The night spread across the Oasis like a velvet cloak, studded with the shimmer of countless stars. The air was a cool respite compared to the day's relentless heat. Luther moved through the darkness, large frame casting elongated shadows against the sparse trees and rugged rocks. His leg was now fully healed, the wounds given from the storm itself were now simply old scars. Months upon months he'd seethed in the scorching heat. All for today. All for what was to come next.

Determination and bitterness mingled in his heart, each feeding the other as he pressed on. He knew now that Harou would not stand with Icefang, that the man had chosen the side of a long-time enemy. He was not useful to the pale Rike. He posed a threat. His hair stood on end even now as he approached @Harou's den, the nagging feeling of danger in the back of his mind. Luther began to think Harou had fallen prey to whatever witchcraft Morrigan had used on Alaric. Desperation began seeping through his resolve's cracks, but he steeled himself and called for the Andal King.

code by cala - art by rabbit

i'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor
your morgue and final resting—


heavy lies the head that wears the crown.

restless - seething - the wendigo stirs in the darkness of his den. harou sleeps so rarely, often patrolling the long hours of the night, kept wide awake by the many thoughts and worries that would absolutely consume him. the winter titan walks the fine line between sane and insanity - all this behind a calm mask of icy violence and wrathful hunger. he would find repreive tonight, however, seeking shetler within his lair; one that he keeps seperate and away from helah and their young offspring.

the nightsky would bleed in its softened clouds, thus, stars doting the horizon as their gentle spell would draw forth like obsidian magic over the desert. a stillness would envelope the atmosphere, one laced with heat and venom. it's a stillness that harou leans into, finding it strangely peaceful in the oasis. and then, out of no where. a call comes, unexpected. it rumbles forth with husky promise.

a singular ear pricks foward upon the beast's bearish skull, catching the masculine call. harou would rise from his fur-lined bedchamber, his long strides devouring the floor beneath him eagerly before finally stepping outside. a quiet rumble would escape the beast's lips in return, eyes of hungry red settling upon @Luther ♔'s form. he would hold the pale man's gaze with an unwavering, piercing look. wrathful red upon snake-green eyes.

luther had always remained a mystery to harou. but regardless of who luther was, harou had welcomed the mysterious stranger with open arms; allowed him and his women and children into the kingdom of andal.

"you called?" breathes harou, feeling the tension slip down his shoulders and the kiss of nightfall caress his neck like a clammy balm. he would wait for what the other would have to say, his tail flicking slowly behind him, back and forth, back and forth, like a restless serpent.

The moment Harou had denied Icefang was when Luther knew he'd fucked up.

He wondered now if seeking reprieve in Vermeda would've been the better option, but his pride as a man simply did not let him ( or was it his masculine ego? ) bend the knee and live under a woman's false rule. He may stand with Icefang, but they were allies only out of need. Between the pale man and woman the saying "the enemy of my enemy is my friend" rang true more than ever. It was not Luther's fault that the valley lacked men with balls, with the grit to take what they have the right to. And so he was, as always, forced to comply with the best option he had - which was, unfortunately, Icefang.

But even here, in Andal, women seemed to rule. Despite Harou wearing the crown and trying to remain in control of his whores ( and especially Helah ), he seemed to be outnumbered. He wondered if he'd fucked Isla, too. Or perhaps it was truly witchcraft. Not that there was much difference there.

When @Harou emerged from his den, Luther bowed curtly, his lips spreading in that familiar, friendly smile that he feigned so well. There was not a trace of the anxiety that lurked beneath the surface like a serpent, nor the disappointment with the Andal monarch's decision. And yet he held a proverbial hand on the knife hidden out of sight. I hope I am not interrupting your leisure, mein Freund. The snaggle-toothed man grinned, insinuating that perhaps the older man was enjoying the company of a woman like most Kings would at this time of night. You'll have to excuse my... late call, but my updo is more suited for winter than... ... this sandbox shithole... The heat of the oasis. He said spiritedly.

Onto business. I wanted to thank you for your generosity in accepting us with open arms. Truly. As truthful as a pathological liar could be. A very good one, too. I did not expect to be forced out of my land, out of everything I've built in a single night... Neither did I expect to be welcomed so generously, without question, under your rule. The memories of that tempestuous night bring a shiver down his spine, dreams of drowning in the night still haunting him every time he closed his eyes. He did not have to feign the mixture of anger and fear that overtook his features. He stretched his limb now, flexing the toes that had been broken with more ease than ever. I vowed to go an retake my throne once I'm healed. That is what I shall do in a few days time. He dropped his leg down, determination evident in sharp green eyes. I want us to remain steadfast friends or on good terms, at the very least. With your blessing, mein Freund, I would like to bring my children and wives out of Andal in preparation for their return to the Mire. There was no question on if he regained control over Ecrosia. He knew he will. There was a dead certainty in his voice, one that gave way to the true fury that lingered. Whoever had his crown will meet a swift defeat and his unbound ire.

code by cala - art by rabbit

i'll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor
your morgue and final resting—


there is no royal blood flowing through harou's veins. harou is a heathen - a rebel god upon the desert throne. his ties into the families of amaryllis would remain distant, vast, and harou himself would not know who truly this @Luther ♔ was, not at this moment. all he knows about luther is that he seemed keen on siding with icefang, a fact that would lightly bother harou, but still, he can push this thought aside. because all the winter titan sees is an amiable face, one with a charming smile and friendly disposition. luther would pose as a well-manered gentleman before him - well dressed, tongue laced in smooth verbosity - and for this reason alone, the beast would slightly let down his guard.

there would be no reason to treat him with violence, no reason to place unfair judgement upon luther just because he stated his truth in their meeting with icefang.

harou would keep the sword sheathed, for now, an easy smile moving over harou's lips, even if there will always lurk an impulsive danger within the winter beast. as the pale man speaks more words of charm and masculine grace, he would listen intently, both ears cupping forward to catch the syllables spilling from the other's mouth. while luther weaves his convincing words, a low rumble would reverberate from the king's throat, acknowledging him quietly, and eventually coming to a decision. "you have my blessings, then." breathes the wolf, voice rough and laced in smooth masculinity. he would hold luther's gaze with an unwavering stare, the heat of red eyes smouldering over luther's green.

"i accept this arrangement - a truce between our two families. no need for additional bloodshed if it can be helped." the final few words would spill down in a hot, plume of mist. in this moment, harou believes luther. what he saw in luther was a father, a husband - just like himself - just trying to protect and save his family. "consider you and your family released from andal. i wish you the best of luck in pursuing your goals."

harou would stride forward, departing entirely from the mouth of the den. before leaving, he would finally come to pause by luther's side, his lips mere inches away from the other man's shoulder. another smile would play over harou's lips. this time darker, colder.

"don't fuck me over." whistles the hungry wolf - a low whisper holding a now dangerous tone. his experience with aphrodite and caladan cove would put him on edge. in this, harou would never fully trust anyone outside his family - but, he will give luther the benefit of the doubt here tonight. he will give luther this one chance.

exit harou

TRIGGER WARNING!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of crude language.

Luther somehow manages to bring a smile out of Harou, which sits so oddly on the Oasis monarch's lips that Luther blinked a few times to make sure it was real. The simple twist of Harou's lip made the pale Rike far more confident in slithering out of this unscathed. Who knows, perhaps he can dupe Harou into believing his little white lies, too? Only time will tell. Regardless, Luther smiled back. Just to new-found buddies having a pleasant chat. Nothing to see here. Not as if Luther had been anxious like a maiden before her wedding night, shitting his pants on how to get out of this mess that Icefang had made.

Why is it always a woman throwing a wrench in his plans? And boy what a wrench that crazy bitch threw. He'd thought himself finished the moment Icefang had leaped all brimstone and fire at Harou, on his land no less. Dumb fucking move. But what could one expect of the simpler, emotional sex? Luther had to cut her some slack. He was such a gentleman.

"You have my blessings, then." If his wives and children weren't stuck in the Oasis, he would've laughed at such pompous words. Blessings? As if Luther Rike needed anyone's blessing for anything... except he did. He needed it now, or his children would be stuck here and so would he. So he simply nodded, relief washing over him. A truce, a truce... such dreamy words, too bad it always ended in bloodshed. Especially when Harou stood with the Sigrun rats. Why is it always the Sigrun? I must say I was never a fan of bloodshed. he grinned mischievously. Well, not unless he was the one dealing it. It started to get quite... drab when bloodshed was being dealt on him. With his family released, that was one obstacle out of his way. Danke, mein Freund. You've been most generous. Too bad generous men always get fucked in the ass.

The Andal King began to depart for the door of his chambers, and Luther began to stand up. That is when Harou caught him off-guard with his last words. The first son blinked, his smile faltering in surprise then slipping back on as easily as a mask would. No promises.

exit

code by cala - art by rabbit