Askel & Ranya
His gaze was a shield, cool and unyielding, tracing Ranya’s skin with the weight of armor and the gentleness of a caress. Yet it was his voice that truly tethered her, grounding her in the moment. When he called her Wildflower, the word did not merely ignite; it blossomed, fierce and alive, rooting itself in the barren, polished marble of the Sorian court.
It was the first name ever gifted to her that did not weigh her down, did not press her into cold stone or demand she remain untouchable. Wildflower belonged to the girl who spun barefoot through tavern haze, not the sanctified idol her father and the priests had polished for two decades. The memory of his rough, calloused hands on her face from the night before flickered through her, stealing her breath and sending a molten, dizzying heat spiraling through her chest—heat that owed nothing to the wine.
His lips hovered so close that only the thin, merciless silk kept them apart, and her breath caught, a sudden surge of heat radiating from her skin until the air itself seemed to shimmer between them. He was her anchor, a steady, unyielding presence bracing itself against the poison her family had sown. “I told you, did I not? I will endure and I will fight for you,” he murmured, his devotion a weight both fierce and beautiful, blurring the grand ballroom into a haze of gold. “I refuse to let that snake of an uncle ruin tonight, not when I have the most beautiful woman in the room in my arms.”
His nearness was a sweet torment, exquisite and sharp, as her gaze tangled with the violet of his eyes. Inside, she seethed at the silk of her veil, resenting its touch against her skin. She despised the fabric, the looming walls of the ballroom, the murmuring courtiers, and the heavy shadow Hafiz had left behind. Most of all, she loathed the rules that kept her from reaching up, threading her fingers through his auburn hair, and claiming his mouth before every watching eye.
She wanted to burn the script. She wanted to show them all how little she cared for their definitions of her purity.
“You are a very dangerous man, Askel,” Ranya whispered, a radiant, watery smile crinkling the corners of her eyes as she stepped deliberately closer, her feet gliding seamlessly in time with his soldier's stride. She squeezed his hand, her knuckles white with a desperate, beautiful longing.
“You say such beautiful, unvarnished things to a woman who has spent her life surrounded by gilded lies. Hafiz may have stolen our introduction, but he cannot touch the truth I gave you under the stars. I am yours, Askel—wholly and without caution. If you truly prefer the wild girl who tastes like beer and reckless abandon, you will simply have to hold me much tighter than this. Let the court stare. I want to see if your famous Varian discipline can handle a wildfire when it refuses to be doused.”Askel stepped in closer to her far from what would have been appropriate for a prince and his hand trailed lower down her back, his fingers tracing her hips in a way that could only be described as scandalous in the eyes of the court. Some could have seen it as possessive, perhaps uncouth, but it was the pull of her gravity that she had trapped him in. Everything about her drew him into her—this undeniable force of nature that wore the shape of a beautiful woman dressed in sharp wit and fiery passion. In turn she inspired something within him, something dizzying and all consuming that colored his cheeks that could not be blamed by the flowing libations.
"Like this?" He asked with a low voice wrapped in a delicate need. His violet eyes studied her face and filled in the gaps hidden behind her veil, like pieces to a puzzle. The cheek that had filled out his palm, the slender line of her jaw that his fingers traced,that wild halo of hair that moved like fire when she danced, and her lips so soft against his own. It caused him great agony to be separated from her by a thin layer of cloth when she was merely inches away from him and the memory of last night so fresh in his mind.
Perhaps he was dangerous. Maybe he was mad. He had given his heart away so quickly to a woman that he met in the shadows and shared a single dance with and yet, that one moment was worth more than a hundred dances with a hundred different women that never could drive the beating of his heart the way Ranya could. They could never look at him with pools of emeralds and dance barefoot on the floorboards of a brewery to the tune of clinking gold and a violin. They could never look as adorable as her with a foam mustache after drinking from a tanker that's bigger than her head. They could never speak like a poem. They could never be her.
"If I must withstand an inferno, I will. I adore you, Ranya," he declared in hushed tones. His eyes locked back onto her bruise on her slender shoulder and was filled with a similar boiling of magma in his chest from only moments ago. All he wished was to whisk her away from the confines of the ballroom's walls, from the confines of her role, from Hafiz's watchful eye.
Askel leaned in and whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
"I'll kiss away every bruise, every tear, and every bit of skin Suna claims to be his until you feel at peace and loved.” He pulled back and smiled at her as they turned.
"That I vow though not to things such as stars because while the promises lovers keep under them may be beautiful, they stay hidden in the day just as stars sleep. Nor do I swear by the moon for its devotion waxes and wanes. I swear to you and only you."His hand found her hip—a bold, forbidden touch that sent a surge of heat racing through her, sharp and electric. For a heartbeat, her knees threatened to give way. She caught her breath, the sound soft and involuntary, as her body melted into his, drawn by a gravity that cared nothing for the court’s brittle rules.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice a velvety, breathless shiver.
“Exactly like that.” His breath, warm against her ear, carried a silent promise to soothe every wound she had ever hidden. Desire unfurled inside her, dizzy and bright, as he cast aside the fickle stars and the pale, retreating moon, vowing himself to her and her alone. She tipped her head back, emerald eyes catching his violet gaze, a wicked spark flaring between them—brilliant, unyielding, and hungry.
“And here I thought I was the one playing the lawless game tonight,” She murmured, her voice a low, velvety purr that brushed against his jaw as her fingers threaded playfully into the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Swearing by neither the stars nor the moon, but by the woman in your arms? That is a magnificent bit of heresy, Prince Askel. If you keep using your tongue with such devastating precision, I might begin to think you are trying to ruin Suna’s Chosen for the heavens entirely…and I wouldn't stop you.”She shifted her step in time with the music, following his lead as he guided her in this dance. She gazed up at him with a poetic, breathtaking intensity that mirrored his own unyielding devotion.
“You swear by me, and so I shall swear by you,” She vowed softly, the words floating like a sacred melody between them.
“I will not swear by the shifting sands of my home, for they are easily carried by the wind. Nor will I swear by the tides of the seas, for they always pull away from the shore. I swear by the hearts beating beneath our chest. I will love you through the wars we fight and the peace we build, until the sun forgets to rise over the dunes.”She leaned in just a fraction closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous, flirtatious murmur against his ear.
“But tell me, my darling knight... if I were covered in wounds from head to toe, would you truly have the stamina to chase every single one of them away with your lips?”For just a moment Askel felt his breath leave him. A yearning, sharp and vivid, lingered persistently in his chest and whatever reason and self-discipline that remained restrained it painfully. Every touch made him wish for more and the very thought of the absence of it was like that of a phantom limb. He could never part from those intelligent eyes that shone brighter than any jewel or chandelier in these halls and held a hunger as deep as her devotion towards him. His own gaze held that same devotion, that same dark spark of desire that could be fulfilled by her and only ever her.
After a brief, yet weighty pause he finally responded to her challenge.
"Leave your window open tonight and we'll both find out," he murmured, his voice rumbling like an avalanche off in a mountainous distance. A fiery heat glowed from his cheeks that failed to match the intensity that burned in his half lidded eyes like the final bits of sunlight burning the sky as it dropped past the horizon. It was not a demand, but a promise hidden away in the dead of night where only the two of them existed in each other's arms in a singular moment of time where their hearts were in alignment.
He continued to lead her through the waltz in perfect time. His gaze was piercing and steadfast, holding not a spark of hesitation or regret.
"If loving you is heresy then it is the world itself that is wrong. I, however, refuse to believe in such a fallible design when you exist in my arms." stated the prince firmly though his lips curled into a playful smirk.
"Though the only thing fallible right now is that veil," he almost hissed those words out despite just how lighthearted his expression was. It took every bit of will power for his hands to not rip the piece of cloth right off her face
The prince breathed out with a frustrated longing.
"You have no idea how badly I want to see your face." The rough, mountainous rumble of his voice stole the air straight from her lungs, a sharp gasp catching in her throat as she bit her lower lip beneath the silk. A wicked, dizzying smirk unfurled in the dark of her veil, her eyes darkening. The sheer audacity of the promise sent a delicious, lawless thrill racing through her veins, chasing away any remaining ghost of the court's stifling chill.
“Consider it done,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I shall send Zahra out for a very convenient walk with the cats, and leave the gnarled tree completely unguarded. Do try not to keep a lady waiting, my love—the night air can grow terribly cold for a wildflower.”As he continued to guide her through the waltz, his piercing gaze holding her with a fierce, flawless certainty, the heat beneath her skin flared in perfect response. Hearing him brand the world itself as wrong before he would ever call their love a sin made her heart hammer a wild, triumphant rhythm against her ribs. He was tearing down the cold temples built to cage her, and she wanted nothing more than to help him scatter the ashes.
But when his lighthearted smirk shifted, a frustrated hiss escaping his lips as he cursed the veil, her own longing sharpened into an exquisite, unbearable ache. The silk pressing against her mouth suddenly felt less like courtly finery and more like the suffocating stitching of a shroud, keeping her from the only man who truly saw her alive. Her fingers tightened convulsively at the nape of his neck.
“You think this cloth is your enemy?” She breathed, her green eyes flashing with a desperate, hungry intensity as she leaned her forehead against his chest, her heart roaring in her ears.
“I loathe it, Askel. I loathe the rules that say I must remain a bloodless statue for the crowd, and I loathe every heartbeat that passes where I cannot claim your mouth.”She tilted her head back up, her gaze locking onto his with a sudden, reckless resolve that defied every boundary of the gala.
“So why wait for the midnight moon?” She whispered, a daring, flirtatious challenge cutting through the sweeping cadence of the orchestra.
“The grand vizier is busy doing whatever he's doing, and my brothers are sufficiently distracted by the wine and conversation. Sneak away with me now, my prince. Let’s find a shadow deep enough to hide us, so you can rip this miserable veil from my face and finally give me the kiss I’ve been starving for since I stepped onto these polished floors.”She truly was like a wildfire; an all consuming, dizzying heat that robbed him of his senses and if he was not careful she would rob him of his sense of reason. Ranya was someone that was impossible to contain and yet, that was exactly what everyone else in her life tried to do for whatever reason they wished to justify. Religion, protection, politics, each a different name for the same cause. Frankly speaking, if Askel met the priests that imposed her role as Alidasht's holy idol he was not certain that he could restrain himself from killing them for making his lover's life a living hell.
He knew this was why she held such a zeal for life. Each kiss that they shared was a breath of air that had filled her lungs and each touch was a spark of warmth to revitalize a cold body. She had never truly lived a day of her life and that made her more daring, more reckless, and more hungry than what his errant hand could fulfill. Askel chuckled darkly and in a low conspiratorial whisper responded,
"Ranya Al Kadir, you can never utter again that I am dangerous. You can drive a man mad with temptation." His gaze softened their intensity though restraint colored them. He breathed a gentle sigh heavy with want.
"Believe me, there's nothing more I wish to do than whisk you away from here. Gods know I do..." He trailed off though a small, nervous smile graced his lips.
"But my parents will be here soon and I want to introduce them to you." Askel quickly followed up,
"Just as your brothers will be my family one day, my siblings and parents will also be your family too. We should share our happiness with them." His thumb affectionately rubbed little circles in her hip, a gentle touch as if he was handling a fine piece of jewelry.
"I don't want their first impression of you as someone to be tucked away in a shadowy corner or some bloodless idol that others demand of you. You're too vibrant for that. Just be your charmingly fiery, intelligent, and beautiful self that I adore," he murmured. His violet eyes looked at her as if he intended to keep her.
"They'll love you, I know they will though please expect some worry from them. We did skip quite a few steps in the courting process." A bright, yet nervous laugh passed his lips. There was no doubt that there were going to be questions from his family, a lot of questions. All these years he kept his heart closed just to focus on his singular purpose in life and now he was talking about introducing this wonderful woman he had only met recently to his family. They would probably think he had finally lost it.
"Just a little more patience my love, please. I promise each kiss will taste sweeter than the last," he implored with a half-cocked smile.
Hearing him speak her full name with that dark, breathless gravity made Ranya's toes curl against the polished marble. She wanted to laugh—bright, wicked, and entirely un-holy—at his gentle scolding.
“If I am temptation, my darling knight, it is only because you provide such an exquisite anchor for it,” she murmured with a grin.
“And do not look so worried. If your family thinks you have lost your mind, I shall simply have to convince them that you merely found your heart instead.”Yet, as he spoke of his parents and the family they would build together, the desperate, hungry edge of her desire softened into a deep, aching tenderness. He didn't want to hide her away like a stolen prize or a shameful secret; he wanted to pull her into the daylight. He wanted her to be
known, not worshipped. It was a beautiful, terrifying contrast to her father's stifling stasis, a love that actually wanted her to breathe.
The sheer, overwhelming weight of that nearly broke her down completely. To be seen, truly seen as a living woman rather than a recaptured ghost or a bloodless icon would continue to hit her with the force of a physical blow. A sudden, tight ache flared in her throat, a wave of profound relief so intense it threatened to bring tears to her eyes. Desperate to hide the sudden vulnerability fracturing her, she leaned forward, pressing her cheek firmly against the broad expanse of his chest. She let the sweeping movement of the waltz shield her face from the prying crowd, grounding herself in the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.
When she finally spoke, her voice was a soft, slightly thick murmur against his coat.
“Patience has never been a virtue Suna saw fit to grant me, Askel,” she confessed gently, a radiant but watery smile finally breaking beneath her veil as she blinked back the moisture.
“But for you... for the man who offers me the sun instead of a gilded cage, I will be as patient as you need me to be. I promise I shall be on my absolute best behavior for your parents—charming, poised, and utterly unforgettable. They will see exactly why you chose this wildfire.”She tilted her head back up just enough to look into his violet eyes, her gaze melting with a deeply devoted yet unrepentantly mischievous spark as she squeezed his hand.
“But my window will still be open for you tonight, and I truly hope you climb that gnarled tree the very second you are free. Even if it's just so I can kiss you and be held in your arms freely without the world watching.”Askel silently savored the weight of her head against his chest as their steps glided along the ballroom floor. There was no need to draw attention to it, to the vulnerable woman that found her comfort in him and he had no desire to betray that trust that she had in him. She may have been a wildfire incarnate, but she was still a woman made of flesh and a scaffolding of thoughts and feelings that made her, her. Ranya had her pride, she could be weak with him though she would never let the rest of the world, not even her brothers, know her innermost thoughts and feelings
No, that was only for him. Just as that devilish little spark was only for him too.
Askel smiled at her with a loving gaze that matched her intense devotion. He chuckled at her promise and brought the back of her hand to his lips and planted a kiss, his eyes never breaking from hers.
"There are no restraints or distance in the world that could keep me from you. I'll run to you, always." The prince had murmured back. It was hardly just about their planned secret rendezvous under the veil of a moonlit night. The earnestness of his kiss, the light that burned in his eyes, and even the firm resolve in his words were a promise of something grander and yet so simple: he would always find his way to her.
An effervescent chuckle escaped from the prince. It almost felt wrong to feel this happy. He would already imagine the shock on his family's face though in the end they would be happy for him despite their trepidation.
"Hopefully, my parents will not test me as thoroughly as my brother, Lucian." He began with a smirk.
"When he wished to marry Sophia, he had... to..." His words trailed off into nothingness as reality's icy hand gripped his shoulder to remind him of a simple, yet unchanging act: Sophia was gone. Every family portrait from now on would never be complete without her presence. She would never meet Ranya, she would never get to express her happiness to see that single minded boy had finally fallen in love, or stand by Lucian's side when he and Ranya finally married. The very thought made his eyes sting with tears that he tried to blink away.
"Sorry, it's that fresh wound you see." He said with a half-hearted laugh.
"Sophia was the sister of the knight I served as a squire and the man I respect the most and Lucian's wife. I had known her since I was a child—another sister to me really—and..." He couldn't finish that sentence. Even when the truth clung to his back he still couldn't say it; he couldn't say that she was dead.
"She isn't around anymore," was all that he managed to say. His head was hung low to hide that fragile facade of charm and strength that was beginning to crack.
"And now there is an empty space in my heart for the sister that you will never meet." The sudden, fractured halt in his voice struck her like ice water, the secret summer that had been blooming between them plunging instantly into a sharp, breathless winter. To watch his immaculate armor crack beneath the weight of a fresh, bleeding grief made her own heart fracture right along with his.
The hollow note in his confession echoed too loudly in the cavern of her chest. She knew that empty space. She knew the phantom shape of a seat left vacant at a royal table, the heavy silence over a family portrait, and how quickly a place of comfort could transform into a mausoleum. She didn't speak of her own ghosts; this was his bleeding wound. But a profound, devastating understanding rushed through her, drowning out the music, the whispering courtiers, and the entire sterile splendor of the room.
She didn't care who was watching. Let the Grand Vizier or his spies dissect the sudden break in their steps. She refused to let the man who loved her carry a ghost. With a smooth, intentional sweep of her body, Ranya altered the path of their waltz, subtly guiding him out of the main swell of the dancers and toward a quiet edge of the ballroom. She brought them to a halt, completely abandoning the rigid performance of the court. Dropping his hand, she reached up, her touch no longer playful, but entirely anchored in a tender, protective reverence.
Her fingers caressed the sharp line of his jaw, her palm resting flat against his cheek as if she could physically absorb the tremor of his grief. Before he could do anything else, she stepped entirely into his space, stood on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder. She held him with a fierce, grounding intensity, a subtle, comforting warmth radiating from her to thaw the sudden, icy grip of reality.
“Let it crack, Askel,” she whispered against his neck, her voice thick with raw empathy.
“I am right here. I have you.” She let her fingers thread gently into the auburn hair at the nape of his neck, soothing him with slow, deliberate strokes, letting him lean into her gravity for as long as he needed.
“You do not have to say the words, my love. I hear the space she left behind, and I can feel how deeply she was cherished,” she murmured, her green eyes shining with a soft, watery devotion as she guarded his vulnerability from every prying eye.
“And do not say I will never meet her. I may not be able to see her face, but I can get to know her through you, and through your family, and every beautiful story you keep alive in her memory. She will live in the way you all loved her.” She squeezed him tightly, offering a silent, anchoring strength before softening her voice into a gentle, deeply comforting murmur.
“We do not have to share our happiness with the world tonight if the shadow is too heavy. If you need me to be your stillness instead of your wildfire, then let me be your stillness. I am yours through the grief, too, Askel. Always.”Her touch was a grounding sensation and he leaned into it like it was his only anchor. For the entirety of the night he had been longing for the feeling of her like a man that had been deprived of rays of sunlight against his skin and the cooling breeze through his hair. And then her arms found him and wrapped around his frame like he was hers to protect. For just a moment, he stood there stunned before his arms in turn wrapped around her slowly and pressed his forehead against her shoulder.
If there was any moment for him to break it could have been, but he choked it down. He would not show a weak face not in front of Hazif, not in front of vultures that would prey upon weakness, and most importantly not even his family. He was the stalwart knight of Varian and its prince and he would refuse to be anything less than that even though a part of his heart would always be missing.
"No," Askel firmly replied. He unwrapped his arms from her and gently held her back, his face steel even when the corners of his mouth crinkled upwards.
"Grief can have me, but not here. Not tonight. She wouldn't want that and I don't either." His hand without much care or regard for how others would perceive it slid beneath her veil and stole a touch that was ever so brief. A gloved finger traced the slender line of her jaw and then his thumb caressed her cheek.
He laughed, a practiced one, but could not hide the weariness that colored its tones.
"Sophia would've loved you. I think you two would've been close friends if you were given the chance." No, he knew they would've been thick as thieves. There would be a time when he could tell Ranya all about her for even in his sorrow there were flickers of joy found in each memory, but tonight was not that time.
"For now we should let her ghost rest. The living must be attended to." He glanced over the groups enjoying the reverie with anticipation. Any moment his parents would be announced and he as their dutiful son would need to perform his duties as a prince of Varian.
He looked back down at his beloved with a look of obvious worry.
"Are you sure you're okay with meeting my family? I know we've skipped a few steps in the courting process, but we don't have to rush this if it's too much."The sharp pull of his muscles as he stepped back was a physical jar, leaving a cold draft where their heat had just been perfectly fused. When his voice came out steeled with that unyielding Varian discipline, her heart gave a painful squeeze. It broke her to watch him choke down a bleeding wound just to keep his armor intact before the vultures of the court, yet a familiar spike of irritation flared beneath the ache.
She understood the necessity of the mask, she wore one every day, but it infuriated her that the world had made him this way. That even in her arms, he felt he had to remain an unbreakable statue here. Still, the way his thumb caressed her cheek beneath the silk instantly melted her annoyance, leaving only a liquid tenderness. Hearing him say Sophia would have loved her warmed her chest, a genuine ache expanding beneath her ribs. She quietly, deeply wanted to know the woman who had helped shape his soul. But those ghosts could rest until a later time, as he said. So she merely leaned into his touch, savouring it, as she gently nodded in acceptance.
When he looked down with tender worry, asking if she was truly ready for his family, a soft, melodious giggle finally escaped her lips—a flash of the tavern girl cutting right through the somber air.
“Prince Askel, after you were forced to endure the interrogation of my brothers and the venomous gaze and words of my uncle, you truly think I would shrink away from meeting your family?” she teased, resting her hands against his chest.
“It is only fair that I face your trials in return. In fact, I am quite looking forward to it. If they are partly responsible for shaping you into the magnificent knight holding me, then I'll be delighted to meet them.”As the bold promise of her devotion lingered, the heavy reality of their surroundings pressed inward again. Beyond here they stood, the court was a cage of watchful eyes. Ranya’s gaze flickered outward as she caught movement, bouncing between the glittering clusters of nobility.
A few paces away, an elder courtier murmured into his companion’s ear, eyes darting toward them. To their left, three noblewomen brought their painted silk fans upward, tracking the proximity of the prince and the princess. Further down, a young lord subtly pointed a beringed finger, whispering fiercely to his wife.
A small, defensive heat coiled in her stomach, the weight of their scrutiny chafing like raw wool. Something was different now. Turning her head, her emerald eyes met his, a faint note of tight tension clipping her voice.
“Askel... Is it just me or do you also notice an increasing number of people looking at us?” she whispered, her gaze sharpening as it tracked another pair of whispering courtiers.
His heart fluttered happily in response to the sonorous tune of his lover's laugh. It put him at ease to know that even when his parents and siblings will look at their relationship with worry and their own personal judgements for the alacrity and swiftness that she would stand by his side through thick and thin. He did truly hope though that they would give them a chance or at least would reserve their judgement until the evidence showed that they were a very compatible couple.
But that happiness soon fled and was replaced by a sense of unease as Ranya pointed out that people were focused much more on them than before. His eyes narrowed as he glanced around gossiping nobles with varying degrees of subtlety.
Askel whispered back with a similar tension,
"We haven't exactly been making an effort to hide our relationship... Not like Hafiz gave us a choice in that matter though." His hand had been placed rather scandalously on her hip when they danced and of course the sort of intimacy they shared away from the dance floor was perhaps more than what some would expect of a prince and Suna's Chosen?
Why in the world did it feel like their gazes were specifically disapproving of
him?"No, you're right. This is weird." Askel whispered again with confusion bleeding into his voice.
“This reeks of my uncle,” she whispered back, the velvety purr of her voice sharpening into a lethal murmur. She tilted her head, letting the emerald fire of her gaze slice through the edge of her gold-trimmed veil toward the whispering courtiers until they flinched away behind their painted fans.
“He never leaves a stage empty without setting his actors in motion. He wants the court to see a scandal, rather than the truth.”Let them stare. Let them bleed their disapproval into the dark. They didn't see a woman who had finally found a fierce, unyielding anchor; they saw a holy idol being pulled down from her altar.
Ranya smoothed the tight tension from her shoulders with practiced, diplomatic grace. She rested her palms flat against his chest one last time, feeling the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart, refusing to let the vultures steal this victory from them. Then she stood on her toes and kissed his cheek through her veil.
“But he forgets that fire cannot be frozen by disapproving glares,” she murmured, a sudden, brilliantly defiant smile touching her lips beneath the silk as she stepped into perfect alignment beside her prince, ready for whatever the court threw at them next.
“Stand tall, my darling knight. I intend to show this entire miserable ballroom exactly how magnificent supposed heresy can be.”Askel could only smile at her. His heart thrummed a content rhythm beneath her touch.
"Then let's step back into the fray." Rumors may try to seek any opening in his armor, but with her he would gladly endure them.
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