – nobody at the palace except those present would know what had happened tonight.

On the horse next to them, Amy’s head snapped over towards Juliannah as soon as the dull thud of bodies hitting the ground could be heard above the gates.

Juliannah rolled her eyes. “Calm down”, she groaned. “They’re asleep.”

Clara and Ryan opened the gates together, and they rode through. At the stables, they descended from their horses, Dan taking the lead in bringing the exhausted animals back inside. Yaz swayed on her feet, and Juliannah quickly slung an arm around her waist, stabilising her while Caladrius awkwardly made his way up Juliannah’s arms and towards her shoulder. Amelia appeared at Yaz’s other side, taking the woman’s arm to put it over her shoulders.

In the end, Caladrius agreed to having Dan bring him into the palace gardens, not before – half seriously, half jokingly, he told Juliannah:

“Teach your girl to heal faster.”

And then, quietly, towards Yaz: “Thank you.”

With a heavy heart, Juliannah watched as Dan carried Caladrius away. The bird sat on his hand – which Dan was holding as far away from his body as he could – and Dan was looking at him as if Caladrius was going to bite his head off any second. Caladrius threw Juliannah a final look, and a very annoyed reverberated through her head. It made the corners’ of Juliannah’s lips twitch.

Next to her, Yaz let out a small groan, and Amy nodded towards Juliannah. Together, they helped Yaz into the palace, up the stairs and into the chambers, leaving the other knights behind who quietly whispered “rest up” and “so glad you’re safe” towards Yaz.

Yaz did not reply.

Amelia only let go of Yaz briefly to push open one of the heavy doors to the royal chambers. They made their way into the bedroom, and, after having sat Yaz down on the bed, Amelia turned to walk out the room.

She stopped at the last moment, turning back towards Juliannah.

“Your Royal Highness”, she said. She briefly looked at Yaz, then back at Juliannah, and there was worry shimmering underneath her composed exterior.

Juliannah turned towards Yaz. She did not want to leave her alone, but she also did not want to burden her further.

“I’ll be right back” , she thought. She waited until Yaz had given a weak nod, then walked Amelia out into the antechamber. She left the door ajar, just wide enough so she could catch a glimpse of Yaz sitting on the bed, before turning to Amelia.

“Yes?”

“Some of the guards at the Baron’s estate”, Amelia said. “They saw our faces.”

Juliannah instantly understood. Nobody might dare come after the future Queen of Gallifrey, but a group of knights could quickly be blamed for a crime – especially if one of the Hondish guards they had fought ended up succumbing to their injuries. She wouldn’t put it past Hond to at least try and get some revenge for how his plan had been thwarted.

Juliannah regarded Amy for a long moment. The knight had proven herself tonight, that much could not be disputed. She was hot-headed, and fiercely loyal to Yaz. Not to Juliannah, that much had been clear.

For now, that would be enough.

“I do not think the Baron would dare come after his Sovereign’s Guard”, she said, matter-of-factly. Then, giving herself an inward push, she lifted her hand and held it out towards Dame Amelia.

Amy’s eyes widened. She stared at Juliannah’s hand for a moment. Juliannah forced down a snarky comment about the knight’s reaction time hopefully being better when she would be tasked with protecting her and Yaz’s lives. But then Amy surprised Juliannah by pulling off her gauntlet, still covered in the dried blood of the Hondian guards, before reaching for Juliannah’s hand. Her grip was tight, and honest. “Thank you.”

Juliannah nodded, and let go of the knight’s hand. Amelia took a step back, then bowed. “Your Highness”, she said.

When she didn’t leave the room after that, Juliannah raised a questioning eyebrow.

Amelia lifted her chin, squaring her shoulders as if preparing herself for battle. “Sir Daniel.”

“Ah.” Of course the woman wasn’t going to let it go. Fine. Juliannah was going to tell her what she needed to hear in order to get over this. “You may convey my… apologies to him”, she said stiffly.

Amy stood still. Juliannah felt her left eye twitch.

“I think Sir Daniel would appreciate a more… personal approach” Amy said, then at least had the decency to add: “Your Royal Highness.”

Juliannah’s nostrils flared, and she took a step towards Amy. To her credit, the knight did not even flinch this time, even after having seen what Juliannah could do. “I do not appreciate insubordination, Dame”, Juliannah said quietly, a clear warning in her tone. 

“And does honesty fall into that category for you, Princess?”

Juliannah blinked. She snapped her mouth shut, and found herself momentarily lost for words. Having the gall to speak to her like that was equal parts infuriating and impressive.

What was it with the knights in this palace?

Juliannah was quick to regain her usual composure, and she turned away from Amy. Through the gap of the door left ajar, her eyes landed on Yaz. The woman was sitting on the edge of the bed, her back slumped, her hands lying in her lap with the open palms facing herself.

“Have Sir Daniel come by my chambers tomorrow morning”, Juliannah said, not turning back around to face Amelia. “That is it for tonight, Captain.”

She could hear the soft intake of breath, and the moment Amelia’s thoughts caught up with what Juliannah had said. The knight stood frozen for a moment, having forgotten protocol entirely. 

Finally, as Juliannah threw her a questioning look over her shoulder, Amelia regained her composure.

“Your Royal Highness”, she said, and bowed once more. This time, she left, her thoughts in a daze.

As soon as the door had closed behind her, Juliannah focused on Yaz. The woman still wasn’t saying a word, and she looked like every muscle in her entire body was refusing to hold her upright.

Quietly, Juliannah pushed the door open, and went to stand in front of her. She held her hand out, and spoke softly: “Come.”

Yaz looked up, her eyes filled with unspeakable emotion. After a moment of hesitation, she took Juliannah’s hand, and got up. Juliananh led her out of their bedchamber, and into a small room next to it.

There were benches lining the walls, shelves filled with towels and soaps hanging above them.

Juliannah peeled her own clothes off first. They were drenched in sweat from conducting the Binding Ritual. It had taken quite a fair bit of magic out of her, but she ignored that, for now. There were more important things to worry about.

Juliannah turned towards Yaz, who had immediately slumped down on the small bench opposite Juliannah, staring at the floor. Juliannah approached her carefully. When Yaz didn’t react, Juliannah sank down on her knees in front of her, and slowly reached for Yaz’s tunic, waiting for permission. After a moment had passed, Yaz nodded, and Juliannah pulled the tunic up and over her head. It was stiff with blood, and Juliannah swallowed as she saw the wounds on Yaz’s chest, still open, still bleeding slightly.

Carefully, she shuffled closer towards Yaz, until she knelt between her legs. Juliannah reached out to gently wrap her arms around Yaz’s waist, the naked skin warm against her own. Searching for any sign of protest before continuing, she paused, then leaned down to place a kiss against Yaz’s chest. She could taste copper on her lips as she let her mouth graze over the wound, careful not to apply any kind of pressure. Then, she let her magic dance across her lips, just enough to sear the wounds shut without causing Yaz too much pain.

Yaz let out a small breath, but there was no sign of protest. Juliannah went to kiss the second wound shut.

By the time Juliannah was kissing the third one, Yaz’s hand dug into Juliannah’s hair, her other arm coming to wrap around her shoulders.

When Juliannah was done, she pressed her forehead against Yaz’s collarbone, and they stayed like this for a heartbeat or two. She listened for Yaz’s thoughts, for the waves to calm just the smallest bit before extricating herself, and standing up. She offered her hand to Yaz once more, and this time, the other woman took it without hesitation.

Juliannah led them into the room beyond. Torches lit the walls, casting a warm golden glow around them. Their light reflected on the surface of the water in the middle of the room. There were soft stones underneath their feet, but they weren’t cold, heated by the steam from fires many stories underneath them. Together, they walked across them, then descended the steps into the large bath that had been laid into the floor, its water steaming. Juliannah turned to face Yaz as the water lapped against their bellies, and she reached for a cloth on the edge of the bath.

Wordlessly, she soaked it with water, and then set about cleaning Yaz’s chest. She took her time, fully aware how sensitive the skin would still be after having just been seared shut. The cloth turned red with blood after a while, and Juliannah wrung it out in a small bowl set next to the bath, then continued to work in silence. All the while, she was listening to the feelings rushing through Yaz, letting them lap at her like the water against her skin. With every speck of blood that Juliannah carefully wiped away, the thoughts seemed to grow a little more subdued, a little calmer.

Finally, Juliannah threw the cloth to the side, and reached for a fresh one. She soaked that one, too, and then lifted it to Yaz’s face.

The woman flinched, pulling her head back just a little. Juliannah waited until she saw the tension leave Yaz’s body, and then she reached for her face once more, gently cupping one cheek.

“Yasmin”, she said softly, and she felt the woman opposite her relax into her touch.

Yaz let out a long breath, closed her eyes, and nodded.

Slowly, like one would approach a frightened animal, Juliannah began wiping the blood off of Yaz’s face. She did so with great care, tracing the line of Yaz’s jaw, her nose, her eyebrows. When she was done, Juliannah dropped the cloth on the side of the bath, and took Yaz’s hands into hers.

She lifted them up to her lips, and pressed a kiss into each open palm.

“I wanted to kill him.”

Juliannah looked up to find the storm inside of Yaz finally having broken out onto her face. Her eyes were dark, emotions dancing across them.

“I wanted to kill Sty”, Yaz repeated, her brows knitting together and her jaw clenching. Her voice went quiet. "Koschei, too.”

“I know”, Juliannah replied, simply. She said nothing more, holding on to Yaz’s hands instead.

“I don’t regret it”, Yaz said. Her voice was quiet, but steady.

Juliannah intertwined their fingers, taking a careful step closer towards Yaz. She had been there once, a very long time ago. “Does that scare you?”, she asked. It was the answer to this question, Juliannah knew, that had always marked the difference between them. That always would.

It took Yaz a long while to respond, and even though Juliannah could see the answer in her mind before it was spoken, she still waited for Yaz to say the word out loud.

“Yes.”

“Good”, Juliannah said.

Yaz stared at the water for a long moment. When she finally looked up at Juliannah and their eyes met, there was a familiar curiosity shining in them. “Does it scare you ?” she asked, and there was no judgement in her voice. “That you don’t feel it. Regret, I mean.”

Juliannah froze. Her gaze dropped to their hands, grazing the top of the waters, fingers intertwined in an intimate gesture that would once have made her want to rip her hands away.

“Yaz”, she said, quietly. "I regret the things I did to you.”

Opposite her, Yaz let out a small breath of surprise. It took Juliannah a moment to catch up, and then shame washed over her as she realised that Yaz had not known. She remembered the moment they had been presented with their crowns, the needle Yaz had felt wedged between her ribs as Juliannah had brought up her original intentions towards her. How the fear had settled in her own chest, then, that a part of Yaz would resent her forever. How she had pushed it all away, except it had never really gone away.

“Juli.”

When Juliannah looked back up, Yaz's expression had gone soft, her eyes full of care. There was another emotion, too, one that Juliannah took a moment to recognise.

It shot into Juliannah’s chest like lighting, painful and beautiful all at once. She couldn’t remember anyone ever having looked at her like that.

Yaz smiled, gently, extricating one hand to lift it up and cup Juliannah’s cheek. Juliannah fought against her instinct to flinch away from it, and stood still instead as Yaz’s eyes roamed her face.

“I forgive you”, Yaz finally said, her voice soft, and then: “I love you, Juliannah.”

What followed was no fiery declaration. It was not a shout of passion, nor one born from despair. There was no hitching of breaths, no pulses thrumming in fingertips, no blushing of skin followed by hungry kisses and burning desire.

Instead, it was simple, like a child unfurling the fingers of a closed fist to hold out an open palm. 

Quietly, Juliannah replied:

“I love you, too.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading! Very much looking forward to hearing your thoughts, as always :) It makes my day!

Aaand here's a quick PSA:

There will be no update next week!

I have been writing the last few chapters through a massive bout of writer's block, and looking at the ending now, I'm not satisfied with what I've got so far. I don't want to brute force it, so I've decided to take the time to rewrite it. I'm sorry there'll be a bit of a longer wait this time but I really want to give these two the ending they deserve.

See you all in two weeks :)

Chapter 36

Notes:

Well, hello there :) First of all, a big thank you to everyone who reached out to let me know they'd be happy to wait for the new chapter! I'm not very good at giving myself time and it helped to hear from you, the readers, that it was alright :) It took a week longer than expected, BUT the new chapter is finally ready. It's extra long, and also guess what??

It's not the final chapter!

Who'd have thunk it, the chapter count has changed again 😂 I think for the final time? But we'll see 😂

Now, without further ado, here's your new chapter! I hope you like it :)

Special thanks to sapphicsgalaxy for giving this a read when I couldn't see the forest for the trees anymore, and giving me the last push I needed to upload :)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“I do not see why I have to bend to protocol when I am protocol.”

“It is not protocol per se, Your Royal Highness. But it is customary in Gallifrey for those about to be wed to honour –”

“Honour what?” Juliannah said, her voice going quiet and sharp. “I dare you to use the word ‘family’, Lord Ixion.”

Lord Ixion snapped his mouth shut, and threw a glance bordering on despair towards Yaz. She had been watching this back and forth for a couple of moments now, sitting at the council table. Juliannah had sat next to her, at first, but once the Master of Ceremonies had begun talking about the customs of the so-called “family day” – the day before a Gallifreyan wedding – Juliannah had jumped up. Her knuckles had gone white as she had gripped the table tighter and tighter.

Yaz leaned forward, and gently placed her hand on top of Juliannah’s. She felt the woman next to her flinch, until she relaxed just enough to loosen her death-grip on the table.

The Master of Ceremonies let out a long breath, and Yaz felt the turmoil raging inside of Juliannah. She looked at the woman, the way she was keeping her expression in check, barely.

“Your ladyship”, Lord Ixion began, his tone pleading.

Finally, Yaz returned his gaze, fixing him across the table. As she looked into his watery blue eyes, she could feel Juliannah’s emotion lash out inside of the woman next to her. It seemed they were both equally offended by the insinuation that Juliannah could be swayed by someone simply addressing a matter with her future wife.

“Her Royal Highness”, Yaz said, her tone calm and cold, “will do as she pleases.”

The Master of Ceremonies’ cheeks turned a dark red. “The public and the nobility expect certain traditions to be upheld, Your Royal Highness. And it is the tradition for a future Sovereign to spend the day before a wedding with their” – he paused, pursing his lips, before speaking his next word with added weight – “family, which in your case means spending it commemorating –”

“With me”, Yaz interrupted. “It means spending her day with me.” The Master of Ceremonies opened and closed his mouth a few times, but Yaz did not let him make another point. “Or would you not consider me Her Royal Highness’ family, Lord Ixion?”

The tension was palpable, but everyone in the room knew that Lord Ixion had lost this battle. Finally, he nodded, reluctantly.

“If that is all”, Juliannah said, “you may excuse yourself.”

The Master of Ceremonies stood, and bowed. “Your Royal Highness. Your Ladyship.”

The moment the door fell shut behind him, Juliannah let herself fall into her chair. She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a groan. There was something defeated about her that made Yaz turn towards her, suddenly feeling slightly insecure about the choice she had made.

“Juliannah?” Yaz said softly.

Juliannah grimaced, looking like she had just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. “Your sister”, she said, her tone pained, “is going to drive me insane.”

Yaz stared at her for a moment. When the words finally sunk in, a laugh bubbled up inside her, breaking out from the depths of her belly. “Oh dear”, she breathed in between chuckles, “she really put the fear of the stars in you, didn’t she?”

Juliannah dropped her hand, and threw Yaz an annoyed look. “I do not fear the stars or your sister. But the insolence that woman has shown towards me is absolutely unacc –”

Yaz raised an eyebrow.

Juliannah scrunched up her nose. “Sonya”, she said, her tone tense, “is a handful.”

“She would be delighted to hear you say that.”

“I shall make sure to never mention it again.”

Yaz leaned back in her chair with a smile.

 

 

This was ridiculous, really. She was the future Queen of Gallifrey. If she wanted to, she could just turn around right now, and go spend her day however she damn well pleased. 

The thought of walking through this door and having to spend the day sitting down and making smalltalk – with people she barely knew and had nothing in common with – was causing the hair at the back of her neck to stand up. What did Yaz expect from her? That Juliannah played the part of perfect daughter-in-law, forthcoming and charming to her future in-laws?

Juliannah was none of those things. In fact, if Yaz’s sister pushed her far enough, she might even let her anger get the better of herself – again .

Yaz wasn’t even here yet. If Juliannah just ordered one of the staff to let her ladyship know that she was needed elsewhere, then that would be it. 

With a determined tuck on her vest, Juliannah turned away from the door – and came face to face with Yaz.

A flash of disappointment ran across the woman’s face. “You’re leaving.”

Juliannah inadvertently took a small step back, her hands coming to rest behind her back as she lifted her chin. She didn’t like the look in Yaz’s eyes. “I will spend this day as I please. Lord Ixion be damned.”

Yaz let out a sigh. “We talked about this. For the sake of appearances, if you could just come in and –”

“It’s your family”, Juliannah snapped, “not mine.”

Stars, why did Yaz’s face have to fall like this whenever Juliannah’s tongue unleashed itself? She hated the way it made her feel.

“I see.”

“Well”, Juliannah said quickly, “if Lord Ixion had simply let up on the –”

“Lord Ixion isn’t here”, Yaz interrupted, her face now motionless in a way that Juliannah found even more disquieting. “I am.”

Instinctively, Juliannah reached out for Yaz’s thoughts – and found herself turned away. Apparently, Yaz had learned a thing or two from Koschei’s abduction.

“Maybe it’s time Lord Ixion permanently isn’t here”, Juliannah snorted.

She regretted the words the moment they left her lips. Yaz’s entire body went stiff, and even though Juliannah could currently not reach her thoughts, she could see the memory in front of Yaz’s inner eye just fine like that.

“I think we’ve had enough of that for a while, don’t you?” Yaz said, quietly.

“Yaz”, Juliannah began, “I didn’t –”

“Enjoy your day. However it pleases you to pass it.”

The door behind Yaz fell shut with a clang, causing Juliannah to flinch.

Juliannah felt the eyes of four knights burning into her.

“I’m going into the gardens”, she said sharply, and turned around. She was going to spend her day with Caladrius, like she had wanted to do to begin with.

She was the future Queen of Gallifrey. She would do as she pleased.

Yaz herself had said it.

 

 

“You look like you bit into a mouldy apple.”

Yaz, snapped out of her thoughts, looked up to find her sister leaning against the table right in front of her. She blinked. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to see Juliannah written all over your face.”

Yaz let out a groan, and let her eyes roam over the room to buy herself some time. Her father was currently extremely invested in a discussion with Dan – apparently, the knight had a hidden passion for kitchenwares, Hakim’s chosen form of trade. Ryan was having a polite conversation with Najia, while the fact that Clara of all people was the one talking to Yaz’s grandmother was making her a little bit worried. But then again, Yaz always felt like Umbreen had had a much more colourful life than she let on towards her children and grandchildren.

A twinge in Yaz’s chest reminded her of how much she had wanted Juliannah to get to know Umbreen.

“Alright, what did she do?”

Yaz pressed out a breath through her nose, and looked at her sister. “I wanted her to join us, here. She seemed fine at first, but then she just… left.”

Sonya frowned. “Without saying anything?”

“Oh no, she had something to say alright”, Yaz replied, a bitter laugh on her lips.

Pushing herself away from the table, Sonya grabbed a free chair next to Yaz, and pulled it up to her. “Talk me through it”, she said.

Yaz let a hand run over her face as she replied, her voice half-muffled. “She can be a bit… harsh. When you accidentally… move the right lever inside her.”

“I was aware.”

“Well, apparently, I managed to move such a lever when asking her to join us." Yaz lifted her hands in defeat. "I don't get it. We talked about it. She was fine with it!" 

“Hm.” Sonya leaned back in her chair. Yaz squirmed under the gaze of her sister, scrutinising her in a way Yaz wasn’t used to from her. Finally, Sonya spoke again. “You love her”, she said, matter-of-factly. “And she loves you, too?”

The memory crashed into Yaz with full force, stealing her breath away and causing her heart to stumble in her chest.

“Oh stars, I do not want to know the details of whatever just went through your mind.”

Yaz pulled a face, averting her gaze. Sonya was quiet for a while, then said, more a statement than a question: “Family is difficult for her, isn’t it?”

Yaz instantly felt herself tense up in self-defence. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean she gets to –”

“– be a bitch, I know.”

Yaz’s mouth fell open in shock. “ Sonya .”

But her sister only shrugged. “We all have stuff going on, Yaz. Doesn’t mean we get to hurt the people we love because of it.” Sonya sighed. “It also doesn’t mean that we don’t still sometimes do. We just have to have the guts to deal with it after.”

Without a word, Yaz leaned forward in her chair, and pressed a hand against her sister’s forehead.

“What in the stars are you –”

“Just checking you don’t have a fever”, she said, then proceeded to pinch Sonya’s arm, causing the woman to yelp. “Or that boyfriend of yours replaced you with someone else.”

“Girls.”

Both Sonya and Yaz instinctively sat up straight, their heads slowly turning towards their mother. She was throwing them a look across the table that they both knew all too well.

“We’re good, mum”, Yaz called back, smiling. “Just joking around.”

“Yes!” Sonya called out, the exact same smile on her face. “All good!”

They sat, unmoving, waiting for their mother to return her attention to Ryan. When she did, they both let out a long, relieved breath.

Apparently, some things didn't change, not even when you were about to be Queen. 

“Drinks?” Sonya asked.

“You’re too young for alcohol.”

“If only you knew.”

Yaz threw another look across the table, making sure their mother wasn’t watching. “Fine”, she mumbled, and with a grin, Sonya reached into her bag and pulled out a dusty, brown bottle.

“I made this myself.”

Yaz closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Stars help me.”

She hid the smile that was tugging at her lips by letting her hand run over her face once more.

 

 

The air had turned without her having noticed it. The change was more subtle here, with the mildness of Gallifreyan summer seamlessly blending into the beginning of autumn. The leaves on the trees in the palace garden had turned hues of red and orange, and Juliannah sat watching them, motionless. Her hand rested on Caladrius’ back, occasionally stroking his feathers. His wing was healing well, in spite of it having only been three days since his injury. Familiars were a marvel like that, and Juliannah was thankful for it.

They had been sitting in silence for a good while now. Caladrius had jumped down from one of the trees onto Juliannah’s shoulder, then crawled into her lap as she had set down in the gazebo in the middle of the garden.

She ignored the way Dame Amelia’s eyes had been burning into her for at least an hour now, and let her gaze roam over the garden.

So this was the place that Koschei had taken Yaz to, again and again. The longer Juliannah sat and stared, the more the reality around her slowly blended with the memories she had seen in Yaz’s mind all those months ago. After a while, the bright sky over her turned dark, and the clouds gave way to stars blinking down on the trees illuminated by moonlight.

At the back of the garden, the branches of the orange tree slowly moved until they bore fruit, and a hand reached up to pluck one.

“Sit with me, Yasmin.”

A hand touching another’s back, uncomfortable silence, and a pained expression quickly hidden.

For a moment, Juliannah wanted to fling herself across the garden and shove him out of the way. But then she blinked, and suddenly, the sun was shining into her eyes and the leaves around her were brown and red once more.

At the entry to the gazebo, Amelia was still staring at her.

Juliannah clenched her jaw. “If you have something to say to me, Dame, you better come here and get it over with.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Amelia entered the gazebo. She walked up to Juliannah, studied her for a while, but remained silent. 

Juliannah kept her face in check as best as she could. "Sit", she said. An awkward feeling shifted through her, and she added: "If you want to."

She felt Amelia's surprise, but the knight eventually sat down next to her.

Juliannah instinctively lifted her arms, placing her elbows on the back of the bench and establishing her own space.

As the silence stretched on, Juliannah could feel her patience wearing thin. "Well?" she asked. She couldn't help the sarcasm that dripped from her tone as she continued. "I'm sure you have a lot to say."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure you can figure this one out on your own."

Juliannah turned towards her, one eyebrow raised. "Can I?" 

To her credit, Dame Amelia did not blush this time. "Your Royal Highness", she said, her tone stiff, "I find it quite disconcerting when you do… that."

Juliannah leaned over, right into Dame Amelia's personal space, and put on her most innocent smile before thinking:

"That is the point."

This time, Amelia sucked in a sharp breath. Tension filled the air as the knight’s shock and discomfort became almost visible in the air around her. Then, Amelia forcefully relaxed her body, leaned back, and pulled off her gauntlets. 

Right in front of her future Queen. 

“Who in the darkest of nights taught you palace protocol?” Juliannah groaned as she pulled back, but Amelia only shrugged.

“I beat the knight who was supposed to give me my lessons in a duel, first training after I came here. He was pretty uhm… banged up. And apparently so terrified of me after that he refused to come to my room alone to teach me stuff.”

Juliannah snorted. She could well imagine it, Amelia beating the lights out of some bony knight. Especially after having seen the woman in action only a few days ago. 

Amelia said nothing more, instead simply looking out into the garden herself. When the silence dragged out between them, Juliannah sighed.

“If you weren’t planning on giving me a lecture, I fail to see the point of all this, Dame.”

To Juliannah’s surprise, Amelia smiled. "The point”, she said, “was actually just to keep you company, Your Royal Highness. If you will allow it."

"I do not need –" 

Amelia's gaze was unmoving. Juliannah ground her teeth. 

"Fine."

Suddenly, the smile on Amelia's face turned into a sly grin. "Good", she said. She leaned forward, balled her right hand into a fist, and hit something on the underside of the bench. 

With a soft click , the panel of wood between them sprang open, revealing a hidden compartment inside the bench. Juliannah stared at the compartment, then at Amelia.

“Koschei’s secret stash”, she shrugged as she pulled out a bottle and two simple glasses. “He offered it to Yaz once, and she told me about it.”

Familiar anger rushed through Juliannah at the mention of Koschei, but then she remembered the look on his face as he had sat, hunched, on the floor in Hond’s mansion. She took the glass Amelia offered her, and watched as the knight poured golden liquid into it.

The rich scent of anis suddenly filled the air around them, and Juliannah pulled a face. “Did he make this himself? ” she asked, disgusted.

Unperturbed, Amelia lifted her glass towards Juliannah. 

"To Yaz", she said, then added: "With all due respect, Princess: if you hurt her, I won't hesitate to use my sword."

"That's treason, Dame", Juliannah replied dryly. 

"I call it loyalty."

Amelia took a sniff of the liquid, then downed the entire glass in one gulp. Juliannah waited and watched. If the knight fell over dead, at least Juliannah wouldn’t be expected to try this atrocity of a drink.

But Amelia made an appreciative face. “Not bad”, she hummed. “Not bad at all, actually.”

Juliannah took a sip, and immediately scrunched up her face as the bitter liquid hit the back of her throat. Apparently, Koschei was not only a man without morals, but one without taste as well. 

She continued taking small sips of her drink, sitting in silence. Caladrius had fallen asleep in Juliannah's lap, and her hand came to rest in his feathers once more. He needed his rest to heal, she knew it. She knew he was safe, and still, she could not help but reach out with her mind, listening to his heartbeat. The gentle thudding of it calmed her. 

He was her family.

“Or would you not consider me Her Royal Highness’ family?”

Her heart painfully stumbled in her chest, and s he squeezed her eyes shut. 

When she opened them again, she placed her glass on the bench next to her, then carefully moved to scoop Caladrius off her lap as she stood. Amelia immediately jumped up. 

"Stay with him", Juliannah said as she placed him onto the bench with care. "He needs his sleep."

"Yes, Your Royal Highness."

Juliannah looked at the bird, his uninjured wing moving to cover his face. Without looking up, she said:

"You will make a fine Captain, Dame."

A look of surprise flitted across Amelia's face, and then she nodded. "I will do my very best to keep her safe." She seemed to struggle with herself for a moment, and Juliannah resisted the urge to probe into her thoughts. 

She knew what Amelia would want to say, anyway, could taste it in the air between them.

The knight could only keep Yaz safe physically. Anything else would fall to Juliannah.

 

 

“No, no, you need to reach under the arm, like –”

Yaz wrapped her hand around the edge of her blade, hooked the tip into Clara’s elbow, and twisted.

“–this.”

With a hiss, Clara dropped her weapon. It clattered across the wooden floor, and the knight reached for her right elbow, her face scrunched up. “Holy fucking –”

Across the room, Najia cleared her throat, and Clara blushed as she stood up straight. “Impressive”, she mumbled, avoiding looking over towards Yaz’s mother.

Yaz had to swallow down a laugh. There was something oddly satisfying about her mother having the same effect on other people as she had on Yaz and Sonya.

“Anyway”, Clara said, the blush in her cheeks receding. “Let me show you the one I told you about.”

Yaz eagerly took a step towards her, the training sword raised. “Yes, please.”

It had been a glorious idea. Noticing Yaz’s rather dampened mood, Clara had stolen away and promptly returned with swords from the armoury. They had pushed the table and chairs to the side, and were now engaged in an impromptu training session – going slow due to the lack of protection being worn by Yaz. It had taken a little bit, but once they had reached the third move, Yaz had felt herself laugh freely, the joy of her craft bringing warmth to her heart.

She was ignoring the occasional flash of memory, of blood running on the floor and her hands wrapped around the hilt of an ornate dagger.

Not today.

“Swipe for my feet”, Clara said, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. As Yaz followed her instruction, the knight stepped to the side, and then put one foot on the tip of Yaz’s sword, pressing it down on the floor.

Yaz’s eyes went wide, and a second later, Clara was swiping upwards towards her neck. Instinctively, Yaz let go of her sword, and jumped back, avoiding the edge of the blunt weapon but rendering herself defenceless in the process.

“Nice”, she said, and Ryan whistled approvingly from the sidelines. 

“Let me try”, Yaz said eagerly, reaching for her sword on the floor. She just about lifted it into an attack position when the door on the other side of the room opened, and Grace walked in.

Yaz stared. If the Lord Protector was here, that meant.

“Her Royal Highness, the Princess Juliannah.”

Everyone jumped out of their chairs as if stung by bees, and then the entire room fell quiet as Juliananh walked in. She stood in the room, looking displaced, her hands stiffly hanging at her side. A moment of awkward silence passed, and Juliannah waved one hand dismissively in the air. “Proceed as you were”, she said stiffly.

Slowly, Yaz lowered her sword, and she saw her mother and father exchange a look before sitting back down. People awkwardly reached for their cups, taking sips. The silence continued.

Juliannah clenched and unclenched her fists, and her left cheek twitched. Yaz could sense the feeling of displacement inside the woman, quickly chased by anger at herself for feeling thus in the first place. 

Yaz was about to give her sword to Clara and walk over, when Juliannah gave herself a visible push. She turned, straightened her shoulders, and then walked straight up to Umbreen who was sitting in a corner sipping her tea. 

Juliannah stopped in front of her, her hands coming to rest behind her back. Umbreen looked up, surprised, then pushed herself out of her chair once more. 

"Your Royal Highness", she said, and Juliannah nodded. 

"Yasmin's grandmother. She has told me about you."

A genuine smile lit up Umbreen's face. "She better have", she said cheekily, "she's my favourite."

A unisonous "oi!" came from Sonya and Najia, and Yaz held her breath as annoyance briefly flashed across Juliannah's face at the interruption. But then the blonde nodded, and said, her tone stilted but nonetheless earnest: "I have found the same holds true for me." 

Warmth flooded Yaz's chest in an instant, and her shoulders relaxed as if her muscles had just suddenly decided to go soft. 

In the corner of her vision, Sonya made a gagging motion, but Yaz ignored her sister's antics. Sonya cared, no matter how much she liked to pretend to be a hardened soul. 

Rather awkwardly, Juliannah gestured towards a chair next to Umbreen. "May I?" she asked, and Yaz had to stop her eyes from going wide. 

Umbreen enthusiastically agreed, and they sat down together. Juliannah turned towards Yaz and Clara. "I believe there was a sort of…  tournament going on?" she asked. "Proceed." Then, Juliannah threw Clara a look, a clear warning in her glare, and the woman blanched. 

It was only a moment, and then Juliannah turned back towards Umbreen. Slowly, conversation around the room rose up again, and Yaz watched curiously as Juliannah listened to her grandmother, occasionally nodding along. 

"It is fucking terrifying when she does that."

Yaz swirled around, and looked at Clara. "Oh. The" – she lowered her voice – "mind thing?" 

Clara nodded. "I mean, I'm not gonna judge. But how in all the stars' names does she not scare you shitless?"

Yaz let her gaze drift over Juliannah. She remembered the very first time she had met her – confused from her kidnapping, yet nonetheless rendered breathless by the woman in front of her. The Lord Mistress had touched something inside of Yaz, something dark that had lain dormant until its slumber had been broken by desire. 

It was that same part of her that had wielded the knife.

"Yaz", Clara said next to her, pulling her back. When Yaz looked at her friend, her face was filled with concern. Clara dropped her voice to a whisper. "If you need… I mean, I'm sure we can still get you out." 

Yaz blinked in confusion, until Clara's words caught up with her. "Oh", she said. "Oh, no, no it's not – it's not her. It's…" she paused. She hadn't brought this up with anyone besides Juliannah. "It's what happened in Hond's mansion." 

Clara's expression turned from worry to compassion. She put a hand on Yaz's shoulder, and squeezed. "I'm sorry he got you like that, Yaz. But he can't hurt you anymore. She made sure of that."

Yaz dropped her gaze to the training sword. The leather wrapped around the grip was coming loose, one bit off it sticking to the side. Yaz grabbed it with one hand, and pulled it taught, then pushed it against the handle. She pressed her thumb against it, then let go. For a brief moment, it stayed in place. Then, with a soft sound, it came loose once again. 

"Anyway", Clara said, "want to show me the one you used on Ryan once, where you dropped your sword and threw him on the ground?"

Yaz looked up and saw the encouraging smile on her friend's face, then nodded.

 

 

The sun had gone down by the time Juliannah and Yaz bid farewell to Yaz's family. They were sleeping in the palace tonight, and after hearing Yaz's thoughts as she had watched Sonya eye the decor in her room, Juliannah would have to tell the staff to ignore any missing objects. 

Yaz said goodnight to her parents by giving them both a hug, and Juliannah gave a nod, keeping her fair distance.

Umbreen was the last one they escorted to her guestroom, and after Yaz gave her grandmother a hug, too, Juliannah felt a strange sense of kinship come over her. 

Before Umbreen could go into her room, Juliannah held out her hand. 

"Umbreen", she said. Nothing more. 

She could feel Yaz's surprise next to her, but then something else happened, something that swept Juliannah's attention towards the older woman. 

Umbreen clasped Juliannah's hand in both of hers, and said, with a soft smile: "Goodnight, child."

It washed over Juliannah in an instant. She could not have described what was happening to her, only that it did so completely against her own will. The feeling rushed over her, sweeping the years off her skin and melting the memories from her mind, until all that was left was a small child, and the faint, distant image of another woman's face, smiling down at her. 

It hurt. 

She wanted to let go. She wanted to pull back her hand as if it had been burned, wanted whatever was happening to stop, now

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yaz's face: full of marvel, of love. 

She hesitated, leaving her hand in Umbreen's. And then the pain dulled, giving way to a bitter kind of sweetness at the exact moment as Umbreen let go of her hand.  

A moment later, it was just the two of them, in front of Umbreen's closed door. 

Juliannah stared at it, unable to pull her eyes away for a moment – until she felt another, more familiar hand wrap itself gently around hers. 

"Let's go", Yaz said softly, and Juliannah nodded. 

They walked towards the Queen's Tower in silence, until they reached foot or the steps. It was the first time today that they had a proper moment for just the two of them, and they turned towards each other. There was a twinge in Juliannah's chest at the thought of spending the night apart – but it had been Yaz's wish to stick to this one, small part of tradition, and Juliannah would grant it.

"Well then", Yaz said with a smile. "I will see you tomorrow?" 

Juliannah raised an eyebrow. "I do not plan on going away."

"Neither do I", Yaz replied. There was a smile curling the corner of her lips. Juliannah wanted to reach out and touch the dimple in her cheek. She spoke before she could think about what to say. 

"I'm sorry."

Yaz's smile turned soft. "I know", she replied. "Thank you. For coming back."

Juliannah looked at her for a long moment. She could feel the presence of the woman's thoughts, open to her once more. "I…", she began, then stopped. Slowly, she lifted her hand, a silent question. 

Yaz nodded, and Juliannah's fingertips grazed her temples. A second later, she let go. 

It tore at her, painfully so, but she allowed it to flow through herself and into Yaz. The discomfort she had fought with during the day, the anger at herself. It slipped out of her control, taking on a life of its own as it showed Yaz everything, even the things Juliannah might have preferred to stay hidden – like that old, shameful fear inside of her, that she would never be enough. Not for herself, not for the ones who died, not for the woman she had come to love.

In spite of her own pain and anguish at cutting herself open like this, she did not pull back, and waited for Yaz to open her eyes again instead. 

It took a long moment, and just as she did, Juliannah saw a tear escape and run down Yaz’s cheek.

She froze instantly, pulling her hand back, her entire body going stiff.

“I didn’t mean to –” she began, but she could not finish her sentence. Because in that same moment, Yaz had reached for her, and pulled her into a kiss. It was deep and passionate, trying to convey what words could not. After an initial moment of surprise, Juliannah wrapped her arms around Yaz, and pulled her close. Their kiss turned hungry soon after that, and Juliannah felt desire rising inside of her, spreading its familiar wings until it filled her completely. There was an urge – to grab Yaz's hand, and pull her with her, upstairs. To feel in control, after a day of that very same thing running through Juliannah's fingers like sand.

Reluctantly, Yaz broke their kiss, resting her forehead against Juliannah's. Juliannah could hear her heart beat fast, warmth running through her veins, turning hotter with every passing breath. She could feel Yaz’s desire, too – to grant Juliannah her wish. But the knights were waiting, and Yaz had wanted this one tradition to remain intact.

Yaz leaned forward, and pressed her lips against Juliannah's cheek. 

"Soon", Yaz thought, and finally, they stepped apart. 

Juliannah watched her walk down the corridor until Yaz disappeared around the corner, with one final look over her shoulder. 

Tomorrow, their lives would change forever. 

Except it did not truly feel like change. It felt like falling into place.

Juliannah turned away, and began the ascent to her chambers.

Tomorrow, they would be Queens. If Yaz so wished, Juliannah could wait until then to make Yaz hers again.

 

 

Yaz lay awake, her mind churning. Every time she almost fell asleep, the same image appeared in her mind, as if to torture her. 

She had told Juliannah that her lack of remorse scared her. What she hadn't told her, what had kept her awake at night for the past few days, was not her lack of remorse, however.

It was how powerful she had felt as Sty's life had slipped through her fingers. How that power seemed only a hair's breadth away from enjoyment. 

She never wanted to enjoy taking a life, ever. 

She turned to her side, her eyes gazing out through the window and into the starry night sky. She could see the Kasterborous constellation shining back at her, bright and clear on a cloudless horizon. 

She blinked, and for a moment, the luminaries in the sky were stones set into the pommel of a dagger. 

Yaz squeezed her eyes shut, and thought of Juliannah. Her heart instantly warmed, her shoulders relaxing. Tomorrow, she would be Juliannah's wife. Her heart stumbled at the thought, and she reached for her own shirt, squeezing a fistful of it above her heart.

She thought of the day – of how Juliannah had pushed herself to meet Yaz's family. She had shown Yaz, before they had said goodnight, how much it had made her feel out of control.

Yaz's eyes flew wide open, and she sat up, throwing her covers away. 

Juliannah needed to feel in control, and Yaz needed to let go of everything. 

Suddenly, she knew exactly what to do. 

Notes:

Now taking bets for which final piece of furniture will be ruined in this fic 😌😂

Thank you all for reading! I hope I'll be able to upload again next week, but it very much depends on how crazy my work schedule will be. Thank you all for your patience, it means a lot <3

Chapter 37

Notes:

Well, hello there :D I honestly hadn't thought that I would be able to upload today, but then inspiration struck like lightning yesterday and I actually had a couple of hours off for once so – here we are!

I like to call this chapter "chapter 11 2.0 or The Return of the Lord Mistress" ;D the chapter is very nsfw, and if you need to know exactly what kind of shenanigans the two will get up to, more detailed tags are in the end notes :)

Enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

With the greatest care to not make any noise, she reached into the shelf and felt around. She knew it was there somewhere. Koschei had shown her once. She tried not to think of what it had implied – that he had planned for her to steal into his chambers once he would be King. That must have been before he had decided to officially make Yaz his.

She pushed the thought away. Her heart beat fast into her ribcage as the moments went by and she couldn’t find –

There. The tip of her ring finger hit something rough, and she reached for it. The lever was small and delicate, and she pulled on it gently.

The shelf in front of her gave way, slowly moving backwards to shift behind the shelf next to it and reveal a dark tunnel.

Great , Yaz thought. I should have brought a light.

It took her a full minute of fumbling about in the dark before she realised that she was the light now, technically. She stopped, and tried to reach for the warmth within her. It was a strange thing, her magic. On the one hand, it felt like a part of herself. On the other, it was foreign to her body, mingling with her blood almost against the will of both her blood and the magic. But in the end, it was there to stay, and finally, Yaz managed to touch it. It felt like reaching into a well with nothing but one’s bare hands, scooping the water and hoping something remained by the time hands made it to lips.

It took a few tries, and Yaz was about to give up. She forced herself to let out a long breath, which turned into an involuntary, low hum. Suddenly, the magic turned thicker, took shape, and stopped running through her fingers.

When Yaz opened her eyes, specks of gold were dancing around her fingertips, illuminating the tunnel around her.

With a smile on her lips, Yaz continued her journey. She ignored the cold that crept up her legs and crawled underneath her skin, the dust that settled in her throat and urged her to cough.

She needed Juliannah. It was all that mattered. 

She almost didn’t see the small oak door until she came to a sudden halt inches away from it. With shaking hands, she pushed the lever next to it, and emerged a moment later as the shelf in the sitting room slotted itself back into place behind her.

The antechamber was cast in darkness except for the lights still shining around Yaz’s hands. She took a step towards the bedroom door, then paused to slip out of her shoes. As she lifted her fist to knock, the lights evaporated around her fingers, plunging her into darkness and rendering her blind.

She gave two short knocks, her heart beating in her throat.

“What?”

With a deep breath, her fingers tingling to the point where she could barely feel them, Yaz pushed the door open.

Juliannah was sitting on a chair next to the fireplace, the string of her shirt lazily undone and her sleeves rolled up. She was holding a book – Yaz recognised it as the Karnish folktales she had found the woman reading in her library once. The fireplace was crackling, and Juliannah was angling the book towards it for light. Her boots lay thrown on the ground next to the bed, and she was still wearing her trousers.

“What is it now, Dame –”

Juliannah looked up, and stopped mid-sentence.

Without a word, Yaz reached for the belt of her robe, and undid it with one tuck. As the garment fell open around her, she felt goosebumps erupt all over her skin.

Juliannah’s face instantly changed, her eyes going dark – but Yaz wasn’t done yet. Slowly, deliberately, she let the robe fall from her shoulders, and to the ground behind her. Then, she took a step towards the chair, and sank down on her knees next to it.

At first, Juliannah said nothing, simply letting her eyes roam over Yaz’s naked form instead. It felt like an appraisal, and Yaz swallowed hard as she waited for her sentence – whether or not she was worthy of the woman in front of her.

Slowly, Juliannah leaned forward. She put her index finger underneath Yaz’s chin, and forced it up until they were making eye contact.

“What is this?” she said, her tone low.

Suddenly, in spite of having planned this, Yaz found herself lost for words. She stared at Juliannah, her mouth dry and her entire body flush with desire. “I –” she began. “I was… I wanted –”

In a split second, the gentle touch of a finger under her chin turned into a hand grabbing her face, nails digging into her cheeks.

Her core throbbed at the touch.

“Yasmin.”

Pure fire shot through Yaz at the use of her full name. Juliannah’s tone was warning, dangerous. Finally, Yaz found her words once more as she looked into hazel eyes, dark with lust.

“Take control”, she said quietly, then added: “Lord Mistress.”

Oh she loved how the title made Juliannah’s face change, how the lust turned into burning desire and need. She could feel the urges burning under Juliannah’s skin: to grab Yaz, to do with her as she pleased, to use her in any way she wanted.

Juliannah’s face came closer, and Yaz could feel her breath dancing across her lips. “Be sure, Yasmin”, Juliannah breathed, and the familiar words only stoked the fire in Yaz’s veins. “Be very sure.”

Yaz closed her eyes, relishing in the feeling of Juliannah’s fingers digging into her cheek. She wanted them wrapped around her wrists, her throat, she wanted them to leave bruises on her hips and thighs. Her voice barely a whisper, she said:

“Set me free.”

The next thing she knew, there was a hand wrapped around her throat, and she was being pulled off the floor. Her back slammed into a wall, knocking all air out of her. 

Before she had time to recover, lips pressed against hers in a bruising kiss. All she could do was take it, Juliannah’s mouth hungrily taking kisses from her with force as the Lord Mistress’ fingers kept her lungs from getting the air they needed. 

Without noticing it, Yaz had grabbed Juliannah’s shirt, pulling at it, trying to get the woman closer as she gasped through strangled kisses. The moment Yaz registered what she was doing, the hand around her throat disappeared, and instead, her wrists were grabbed and slammed against the wall next to her head.

She felt the crackle of Juliannah’s magic before she saw the purple sparks springing out of her fingertips. For the briefest of moments, Yaz wondered whether or not her coronation dress had long sleeves – a second later, the thought of being crowned while wearing Juliannah’s marks sent a wave of wetness to her core.

“Yasmin”, Juliannah said, her voice a low growl. “ Be good.”

“Yes”, Yaz whispered, her body brimming with tension. “Yes, Lord Mistress.”

Yaz was rewarded when Juliannah’s lips wrapped around her hard nipple. With her hands now tied to the wall behind her, all she could do was arch her back, pressing herself against the Lord Mistress, moaning with every stroke of a warm tongue against her nipple. When Juliannah flicked her thumb over her other nipple at the same time as biting into the other one, Yaz was reduced to a keening mess, a string of unintelligible words falling over her lips that mostly consisted of “Mistress” and “oh stars” and “ please ”.

As soon as the last word had been spoken, Juliannah stopped. Yaz let out a whimper at the sudden absence of a hot mouth on her breast, but Juliannah slowly stood up straight, reaching for Yaz’s chin once more.

“Please what?” she asked, almost softly.

“Take me.”

“Take you how?” Juliannah shot back, a dangerous glint in her eye and a sinister smile playing at the corner of her lips.

Yaz swallowed. “Any way you like.”

It seemed to have been the correct answer, because suddenly, Yaz’s arms were untied from the wall, and then she was being pulled around, her hands tied behind her as she was being shoved into something.

Yaz looked up to see herself in the mirror, bare, Juliannah standing behind her.

Juliannah wrapped one arm around her waist, and let the other hand travel across Yaz’s stomach, towards her breasts, briefly squeezing a nipple between thumb and index finger. Yaz gasped, but Juliannah’s hand was already moving on towards the other breast.

Yaz’s gaze fell upon the scars on her chest, and she froze. She didn’t want to remember, didn’t want to think about –

In a swift movement, Juliannah’s hand changed course, covering Yaz’s scars as her other arm tightened around Yaz’s waist.

Sparks flew from her fingers, and Yaz closed her eyes as she hissed in a mix of pain and pleasure. Juliannah pressed her burning hand against Yaz’s skin, and Yaz’s eyes flew wide open.

Their gazes met in the mirror of the dresser as Juliannah let her teeth run up Yaz’s neck until she stopped, her lips grazing the shell of Yaz’s ear.

“You are mine, darling.”

When Juliannah dropped her hand, Yaz’s breath got stuck in her throat. There it was: a black imprint of Juliannah’s hand painted across Yaz’s chest, covering up her scars. It went from her sternum to just above her left breast, the imprint of the fingertips resting above Yaz’s heartbeat.

Slowly, Juliannah’s hand moved across Yaz’s stomach, her fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. As she let her hand dip lower and lower, Yaz felt like she was about to burst into flames.

Still fixing her gaze in the mirror, Juliannah smiled devilishly, her eyes dark. She let one finger graze the skin just above Yaz’s clit, then breathed:

“Have you been good?”

The moan had spilled from Yaz’s lips before she could stop it. Juliannah raised an eyebrow, her finger slowly retreating.

“Yes”, Yaz breathed quickly, desperate not to lose what she had been about to receive. “Yes, I have.”

Without any kind of warning, Juliannah clamped her teeth shut around the soft flesh at the base of Yaz’s neck. She cried out in a pain, but then –

Her cry turned into a gasp as a finger swept over her core, gathering up wetness and pressing against her clit. The movement was slow and deliberate, just enough pressure to set Yaz on fire and not enough to get her any sort of relief.

“Please”, Yaz heard herself moan. “Please, Juliannah, I –”

In a fraction of a moment, the pressure was gone, and then there was a hand between Yaz’s shoulder blades. She knew what was about to happen, and still, with her arms tied behind her back, there was nothing she could do.

She crashed into the dresser in front of her, managing to turn her face away in time. Her entire torso was pressed against wood, and some small objects that had been lying on the dresser. They were digging into her skin, uncomfortably so.

“What do you call me, Yasmin?”

Oh stars, the soft purr of the voice behind her, more dangerous than a raised voice could ever be.

“I –”

A hand buried itself into her hair, ripping her head to the side until her neck was bent uncomfortably and she was looking into the mirror. Juliannah was bent over her, one hand resting on the dresser next to Yaz. She was looking into Yaz’s reflected eyes, a sharp glint in them.

“I said”, she repeated, even more quietly this time: “What do you call me, Yasmin?"

Yaz swallowed. The grip on her hair tightened.

“Lord Mistress.”

The words came out a hoarse whisper, her vocal cords strained from the position she had been put into. But Juliannah smiled. “Good girl.”

Yaz bit her lip in order not to moan.

“Stay still”, Juliannah said.

Slowly, she pushed herself away from the dresser and, still looking at Yaz in the mirror, Juliannah reached for the loosely tied chord at the top of her shirt. She pulled on it in an almost lazy gesture, until it was fully open. Then, she pulled the shirt over her head, and threw it on the floor.

Stars, she was perfect. Yaz tried not to squirm on the dresser as she eagerly drank in the sight: soft curves, milky skin with the occasional silver glow of a scar – the ones that had appeared after Yaz had saved Juliannah. Yaz let her eyes roam over naked arms, shoulders, collar bones, and finally allowed herself to look at Juliannah’s breasts. Her throat went dry, and her blood seemed to boil with desire. Unconsciously, she let out a small whimper.

Juliannah threw her head back, and laughed. “Oh Yasmin”, she finally said. “Still like what you see?”

“Yes”, Yaz breathed, and with a triumphant grin, Juliannah reached for the waistband of her trousers.

She pushed them down in one go, and then she was standing behind Yaz completely bare. Yaz was ready to beg the woman to let her touch her – or be touched. Whatever Juliannah – the Lord Mistress – preferred. However she wanted her, she would happily give herself.

“My, my”, Juliannah said as she stepped closer towards Yaz. A hand reached up, slowly gliding over Yaz’s back, moving towards the dip above her hip. Her touch, almost gentle, made shivers run down Yaz’s spine. It was getting harder to stay still – especially when Juliannah’s hand stroked Yaz’s exposed butt and squeezed one cheek.Yaz closed her eyes at the feeling, but Juliannah had already let go. Yaz instantly missed the contact, but then –

Juliannah’s palm came down against Yaz’s flesh, hard. Yaz gasped, and Juliannah laughed. “Someone is eager”, she said.

Yaz would have replied something, but then a hand reached around, and a finger effortlessly pressed into her without warning. Her eyes flew wide open, and a strangled moan fell over her lips.

“Stars”, Juliannah moaned, sounding pleased. “You are eager.”

Goosebumps broke out all over Yaz’s skin, and then Juliannah began moving her finger inside of her. Yaz clenched instinctively around her, but the blonde went slowly about it, pushing in deeply and pulling out almost completely. It drove Yaz mad. She was torn between wanting to close her eyes, and feeling the desperate need to watch Juliannah fuck her in the mirror. The visual of Juliannah standing behind her, naked, and Yaz herself being pressed against the surface of the dresser, completely at the blonde’s mercy, was heavenly.

A second finger pressed into her, and Yaz moaned, her eyes fluttering shut out of their own accord. With a slow drag, Juliannah made sure to press a sensitive spot inside of Yaz. Another moan spilled from her lips, and Yaz bit her bottom lip, hard.

Juliannah bent forward then, and Yaz could feel the blonde’s hard nipples against her back as the fingers moved inside of her. She felt herself flutter around the intrusion, steadily and slowly pushing into her. Yaz wanted more. She needed more. She needed Juliannah to go faster, to take her without mercy, to use her until Yaz came all over the dresser underneath.

Juliannah pulled out. Yaz couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her mouth as she squeezed around empty air, desperate for Juliannah’s fingers to return. “Please”, she whispered. “Please, Lord Mistress.”

She opened her eyes just in time to see Juliannah take her fingers into her mouth, and suck. Her breath stuck in her throat at the sight, and suddenly she could think of nothing else but Juliannah’s mouth around her clit, sucking and licking and –

Slowly, Juliannah pulled her fingers out of her mouth. “Not yet”, she said matter-of-factly.

The fact that Yaz had spent months with the blonde and she had still forgotten that the other woman would be listening to her thoughts was testament to how muddled with pleasure her brain was. She didn’t have time to ponder this fact however, because in the next moment, Juliannah had grabbed one of her wrists. 

“Uncurl your fingers, darling.”

Yaz had no idea what the blonde was intending to do, but she did what was asked of her, uncurling her fingers that had been pressed into a closed fist, resting just above her butt. She couldn’t see what was happening, only feel the way Juliannah’s hand was curled around her wrist, how Yaz’s own hand was being manoeuvred towards her and –

Oh. Oh.

Without warning, Juliannah pressed two of Yaz’s fingers into herself. Wet warmth wrapped around them, enveloping them, and if Yaz had thought the vision in the mirror had been heavenly before, this was truly beyond comparison.

Juliannah’s eyes fell shut as she let her head fall back a little, her entire body relaxing at the sensation of having Yaz pressed inside herself. She stayed like that for a moment, hands resting against Yaz’s back, just adjusting to the feel. Then, she began to move against Yaz’s hand, her ass, and Yaz couldn’t help the fresh wave of arousal that coursed through her like electricity. 

Juliannah moved slowly at first, dragging herself over Yaz’s fingers. It was an uncomfortable position, but Yaz didn’t care – and neither did Juliannah. She seemed completely enthralled by her own pleasure, getting herself off on Yaz’s hand. Soon enough, her movements picked up speed, and she was moaning behind Yaz, who could do nothing but watch this miracle in the mirror. 

“Fuck”, the blonde gasped, and she thrust herself against Yaz with more force, jostling her on the dresser. Yaz’s skin rubbed painfully over the wood underneath her, and then Juliannah’s hand came to rest on her neck, pressing down, as if to hold her in place.

She was using her, as if Yaz were nothing more but a toy.

And stars, did it make Yaz wet. She wanted nothing more than for Juliannah to free her other hand, to let Yaz touch herself as she watched Juliannah use her like this.

“More”, Juliannah groaned behind her, impatience dripping from the word as her nails dug into the skin on Yaz’s neck. “More.”

Yaz had enough mind power left to shift her fingers, and with the next thrust, Juliannah pushed three fingers into herself. Stars, the woman felt so tight wrapped around Yaz, and she seemed completely lost in her own pleasure now as she thrust against Yaz again and again, gasping and moaning shamelessly. Yaz could feel the woman’s wetness, trickling down her hand, running over her ass. It made her own desire feel like it was burning her up from the inside, and she couldn’t help but moan herself at every movement now.

Behind her, Juliannah’s breathing was getting laboured. Her skin had become flushed, and as Yaz watched the movement of the blonde’s breasts with every thrust, she thought for a moment that she could come just like this. Just from watching Juliannah lose herself  in her pleasure. She could feel the woman getting closer to her climax, the way she fluttered around Yaz’s fingers, the way her movements became just a little less coordinated, more desperate. She wanted her to come, wanted her Lord Mistress to receive all the pleasure she deserved.

Yaz curled her fingers inside of Juliannah.

Yaz.

Yaz watched, warmth rushing through her heart at the fact that Juliannah had slipped, as Juliannah came. The blonde went still, her back arched, her head thrown back, squeezing tightly around Yaz’s fingers. A second later, it turned into a flutter, and Juliannah moaned, loud and long as all tension left her body in one rush of pleasure.

Juliannah almost collapsed on top of Yaz, barely catching herself by shifting the hand that had been pressed against Yaz’s neck. Juliannah pressed her face against Yaz’s neck, and Yaz closed her eyes, relishing in the contact – if she concentrated, she could feel Juliannah’s heartbeat. Her fingers were still buried deep inside Juliannah, and she adored feeling the warmth around them, and the wetness they were covered in.

Stars, how she wished she could drink it all up.

“Well, then”, Juliannah said above her, slowly standing upright against. She pushed herself against Yaz’s fingers once more with a sharp thrust, jostling her on the dresser. Then, with a soft groan, she  pulled away from Yaz, and walked away. The movements had shifted Yaz on the dresser, and she had to crane her neck to see what was going on in the mirror.

Behind her, Juliannah sat down on the edge of the bed, her legs spread.

“Kneel for me, darling.”

Yaz’s mouth went dry. She struggled to push herself off the dresser for a moment, her hands still bound behind her back. Her neck and back hurt as she finally stood, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Juliananh, and what she wanted Yaz to do. What she would allow Yaz to do.

Yaz gracelessly fell to her knees in front of the bed, shuffling closer to Juliannah. The woman simply sat, her arms lazily supporting herself on the bed behind her, watching Yaz as she came closer.

Yaz could smell Juliannah, saw the woman’s swollen core, probably still sensitive from her orgasm. Carefully, she bent forwards, breathing the woman in. Stars, she was intoxicating. A hand came to rest in her hair, pushing her towards Juliannah.

At the first taste of Juliannah against her tongue, Yaz couldn’t help but moan. Juliannah hissed – Yaz was right, it was overstimulating – but she didn’t move her hand away, didn’t command Yaz to stop.

And so Yaz did what she had wanted to do. She drank up Juliannah’s wetness, lapping at her like a woman possessed, pressing her tongue hard against Juliannah’s clit before flicking it over her. Soon, the air was filled with Juliannah’s moans again, urging Yaz to continue as the grip in her hair tightened so much it became painful. But Yaz did not stop. 

The Lord Mistress wanted to be pleased.

It didn’t take long before Yaz felt the blonde dangling over the edge once more, and she eagerly increased the pressure of her tongue. When she stopped to suck, Juliannah cursed, pressing Yaz’s face harder against herself.

At the next stroke of her tongue, Juliannah came all over Yaz’s face. Yaz drank up the wetness as if she had been walking through a desert, prolonging Juliannah’s orgasm as much as she could. Finally, she could feel Juliannah twitch, and her head was being pulled back.

Juliannah looked down on her, her cheeks red, her lower lip swollen. She must have bitten into it, Yaz realised.

She wanted to kiss her.

The next thing she knew, she was being pulled off the floor by her hair, and then Juliannah was standing next to her and kissing her, hard. The woman groaned at tasting herself on Yaz, swiping her tongue over Yaz’s lower lip. Yaz let her kiss her however she wanted, eagerly opening her mouth for Juliannah.

A second later, she was pulled away, and thrown face first onto the bed. The softness of the covers underneath her broke her fall, enveloping her.

Her voice was muffled against the sheets as she tried to move. “What are you –”

“Quiet.”

Yaz snapped her mouth shut. The fire inside of her was burning so hot now that she knew whatever Juliannah was about to do, if it involved touching Yaz in any way, she would not last long. She heard some distant movement in the room, and then hands grabbed her hips, pulling them up to push a pillow underneath them.

A moment later, Yaz was rewarded with familiar hardness pressing against her entrance.

Juliannah went slowly, pushing her open at an excruciating pace, but Yaz almost sobbed in relief. She closed her eyes, letting herself be overtaken by sensations: Juliannah’s hands, her grip firm on Yaz’s hips, and the hardness pressing into her. Every inch felt like torture and heaven at the same time..

When she finally bottomed out, Yaz let out a long moan. “Stars”, she breathed. “Stars, yes.

Juliannah pulled out just as painfully slowly, dragging against Yaz’s inner walls, setting her veins on fire. She stopped when only the tip was left inside, and remained that way. Yaz whimpered, and she inadvertently squeezed around Juliannah, desperate to draw her back in.

Behind her, Juliannah let out a dark laugh, and a shiver ran down Yaz’s spine.

“Oh, darling”, Juliannah said, her voice low. “It’s not your turn yet.”

Then, she pushed herself back in. Yaz gasped at the movement, but Juliannah didn’t stop to check on her. She simply began moving inside of Yaz, going slow and deep. Within seconds, Yaz’s vision was blurring around the edges and she was dangling so close to her orgasm, yet knowing exactly she would not be able to come at this pace. Every time Juliannah hit a tender spot inside her, she could feel herself edging closer to the precipice of being drowned by pleasure, and she was desperate for the woman to simply take her, and push her over the edge.

Juliannah stopped abruptly, buried all the way inside Yaz, and Yaz sobbed. 

“Yasmin”, Juliannah growled, her tone warning. “I told you it’s not your turn yet.

That was when Yaz understood – and her entire body protested at the idea. She felt herself flutter around Juliannah, her nails digging into the palms of her hands, still bound behind her back. “No”, she whispered. “No, please let me –”

A hand came crashing down against her butt, hard, and Yaz cried out. “I’m not done with you yet”, Juliannah said sharply. “You will come when I say so.”

Yaz whimpered, clenching helplessly around the thick shaft inside her as fresh wetness gushed out of her. Juliananh gave a small thrust, and Yaz moaned, her cheek rubbing over the covers underneath her.

“Will you be good?”

Stars, Juliannah knew exactly what to do.

When Yaz didn’t immediately reply, Juliannah snapped her hips without warning. Yaz bit the inside of her cheeks as her pleasure became near unbearable.

She felt herself nod against the covers. “Yes”, she said, her voice rough. “Yes, Lord Mistress.”

“Well done.”

Juliannah moved, and Yaz thought she was going to explode. As the thrusts grew faster, every cell in Yaz’s body was screaming for her to let go, to let her orgasm wash over her. But Juliannah wanted her to be good, and she could do that. She could be good for her Lord Mistress.

Juliannah’s nails dug into the flesh above her hip as she began thrusting in earnest. From time to time, she pulled Yaz back against her cock, making her thrusts only hit Yaz harder. Yaz was moaning with every movement now, lost in the delirium of pleasure and simultaneous despair at the knowledge that she would not be allowed relief.

When Juliannah leaned forward, and reached around to pinch one of Yaz’s nipples, her eyes rolled back in her head.

It wasn’t possible. She was too tightly wound, too close – she  couldn’t hold on, couldn't keep herself from coming, it would only take another thrust, maybe two, and then she would –

Juliannah stilled, and a drawn out moan filled the room. As Yaz felt the woman spill inside of her, she almost cried. She had been so close, she had almost been able to taste the relief. Instead, she fluttered helplessly around the unmoving cock, her body burning.

A sob escaped her as Juliannah pulled out. She felt some of Juliannah’s come escape her, trickling down the inside of her leg. Yaz was a mess of pure lust and desire now, reduced to a creature that craved Juliannah.

Distantly, she was aware of something being dropped on the floor, and then hands shifted her around. She let them, let herself be manoeuvred onto her back, let her bounds be undone.

“Open your eyes, darling.”

She hadn’t even realised she had kept them screwed shut. When she finally blinked them open, she was greeted by the sight of Juliannah, her face illuminated by the firelight as she settled between Yaz’s spread legs.

“I’m going to count to ten”, Juliannah said, her voice almost soft again. “And then you can come.”

Yaz nodded weakly, and Juliannah bent down.

Her back arched off the bed at the first touch of Juliannah’s warm tongue. She dragged it over Yaz in one, long stroke.

One .

Another stroke, with more pressure this time, and Yaz squeezed her eyes shut again. Her hands, now freed, grabbed fistfuls of the covers.

Two.

Her body was on fire. There was no more blood in her veins, only fire. Fire, fire, fire.

Juliannah pressed her tongue against her harder, flicking it over the tip of her clit.

Three.

A moan reverberated against her core, and her toes curled. She wasn’t going to last. She wasn’t going to be able to –

Four.

Juliannah’s mouth closed around Yaz’s clit, sucking with just enough force to make Yaz’s entire body go taut. She was going to break apart.

Five.

Juliannah’s tongue dipped into her, dragging along her inner walls, and Yaz’s hips lifted off the bed as a strangled sound, half-moan, half-sob, fell from her lips.

Six.

Yaz exploded into a million pieces. Her orgasm ripped through her, almost violently, and every little piece she had become went up in flames. She was distantly aware of Juliannah continuing to drag her tongue over her – thank the stars – and then she was burning, inside, outside, no longer knowing where the world began and she ended. She melted into the space around her, and couldn’t feel anything anymore but the pleasure that rolled through her, suffocated her, breathed life into her.

When she opened her eyes, Juliannah’s face was hovering over her, and a smile curled the corner of her lip.

“Welcome back, darling.”

Yaz blinked, sluggishly. Welcome ba –

Oh. She could feel her cheeks turn hot as the realisation hit her.

She had passed out.

A soft hand rested against her cheek, and Juliannah leaned down, enveloping her lips in a kiss. Yaz closed her eyes, melting into it.

When they broke apart, she said sheepishly “Sorry for not making it to ten.”

Juliannah let out a small laugh, a beautiful sound that warmed Yaz’s heart. Then, she pressed a kiss underneath Yaz’s earlobe. “You did well”, she said softly.

At that, Yaz’s entire chest went warm, and she turned towards Juliannah. She pressed her face against Juliannah’s chest, and after a moment of surprise, the blonde wrapped her arms around Yaz, and pulled her close. 

“Yaz”, Juliannah said softly, and Yaz took a deep breath as the world around her shifted back into place.

“Juli.”

The blonde pressed her nose against Yaz’s hair, holding her tightly. Suddenly, Yaz could feel a tension in her. Frowning, she pulled back, and saw something flash briefly through Juliannah’s eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Juliannah looked at her, her face briefly twitching. “I… We haven’t done this. Not since we…”

It took Yaz a moment to catch up. She let her hand rest against Juliannah’s chest, just above her heart. “Since we admitted how we feel about each other.”

Juliannah nodded. 

“Would you rather not do this anymore?” Yaz asked. She felt a sudden rush of guilt – had she misinterpreted Juliannah’s thoughts before? 

“I want to”, Juliannah said quickly, no doubt having heard Yaz’s worry. “I do, I just… I don’t…” She took a breath, her brow creasing in frustration. She was clearly struggling to find the right words, and all Yaz could do was give her the space to figure it out.

“I can be rough”, Juliannah finally said. “I enjoy being rough. But I don’t want to hurt you, accidentally. Not when you don’t want me to.”

Yaz looked at the woman lying opposite her, her brow creased with worry, and suddenly found herself filled to the brim with love. She leaned forward, and pressed a kiss against Juliannah’s lips. 

“I love that”, she said quietly. “But you didn’t do that today. I really wanted this.” She could feel the tension in Juliannah abade a bit, and thought about their conundrum for a moment. “Maybe… maybe we can find a sign. Or a word. Something for me to do or say if I really ever need you to stop. Would that make it easier for you?”

Juliannah’s arms around Yaz tightened almost imperceptibly, and she nodded. “Yes. I would like that.”

Yaz smiled, and shifted closer to Juliannah once again. She lay down on her back, her cheek resting against Juliannah’s chest. The blonde had one arm underneath her neck, the other draped over Yaz’s stomach. They lay in silence for a while, bathing in the afterglow of pleasure and each other’s warmth. After a while, Juliannah began drawing circles with the tips of her fingers across Yaz’s stomach. Then, she let her hand drift, over the side of Yaz’s body, over her arms, until her hand gently curled around Yaz’s wrist. She brought it up to her lips, pressing a kiss against the damaged skin.

“I can’t heal them”, she said, and she sounded almost dejected. Yaz looked over at her, her heart stumbling as she saw the way Juliannah was looking at the wristlet that had fallen down on Yaz’s arm, resting a good way underneath her scars.

“You could show me how.”

Juliannah’s eyes snapped from the bracelet to Yaz’s face. She seemed to ponder it for a moment, then gently placed Yaz’s arm back down. She reached for Yaz’s face, cradling her cheek.

“May I?”

Yaz nodded, and closed her eyes.

It was similar to what Caladrius had done, yet so different. Juliannah felt closer than he had, in a way that felt intimate. She directed Yaz’s mind towards the damaged parts of her skin, and it almost felt like a hand guiding another, accompanying the movements while only being a hair’s breadth away – never quite touching. She showed Yaz how to smooth out the burned skin, how to turn the clock within the cells until they regenerated into something new and healthy, and only smoothness was left behind. The process was beautiful, and left Yaz breathless.

They worked without a single word having to be spoken, communicating only through shared intuition. First Yaz’s left wrist, then her right. When Juliannah moved towards the scar on Yaz’s chest, Yaz suddenly found herself stopping.

Wait ”, she thought.

When she opened her eyes, she realised that they had shifted. They were facing each other again, and Juliannah’s hand was now resting on Yaz’s chest. Yaz had covered it with both of her own.

Juliannah opened her eyes, a silent question in them.

“I want to keep this one.”

At that, the expression on Juliannah’s face went just a little bit soft. “Yaz”, she said, a slight worry to her tone. “It’s not safe –”

“I know”, Yaz said, pressing her hands harder against Juliannah’s. “I know, but it makes me feel…” She swallowed, letting the feeling rush through her until she could put it into words. “It makes me feel like I carry you with me. Wherever I go.”

Something briefly shifted on Juliannah’s face, softness and wonder mingling into one, and then she was kissing Yaz, pulling her close with her free arm.

“I love you .

Yaz’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t known – had hoped of course, but not known – whether their moment in the bath had been a one-time thing. Whether Juliannah would be able to say the words again, to stay vulnerable in this way with Yaz.

“I love you, too” , she thought back quickly, her hand reaching for Juliannah’s cheek as they deepened their kiss. “I love you so much.”

When they broke their kiss, they pulled each other close, simply holding on to each other. Yaz’s heart was beating hard into her chest, bursting with a million things she could not put to words. The one thing that shone through, more clear and bright than anything else, was this:

She was happy. So completely happy that there were no more words necessary.

Juliannah moved, and then there was a blanket being pulled over both of them. Yaz  knew she should not stay much longer – she should take her robe, and get back to the guest room. It was the tradition she had wanted, and maybe they should at least uphold a little semblance of it.

But as Juliannah pulled her close, burying her nose in Yaz’s hair, all Yaz could think was that this, right there, was where she belonged.

This was her happiness, and she had earned it – every last second of it.

She fell asleep, surrounded by Juliannah.

Notes:

nsfw content includes: fingering, cunnilingus, and strap-on. The sex depicted is rough, featuring: choking, shoving, hair pulling, restraints, and edging – all of it with a heavy serving of D/s and praise :)

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 38

Notes:

I live!!! It's been 84 years... I'm sorry it took me so long to finish this – I had the chapter almost done but then I caught covid which took me out for weeks 😅 BUT I'm all better now and I finally had the time to finish writing.

So here it is, the final chapter!

Oh boy, there's a couple of things I want to say before we get started. First of all, as always, my biggest thanks goes to all the readers who left me words of encouragements, who talked about this fic over on tumblr and twitter, who sent me messages and let me know how much they enjoy this fic. It's been absolutely amazing to hear from every single one of you!

And then the fanart. Oh my god, THE FANART. It's blown my mind on epic proportions. The kind of art that was created for this fic – Seeing Juliannah and Yaz come to life through it has been the most wonderful gift.

When I started this fic, it was meant to be a fun steamy one-shot, but then I looked at it and knew it was more. It should be more. And when this Juliannah began to properly form in my head, her story ended up also becoming a personal journey for me. It was a story I came to realise I very much needed to tell, and I have grown alongside it.

So in the end, I want to dedicate this fic to the reader who has a curled up child inside of them.

Know that love is the choice they cannot take away from you.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The day Juliannah of House Theta-Gallifrey was crowned as Star-blessed Sovereign of Gallifrey, the entire palace was buzzing with energy. Staff had been rushing through the halls and corridors since before the sun had risen, making final adjustments. Banners had been hung, flowers arranged, musicians briefed and breakfast laid out for those nobles who were residing in the palace for the duration of the festivities.

In the Queen’s Tower, the future Sovereign stood, her nose scrunched, her eyes fixed with displeasure on her reflection.

“If you would stand still, Your Royal Highness, I could fix that emblem of yours a lot quicker.”

Juliannah pushed a breath out through her nose, and tugged at her vest, prompting Donna to raise both eyebrows. The woman was a handful, Juliannah thought.

Why was everyone in this palace a handful?

Begrudgingly, Juliannah let go of her vest. She forced herself to stand still, pushing her discomfort at the woman’s sudden proximity away. As Donna fiddled with the emblem that hung, currently skewed, at the base of Juliannah’s throat, Juliannah let her thoughts drift.

The days since the Binding had been filled with last minute preparations. They had not heard from Koschei – not even the court gossips had had anything to say about him. It was Juliannah’s understanding that he had fled the country, for now. Not for the first time since rescuing Yaz, she wondered if it might have been better to kill him.

Baron Hond, to the knights’ clearly visible surprise, had arrived the day before the coronation. If the palace staff was to be trusted, he had brought with him a garishly luxurious gift for the soon-to-be-married couple. Juliannah had been right about him, in the end. He would follow wherever power led him.

“There you go”, Donna said as she stepped back, pulling Juliannah back into the present. The Countess gave her a once over, making sure her appearance was fit for a coronation. Something about the woman’s gaze – smart and always watchful, with a hint of mischief and a thinly veiled devilish spark – was maybe a little bit unsettling, Juliannah had come to realise.

Not that she would ever admit to that.

“Only your hair left to do now, Princess”, Donna said, and Juliannah swore that there was a smirk dancing across the corner of her lips, if only for a second.

Juliannah sat down, and Donna set about brushing her hair and pulling it back into a small ponytail. Donna purposefully left a couple of strands out to frame her face, and Juliannah finally felt a bit more pleased with her appearance. Yaz liked this look on her, she knew.

A flutter went through her chest at that, and Juliannah almost huffed at herself. There was absolutely no reason for nerves now – she knew Yaz was in another part of the palace, getting ready just as Juliannah was. She probably had her family with her, or some of the knights. It wasn’t like Yaz was just going to decide to run away now. After all, they had settled their dispute on family day in… many ways that same night.

A thought flashed through her mind, and Juliannah clenched her teeth. That had been someone else Yaz had fled from. And she had fled to Juliannah, she reminded herself. Juliannah had been the one Yaz had always come to.

Suddenly, Juliannah could see her standing in front of the window in her private library as if it had been yesterday. Tousled, in turmoil, knowing nothing for sure anymore but the fact that she wanted to be where Juliannah was. The memory grabbed at Juliannah’s heart, and she resisted the urge to put a hand over her chest.

Somehow, she had managed not to ruin this. 

“All done, Princess”, Donna said, interrupting Juliannah’s inner monologue once more. “I shall leave you to it until the Guard arrives. Do you require someone to wait with you?”

Juliannah scoffed. “No”, she said. She wasn’t a child. She could well occupy herself on her own.

“Very well, then”, Donna said, and with a curtsy, she was gone.



Yaz kept staring at herself. She had done so since the bells had last rung, and at this point, she was unsure how long ago that had been, exactly.

She looked nothing short of regal.

“What do you think?”

The rest of the room shifted back into focus, and Yaz became very suddenly aware of the fact that many eyes were currently on her. She felt her cheeks go warm, and slowly turned around to face her friends.

They sat on chairs quickly brought to the room, a colourful mix that ranged from simple stools to the most extravagantly cushioned wing chair. While Clara was lounging in the latter with clear glee, Ryan was awkwardly perched on a carved desk chair, shifting every couple of moments and always checking whether his armour had left any scrapes. Dan had gone straight for a simple stool.

The only one missing was Amy, currently positioned in the Queen’s Tower, together with the Lord Protector.

Bill stood in front of the knights, arms crossed, eagerly awaiting Yaz’s response. “Well?”

“It’s…” Yaz began, turning around once more to look at herself. “It’s perfect”, she finally said.

All of her friends’ faces lit up in a way that made Yaz’s chest grow warm and fuzzy. They had stolen her away after her bath that morning. Clara had clearly almost been biting her own tongue off in an attempt not to comment on the fact that Yaz was in the royal bath chambers, instead of the guest one. Once they had gotten back to the room that Yaz had been supposed to sleep in, Bill had presented her with her coronation dress. Plus a few options, courtesy of Duchess herself, should Yaz truly dislike what the seamstress had come up with for her.

It turned out that Bill needn’t have worried.

Across Yaz’s chest, a golden bird was embroidered onto white cloth, his wings outstretched. From the tips of his feathers, more embroidery ran out to the sides and up towards her throat, forming delicate epaulettes that covered her shoulders and a standing collar. The sleeves were tight, yet fell open into almost see-through material below her elbows.

Yaz’s favourite detail, however, was the skirt. With every step she took, it fell open at the front, top to bottom, revealing not only breeches underneath, but a silk-like lining. It covered the entire inside of her skirt, beginning blue at the bottom, slowly shifting colour as it travelled upwards, until it was bright and shining purple. Silver threads had been sewn into it, making it look like stars running across a galaxy.

It was the most beautiful thing Yaz had ever seen.

“She’s gonna want to jump you right there in the throne room”, Clara said, a wicked grin on her face.

“Clara!” Ryan gasped. There was a moment of stunned silence as everyone stared at Clara, but then Bill broke out into loud laughter, taking the rest of the room with her – including Yaz. As the laugh reverberated through her chest, Yaz felt happy and light in a way she hadn’t in a very long time.

“I love you.”

Her chest went warm at the memory, followed by immediate heat rising into her cheeks. She turned back towards the mirror, busying herself with letting her hands run over her dress. They had been woken up by the Countess Noble this morning, pulling the curtains open with the most fake-innocent expression on her face that Yaz had ever seen in her entire life – and she had grown up with Sonya.

After scrambling to cover herself with blankets, Yaz had realised that not only had their clothes been folded away, but the objects on the dresser had also been neatly rearranged. Yaz had wanted nothing more but the floor to open up and swallow her whole at the realisation that the Countess knew exactly what had happened the night before – and where. Juliannah, on the other hand, as she had so often shown, had been completely unfazed by their passion and her naked body being on display. Maybe Yaz could learn from her, over the years.

Years. Yaz smiled. Yes, they had years together, from now on.

“I will never be able to look at that table ever again, you wicked –”

Yaz turned around to see Clara innocently shrugging while Ryan’s face was buried in his hands. As their gazes met, the innocent expression turned into a grin.

“Name was Jane”, Clara said. “Visiting diplomat. Excellent kisser.”

Yaz laughed.

 




It was ridiculous, really. All she had to do was wait, on her own. There were books here, even an alchemy set. She could tinker around, or read a short story, write a letter if she felt the need to. But no matter what Juliannah thought about to pass the time, her mind couldn’t focus on anything. Instead, it kept chasing her through different ideas of how today could go wrong.

Really, all she wanted was for her mind to be quiet. To shut up. Shut up, up, up.

Juliannah stopped where she had been pacing up and down in front of the bed for the past – she did not actually remember when she had begun – and cocked her head. A second later, she spun around on her heels. She made her way to the door, through the antechamber, and finally threw the main door to her private chambers open.

Outside, the Lord Protector and Dame Amelia jumped.

“Dame”, Juliannah snapped. “Inside.”

She immediately turned back around without waiting for a reply. Instead of the bedroom, Juliannah headed for the sitting room, letting herself fall into one of the cushioned chairs there. 

Amelia entered only a few moments later, looking confused. “Your Highness”, she said. “How can I –”

“Close the door and sit down.” Juliannah gestured to a chair next to her, and after a moment of confused hesitation, Amelia followed the order.

Without another word, Juliannah reached for the bottle standing on the small table next to her, and poured two glasses, handing one to Amelia. This was a oak-barrel whiskey, decidedly more Juliannah’s taste than the monstrosity Amelia had presented her with yesterday.

She leaned back, and took a sip, trying to relax her shoulders. She could feel Amelia’s eyes on her. 

Well, that wasn’t helping.

“Your Highness”, Amelia began, “should we –”

“No talking”, Juliannah said. “Just sitting. And look somewhere else, will you?”

Amelia’s jaw snapped shut. After the initial moment of surprise, she ostensibly turned her head, leaned back, and took a sip. Her face contorted instantly.

No taste , Juliannah thought, but thankfully, Amelia stopped herself from making a comment.

They sat next to each other in cushioned chairs, Juliannah’s gaze fixed on the wooden door ahead. At first, Amelia’s thoughts were loud and full of annoying questions. But then they gradually calmed as the knight accepted the situation, until they completely ceased and both women sat in silence, physical and mental.

Juliannah sipped her whiskey, her mind finally quiet.

It almost took her by surprise when there was a knock on the door a good while later.

“Your Highness”, the Lord Protector said as she entered the room with a bow. “We are ready for you.”

As they both rose from their chairs, Juliannah gave her vest a final tuck and, without looking over at the woman next to her, she said stiffly:

“Thank you. Amelia.”

 

 

The knights formed an honour guard around Yaz as she descended the stairs in the western tower and made her way towards the heart of the palace. Bill had left already, leaving Yaz with her friends – and Sonya, for a little while. Her little sister had kept on joking about deserving at least a title, if not lands, for her role in making this wedding happen, and Yaz was not entirely sure how serious Sonya had been. Yaz could imagine Juliannah’s reaction to such a request perfectly: the nerves twitching above her temple as she ground her teeth and her fingers twitched. Future family dinners would be quite the interesting affair, she thought – and found herself smiling at it.

After a while, the wood underneath her feet gave way to carpets of a lusciously deep blue. Yaz remembered her awe the first time she had laid eyes on them, when she had given her oath as a knight of the Royal Guard.

Back then, she had been giddy with excitement and proud. Oh, she had been so proud. Now, the thought of having once knelt before Koschei brought only a mixture of anger and disgust to her.

All thoughts of Koschei were pushed aside however as they neared the throne room, and Yaz’s heart began to beat fast in her chest. This was it.

Queendom.

Marriage.

Unbeknownst to herself, she had wrapped her right hand around the bracelet on her left wrist, holding it tightly. Juliannah would be there, waiting for her. There was no doubt about it.

They rounded the corner, and Clara and Ryan came to a halt in front of her.

In the middle of the antechamber to the throne hall, Juliannah stood, surrounded by Amelia, Grace and the Master of Ceremonies. He was in the middle of laying something out to her – some last minute reminder of a certain part of protocol, Yaz figured – when Juliannah looked up over his shoulder and their gazes met.

Something changed in Juliannah’s face, something too small and subtle for anyone but Yaz to notice.

The great marble doors of the star temple of Arcadia opened, and Yaz was a child again, standing in awe underneath the giant cupola as they lit the fires in between the outer and inner walls and ceilings. When the light broke through the holes that had been carved by generations, Yaz was standing among the stars themselves. They came to life all around her, flickering, dancing, as if reaching for her, and then, for just a moment, a few seconds that she would never forget, Yaz could feel the earth as it turned underneath her feet.

Juliannah smiled.

She pushed past the Master of Ceremonies, who stopped mid-sentence with his mouth hanging open, and went straight towards Yaz. Clara and Ryan made way for Yaz who began walking, too, and then the two women came to a halt in the middle of the room.

Yaz let her gaze roam over Juliannah’s face, taking it all in – the strands of hair framing her cheeks, the sharp line of her jaw, her lips that she knew the feel of so well, and finally, her eyes, hazel and swirling with emotion.

“Good day, Yasmin.”

The stiffness of the greeting made Yaz smile, and she reached for the woman’s hand, taking it in hers as she took another step. “Hi, Juli.”

All weight seemed to fall from Juliannah’s shoulders, and she squeezed Yaz’s hand tightly.

“Yaz.”

“As I was saying, Your Royal Highness”, the Master of Ceremonies spoke, approaching them from the side in an awkward attempt to draw Juliannah’s gaze. It did not falter from Yaz. “I shall enter the room from the front and announce your presence. The knights will open the door and we shall begin the ceremony with you and her ladyship making your walk towards the thrones.”

Juliannah nodded, and turned towards the door. She shifted their hands so that Yaz’s was now lying in hers, lifting them between them like one would when escorting a partner to the dancefloor. She was still looking at Yaz, whose heart seemed to continuously stumble now, unable to calm down.

The Master of Ceremonies cleared his throat. “Traditionally, the future Consort walks behind the future Sovereign, Your Royal –”

Slowly, Juliannah turned her head to look straight at him, her expression cold as ice.

He swallowed visibly, then gave a brief bow. “But it will be done according to Her Royal Highness’ preference, of course.” He gave a sign to the knights, who stepped into formation behind them, then hurried away. 

As soon as he was out of sight, Yaz looked over at Juliannah. “Thank you”, she said quietly, but Juliannah shook her head.

“There will be no doubt about your place in this court. I will not allow it.”

Yaz turned her hand, wrapping it around Juliannah’s and squeezing it tightly. Before she could say or do anything else, the sound of Lord Ixion’s staff hitting the marble floor of the throne hall rang out to them, and Grace and Amy stepped up beside them to open the doors.

Amy smiled at Yaz. “Good luck”, she mouthed, and Yaz smiled back.

The doors were pulled open before and Yaz only had time to quickly shift her hand back into position before the throne hall came into view.

Together, they took the first step.

 

 

Juliannah of House Theta-Gallifrey was not one for lavish decorations. She would have ripped the tapestries from the walls in the Lord Mistress’ mansion if the Council of Lords had allowed her to. In the week leading up to the coronation, she had seen many decorations being carried through the halls and inwardly scoffed at the pomp of it all.

In the throne hall, they had hung banners between the floor to ceiling windows, knights standing guard in front of each one of them. Instead of Koschei’s emblem, having been on display only a week prior, they now showed the one Juliannah had chosen: A white bird, wings outstretched, a crown floating over his head. The background on which he stood was blue and purple, the two colours meeting behind the bird in a diagonal line. The line, however, was not crisp and clean. Instead, the two colours ran into each other like water, and delicately sewn into the point where they met was the constellation Kasterborous.

Two nations under the stars, bound together through their Queen.

It was not the banner, the symbol of her new power, nor the view of the thrones at the end of the hall, that suddenly moved something inside of Juliannah. No, it was the moment, so brief that it was gone in the blink of an eye, that she thought she saw her mother in the crowd.

She bore the face Juliannah had dreamed up for her as a child, the face Juliannah had imagined waking her from sleep and telling her that it was time to leave that place.

The face Juliannah had banned from her mind the day she had turned herself.

For a brief moment, it was real. It was not a figment of her imagination, the desperate wish of a child for a better tomorrow. Whether it was a buried memory, or a glimpse from a life among the stars, Juliannah could not tell. But it was true, and it was for her.

She was gone in the blink of an eye, but it had been enough.

By the time Juliannah realised they had reached the stairs to the throne, her breath had gotten stuck in her throat. She forced herself to let the air leave her lungs as they took the final steps, and turned around to face the people in the room, letting go of each other’s hand.

Lord Ixion stepped forward. “We have gathered today to witness the coronation and wedding of Juliannah of House Theta-Gallifrey, the Most Honourable Lord Mistress of Karn, the Marquise of Theta, Crown Princess of Gallifrey. Her claim has been approved and no superseding claims to the throne have been made. If anyone in this room has any knowledge of such a claim existing, may they speak now.”

Juliannah felt her fingers twitch. Technically, her claim to the throne had already been accepted through the acclamations at Koschei’s botched coronation. Still, as the silence stretched on and nobody spoke up, Juliannah felt a tension leave her shoulders.

The Master of Ceremonies turned towards her. “Your Royal Highness, your ladyship, I would ask that you turn towards each other.”

Somewhere in the wooden beams high above them, Juliannah felt Caladrius’ presence. He was watching over her, as he always had. Feeling a warmth that was slowly becoming more familiar to her creep into her chest, Juliannah turned to face Yaz.

“The couple will be wed according to Karnish customs, as both have wished for it to be so. Your Royal Highness, you may begin.”

With a deep breath, Juliannah lifted her right hand, and placed it over her heart. With her left hand, she reached out towards Yaz, and placed it over her heart in turn. Briefly, the image of the dark imprint underneath Yaz’s clothes flitted through Juliannah’s head, and she felt flooded with warmth.

Yaz reached up to cover both of them with her own, and they stood like that for a moment, connected, Juliannah feeling both Yaz’s heartbeat and her own.

“Of me”, Juliannah said, and then stopped. They had agreed on the standard formula: to give devotion, deep and true, and wish for love in return. But suddenly, Juliannah knew that that was not what she wanted to say. There was a flicker of insecurity in Yaz’s eyes as Juliannah simply stood, her mouth half open, caught in the middle of a sentence. But then Juliannah began again – quietly, unwilling that the entire room might hear:

“Of me”, she said softly, “I give you truth. Whole and earnest, for you alone to see. From you, I wish to learn the things I did not understand before you came along.”

Yaz’s eyes went wide. She stood frozen in place for a moment, and Juliannah simply stood with her, waiting, distantly aware of the tumbling heartbeat underneath her hand. Then, gently, Yaz tugged at her hands. They moved them together in slow movements, shifting, switching places, until they found them reversed: Yaz’s hand pressed against each of their hearts, Juliannah’s covering them both.

“Of me”, Yaz said, her voice as quiet as Juliannah’s had been, “I give you love. All encompassing, all-seeing, not in spite but because.” She paused, and Juliannah suddenly became aware of her entire chest having gone warm underneath Yaz’s touch. She allowed the feeling to flow through her, and where it met an old resistance within her, she simply let it be. “From you”, Yaz continued, “I wish for guidance in who I want to become, and who I want to remain.”

Juliannah smiled. There was a sense of pride rushing through her at Yaz’s wish to be guided by her. 

The Master of Ceremonies nodded, and reluctantly, Juliannah let go of Yaz’s hands. “Your ladyship”, he said. “You have received a wristlet from her Royal Highness as a symbol of her promise. Do you wish for her to receive a symbol of your own promise to her?”

To Juliannah’s surprise, Yaz nodded. Amelia appeared next to them, holding a small box in her hands. Yaz took it from her, and turned back towards Juliannah as she opened it.

Inside, there was an earcuff. It was an arrangement of small shards of purple gems – from afar, they might have looked like stars, but to Juliannah, she knew exactly what they were. They were attached to a string that led to two hands – one silver, one gold – holding on to each other.

It was gorgeous. With great care, she took the piece of jewellery out of its box, then turned her ear towards Yaz. “Please”, she said softly.

It took a moment of fiddling, but once the cuff was secured, Yaz’s hand lingered for just a moment against Juliannah’s cheek.

“I love you”, she whispered.

“I believe”, the Master of Ceremonies said, “that both Karnish and Gallifreyan traditions call for a show of affection at this point.”

A small laugh ran through the crowd, and then Yaz was kissing her. It was soft and caring, in a way Juliannah would not have allowed herself to be touched mere months ago. Now, however, she let go, melting into the touch, wrapping an arm around Yaz to pull her closer. To bloody hell with anyone who might deem it inappropriate.

As they broke apart, Juliannah became aware of some applause having broken out in the room. As it died down, the Master of Ceremonies spoke again.

“You are now wed. According to Gallifreyan law, you are bound to protect each other in body and mind.” He turned towards Juliannah. “Your Royal Highness, if I may ask you to step forward now to receive your crown.”

She could feel Yaz’s eyes on her, encouraging her silently, as she turned towards the people in the room once again. Staff clad in ceremonial livery approached and placed a blue velvet cushion on the floor. Juliannah walked up to it, and knelt.

She hated kneeling in front of people.

“The Crown will be presented to Her Royal Highness by a chosen member of nobility, and a member of the populus”, the Master of Ceremonies spoke, and on cue, two women stepped forward. One of them, Juliannah had gotten to choose herself: the noble representative. She knew what the woman had done for Yaz – for them, in consequence – and Juliannah wanted to make sure the Duchess knew she was to be a valued ally.

Lord Ixion was handed the crown by the Royal Treasurer, and an audible rush went through the crowd. Many of them, Juliannah realised, had never truly seen a coronation, given King Alistair’s long reign.

Bill and the other woman, chosen from among the citizens of the capital as a representative of the common people, reached for the crown. The woman – Jenny was her name, if Juliannah remembered correctly – looked nervous, but Bill flashed her a warm smile.

“Juliannah of House Gallifrey”, the Master of Ceremonies spoke, “do you accept this crown, and the responsibilities that come with it?”

Juliannah bowed her head. “I do.”

With care, Bill and Jenny placed the crown on top of Juliannah’s head, then stepped aside. Slowly, Juliannah lifted her head, and looked out across the room.

“I promise”, she began – the ancient oath feeling unfamiliar on her tongue, its words not quite what she would have chosen – “to protect you, and everyone else living under my reign, from any harm that may befall you.” Something odd washed through her, and she paused for a moment. She could feel Yaz’s eyes on her, and when she continued, the words were no longer spoken to the room in front of her, but the woman standing behind her. “From now until the bells ring, your wellbeing is my responsibility, your suffering my burden to carry. May the stars grant me the courage to be a righteous” – “wife” – “Queen.”

 

—-

 

Yaz couldn’t help the soft intake of breath as she heard the word in Juliannah’s thoughts. She watched as Juliannah rose from her knees, and the Master of Ceremonies reached for the Consort’s crown. Almost automatically, Yaz stepped up next to Juliannah, who took the crown from Lord Ixion.

Juliannah held the crown between them. It gleamed in the sun falling in through the windows, the phases of the moon visible all around its simple band.

“Dame Yasmin of the Royal and the Karnish Guard, daughter of Hakim and Najia”, Juliannah said, “I present you with the Crown of the Consort, that you may walk by my side and help me fulfil my duties.”

She paused, and fixed Yaz with her gaze. “Last chance”, Juliannah thought. “Are you sure about this?”

This was the part they hadn’t told anybody about yet. Juliannah had asked her the morning after binding Koschei. It had been a simple offering, devoid of pomp or gravity, asked in between sips of coffee and bites of breakfast. And Yaz had understood that, no matter the so clearly practised nonchalance with which the words had been spoken, they had been the most intimate gift a woman like Juliannah could give.

Yaz looked at Juliannah, and felt confidence rush through her. “Yes.”

With a nod, Juliannah continued. “And, should I suffer from grave injury of body or mind, that you may fulfil these duties yourself in the absence of an heir apparent – as my surrogate and heir presumptive.”

An audible shock went through the crowd, but Juliannah and Yaz simply kept fixing each other’s gaze, holding their breaths. Yaz’s heart was beating so fast she thought it would break out of her ribcage.

Silence stretched out around them, and Yaz could feel a slight edge to Juliannah’s mind, a readiness to fight. Legally, they knew they were in the clear – it was a Sovereign’s right to name an heir presumptive the moment they accepted the crown. But nobody had named their consort at coronation in centuries. Much less a consort that was of common birth – no land, no title, no nobility in them that could justify a claim.

“Your Royal Highness”, Lord Ixion breathed. As Yaz finally pulled her eyes away from Juliannah, she found him looking shocked. But nobody else in the room moved to say anything. They all sat, knowing they had no legal grounds to object.

Finally, the Master of Ceremonies cleared his throat, and the tension in the room seemed to break with his next words: “Your ladyship, you may accept your crown.”

Yaz moved a step back, preparing to sink down on her knees. Flashes of the previous night suddenly washed over her, of she had knelt bare, offering herself up to Juliannah.

Before she was able to move any further, Juliannah’s hand flew towards her arm, holding on to it. The woman was looking at her, her eyes ablaze.

“Juliannah?” Yaz asked quietly.

Juliannah blinked, then stared at her own hand on Yaz’s arm for a moment, as if she had not even realised she had reached for her. Finally, she shook her head, and breathed one word:

“No.”

Yaz frowned, her mouth half-open, but then Juliannah looked her in the eyes again, and she heard the blonde’s voice in her head, clear as day.

“Not in front of them. Not you. Everyone else, but not you.”

Without waiting, Juliannah lifted the crown above Yaz’s head, who barely had enough time to at least bow slightly. A murmur ran through the crowd, but clearly Juliannah didn’t care. Her feelings rushed through Yaz, fierce and wild, crowned by her unwillingness to ever let Yaz debase herself in front of others.

Yaz felt cold metal touch her head, and then the Master of Ceremonies’ voice echoed through the hall.

“Queen Juliannah, the First of her name, star-blessed Sovereign of Gallifrey, and the Queen Consort Yasmin!”

The applause was hesitant at first, but then it picked up in fervour, enveloping them. Yaz knew they should turn to face the room, to accept the jubilations of their people – their people, now there was something Yaz would have to get used to. But all she could do was continue looking at Juliannah, her chest expanding with an onslaught of feelings that were impossible to put into words. There was only one thing she knew in that moment, as she looked into hazel eyes: She was going to be alright, no matter what happened next. 

When they finally turned to face the crowd, somewhere out of the corner, a female voice – the Duchess of Olew? – shouted:

“Long may they reign!”

Yaz felt Juliannah’s hand reach for hers, and held it tightly.

 

 

They stood on the balcony off the ballroom, breathing in the fresh evening air. The sky had gone dark a while ago, stars blinking back at them, secret messages some priests were doubtlessly busy trying to understand somewhere. 

Juliannah couldn’t care less what any of it meant. She was busy watching Yaz watch the stars, sitting on the stone balustrade with her face turned up towards the sky. Her cheeks were darkened from the exhilaration of drink and dance, but her face was glowing. She looked so happy.

Juliannah wanted to keep watching her for the rest of the night. She wished she wouldn’t have to keep sharing Yaz with the nobles on the other side of those balcony doors, waiting to shower them in congratulations on one hand, and polite reminders that their estates needed more funds for one thing or another on the other.

Yaz turned towards her, a smile curling her lips, and Juliannah felt her entire face soften at the view.

“Then don’t.”

Juliannah blinked. “What?”

Yaz pushed herself off the balustrade, landing on her feet next to Juliannah. She turned to her, and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. When she pulled back, she was still smiling as she reached for Juliannah’s hand. “Don’t share me.”

She turned them both around, and to Juliannah’s confusion, stepped onto the other side of the balustrade.

“Yaz”, Juliannah breathed. Caladrius was nowhere near them, and still recovering from injuries. If Yaz fell –

“I wouldn’t fall too far. Come here.”

Frowning, Juliannah – still holding Yaz’s hand – lifted herself up onto the balustrade. When she looked down, she saw another balcony, smaller, just one storey underneath them.

Yaz smiled. “Ready?”

Juliannah didn’t enjoy not knowing what was going on – but she had learned to trust Yaz, and so she nodded, and they pushed.

They landed on the balcony below, Juliannah’s knees briefly buckling under her own weight. She was still holding on to Yaz’s hand, who instantly began to move, pulling Juliannah with her.

“Yaz”, Juliannah breathed, following her through corridors, down staircases, turning left, then left again, then right – through a door, small this time, meant for staff, and down another staircase.

It was only when they arrived at another door that Juliannah managed to grasp an image in Yaz’s mind, and she instantly stopped, bringing Yaz to an abrupt halt in front of her as she was still holding on to her hand.

Yaz turned around to face her, her chest heaving from their fast walk through the palace, still smiling brightly.

“Yaz, this place…” Juliannah began. She knew what had happened here. She had seen it in Yaz's memories, every excruciating detail of it. That Yaz would want to come here on their wedding night, of all places – she couldn’t understand.

But then Yaz took a step towards her, wrapping her arms around her as she pressed her face into Juliannah’s neck and took a deep breath. Juliannah instinctively pulled her close as a protective urge washed over her, and then she heard Yaz’s voice in her head.

“New memories” , Yaz thought, her arms tightening around Juliannah. “With you.”

Juliannah didn’t think she would ever get used to the feeling that spread through her at the words. She grabbed fistfuls of material from the back of Yaz’s jacket, not knowing what else to do with herself as she held Yaz close.

When they finally let go of each other, it was Juliannah who reached for Yaz’s hand this time. Then, she waited for Yaz to open the door. The woman hesitated for a moment, but then her hand wrapped around the handle, and she pushed.

The gardens looked different at night, illuminated only by the stars and moon above, and the light that fell from the windows of the palace. It stretched out in front of them, rows of flowers, trees and hedges. Juliannah let Yaz lead her. They were silent as they walked, but Juliannah could hear the thoughts in Yaz’s head, and could feel the memories flitting through it. As they turned a corner, they suddenly stood at the bottom of a familiar, small avenue. Leaves covered the ground underneath them, brown and golden and red, the trees around them holding on to the last ones that adorned their branches. At the end of the path stood a white gazebo, right in the middle of the garden.

As she followed Yaz’s gaze towards the small structure, Juliannah didn’t have to pry into her mind to know what she was thinking about. They were quiet for a long time, Juliannah simply holding on to Yaz’s hand, reassuring her of her presence. When Yaz finally spoke, her voice was quiet.

“I’d never kissed anyone”, Yaz said, and the revelation shot through Juliannah like a knife. Yaz’s eyes were fixed on the gazebo in the distance. “Before…”

“Before you kissed me."

Yaz’s head snapped over. She stared at Juliannah for a moment, frowning, and then, when the meaning of Juliannah’s words reached her, her entire face went soft in a way that Juliannah would never tire of seeing.

“Yes”, Yaz said softly. “Yes, that’s right.”

Juliannah’s heart stumbled in her chest. “Dance with me.”

Surprise morphed into delight, and Yaz nodded. To the muffled sounds of music drifting down from the open ballroom windows, Juliannah pulled Yaz close. She placed one hand on the small of Yaz’s back, holding Yaz’s hand gently in the other.

As they began to turn, the leaves underneath their feet crunched with every step. Their rustle added its own voice to the musical echoes from the ballroom, weaving a new tune together. With a rush of cool wind, more leaves loosened on the branches, joining their dance as they drifted gently to the ground all around them.

A hand moved from her shoulder up to her face, cupping her cheek gently. Juliannah leaned into the warmth, breathing in deeply. She looked into Yaz’s eyes, so full of happiness and love, and saw the starlight reflected in them as they turned.

An eternity stretched out in front of her, and her heart trembled.

Autumn would find its end soon, making way for winter to blanket the world around them, and finally, once again, spring would return and the garden would bloom.

New memories, for both of them.

For the first time, Juliannah looked at the neverending passage of time, and smiled.

Notes:

Thank you for reading <3

Chapter 39: Epilogue

Notes:

Listen while reading

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A gentle fog drifted through the branches, creeping into the cracks of walls long abandoned by human hands and reclaimed by nature instead. Roots wound through porous stone, and somewhere, nesting birds let out quiet chirps, high-pitched and short. 

The ground underneath her feet was mossy, soaked with the night’s rain. It hung in the branches still, thick droplets falling to the ground from time to time. Everything smelled of earth and grass and flowers, though which ones she could not say.

The once great door hung from its hinges, its wood frayed with rot. Once, it had stood proudly, but now all that was left of the sigil that had adorned it was a pale smudge of red and a streak of silver that carried the memory of a sword.

A squirrel disappeared into a branch above her, and she was careful not to fall over the crumbled stones as she stepped across the threshold.

Her presence disturbed the years of dust that had settled. It welcomed her back with swirls through the air all around her, visible in the first sun rays that dipped in through the windows, carefully, as if they waited for her to chase them away. Maybe they, too, remembered, not only the fear she had felt, but the one she had caused, in the end.

The room was untouched, smaller than she remembered. A single bed, pressed against a wall, a small table, a closet, its door ajar. Out of an old instinct, long forgotten, she stepped over the floorboard that would creak under her weight.

There were still clothes in the closet, simple tunics, a cloak, two pairs of trousers. The door creaked languidly, protesting its memories being woken, but her hands forced them out.

The scratches were still there, deep in the wood on the inside of the door, small blotches of red, once vibrant, now dark, drunk in by the panels a long time ago. She pressed her hand against them, the shape of it no longer lining up. She could see the smaller hand underneath her own, as if it was still there, still scratching, calling out with a voice long gone hoarse.

She left it behind without another look.

The servants must have stayed for a while, after. An empty bowl with a spoon stood on the table as if left there only yesterday, yet the cupboards were gaping, betraying the passage of time.

A scratching sound, and a mouse hurriedly scuttled across the floor, darting into a grain sack that carried only dust and dirt.

The door was stuck, and she did not have the energy to push against it with enough force. She let the magic take care of it, reducing it to cinder. 

Nobody would walk through it anymore, anyway.

Weeds sprung up from the dirt. Amaranth, daisies, crabgrass, dandelions. Their green was vibrant against the muted world inside, as if to mock the ones that had gone. She heard their voices as her feet grazed against them, whispering in the morning wind.

See? We remain. We reclaim.

Part of the outer wall had collapsed, its stones already covered in moss and fungi. The oak tree had finally outgrown its confines. Its roots, thick and powerful, broke open ground and stone alike, blurring the lines of where outside began and inside ended.

She stood in its shadow, her breath heavy with the past. It came for her with small hands, clawing at her arm, her legs, her shirt. Begging.

She could not change the past, but she could listen, and so she did.

Her hand found the cut, still running through the bark, where a child had fallen to her knees and the tree had taken the pain for her, if only for a single strike.

She sank to her knees, and her hands dug into the ground, dirt grinding under her fingernails, wet. She had to push them in, deeper, as if her fingers could still find the blood that had bedewed this soil, decades ago.

But it was gone, clinging to the air around her like a ghost, out of reach.

Haunting her, like it always had.

The sun turned warm above her, and she knelt. It journeyed across the sky, calling birds from their nests and rodents from the earth.

Time walked past and touched her shoulder, reminding her of his passage, and still she knelt. 

Fate came, after, leaving an offering of blooming daisies around her, and still she knelt.

Grief rushed past with its siren call, luring the salt from her eyes, and still she knelt.

Finally, Love came, and knelt with her.

She let go, then.

It flowed through her, into the soil underneath her palms, and deeper still, finding the water that runs underneath the earth, turning it upwards, mingling soil and seed and life.

When she was done, she rose from a field of blooming flowers.

Tulips. Lilies. Roses. Daffodils and violets and poppies and carnations, and in the middle of it, she saw herself, young and smiling, cradling a fledgling against her chest.

A new sound filled the garden, and the flowers bent to its ringing, turning towards it as if it were the sun.

Juliannah was laughing.

She stood, the dirt clinging to her knees and hands, but there were other things around her now. Things that would remain long after she would be gone, and if anyone would ever find their way here, Time and Fate and Grief and Love would sit with them, and tell her story.

The branches above her rustled, making way for the wings of a great white bird. He landed on her shoulder, and pressed his head into her cheek, as if they were both children again.

But this time, they were free.

“Take me home”, Juliannah said, and as she spoke the words, she thought not of a place, but of Yasmin.

Notes:

Sometimes, you realise that you were unable to close a book because a page was missing. This is the page.

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