Ashe Knightley

The guards were going to frisk me soon, and I still looked like myself. Valarya was going to get me killed.

The iron door flung open, a guard guiding my masquerading wife in. Honestly, a part of me wanted to slam her into the nearest wall and choke her out for putting me in this situation.

"Pierre, you have five minutes," the guard said, then shut the door.

I opened my mouth to speak, but she interrupted. "Take off your mask."

"You're insane."

She rolled her eyes. Her hand went to my face and took off my mask. She took out a container of... paste?

"Your name is Harold Camaz, but you go by Harry. Got it?" Her fingers scooped a bit of the flesh-colored paste and began sticking it onto me. "You are wanted for multiple counts of burglary, murder, manslaughter, and larceny."

"Oh, you forgot illegal gambling," I muttered.

"Do you think that would raise the reward for apprehending you?"

The glare that I sent her was enough for her to return to pasting.

"Anyway, this paste will look real enough for the initial frisk, but it won't last until the main one—"

"You want to kill me—"

"Don't interrupt." Her hand quickly pulled away from my face. "The reward for your capture is five hundred thousand soldi. Do you understand why I'm doing this?"

Then it clicked. She was doing all of this for resources—for money. That kind of money could buy us close to everything we needed.

She couldn't get any smarter, could she? Her hand glided down the side of my body, and a part of me wanted to reach down and kiss her senseless. It was no use, though. She'd never believe that I was anything except her rhetorical husband—

Valarya stuck her hand down her pants.

"What the hell are you doing?"

She reached over to me and stuck her hand down the front of my pants, depositing something there. "It comes with instructions. Have a good night, Ashe."

The guard opened the door, gesturing for... Pierre... to walk out.

The hell did she mean instructions? What could she have possibly left me that could be any use?

A wave of guards came in. "Pat him down. And you," the guard said, staring at me, "remove your mask."

I did as I was told.

"Swat him down," another guard ordered. Be thorough."

A man began running their hands down my body before they rested atop a bulge between my legs. Glancing up at me, I grimaced. "So what if I'm big? Is that illegal, too?"

The guard shook his head, shoving a hand down my pockets and pulling out spare lint. I wasn't aware this was a dry cleaners, but I guess there was a first time for everything.

"All clear, sir," the guard said, getting up from the ground.

They all backed out the room except for one, who was most likely going to be my guard until I transferred to the maximum security prison. Saints, Valarya better have given me something useful.

I had a real intimate moment of silence with the guard still with me.

Clearly my throat, I spoke. "I need to do my business."

The guard gave me a pointed look.

Of course these men didn't have a sense of privacy and decency. He wanted me to just use the bathroom in front of him.

"What?" the guard asked. "Insecure now?"

If only he knew. I stared back at the small window I had. It was enough, I supposed. I gave my back to the guard and gently pulled down my pants, seeing the set of instructions Valarya had left me.

Ashe,

You're probably wondering why I did this, and I'll give you a few answers. One: we need the money. Two: I despise you, so naturally this is what I did.

Aw, my lovely wife was telling me she loved me. How grand.

I have provided the tools. Opportunity is crisp. I shall expect you back at midnight, darling. Do not keep me waiting.

Sincerely,
Pierre

And then—

Holy mother, she gave me dynamite. And a small match stick. This woman was legally insane, no doubt about it.

Insane enough to the point that I wanted to be back in that cabin with her. Insane enough to come up with this brilliant plan. Insane enough that I wanted to be with her in every aspect of my being—and so badly. I couldn't help but imagine the kind of smile she was going to give me when I got back. That arrogance of hers.

Maybe I was the insane for actually thinking this was romantic.

Wait, no, this was absolutely not romantic. I was going to take the spare dynamite and shove it down her throat for such a ridiculous plan. She could've gotten me killed!

That logic only added to the fluttering of my stomach. Saints, what was wrong with me? 

I yanked up my pants, whistling a soft tune.

Well, I couldn't let my wife wait for me, could I? Anyone who knew her knew she had very minimal patience.

*~⚜️~*

The guards had switched out.

Now was my time to strike. Add illegal bombings to the long list of stuff I had done. Or, I guess, Harold Camaz. Poor guy was going to be shocked when he returned back to an-Amor.

In one swept action, I swiped the match against the rough stone wall and lit the stick of dynamite. The guard was about to run out the door screaming like a headless chicken, but I kicked it shut and braced myself on the far wall

It blew. A gaping hole remained, and I knocked the guard out before leaping through it, scrambling around to get a sense of direction.

I hoped this view satisfied her enough. Ah, the joys of the married life. She really did love an explosive relationship, didn't she? I'd give her explosive, all right. When I shoved that dynamite—

"Get him!"

I wizzed to the stable just down the street and pushed off a married couple sitting on one of the horse. I mounted the horse. Luckily, I was already ahead of those baboon guards—

The horse kicked me off directly into a pile of horse feces.

Ah, yes, the joys of the married life indeed.

Rushing back up, I mounted the horse again, this time it accepted me. We rode off similarly to a damsel riding her horse into the sunset.

Except this damsel had set up her husband to be chased down by a stampede of crazed guards and referred to herself as Pierre.

Typical. So typical of her. When I got my hands on her—

The guards flanked my behind, their lousy arrows shots missing. Glancing back, I could tell they were drunk. One could only patrol so long before they gave into the bar scene.

In the distance, a familiar male stood, a hand propped on the side of the building as they leaned off. I spun around the corner to him and dismounted.

He wiped away the flesh-paste from my skin and yanked off my clothes, replacing the black cloak with a white one.

"Kiss me," he said.

And so I did. My hand cupped around her face as I gently propped her against the wall. This was insanity. Insanity and completely irrational and—

Oh, her hands.

They trailed under my shirt, touching my skin underneath. Her hands were cold, and every place she touched I wanted to scream and every time she pulled back I wanted to leap forward and take her again.

The guards didn't bother to come down our alley; I didn't look anything like Harold, and I was sure they didn't want to interrupt us. Good.

"You smell absolutely terrible."

"I fell into a pile of horse feces."

She pushed me back, her face contorting. "Disgusting."

"Oh, don't let me start with you. You framed me for the bar situation, you brought the guards in, you set up this entire thing—"

Valarya smiled. "We have money, though."

"I could've died!"

"But did you?"

My mouth hung open. "You sacrificed your husband for a few thousand soldi. That doesn't sound like a good trade."

"Oh, but it was. You see, husband"—she took a step forward, her hand slowly pulling off my shirt—"it was a fair trade. You learn a lesson and we get our resources."

"So you say?"

Nodding, she slipped off my shirt entirely. "I do say, dear. Now please, remind me of how much you love me."

Lifting a brow, I asked, "Where did you get those manners?"

"You could get more of those manners if you take a bath."

It dawned on me; the only reason why she kissed me was so the guards couldn't see my face. However, I was unsure why her hands were still on me, caressing my chest. She stared up at me, and I was suddenly very aware of our height difference. Of how beautiful she was.

"Why'd you do that?" I whispered, keeping my body solid against the wall.

"Kiss you?"

"Yes."

She shrugged, her arms wrapping around me. "I couldn't let them see your face."

"And why not? I thought you despised me."

"I do," she added, "but I can't let them take you to a prison. Who knows what they would've done to you?"

She bent her neck back, her entire face illuminated by the low-hanging kerosene lamps. Her face was so different from what it was; it was more hollow, more angular, more slim and slightly longer. Her eyes stayed a brown color because she had the eye drops.

But her eyes were the same to me. The sheen in them as she searched my face. What did she want from me? Acceptance? Praise? Me to remind her that I was her facading husband?

"Would it be so bad if I kissed you again?" I told her breathlessly.

Valarya nodded. "It would be the worst thing you could ever do."

"Perfect."

I dipped down and collided our lips together. No guards around to see, and my act was dropped. Her hands roaming my body as we made our way inside our cabin, knocking over a small table at the entrance. For a second, she pulled away, a smile forming on her lips, and I didn't know why that meant the world to me.

"You have a strange idea of romance, Ashe." Her fingers touched the lapels of the cloak I had on.

"You sent me to prison for money. I think we're past romantic gestures."

"True." She brought me down again, this time her grip on my lapel guiding me around the inside. Amazing. It was utterly amazing.

She pushed me against a bookcase, causing a book to fall square on my head.

"Oops."

Laughing, I bent down and placed my lips to her forehead. She may not be mine, but I was hers, and that didn't feel nearly as bad as I thought it would've.

"Nicholyn."

My body froze as I stared at her. Just her and I and no one else.

"Arya."

"I mean... this is our honeymoon, in theory. Technically. What do couples do on their honeymoon?"

"I have a few ideas." Brushing her hair to the side, I brought my lips to her shoulder. "Interesting ideas that don't include dynamite sticks."

"Aw, but I was looking forward to have a bit of dynamite action tonight."

Suppressing my grin, I touched the hem of her dress, carefully pushing it away from her skin. "Were you?"

Valarya lifted my head up, her face a deep shade of red. Her hands went down to my belt buckle, but she paused, hovering. "No. I expect you to go bathe and clean off. We're leaving tomorrow, right?"

Nodding, I brought her hand up and pressed my lips to them. "I'll go bathe."