Shadows Of Desire

Rowan recalled a story from his youth that his mother once told him. A beautiful Princess fell victim to her evil and jealous step-mother when she was presented with a poisoned apple. The Princess fell into a deep sleep. Many thought she was dead but, her youth and beauty still remained. She was so beautiful in fact that those who loved her could not bear to seal her away in a tomb, and so fashioned a glass coffin in which to display her. Many months passed as her death was mourned, until a handsome Prince heard of the beauty in the glass coffin and so he set out to find her and, gaze upon her beauty for himself.

Once the Prince saw her, he fell madly in love with her, though his heart was broken knowing he would never see her smile, or hear her soft voice. He would never hold her in his arms, or feel the heat of her embrace. Distraught over having lost his love before even getting the chance to know her, he decided to leave the sleeping Princess with a single kiss upon her rosy lips before departing. He ordered the lid removed from the coffin and, with a tear in his eye, knelt to kiss his lost love. The power of the kiss--true loves kiss--had broken the spell and the Princess awoke from her death like sleep. Over joyed, the Prince carried her, on horseback, to his Palace where they were at once wed, and presumably lived happily ever after.

Rowan loved the story of the beautiful Princess in the glass coffin and had often, over the years, dreamed of one day meeting his own Prince charming and being swept away to a magical kingdom where he too could live happily ever after. Unfortunately, his life was not a fairy tale and there would be no Prince charming come to rescue him from this nightmare. The only one who could save Rowan now was himself.

His day had been filled with preparations for a wedding that would never come to be. At least, not with him as the bride. After breakfast he was taken to a room to meet with the palace tailor. There was no time to make a new suit for the occasion but after taking his measurements, the tailor went to work hemming and adjusting a suit picked out for him by Lord Killian’s personal attendant. Rowan had to admit, the suit was lovely. He would have been proud to wear it on any other occasion.

The suit consisted of a White tunic and white slacks. The neck and cuffs of the tunic were adorned with gold embroidered roses and a gold, roped belt was tied at the waist. His boots were black leather and he would walk to the alter wearing a gold ringlet on his head. The suit was eloquent, stylish, and fit for a Prince. It surprised him that his father would even allow him to wear something so fine but if Lord Killian had insisted upon it then the King would probably have agreed to just to keep the peace as he really wanted this marriage to proceed without issue.

After the fitting, Rowan was dragged around the Palace by various servants so he could inspect and approve things such as floral arrangements, foods, and entertainment. He really didn’t care what decor was used or what foods were prepared. None of it mattered anyway. He nodded and approved all of it without much thought. It wasn’t as though he’d be there to enjoy it anyway. After that, Rowan and Killian were taken before the Priest who would be officiating the ceremony, and he walked them through the various steps they would be taking.

Killian would enter first and stand at the alter. Rowan would then enter, escorted to the alter on the arm of his father. He chuckled at the thought of his father walking him down the isle, sure that the King would have a disgusted look on his face the entire time. Once the King handed him off to Lord Killian, Rowan would take his place beside his future husband and their vows would then be spoken.

The Priest would then tie a golden rope around their hands, binding them together for life, and then they would both drink from a chalice of wine where each had shared a drop of their own blood. Rowan cringed at the thought of drinking Killian’s blood. If he hadn’t already planned to escape his own wedding, he might have jumped from his seat and ran then and there. Killian looked over and Rowan noticed the expression on his face. Killian wasn’t happy. Most likely due to the fact that Rowan didn’t seem even remotely interested in what the old Priest was saying.

Not wanting to give himself away, Rowan smiled, sat up straight, and at least pretended to listen to the Priest. Finally, the Priest had finished and they were excused. Killian took Rowan’s hand and led him to the dining hall where the royal family would dine together for the last time before the wedding. Much to Rowan’s dismay, he would not be missing this dinner. The King had insisted upon his attending and denying the King was not a wise thing to do. So, reluctantly, Rowan allowed Killian to escort him to a dinner that he dreaded almost as much as the wedding itself.

“You don’t seem at all excited about tomorrow night.” Killian stated as they neared the dining hall.

“Should I be?” Rowan asked, curtly.

“I would think any bride would be at least a little excited, yet you show no enthusiasm at all.”

Rowan sighed as he stopped, turned, and stared into Killian’s eyes. “If I said that I was eager to wed you, my Lord, you would know that I was lying. So, what’s the use? You and I both know I’m being forced into this marriage. I have absolutely no reason to be happy about it.”

“You could at least try.” Killian frowned. “Would life as my duchess be so terrible? I know my home is not as grand as the palace but it’s not as though you’d be living impoverished. I promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure you are comfortable and well cared for. You shall want for nothing. You will have attendants, servants, and an entire estate to explore. Plus, think of all the parties you will be attending, grand dinners, and I’ll even take you out as often as you like. Isn’t that better than being confined within the palace walls, isolated and alone?”

“I’ve become accustomed to my isolation, my Lord, and I’ve never enjoyed parties. Especially not the kind you host.”

Lord Killian laughed at that. “My dear, young, Prince. Life at court isn’t all about orgies and debauchery. Much of it is ass kissing a bunch of puffed up cox-combs with their heads so far up each others asses it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. But, keeping the nobles happy is my job. Well, part of it. It would be much easier for me if I had a beauty like you on my arm. I’m not very good at entertaining you see. I do not have the charm and soft touch that you have. Your father thinks you’re weak because you’re an omega. But, I see you as the perfect liaison between me and the people I govern.”

“And why do you think that, Lord Killian?”

“Because, my dear Prince, you have something that I lack.” Killian brought Rowan’s hand to his lips and gently kissed it. “Compassion.”

Killian left him standing there, a look of astonishment on his young face, as he made his way into the dining hall. Rowan took a moment to compose himself then followed after, ready to get this night over with so he could return to his rooms and secure the rest of his future.

***

Dinner was excruciatingly monotonous. King Desmond and Lord Killian spoke at length of the wedding taking place the next night. They spoke of land and titles and all the things that Rowan himself found nauseatingly boring. Despite his growing irritation with the topic, Rowan nonetheless smiled, nodded, and did all the things that were expected of him, all the while keeping his opinions to himself and his mouth shut. His presence there was only for show. A trophy for Lord Killian to display for all to see. It was his way of saying “I won.” Rowan smirk inwardly. How disappointment would Lord Killian be when his bride was found dead, poisoned by his own hand?

Near the end of the meal Lord Killian turned to Rowan and, in full view of the King, Lady Caroline, and Lady Emilia, he presented Rowan with a small, back box. Rowan looked at the box with suspicion but Killian only smiled. “It’s a token of my love for you, my pet. One of many more to come.”

Rowan accepted the box hesitantly but graciously. Slowly he opened it and then gawked at what he found inside. “My Lord.” Rowan protested. “I couldn’t possibly accept this. It’s too much.”

“Nothing is too much for you, my love.” Killian reached into the box and withdrew the pendant inside. To say that it was beautiful was not giving it the credit it was due. The piece was stunning and must have cost a small fortune. The pendant consisted of a gold chain and suspended from it, a blood red ruby, cut into the shape of a heart. The ruby was no bigger than a single grape yet it shone with a radiance that Rowan had never seen before. The light from the candles on the table reflected off the stone casting a reddish glow on the fine, linen, table cloth. It was dazzling.

Rowan watched the expression on Emilia’s face turn to pure rage as Killian stood and fastened the pendant around Rowan’s neck. Rowan held the stone on his finger tips and he stared at it, unsure of how to respond. “T-thank you.” He stammered, still in shock. “But really, you shouldn’t have. I don’t deserve such beautiful adornments.”

“But you do.” Lord Killian smiled, leaning over to brush his lips against Rowan’s cheek. “This, and so much more.” Lord Killian looked Rowan over and a look of pride crossed his face. “It enhances your natural beauty, my dear. I shall enjoy spoiling you I think. Especially if you blush like this every time I gift you something.”

Rowan blushed brighter and when he looked across the table he saw that Lady Caroline and Lady Emilia were both glaring daggers at him. Emilia had her napkin balled up in her hand and her knuckles were white with the amount of force she used in gripping the thin piece of fabric. Rage filled her eyes and when she saw Rowan looking at her, she quickly turned her head away from him. Lady Caroline continued to stare, her eyes narrowed into two small slits. Rowan wanted to sink down into his chair but he refused to give her the satisfaction and so he sat up straight, his head held high, and smiled sweetly at Lord Killian.

“My Lord, you are too kind to me. I shall wear your gift with pride and for all to witness your generosity.”

Lord Killian grinned, giving a cursory glance in Lady Caroline’s direction then, making sure her eyes were on him, he lifted Rowan’s hand to his mouth and gently kissed his knuckles. “You flatter me, my Prince. Truly, I am a lucky man to be able to wed one such as you.”

“It’s a waste of your wealth.” The King suddenly bellowed as he gulped down his wine. “And the boy is correct, he doesn’t deserve such a lavish gift. What he deserves is a night at the whipping post. He’s far too outspoken. He needs discipline, not spoiling.”

“Thank you, your Majesty, for your sage advice but I feel that I can manage my husband with somewhat less...violence...when he comes to live with me.”

The King shrugged. “Suit yourself. After tomorrow night he’ll be your problem to contend with, not mine.”

“Indeed.” Lord Killian nodded to the King. “But, for now, it is late and I think I will retire for the night. There is still much to do before our wedding tomorrow.” He stood, offering a hand to Rowan. “Come my dear. I’m sure you need your beauty rest as well. Let me escort you to your apartments.”

“Thank you, my Lord.” Rowan accepted the hand and rose from his seat with all the eloquence and grace expected of a Prince. “Father, My Ladies.” He bowed in turn to each. “Goodnight. When next we meet it will be a joyous occasion for you I’m sure, as it will be the last time you will look upon my face.” With that, he turned and left the dinning hall. Lord Killian bowed as well, saying his own farewells before following his fiance into the outer hall.

“That was quite an exit you gave.” Lord Killian said as he walked up to Rowan, giving him a knowing smile.

“Well, I figure a resonating ‘Fuck you’ would be a bit much.”

“I’m sure they got the sentiment all the same.”

“And you? Lord Killian?”

Lord Killian chuckled. “I think I rather like being used to piss off your family. Actually, I found it rather entertaining.”

“I’m glad I could amuse you.”

“Oh, my sweet Prince. You were amusing yourself.”

Rowan nodded. “That may be true. I find tormenting my father to be most amusing. But, as you’ve said, I need my beauty rest so I will bid you goodnight, my Lord.”

Rowan turned to leave but Killian caught his arm. Rowan looked at him, a slight frown on his face when he saw the serious and stern eyes of the Duke staring back at him. “Was there something else?” Rowan asked, the irritation clear in his tone.

“Just one thing.” Killian said, pulling Rowan closer and leaning in so that Rowan could feel the Duke’s hot breath on his neck. “I wasn’t lying before when I said that I always get what I want. When I set my sights on something, I will stop at nothing to get it and right now, I want you. So, let this be a warning to you, little Prince. If you have any plans of running, don’t. Things do not bold well for those who cross me. If you run, I’ll chase. And trust me, I’ll find you and when I do, I’ll crush your skull with my bare hands and enjoy every moment of it.”

Rowan sighed, tilting his head slightly as he forced a smile. “Then rest assured, my Lord. I have no intention of running. In fact, the only thing that would keep me from standing at your side before the alter tomorrow night is my own death.”

Lord Killian smiled his dashingly wicked smile, a smile that reviled even the devil himself. “Then, I shall see you tomorrow next.” Killian once again kissed Rowan’s hand then bowed to his fiance. “At midnight, our appointed time.”

“I’ll count the minutes.” Rowan pulled his hand back with a quick jerk. “Until then, goodnight...my husband.” Rowan gave Killian a departing bow then left for his apartments. A small smirk played across his ruby lips as he thought, Farewell, Lord Killian, for we, shall not meet again. Not in this life and hopefully not in any other.

"Your plan had better work, Emilia.” He whispered into the darkness that surrounded him. “If not, my death will be on your hands.”