The Broken Queen and Her Knight (Andraska)

[Qit'ria]

Vhalar 42, 718 immediately following this

Qit'ria watched as the male and his harem turned away, until only Natasha was left looking down on her. And she too left. Qit had to get moving. She was injured and exposed, and for all she knew, these people would do what she would, and put an injured animal out of their misery. She winced as she got her feet under her, her legs shaking in weakness and pain. She felt blood matting her fur, running down her form. Everything stung, and each time the lightest of breeze blew through, it sent screaming pain through her. She looked around, seeing that the city was starting to come alive. The fog was beginning to fade, and people were beginning to be more frequent, many of them heading to work.

She needed to find shelter. Somewhere she could change back without the eyes of the city watching her. She looked up and down the street, knowing that west would bring her closer to her apartment, but it was too far, she was sure of it. And there were far too many people. A single kick or stomp would end her. Still looking around, she finally spotted it. Down the way, toward the east. An open window. She didn't know where it led or what she'd find inside, but it was her best bet.

Qit'ria limped over to it, finding pain in her sides with each motion and jar, sticking as close to the walls of the buildings as she could. Ducking under stalls, skirting around barrels and crates sent spasm through her, her breath growing loud and rasp. Reaching the window, she looked up at it. She wasn't sure she could even make the jump in her condition. She prepared her pounce, wiggling her hips to get set just right, eyes squeezed shut to keep out the pain. She launched, paws out stretched.

And missed it by inches. She landed far from gracefully, failing to catch herself, collapsing in a gasping heap. She laid there pitifully for several bits, before getting up and trying again. Over and over she tried, never quite reaching the window. She laid there, crumpled, unable to do much more, when a young man in armor walked over.

"Hey there little guy, you tryin' to get in the barracks? Here, lemme help you."

Qit'ria couldn't resist as the man picked her up by the scruff. She found her body instantly relax fully, and that there was little pain from this action. He set her on the window sill, and she managed to keep standing. Qit didn't know, but the man was planning a practical joke on Andraska, "Go on little guy, its okay." Qit gave him a soft mew, and stumbled in through the window, ending in a bloody heap on Andraska's thankfully unoccupied pillow. Qit laid there on the soft, feathery cushion, looking around the long room of beds she was in. There was no one in here at the moment. A rest was needed, she wasn't sure she even had the energy to change back.

A rest... was all she needed. And so she just laid where she fell, as her blood continued to soak into the pillow belonging to the man named Andraska.

[Andráska Venora]

Vhalar 31 718

His footsteps were heavy, tired. Andraska exhaled audibly, the clinking of his metal armor and clasps breaking the early morning quiet. His limbs were weighted as he passed the bunks of other men and woman; the protectors of the city. Some corrupt, others just trying to carve a name for themselves.

And then there was him. Andraska Venora. Second son of Kaleb and Willow Venora. Sessfiend Slayer. Kin Killer. Savior of Rharne. Ouroboros Guard and benevolent knight. Drunkard. Addict. Fiend. Friend.

Tired and sore.

Green eyes, the color of fresh thyme, blinked back exhaustion as he reached his cot, his cheekbones cast with the shadow of responsibility and doubt. Deft fingers continue to undo his fine armor, so well fitted it moved like a second skin, the silver engraving of thorns and rose petals shimmering in the dim light as the noble born lifted and cast aside his chest piece to the floor. Beneath it was a black tunic damp with sweat, tailored well but faded from use. He reached for his belt, pulling at the leather strap as his brow furrowed and he observed the matted mess upon his pillow.

Perhaps it was the sleepless nights or the stress of pleasing an entire duchy, or maybe the palpable unrest the city felt in the wake of magical insecurity, but it did not immediately register what was before him. Frowning, Andraska yanked his belt free, including the hilt of his sword and leaned it against the bed frame. Over his shoulder and around the room, he looked for the culprit and then he noticed the open window as a chill of Vhalar breeze rolled over his skin.

The thing shivered and his shoulders dropped. A living animal?

Suddenly his eyes widened and he leaned forward, craning his neck and reached out to touch the thing. It began to move and he saw the telltale signs of cat ears and his mouth gaped, “Woah, woah,” Blood coated its fur and its breathing was weak and labored, “Hey, hey, hey.”

The familiar surge of protection took over and he leaned over the tiny thing, calloused fingertips surprisingly gentle when he tried to pry the thing from the cushion, “I knoooow,” he cooed, trying to look for open wounds while no doubt causing the thing comfort, “Let me see,” Brow knitted as scooped it up, the heat of anger began to wake and stir as he felt the unnatural count of its ribs.

Andraska inhaled, jaw clenching as he tenderly set it down, looking up at a smirking guard, “Hey, Venora,” the man said, his patchy beard a distraction to his uneven face. A man familiar with fighting, looking for a joke judging by the jerk of his chin and the mess beside the noble, “That time of the month or what? Or did a woman fi-“

The speed of which the Venora sprung from the mattress was impressive, gripping the other by the breast plate and slamming him into the wall, “You do this?” he growled in Draketh, “You get off on its pain?” The tension Andraska had been feeling was ready to come to a head and he rocked the man violently back and forth, his voice booming with authority, “I asked you a question!”

“I didn’t do it!” The guard ripped himself from the nobleman’s grasp, both men’s shoulders squared, their heels dug into the ground. Fists clenched they stared each other down before the common born scoffed and shook his head. The King and a family name wouldn’t keep Andraska in good graces forever.

Every winter, the rose wilted. His time in the sun would end, his luck would run out.

A matter of time before the fates stepped back in.

Andraska stood his ground until the others scattered, none wishing to fight and deal with its legal consequences. Or so they told themselves. The Venora was merciless with his bare hands and had taken out things far worse than mere men. Turning back to the mattress, Andras frowned again, gathering the blanket up around the cat and holding the bundle to his chest.

He would help it, even if no one else would.

[Qit'ria]

Timestamp: Vhalar, 718th Arc

Qit'ria had been dipping in and out of consciousness, her vision fading in and out. She never even heard Andraska's arrival, very unlike the usually vigilant huntress. She started when she felt a touch atop her head, shurking away from it, trying to become ever smaller. She didn't have the energy to try and fight back at this foreign attacker. This was it. This was the moment her reckless life caught up with her.

She felt the shadow creep over her as Andraska leaned down. She felt hands touching her sides and she flinched again, wracked with pain, her claws extending, digging into the pillow, so as to not be pulled away. She was lifted briefly, still clinging to the pillow, but completely unable to fight back. Everything just hurt. When she was set back down, she relaxed a bit.

Only to be startled again at the sound of arguing and some violent movement. She twisted her neck just enough to see, her ears twitching to listen in Andraska's direction. There were a lot of heated words, two men fighting it seemed. Qit'ria was confused. Was one of them the one that had been touching her? And if so, which?

Only once everyone started to depart did she realize that there were many men here. And one was heading back towards her. She watched as his arms came down once more, scooping her up, blanket and all, and she let out a feeble 'mrow'. She didn't, or couldn't, fight the gentle hold, and so she didn't even try. She felt herself pressed against the man's chest, still within the bundle.

He was warm, and that was when Qit realized just how cold she was. She'd felt that chill before. Blood loss. She shifted, pressing closer against his warmth, and looking up at his face. She etched it to memory, of this man that was so warm, and helping her. A man whose name she didn't know. A man who thought she was nothing more than a broken cat.

And she was still worth fighting for.

[Korva]

Claimed

**Made by the magnificent Kes

[Korva]

Rewards!

Name: Qit'ria

Knowledge: You came pretty close to you 1,500. If you change your mind and want some knowledge we can do it like it was a solo and grant you six instead of the collaborative 8.

Loot: NA
Injuries: Previously granted.
Renown: NA
Magic XP: NA

Points: 10

- - -

Comments: Aw, I would've liked to see where this went. Qit is a mess right now and it would have been an interesting dynamic. I went ahead and just graded it like it was a solo, so you get 10 points. Andraska, if you decided you'd like some points or knowledge just ping me

If you feel I've missed anything or if you have questions about your review, please don't hesitate to send me a quick PM or ping me in Discord. Thanks!

**Made by the magnificent Kes