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themonotonysyndrome · 1 year

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Desmond verse - Hell hath no fury - for she is here

An Ask on Tumblr led me to write this oneshot in a single night. The writing frenzy was super fun though!

A huge shoutout to Deadmeme Jack, another awesome writer in this fandom (read her fics. They're awesome!). She literally sat down on a Discord call with me for more than 4 hours to help edit through this fic. I've learned a lot from her and had so much fun! So thank you, Jack! You're the Queen of Beta Readers everywhere!

Tagging: @moonandstarlightsposts @itsdaifuku @neptune-cinths @theealluringstoryteller @the-bewitching-hour-at-4 @daveyistheloml

Summary: Before she’s a woman, Celica is the Imperial Baroness of the Coastal Empire first and foremost. But when her dignity as a woman is wounded, she’s more than happy to remind Rhett, Castin, and every Intacians present why a woman’s wrath is akin to hellfire.

A ‘what if’ oneshot where after being publicly humiliated during her Intacian debut and being told not to make a scene, Baroness Anesidora refuses to hold her tongue.

Celica could remember the day her world shifted on its perfect axis.

Ezekiel greeted her morning, carrying a pot of Black Assam and a pink diamond necklace tucked in a velvet box - the first piece made from her mines and a promising start to a profitable collection. Tea and gems - a wonderful combination that would brighten any woman’s day.

Only for her best friend (who had been missing for months) to quite literally crash through her bedroom window (which was most definitely not on the ground floor), startling the poor maids solely to confess that she had fallen in love with a man - A Witch Hunter of all things!

Yes, the Baroness knew that nothing would ever be the same again. Though she still called the doctor to check her brain and later the Exorcist. Just for good measure. Once her friend was deemed ‘somehow - actually sane’. She deemed it a good measure for all to wash up.

Clad in her freshly steamed bathrobe (“Thank you, Ezekiel”), the maids resumed preparing the Baroness for the day ahead, Celica kept her mind open as Isolde Vermillion waxed on and on about her and Rhett’s vision for Intacia and the Coastal Empire. About how future generations deserve to grow up without centuries of war looming above their heads and that peace is long overdue. She hums when needed, nodded at some of the points that would benefit the Anesidora Household in the long run and even humoured Isolde’s tales of her misadventures.

However, those weren’t enough to quell her anger over Isolde’s abduction. Even if something allegedly good came out of it.

“It’s clear that the two of you put lots of thought into this,” The Baroness remarked, faux blithe. In front of the vanity mirror, she struggles to muster a smile when one of the maids delicately drapes the new necklace around the column of her neck. In apropos of nothing, Celica asks, “That reminds me, have you heard of the rose bushes they planted at the academy grounds recently? Rumour has it that they are fast becoming a romantic spot for couples.”

The smile on the Water Ascendant’s face froze. She put down the cup of tea and exhaled slowly, understanding the true nature behind the Baroness’ words. Gambling, mind games and layered conversations - the favourite pastime of Imperial Nobility, her friend being no different. Isolde began to choose her words wisely as Celica dismissed her maids with a stilted smile and soft tilt of her head.

“I… I know it doesn’t make sense, but after everything I’ve been through, I understand that Rhett is actually a good man. He’s far from perfect, but his heart is always in the right place, his head is always thinking about what’s best for his country and people. But he also carries a lot of regret for what he did as a Witch Hunter, Celica. The assault at the academy? Those deaths? It’s all because of this-this forsaken war! Both sides are equally the sinner and victim, you do agree don’t you?” The Ascendant implored her, beautiful green eyes all but begging.

Celica said nothing. Truth be told, she couldn’t have cared less about the war since it has never affected her or her business. That is, until Isolde’s disappearance frightened her enough to learn everything she could about the Witch Hunter’s organisation and Intacia’s standing in the war. Pushed her enough to smuggle a group of Ascendants to Intacia’s naval base just so they could rescue Isolde. And if the worst came to be, avenge her best friend by any means necessary.

“I don’t care about the war, Isolde. I care about you,” The Baroness genuinely admits, causing the other woman to flinch, eyes wide in shock. Shock, as if she hadn’t considered the content of the characters of those who stood beside her.

‘Of course, she wouldn’t have’.

“You know of my duties. You know I must put the welfare of the Empire and her Royal Family first. Most people don’t even know a war is going on right now. But you and Reyes are the only friends that I have - Do you understand how scared for your life I was when you disappeared, Isolde? How, even now, as we’re sitting together for the first time in months, I am desperately trying to understand how you could ever fall in love with your enemy?” She tried not to spit out the words, but she could feel some of her loathing seep through.

Such framing seemed selfish. Perhaps because she was raised without parents to love her and moulded by the strict and indifferent Imperial customs throughout her life; a dark part of her refuses to feel guilty about said selfishness. Call it nurture or nature it does not matter, everything considered the Baroness possessively protects those she cares for.

It was the honesty in that selfishness - perhaps even the vulnerability - that Isolde appreciated. Likewise, even reciprocated. Pushing herself off the settee to kneel in front of the Baroness, Isolde placed her hands on top of Celica’s.

“Then, as your best friend, I beg you, give Rhett a chance. Try to understand that he’s more than just an enemy; he’s the man I love. A man that will bring an end to this war. We just need your help to make it happen.” She squeezed her hands with fondness. “I believe in him. I believe the future we can make together, and I want you there with me.”

And because Isolde is one of hers, Celica closed her eyes and nodded once. Setting the motions that utterly destroyed her old life.

***

Today is the same day that Isolde returned to her a month ago. It seemed longer given all that had happened. Only this day marks an important occasion for everyone involved.

In a land where commoners, warriors and politicians could mingle and receive first-hand news on where Intacia was heading in the future, information was the new great power - if only by becoming a more visible player in the game of politics. Something the new monarchs were keenly aware of as they made the arrangements for Celica’s debut. Celica’s own political machinations had been kept hidden from the public eye. Yet, no matter how quiet Celica’s arrival was, rumours still spread like wildfire; an Imperial Noble was amongst them. Keeping things under wraps became more difficult the longer Celica was kept hidden. A fine balance was to be struck; too rushed a debut would inspire disaster in a country that held great animosity towards her stature, whilst too delayed would leave them losing the upper hand it granted them should she be exposed.

Tonight, the royal palace was alive with music and buzzing excitement. Food and drinks are plenty for all, with everyone enjoying themselves. Most of them were blatantly staring at Celica from afar. She had been instructed earlier to rest at the quiet corners of the banquet, completely covered from head to toe in her white dress, tight puffed sleeves with a beautifully ornate lace as the chest piece.

No one dared approach her.

The Baroness was just mentally debating fixing herself a plate of macaroons from the table when King Rhett - her best friend’s enemy, kidnapper and husband - decided to make himself known with a neat bow.

It would have been considered quite polite by Imperial standards. Had he not also made a concerted effort to stare into her eyes beyond the embroidered veil. ‘It’s not their culture’ She assured herself, ignoring the nagging doubt in her mind that Isolde would have already taught him this.

“Baroness, a word?”

Celica gave him a curt nod. Together they stepped away from listening ears.

He continued;

“The Queen wanted me to tell you she’s sorry she couldn’t be here,” Celica felt her heart sink just a little at that. “But we both wanted to thank you again for your cooperation. I know this is likely not what you imagine for yourself, but the sacrifice you are making is deeply appreciated.”

From behind her veil, Celica stared coldly. “I’ve not decided yet.”

The once Witch Hunter caught his blunder. “Right. That is if you choose to go through it.”

The Baroness shifted her attention to the crowd before her, lightly tugging at the veil obscuring her view. Somewhat surprisingly, he seemed to notice her annoyance at the itchy fabric.

“Yes. I’m sorry about the veil; I know it is dumb. But it’s an Intacian tradition, and we must humour the old men. Your future husband must not see you until I present you to him.”

She tried not to be irritated by his comment. Regardless of the outright duplicity veils had in her culture beyond death - she had agreed to this. Did he not know? Veils were considered so duplicitous to her own people, that it was downright cheating! Only acceptable in the height of mourning. Yet, here she was, doing him the favour of disregarding her own people’s traditions for his. Repeating Isolde’s words in her mind, she tried to assure herself. ‘Of course, he couldn’t know, it’s not like he’s our king. Surely he only meant to comfort me rather than highlight my own frustration to everyone? To assure me as opposed to belittling both people's traditions?’ Her self-assurance was apparently lacking.

The topic of her husband and arranged marriage has only been discussed twice, and both times were brought to the table by Rhett. The man assures her that he has someone that could match her in every way, including status, but he’s also held his tongue from speaking any further. As if not to spook her. Celica would pardon him if he was one of her servants, but the withheld information did nothing to endear this new King Rhett to her.

“What kind of man is he?”

“Well, uh… his name is Castin. Castin Hammer, and as I’m sure you’ve heard, he’s a dear friend of mine. Were it not for his support of him and his fighting men, we may have not succeeded in uniting our nations.”

“I see. So I take it he’s rather good?”

“He’s a great warrior, in fact. Among the best in Intacia.” King Rhett boasted, pride dripping from every word for his friend - blatantly missing her own ‘praise’ and the opportunity to quip with her. Perhaps he was hoping to appease and nurture a sense of curiosity within the Baroness - something young children from Noble Household’s often do during playtime to win over their friends.

She could imagine how an Imperial King might react, something closer to ‘other than being my First Commander? He’s decent.’ But Rhett was not just an Imperial King consort - but an Intacian King. She would have to adjust. Celica, not for the first time held back a sigh; she felt far too old to play this sort of childish game.

“Where is he?”

King Rhett frowned. The Baroness’ succinct questions reflected a tempestuous mood, and he knows he must manage that well. “I… don’t know. He should’ve been here already.” He then beckons one of the younger workers.

“Messenger.”

“Yes, King Rhett?”

“Go. Find out what’s keeping Castin.”

The messenger bowed once - perfect in his politeness - before making himself scarce. King Rhett resumes their conversation.

“Listen, before he arrives, I must tell you, Castin is, uh, how can I say… a guarded man. It may take time and patience to bring him out of his shell.”

‘Finally’ she thought, ‘something intriguing about him’.

“So he’s a shy, great warrior?”

King Rhett hesitantly shook his head. “No. I did not mean it in that way. He’s… definitely not shy, but - ”

Suddenly, the large entrance door pushes open, and the messenger returns. “King Rhett, presenting First Army Commander, Castin Hammer.”

Celica could see how her best friend’s husband - finally slipped into his kingly persona, though it would’ve made her etiquette teacher massage her forehead in its obviousness. Back ramrod straight, chin up and eyes, front; it was as though Castin was commanding him. He walked forward - at least his gait did not seem haltered.

As Rhett took the proverbial stage, conversations tapered off.

“Commander Castin, thank you for coming.”

“Yeah, of course, King Rhett. Sorry, I’m late.”

In the background, a woman boldly interjects. “Asshole!” Her friends giggle. Something begins to itch beneath the Baroness’ skin.

King Rhett cleared his throat - without meaning to, yet acknowledging them. That itch steadily spreads.

“Castin, our new nation owes you a debt it cannot repay. As a friend, I would like to thank you for the sacrifices you’ve made to get us here.”

“Yeah, of course, don’t sweat it.”

At this point, it clearly must be Intacian manners.

“And now, I ask you to make another.” King Rhett paused to address the crowd, staring each of them in the eye. “I know many of you have reservations about our union with our former Imperial enemies - ”

Immediately, the audience began to stir. A few people murmuring that ‘reservations’ are too mild of an understatement, yet still, King Rhett took it all in stride. “It is OK. Do not hide it. Get out in the open what we are all thinking. I know many of you secretly talk about it among yourself. You are angry over the centuries of war that come from the Empire's constant aggression. Angry over the suffering and devastation brought upon by the Ascendants. And you have every right to be.”

What a bold move. One that put his Imperial guest in great jeopardy should he lose said audience’s reins. She doubted very much that the strapped dagger on her thigh would hold more than one off.

“But know that staying angry will not change the past. We’ve won. But seeking revenge will only result in more suffering. It is time we end this cycle that’s been repeating for centuries now. Put away the grudges and start building a new future where war on this continent is a thing of the past.” His attention returned to Castin once more, who seemed more interested in what was behind her veil than his king’s speech. “Castin, I am asking you to contribute to that future.”

Celica's shoulders are poised, tensed in a way that seems elegant to the people surrounding her.

When King Rhett offers her an arm, she could have screamed at the inelegance. ‘He’s Isolde’s husband, not mine! It would not be against either custom to offer his arm as the father of his country to a guest, in fact, it would be rather flattering to hold the king’s arm. But given the context and the lack of his queen, it was as if he was already giving me away as a war bride!’

Still, to refuse would be to refuse His Majesty.

Tentatively, she held on as lightly and gently as she could as he escorted her to the centre of the hall, where Castin and his troops stood. The King, not his messenger, made the personal introduction. “Presenting the Imperial Baroness Anesidora and personal friend of the Queen.” He then leaned closer to her, whispering - “Now, take off the veil!”

Expression perfectly schooled and hands steady as ever, the Baroness pulls back the white cover. Gasps erupted among the crowd and awed murmurs travelling across the hall. Even Castin seemed taken aback. It reminded her vaguely of her first débutante. A familiar feeling in a foreign land - but people were people.

The audience seemed enraptured, King Rhett continued. “Now, Castin - ”

“Nah, it’s OK, Rhett. I can take it from here.” Commander Hammer intervenes. The itch makes Celica restless now when the King side-steps so that the Intacian warrior may approach closer.

“Baroness. You’re even more… dazzling up close.” He says with an easy swagger. A line that had been fed to the Baroness from those wanting to take advantage of her many times before. So not a good start. But his next sentence starts to wear her already dangerously thin patience. “How’s it going, sweetheart? I’m Castin. Castin Hammer”

Already, she found her perception of the Commander souring. ‘The audacity of this man! Addressing me using anything but my title?’

“It’s a pleasure.” Celica blatantly lied through pursed lips though it seems it flew over his head, for Castin smiles roguishly.

“Nah, the pleasure is all mine.” His eyes barely concealed the lust brewing, and if this was her manor, Celica would’ve hit him with the bottle that had allowed only inebriation could let slip such a tone. No - actually, Ezekiel would have done it for her.

But the game is still on, so Celica kept her rage to a simmer. “Commander - ”

“Oh, c’mon, you can leave off all that Commander stuff.”

“...Leave it?” Celica repeats, incredulousness creeping into her tone.

“Yeah, it’s cool. Titles don’t mean anything here, anyway. You can just call me Castin.” The man assures her. Almost eager, in fact, which doesn’t sit well with the Baroness. Titles meant boundaries and boundaries meant room to run for the fucking exit. In an esteemed and elegant manner of course.

“I’d rather not, Commander… Castin. Though I will concede your surname.” Perhaps such a pun would be inexcusable at home. Though she doubted Castin had noticed her refusal of his surname already.

Rather than put off like she had hope, Castin chuckled instead. “I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

“Castin, I believe you had an offer for the Baroness?” King Rhett interrupts.

That apparently snapped Castin back to reality. “Right. Your Grace… I would like to give you pretty much everything I have. My lands, my army, my money - all of it. To you and this new country you’re trying to build. All I want in return is that you agree to be my wife.”

‘What an arrogant form of confession.’ She thought to herself. ‘His lands? Household Anesidora owns a mountain with rich mines. His army? Eaton is an Air Ascendant and her one-man army. His money? She was willing to bet that she makes more monthly than Castin makes annually. And that’s just from her gems alone.’ She side-eyed King Rhett, wondering if the man ever informed his friend exactly who she is. She could excuse such arrogance if he had also been kept as naive as her.

She doubted it though.

Castin cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, Rhett, I brought the Baroness a gift. Can I give it to her?”

Before Celica could even open her mouth, King Rhett spoke for her. “Of course! How thoughtful of you.”

Fingers clenching tightly on her dress, the Baroness repeats Isolde’s plea for Rhett in her mind. The blatant disrespect from both men is cracking her patience, and the itch for her poisoned dagger is becoming overwhelming.

Oblivious to the Baroness’ pale knuckles, Castin signals his men. “Bring it here, boys.” One of the warriors marched forward to hand over a box to Castin, who in return, proceeded to present it to Celica. “Here you go, sweetheart. This is for you.” He says and waited expectantly. Pushing a receiver to unravel a present from them in public is a form of rudeness that would make the Imperial Nobles banish Commander Hammer from any future party invitations.

But this was Intacia and she was a guest. Intacian culture meant she could open it later but with all eyes on her and expectant, she was not to be given that choice apparently. Celica began to untie the ribbons on the box.

“Hopefully, it’s the start of a long and exciting relationship.” He added with a strange grin. Like stating a joke that only he knew.

Soon enough, though, the Baroness realised why. The audience gasped again, only this time, in shock and glee at her expense when Celica held up a skimpy lingerie. The glass is shattered, and the itch overwhelms her. Her heart is pounding painfully against her ribcage the longer she stares at the offending piece while King Rhett hissed out, “Castin! What is this!?”

“What? It’s for our marriage bed.” Castin nonchalantly defended himself. Laughter from the crowds rings painfully in the Baroness’ ears.

“What have you done?” King Rhett presses lowly; indignation coloured his tone.

‘Was he stupid? Of course, Castin knew what he had done. Finally, the Intacian mob could witness Imperial humiliation in the flesh.’ All at her expense! She didn’t even care about the stupid war!

But Castin ignored him in favour of the Baroness - delighting in her indignity. How could she go home with this above her head? The Armistice would be over by midnight!

“So, Baroness, what do you think? You know this is genuine Steelgate silk? I’d just figure it might add a little something-something to the wedding night.”

‘Whether a sadist or simply stupid - it would be a cruel fate if I married him.’

King Rhett immediately turned to the Baroness, hands about to grasp her but catches himself back at the last seconds. “Please, forgive him. I-I told you he is - ”

With a serene expression, Celica lowered her right lingerie-clenching hand and raised her left- slapping Castin as hard as she could. His chin whips towards the audience as silence descended into the hall.

“Oh, shit.” a distant voice sounded. Her hand stung triumphantly as Castin turned back to look at her. Smirk freshly wiped from his face.

King Rhett cursed as Castin blinked before asking “What? Did you just slap me?”

“Oh, no.” The King whined, but it was too late.

Castin began to grin again - but his eyes narrowed at her. “I didn’t realise you Imperial women were so… prudish. You know how expensive that is?”

Sadistic more so than stupid it seems. A cruel fate indeed.

Celica wordlessly stuffed the lingerie back into the box that the now clearly uncomfortable soldier carried. Slamming the lid on top before yanking it away from the still reluctant soldier and throwing it towards Castin’s smug lackeys.

“Whoa, whoa! Take it easy, sweetheart. If you don’t like it, I could always get you something else.”

“Well. That was utterly insulting.” Celica says, devoid of emotion, making a pointed effort to wipe the dust off her gloves.

“Insulting? Rhett, please. Tell me, how was this insulting?” ‘So he only pretends to be stupid!’

King Rhett, however, started to panic. Trying again to appease her. “Baroness, please. I understand your frustration. But you are making a scene. The peace is fragile. We must keep up appearances.”

“I’ve been humiliated.”

“Yes, I know. But, the people of both our nations are watching. Just let me handle this.”

“No,” Celica softly declared. Her tone sent icy shivers down his spine. “I’ve had enough of your incompetence and disrespect.”

The Baroness rolled her shoulders back and clasped her hands in front of her stomach. A plastic smile pulled onto her face. To the world, she appears as an image of the inherited imperial right - As though the Goddess herself had begun to pull her strings to a tune of power.

But King Rhett, at that moment, only saw a dark chasm splitting the Baroness into two. Her mask widened as from behind pearl-white teeth, inky darkness flooded out. They were tendrils, threatening to choke every ignorant man and woman nearby.

And what eventually crawled out is a monster unlike anything he has ever seen before.

Rhett could remember the day he lost his childhood.

When the Ascendants assaulted his village, sparing no one, he could no longer be considered a child. The same goes for any of his surviving playmates. Goddess, even now, Rhett could still feel the burning anger and hatred nestled in his heart when he was a Witch Hunter; he remembered the faces of the Ascendants who removed their armoured masks when the village was no more than a mountain of ashes.

With lungs full of black smoke and eyes stinging with tears as he huddled close with Castin and Lilia, Rhett will forever remember those Ascendants as the ugliest monsters he had ever seen. Logic dictated to the child that they were humans, just like him, but the absolute terror the Ascendants evoked petrified him enough that he thought nothing else would frighten him like that ever again.

Rhett was horribly wrong.

The Baroness cast an inscrutable glance at Castin and repeated her previous remark, “You have publicly humiliated me as a woman and tarnished my reputation as the Baroness of the Anesidora Household with your… gift.”

Then she focused on him.

Something must’ve dawned on Castin - perhaps his self-preservation finally kicks in? Rhett could only hope - for he tried to defend himself again, properly this time, but the Imperial Lady refused to spare any more attention for him.

Now confronted by his wife’s best friend underneath the glittering chandeliers, Rhett can clearly see the Baroness’ face transform. Her serene human face melted like hot tar, revealing a brand new horror that only a monster could provoke. Its lips curled back, exposing razor-sharp teeth with a guttural snarl. Its eyes, though still ruby red, now have a tint from the abyss with a sort of mindless feral wrapped in shadows. The worst is its gaze; it struck Rhett like a furious beast from Hell, terrifying him in place. Distantly, Rhett wondered if his heart had ceased to beat because he was certainly struggling to breathe.

Unlike the Ascendants, who were monsters moulded by war, the abomination in front of him was nurtured. Hungry eyes tore apart even the tiniest flaw on Rhett’s face.

He had been a fool to think the Baroness was a creature sheltered in peace.

“Your blatant disrespect of my title infuriates me, Your Majesty,” Celica Anesidora’s voice is controlled. Smooth as silk yet loud enough to be heard by everyone in the hall. “So I will approach the Queen with a simple question: Me or you?”

“What do you mean…?” The young King questioned warily. His mouth tasted of ash.

“Tomorrow, the Queen must decide: her husband or best friend. If she chooses you, I will return to the Empire. I will withdraw my support, wealth, business networks and influence from Intacia. Burying my friendship with the Queen for choosing a man that repeatedly insulted her best friend, her fellow countrymen and even herself. My support of this peace rendered meaningless, and the embargos shall resume as well active assault. However, if she chooses me, I will bring her home. I will then personally fund the Imperial army using every last coin from the Anesidora fortune. My Knight will lead every available Ascendant I can employ against Intacia. When your lands are utterly destroyed and your people starving, I wonder how many of your ‘brothers and sisters’ will clamour to bring me your head for my mercy.”

The room was silent. A pin drop could have been heard had there been one. Everyone in the room held a collective breath. Castin’s face was paler than a phantom as his hand rested uneasily over his sword hilt, waiting for permission to draw and behead her. King Rhett swallowed thickly. The atmosphere stayed tense, waiting for the guillotine to fall.

“Are… are you threatening me?”

“No, Your Majesty. That wasn’t a threat. It’s a promise.”

“After everything… I thought you wanted peace! I thought the four of us wanted an end to the war!”

“You think. You want. As if you’ve done something that warrants my endearment to either of those things.”

She’s curious, Rhett realises in horror. She’s curious as to why he expected her to play nice, even when plans for the unification of their countries are on the table. It’s a sort of selfishness that’s devoid of empathy.

He now understands the warnings his Queen gave him in their bedroom:

“OK, look, underneath the frills and sparkly stones, Celica is a simple woman with a simple desire. She just wants her family - which you can count on one hand, by the way - close by. While she treats her title as a 9 to 5 job, she takes pride in her hard-earned achievements. But you also got to understand something, Rhett. Living in a gilded cage broke her… I think. And the Empire took advantage of that.”

“What does that entail exactly?”

“So you know the Imperial Nobles are nasty in their own way, right? Unfortunately, Celica isn’t an exception. She likes pulling strings from the shadows, using others to get what she wants. And when the blame game begins, she’ll have people pointing their fingers at each other. Don’t look at me like that, Rhett! The Baroness isn’t malicious in nature. That’s just, her? She won’t hurt you, but she will just give you enough rope to hang yourself with. Actually, that still sounds kinda bad.”

“‘Kinda?”

“Hey, she’s on our side! I managed to convince her to give you a chance. So wow her as you did me, OK?”

Perhaps he had been too distracted in the bedroom. Now in the present, Rhett perfectly comprehends that the Baroness has pushed them all into a corner. The decision that she’ll lay for the Queen is an illusion; no matter what his wife chooses, the Baroness is the victor. If any of his men harm her in retaliation or fear, the Empire will immediately resume attacking Intacia.

It’s insane how an arranged marriage - Hell, just an arranged engagement transformed into a Goddess damned ambush!

King Rhett bit his lower lip, struggling to put a lid on his growing anxiety while the Baroness silently stared at him. Waiting for his next move.

Like most Intacian warriors, Rhett was taught to fight until his last breath. To take death over defeat. Now though? This is bigger than him; the crown on his brows weighs the heaviest. Whatever he does now spells either the doom of his people or elevates them into a new era.

The politicians began to murmur among themselves; the commoners were confused about how to react while the warriors watch Castin. Castin, now guilt-ridden for pushing his friend to the point of needing to beg an Imperial, steps forward to place Rhett behind him. Only to be pulled back.

It is the King of Intacia that stops him.

It is his friend he cannot bear to watch kneel before her in supplication. Though ranking had never mattered to him, honour did.

“I’ve wronged you terribly, Baroness Anesidora.” The accented baritone voice boomed off the walls despite his humble tone. Celica seemed unmoved by this. “My actions and words tonight were egregious to a woman of your stature. But please, I humbly plead that you reconsider your promise. For the sake of my wife. For the sake of my people. For the sake of my nation. What will it take to earn your forgiveness?”

Seemed was the word, being on the floor, King Rhett couldn’t see how Celica’s human face snapped back into place. Dragging the monster back into its cage as his gesture once again made her uncomfortable; though for a different reason. Not out of offence, but rather because she found Intacian dramatics to be, well, dramatic.

“Acknowledgement. Accountability. Followed by a public apology from the offending parties,” The Baroness easily offered. As if she’s already planned for this, planned to have him humbled if not humiliated publicly for wronging her and at this point, Rhett doesn’t doubt it.

But since the terms were simple, he eagerly tilts his head up. Hope blooms in his heart like a budding flower during Spring. “Then may Castin and I deliver our - ”

“Unfortunately, I’ve grown weary from tonight’s affair,” King Rhett’s expression dimmed ever so slightly at her announcement. ‘Is the Baroness still playing her games?’

“I’m open for an audience tomorrow. That should give you plenty of time to practice your deliverance…” Celica offered graciously.

Everyone could only watch as the Baroness gave King Rhett a curtsy before the crowd parts like the sea as she exited the hall. Taking with her the oppressive air yet leaving the Intacians uneasy. Some claim that Baroness Anesidora was bluffing; others didn’t dare to wait for the fallout.

Cutting through the chattering partygoers, Castin helps Rhett up to his feet. His voice is uncharacteristically small when he speaks. “I… I shouldn’t have - I never - I didn’t mean…” The Intacian warrior exhales deeply and tries again. “I didn’t mean for things to turn out like this. It was my fault, Rhett. I’ll fix it with the Baroness; I promise.”

The words rang in his ear. Chorusing the night, “It’s a promise.”

“I was in the wrong as well, brother. I should’ve paid closer attention to the Baroness. This went beyond cultural differences; this was a political nightmare.” King Rhett sighed, rubbing a palm over his jaw. Another realisation hit him; the Baroness purposely chose to talk to the Queen tomorrow. Forcing Rhett to break the news of what happened tonight to his wife so he would stew in the pot a little longer.

‘What a -.’

“So what’s our game plan?” His Commander asked seriously.

“Acknowledge our mistakes. Give the Baroness an appropriate form of accountability. Apologise to her with both nations as witnesses.” King Rhett parroted.

Castin whistled lowly. “A Water Ascendant as our Queen and an Imperial Baroness as my spouse. Rhett, I say this as your buddy, but you sure know how to pick your women.”

#monotony's rambling #desmond asmr #fanfic #baroness (oc)#queen ascendant (oc)#castin hammer #rhett

59 notes · View notes