• Mature • Tent Invasion

[Violet]

70 Ashan 716

They had been making their way to Hunter’s Pass for a few trials now. Violet knew that every inch they grew closer to the Burning Mountains would possibly put Malcolm more on edge and close her window of opportunity. She had watched his tent with interest the few nights they had been traveling, knowing what she wanted to do, yet knowing that it would likely been seen as inappropriate- and it was risky. Should she offend Malcolm, she might find herself making the trek back to Andaris by her lonesome, possibly rebuked from the small group of knights set to investigate the mines.

Dusk had come and gone and there was a thick stew bubbling over the fire that had been built at the center of their tents meant to keep away the night’s chill and feed them something other than cold and dry meat and crusted bread. There was idle small talk among the soldiers that knew each other, and Violet had taken her bowl of stew when it was her turn. She had pushed it around and barely touched it, her stomach twisting and in knots over the possibilities of what her actions might cause.

When the meal was done, Violet spent another break or two lingering around the fire before excusing herself to her tent. There she unpacked her bedroll and hastily snuck out from under the back tent wall and came upon Malcolm’s like a quiet shadow. Entering his tent the same way she left hers, she found his bedroll lain out and the warm light of the lantern flickered. She could hear the voices from the campsite and knew Malcolm to still be outside. It gave her the short amount of time she needed.

Violet took no time slipping off her worn leather boots, sitting them to the side before shucking off her tightly worn breeches. Her shirt came next and soon she was completely bare to the pleasantly warm air inside of the tent. She stretched out on top of the folds of Malcolm’s bedroll, her arm draped over her side. Now there was only the wait and the hope that this wouldn’t end badly.

[Malcolm]

“Do you really think thirty men is enough?” Benjamin studied Malcolm with a pointed look.
“It was the best I could muster on such short notice.”
“We should have waited for Nathan and his knights.”
“The road has been good to us so far, Benjamin, rest easy tonight. If we run into the escaped Qe’dreki slaves, they are unlikely to be as well armed as we.”
“What of their help? They didn't escape alone.”
“It's possible they have friends, but we are only half a trial’s ride from Warrick, we can pick up more men at the fort there.”
Benjamin made a disgruntled sound and shovelled another spoonful of stew into his mouth. “I don't like it,” he said, while chewing.
“I know,” the warden acknowledged, “Ronald is on watch tonight, you can trust him.”
“Double the watch,” Benjamin suggested.
Malcolm looked thoughtful, perhaps even stubborn, but agreed with a nod after a time. “Peter, Kathryn, I want you to pick three more to stay up in shifts tonight.”
Kathryn stood up, her meal long finished, “Ser,” she nodded, and headed for the makeshift wall of sharpened sticks they had set up, with Peter following a few minutes later.
Malcolm got up, ready to call it a night.
“Warden?”
“Yes, Benjamin?”
“Please tell me you have a plan.”
Malcolm folded his arms. “I always have a plan. Why don't you go clean up and meet me in my tent in half a break, we can go over the details then.”
Benjamin got to his feet and agreed with a nod. “I'll see you there soon.”

Across camp, Malcolm’s tent stood positioned between the tents of his captain's, with their men distributed evenly beyond them. The warden had washed up in a nearby creek before dinner, and with his hair now a lot drier due to sitting by the fire, he was just about ready for bed. His tent was a little larger than that of an average knight, divided into three sections, two small compartments and one large. The biggest of the three was used as the main body of the tent where he had his maps laid out under paperweights, while the smaller sections played host to his equipment and sleeping quarters.
His horse made a low rumbling sound as he walked by, and Malcolm bowed between the flaps of the tent’s entrance to venture inside. Once there he removed his boots, shrugged out of his wolfskin cloak, and hung up his lantern in the centre of the main compartment. The ground was cold, even beneath the canvas floor, a sensation that made his socks feel damp even though they weren't. He moved into the part of the tent he had set up his bedroll in, and was stopped dead in tracks by the vision of a naked woman.
Even in his hesitation he had failed to put a face to the body and backed out of the room with a hurried apology. “I'm so sorry!” he said, thinking he had walked into the wrong tent. “Please excuse my intrusion.”
It was only on his way to the exit that he noticed his weapons leaning against the wall, and remembered seeing his horses tied up outside. Malcolm halted, sure he was in his own tent, and turned slowly towards the bedroom once more. He walked to the door, pushed open the makeshift door, just enough to peer inside and assure himself that he wasn't seeing things. The canvas fell closed just as soon as this was confirmed, and Malcolm cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, I think you have the wrong tent?” He listened then, waiting for a voice, perhaps one he could put to a face.

[Violet]

Violet took her time lying on Malcolm’s bedroll to wonder just how long he was going to sit out there with Ben and the rest of his knights. It would be less than ideal to lie here all night, but she supposed it could be worth it in the end. But what if it wasn’t? Several times she considered getting up and putting her clothes back on to sneak out of his tent and back to her own. It was such a risky action, yet she decided to hold firm to her decision on the matter. He was so good at avoiding the subtle. This was something he could not avoid.

There was a rustle of the tent fabric as someone opened the flap. She heard the sound of weapons being removed and rested in their place. The bright light of the lantern moved from the ground and up to the ceiling, casting the shadow of the man she was after against the thinner fabric of the inner tent walls. She sucked in a breath of anticipation, feeling her heartbeat quicken until the blood was pounding in her ears. This was the moment. If he ever intended to give in to her, it would be now when he was confronted with a situation he couldn’t avoid.

The tent rustled again and a bit of warm air wafted over her body as the flap to the bedroom was opened. He was immediately startled, his mind seeming to whir into overdrive as he apologized for intruding in his own tent. He must have thought he had mistakenly walked into someone else’s. He had backed out so quickly, she hadn’t the time to tell him that he was very much in the right place.

Violet sat up, forcing herself into a less alluring position. There was the clearing of a throat as he realized he was exactly where he was supposed to be, though apparently he hadn’t seen enough to know who was there. The question came as she pushed herself to her feet. “No,” she called out. “I definitely have the right tent.” She picked up a flask of wine that she had previously tampered with. Opening the tent flap to reveal herself, she offered up the flask. “Wine?”

[Malcolm]

“Violet?” Malcolm grasped the wine by the neck of the bottle and took a step back.
“Malcolm?” Benjamin called as he walked in.
Malcolm pushed Violet back into the sleeping quarters and turned with a start. “Benjamin, you're early.”
Benjamin took a seat at the table. “Thought we might as well get this done with,” he shrugged, clearly he hadn't seen the naked woman upon entry.
Malcolm put the wine down. “Right, of course.” They had both been on watch the night before and the sooner they could get to their own beds, the better.
“So what do we know?” Benjamin asked.
Malcolm’s heart was pounding in his ears, he could scarcely think let alone make sense of anything Benjamin had just said. A curious backwards glance assured him momentarily, that Violet wasn't about to join them in her birthday suit, and Malcolm was able to set his thoughts to the meeting.
Benjamin took the wine and poured them each a mug full. “I didn't know you brought wine along for the road, that's not like you.”
Malcolm accepted the wooden mug, his hand shaking. He took a sip and placed it down, hoping it might tame his nerves. “I thought you might like that.” Malcolm forced a smile and unraveled one of his hidden maps, laying it out on the table.
“Our scouts put them here last,” Benjamin said, pointing to a fort on the Endor side of Hunter’s Pass, one they had reclaimed the season before on behalf of the region. “Since then we have had no word.”
“No ravens?” Malcolm asked.
“None with notes. The escaped prisoners could be anywhere.”
“But we know they want to get to the southern end of Warrick, and to do that they either need to use the pass or go over the mountains.” Malcolm looked back again.
Benjamin took a big gulp of his wine and folded his arms. “We stick to the road then?”
Malcolm nodded. “I don't think they have the resources to cross the mountains. Send a raven to the fort in Warrick, have them send a team out to camp at the known track half a trial’s ride from here.”
“What about the goat track, you said they've been working with Faction VII?” Benjamin reminded him.
“Right, perhaps they would be better to send two groups then.”
Benjamin finished his wine and stood up, only to fall back into his chair again. “Shit.” the knight laughed, “that's some strong wine.” He stepped up from his chair and donned his cloak once more. “I'll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight, Captain.”
“Goodnight,” Benjamin replied, and left the tent.
Malcolm rolled up the map and tucked it out of sight. He took up the wine again and had another taste, blinking away the haze from his vision, sure that his racing heart and late nights weren't helping. The mug was abandoned to the table and Malcolm turned towards the entrance to his sleeping quarters, with a stern look.
He pulled the canvas door back and wavered on the spot, his vision momentarily tunnelled and out of focus. “Violet,” he said, ready to scold the woman for her actions. “You can't just co-” he wobbled again and stepped into the darkened room. “It's not very lady li-” the warden put his hands out to catch himself as he fell forwards on his knees.

[Violet]

Malcolm seemed genuinely surprised that it was her standing naked in his tent. She found it somewhat endearing that he hadn’t thought that something like this was bound to happen eventually. Another voice that she recognized as Ben’s came along with the rustle of the entrance to the tent. A shove saw her stumble backwards into the concealed bedchambers, listening to Malcolm and Ben exchanging words. She had half a mind to go parade herself through the main compartment, but thought better of it. It would only be a quick way to anger and possibly embarrass him.

Instead Violet waited patiently inside the room, though occasionally she would lean out into view when Ben was looking the other way just to lightly taunt Malcolm. His demeanor was stiff, and she thought he surely must be sweating with worry that Ben might turn and see her there. She was careful, though, and only peeked out when she was fairly certain that Ben wouldn’t be turning his attention anywhere else. They were drinking the wine, though. Good. She had spiked it with a bit of a sleeping drug, though she had to guess at the amount and hoped Malcolm wouldn’t be completely useless after he drank.

When Ben’s voice and faded and the rustle of the tent heralded his exit, Violet stood up from her place sitting on his bedroll. The flap was pulled back and Malcolm was standing there with the usual stern look he bore when she did something ‘inappropriate’ with him. The scolding came as she expected, but the man was certainly feeling the effects of the drug. He couldn’t even stand upright, having fallen to his knees. This was not quite was she was hoping for. She had wanted Malcolm to want to do something, not force him into it because his mind was too hazy.

“Just… give me a moment.” Violet hurried and slipped back on her breeches and shirt. “Ok, I think you need to lie down.” She leaned over and grasped at his forearms, helping him up to his feet. She slung one of his arms across her shoulders for support as she moved him to the bedroll. Easing him down, she let him crumple and then adjusted him to a position that looked comfortable. She lowered herself to sit in front of him.

“This wasn’t my intent. I just… I really care about you. I thought this way you would be confronted with something you couldn’t just ignore like all of my other more subtle advances. I don’t want to force you. I just had hoped you would want to.” She sighed, her confessions made easier by the thought that he might not remember them. “Elyna is just so, well, she brings you down. You deserve better. You deserve someone that will look at you,” she paused, averting her gaze from him, “the way I do.”

[Malcolm]

Malcolm wobbled like a newborn calf trying to get to its feet for the first time. He gripped Violet’s arm as she helped him up, and all but fell into his bed, boots and all. The noblewoman took a seat next to the man, facing the man, and he watched his hand as if it had defied him, placed in Violet’s lap, slender fingers dwarfed by his burly digits, entangled with her own.
He wanted to be angry, wanted to blame the wine on her, but his brow was heavy, and keeping his eyes open became his biggest concern. Violet spoke then, and all else was forgotten. The noble woman had confessed her feelings for the man, and while he lay there thinking about the other, more subtle attempts, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done something to lead the woman on. Malcolm was always so careful about the way he presented himself to the world, ever mindful of social etiquette.
Violet had mentioned that Elyna brought him down, and Malcolm turned his head, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, his frustration at the remark obvious. Did Elyna bring him down, was that the picture their relationship painted to those on the outside? Malcolm had never been a needy man, but a small part of him was still unsure if Elyna was truly his. The truth, perhaps, was the opposite.
“No, no you have it all wrong,” he argued, words slurred, “I bring Elyna down. She should be married to someone much higher in status than I, and… I've made a fool of her. A noble with one bastard and another on the way.”
Features contorted in disgrace, Malcolm lifted a heavy arm to fold over his face. He sat there for a moment before drawing his arm back all of the sudden, as if he had only just realised Violet was still there. Malcolm studied the woman's pretty face and soft, fine features.
“Violet you're so beautiful, and I'm truly flattered to think that you would even take a second glance at me, but… Violet, you are far too important to House Warrick to throw yourself at nobodies,” myself included, he thought. Malcolm squeezed the woman's hand, one eye pinched shut while he struggled to keep the other open. “You owe it to your family to marry well, just like Elyna should have… don't make the same mistake she did.” Of course, Malcolm was honoured to be that mistake, but even he knew better.

[Violet]

Even in his stupor, it was easy to tell when Malcolm was frustrated or angry- if he wanted you to know. Violet was so intently looking at him that she caught every subtle, or perhaps less than subtle, response. He had turned his face, she noticed his brows knitted, and her stomach dropped at the narrowing of his eyes. Had she gone too far in her comment against Elyna? After all they were partners and shared children, perhaps he didn’t take too kindly to someone putting her down. Though Malcolm surely must have known that her heart was in the right place. She only said these things because she cared.

He tried to argue with her, their hands and arms still touching. It was almost distracting. They had never truly touched. “That’s not true!” Her words bit back with more force than she intended. Violet didn’t have any intention on scolding him, but she wanted him to know that what he was saying was entirely wrong. He had it all wrong. He was too close to his situation to see the true nature of things. “You are too far in. You can’t see what I see. You think of yourself as a lesser man because of her, because of what she has done to you.”

Despite her best efforts, Violet felt the mistiness come to her eyes as her vision blurred from the welling tears. His arm withdrew from hers and she immediately missed the touch. He was a hardened man but at the same time so incredibly gentle. She felt an ache in her chest just thinking about how he must view himself. It was a pity that such a great man saw such little greatness in himself.

He went on about her title and how that made her so much more important than him, rendering him a mistake that he didn’t want her to make. Duty, family… the thought of marrying some preening noble for the sake of family name and status made her sick. She would never be that. She could never be that. The Warrick family had other children in their line. Let those poor souls marry for the sake of family. Violet would certainly refuse if she had any say in it at all.

“Malcolm, please,” she pleaded, a tear finding its way past her defenses and sliding down her cheek. “You are a good man, a great man. That means more to me than any title. Elyna made no mistake, and if you insist that it is one, I would happily make the same one.” Violet shifted to her knees and reached out for his hand, cradling it and pressing the warm palm against her damp cheek. “I would throw away a thousand noble titles for just one moment with you. Please, I beg you. Please see in yourself what I see.” She reached out and grasped his chin, turning his face gently to meet her gaze. “Look at me and you can see it there in my gaze. It is what you should always see.”

[Malcolm]

Malcolm shook his head, he didn't agree, it didn't matter, nothing outside of his bubble mattered, outside of his truth. He wasn't the best option for Elyna, but she had chosen him anyway, and for as long as she would allow him, endure him even, he would honour her the way she deserved to be honoured.
“It matters,” he whispered to Violet, strength ebbing along with his consciousness. “Your title matters, as does your position. Don't make the same mistake.”
If he could just close his eyes for a moment, the man thought, perhaps he would be able to listen better, to convince Violet that there was more in store for her. “I love my wife,” he smiled, unable to keep his eyes open, able to do little more than lift his brow or turn one side of his mouth up in a half smile. “She is the mother of my children… it only hurts because I love her.” He lifted his hand to pat Violet’s. “You will have love,” he seemed to promise.
Was it sorrow he heard in her tone? Malcolm forced his eyes open and looked at Violet, her own eyes watery. “No, darling don't cry,” he begged of her quietly, lifting his arm to brush away tears with the pad of his thumb. “Come here,” he summoned, drawing the woman close so that she could lie on his bedroll alongside him with her head on his shoulder.
Malcolm rubbed Violet’s arm, his eyes falling closed again as a yawn escaped him. “Silly girl,” he smiled. “I am old, why don't you want a nice boy? I know some knights.” He laughed as if he had just shared an inside joke with her. The man might have mumbled something else, but sleep struck before he was able to form any sense with words. His limbs grew heavy, and his breathing shallow, completely lost to the world.

[Violet]

“Titles,” she nearly spat. It had never been her nature to care for titles and status no matter how much her father had and still did. Violet shook her head, eyes still misty as a few tears leaked over the edge of her bottom lids and slid down her cheeks that were increasingly damp. “It is not a mistake. It can’t be it never will be. A mistake would be to marry some preening Lord or Baron for the sake of family duty. Warrick has the twins. Let them carry on the name strongly. It is no concern of mine.”

Violet was being snappier than necessary, ready to defend to the death the fact that her title and status meant nothing to her compared to his affections. She would never dream of resenting him for it. The thought had never even occurred to her. Then it struck her like a load of stone unexpectedly dropped on her at a moment’s notice. I love my wife. They had been together so long, shared children, it had to be true even if she didn’t want it to be. Nothing could reverse a bond already formed arcs before she arrived.

You will have love. Such a hollow promise to her. How could he even know what the future held? Maybe there was no love in store for her. Right not it certainly didn’t feel like it. It felt like love was dangling right before her and it was something she couldn’t have- no matter how hard she tried.

He summoned to her, begging her not to cry. Violet shifted towards him, curling up next to his body on his bedroll, her head propping up on his shoulder. His warm hand stroked across her arm and sent a delicious shiver up her arm. But it was a shiver that could be no more than a simple reaction to a touch. “I don’t care how old you are,” she mumbled, her hands clenching up as she curled as close to his body as she could manage.

His mumblings lost their coherency and eventually when she looked up to his eyes, they were fully close and his breathing rhythmic. A soft sigh escaped her lips as she turned so that her back was against his chest, facing away from him. Violet didn’t want him seeing her if he opened his eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, swallowing sobs as tears ran down her face. The tears came until she was too exhausted to stay awake.

[Maltruism]

Come and get your Loot!

(There's plenty more where that came from)

VIOLET:

Rewards:

• Story: +5
• Collaboration: +5
• Structure: +5

Knowledges:

• Benjamin: Malcolm's Trusted Subordinate
• Chemistry: Drugs Work Differently in Different Mediums
• Detection: The Look of a Man Not Falling for Seduction
• Etiquette: Throwing Yourself at a Married Man is Scandalous
• Malcolm: Genuinely Loves his Wife
• Politics: Every Member of a Noble Line Can Cause Family Scandal
• Politics: Often Used as an Excuse for Suppression of Desires
• Psychology: Closing Window Makes Your Move Less Subtle
• Psychology: Second-Guessing Once it's Too Late
• Psychology: Turning Your Back Finally, to Save Face
• Psychology: Words of Comfort Often Seem Hollow at First
• Seduction: Going for Broke, Waiting Naked in his Bed
• Seduction: Timing Your Body Flashes for Only One to See

Loot, Loss, Injuries, Fame, Devotion:

None of the above.

___________________________________________________________

MALCOLM:

Rewards:

• Story: +5
• Collaboration: +5
• Structure: +5

Knowledges:

• Deception: Pretending the Wine was Yours
• Discipline: Don't Give in to Seduction in Front of the Men
• Etiquette: Initially Assuming That You Were the One in the Wrong Tent
• Politics: Every Member of a Noble Line Can Cause Family Scandal
• Politics: Often Used as an Excuse for Suppression of Desires
• Psychology: Having to Let Down a Woman in Love
• Resistance: Every Episode of Being Drugged Builds Resistance
• Violet: Naked in Your Tent
• Violet: Should Hold Out For a Better Man

Loot, Loss, Injuries, Fame, Devotion:

None of the above.

Comments:

Some knowledges I would award are things you've pretty much already got in one form or another.
But such threads with feelings worn on the sleeve, and empty attempts at comfort, always get to me.
PM me with any comments or concerns