The Brush Tiger of Derven Ch. 01-05

"Why King Irron, it seems pointless for us to get wound up when we aren't able to do anything about it until after the wedding," she said quietly, making sure her voice was amiable instead of venomous.

Sitting facing the opposite direction, he slides his left arm around her waist, drawing her close to him. As he leans in for a kiss, he purrs to her, "Come, love...no one will think less of us if we were to have a little fun."

As he leans into her, Namora has no choice but to lean backwards to get away from him. He continues to follow her, forcing her down onto her back. Though she could get out of his grasp very easily with the violent temper that boiled inside, Namora's mind reminds her that she must treat her undeserving future-husband with respect.

He bears down on top of her; she braces her elbow against her side, hand in a fist prepared to stop his chest from coming any closer. The moment his body contacts her knuckles, the unforgiving firmness of his chest coupled with his momentum cocks her wrist to the side, almost breaking it. Namora allows herself to cry out in pain, knowing it will stop him dead in his tracks. She didn't think, however, that her cry would be one of truth.

Irron sits up quickly, pulling Namora to him in an attempt to comfort her but it only irritates her more. She lets her anger fall from her eyes in the form of abundant tears.

"Please, let me see it," he coos; even though she shakes her head in refusal, he gently coaxes her to give up her arm. He examines it for damage; still unable to contain his desire, he kisses her hand and forearms several times.

"I am so sorry about that, my love. I...wear a metal vest around my middle so that if anyone tries to kill me they will be unsuccessful," he knocks on his heart; though it is muffled, there is a hard thump. Namora's look of disgust is due to his cowardice but he thinks it is fear. He takes up her uninjured hand and places it against his chest, just below his shoulder and pushes her fingers in, so that she can feel his flesh.

Though her injury is no more of an annoyance to her than Irron himself, he thinks her to be an average, weak girl and insists on escorting her back into the castle with his strong arm tucked under hers as if she were too feeble to walk. The pain in her wrist means nothing to Namora; not only is she a tough and talented fighter who can take a hit, it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart.

As they near the castle doors, Namora can see Advisor Laren walking by, only to stop dead in his tracks and stand stiffly, waiting for them. Upon seeing Irron helping Namora so, he harshly questions what happened.

"I fell," Namora lies quickly before Irron has the chance to try to cover up his advances. Laren, knowing and training Namora all her life, knows it isn't true. Her balance is unparalleled; she could probably run full speed on the tree tops and not fall.

"I will take you to the doctor, Princess," he says disapprovingly, but playing along. Using her false fragility as a means to get her away from Irron, he pulls her uninjured arm over his shoulder and guides her away from the man. Keeping up their guise, they travel down the hallways together until they round a final blind corner to Laren's office.

Once they are safely behind closed doors, he lets the Princess go. She dries her eyes before carefully stretching out her wrist.

"Is it broken, Princess?" Laren asks while digging in a cupboard for a cotton wrap and some salve.

"No," she says, looking at him oddly when he starts to apply the thick cream on her arm, "I will be just fine," she insists.

"I know that," Laren says as he wraps her wrist up expertly, "but he doesn't. Perhaps this will teach him a lesson and he will keep his distance until..." he lets his voice trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

Namora looks at her perfectly wrapped wrist while Laren puts the salve back into the cupboard, "It was as much my fault. He is to be my husband, his actions were warranted. It's just as well that I learn to deal with his affections sooner than later."

The cupboard door slams shut. Laren keeps his back to her. To Namora's surprise she hears his quiet voice angry for the first time in her life, "I'll be damned if that pathetic excuse for a man lays another hand on you."

She avoids his eyes when he turns around. Namora heads to the door but before she opens it, sadness briefly creeps out of her heart, "Then damned you are, Advisor Laren, for none of us have a choice in the matter, least of all me."

She leaves him alone in his office and heads towards the breakfast room.