ততততত

𝐈 𝐌 𝐎 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍

I sit perched on the edge of a watchtower—alone and out of sight of everyone. It's one of my favourite places in the castle, considering I have a view of nearly every outdoor sector of the courtyards. Although I can see plenty from my balcony, the sunsets up here are incomparable to anything.

Rose gold, honey dipped skies with violet clouds and a turquoise wavy sea.

With my bow and quiver over my shoulder, I analyze the activities of King Leighton from a distance. He must view me as this submissive naive girl, but he'll soon learn that I'm his deadliest nightmare come to life.

Tobin is right about me. I am a weapon, and I will destroy this man and his regime. The day he sees me walk down that aisle, he'll regret choosing me to be his wife. Every morning he awakens, I'll unleash hell.

He will learn that I will never submit. Never bind. Never bend over for his will.

I am not an angel to him, but a sword pierced into him that he cannot retract.

Right now, King Leighton prepares to enter the castle hot springs. It's a cool evening, and I don't blame him for taking advantage of the steaming waters. Except, no one in the right mind would want to peep on that man.

Leighton enters into the completely private area—dismissing the servants that attempt to aid him. He disrobes from his royal clothes, setting them behind him in a neatly folded pile along with a towel, and then enters the water butt-ass naked.

It would be so easy to spear an arrow into his back, killing him in one blow, but that would only make a permanent enemy out of Adorid. It wouldn't solve the war we fear most. Leighton is their king, after all, and he must have some sort of loyal following.

Leighton leans against the back edge of the stones lining the hotspring, his entire body submerged in the steam. He faces the entryway—not behind him where his clothes and towel lay. It's almost too easy, too perfect.

A grin crosses my lips. Usually I mess with Lorcan, but getting a reaction out of Leighton will be much more satisfying.

I descend the watchtower and make my way towards the secluded hot springs. It's a serene area—with vines spanning the walls and white orchids in bloom. My mother designed it when she discovered that there was a natural hot spring on castle property. In fact, she was offended my father hadn't utilized the space prior to their marriage.

The vines, however, allow for easy access into the area. The gardeners were supposed to keep them trim to avoid peeping-toms and trespassers (like myself), but it's gotten a little out of hand since my mother's death years ago. The white orchids? My mother's favourite flower. They bloom everywhere in the castle gardens.

I climb down an ivy-coated wall, my movements slow so I don't rustle the leaves and disturb Leighton's peaceful dip in the waters. Not that I care, but I need him to be full of zen and serenity, his mind absorbed in another realm. For a man so brute, it's almost humorous seeing him so relaxed in the waters humming some god-awful tune in his tone deaf voice.

I tiptoe up behind him to where his towel and clothes lay. I want to pierce his throat with an arrow. It would be so easy, so swift.

But they'd all know it would be me. Who else in this kingdom is clever enough to sneak these walls with such finesse, then snipe a man down with an arrow?

Without inhibiting a sound, I take everything. His robes. His undergarments. His towel. I leave his boots, considering I can't just throw them easily over my shoulder. A laugh nearly escapes me at the mere image of this cruel king running around the castle corridors in rage, wearing nothing but boots.

Not once does he bat an eye and look behind him, as he appears to be half asleep by now. This is the man I'm supposed to never be caught alone with, and yet here I am, ready to scorch him with a piece of my clever mind.

Gods, I can't wait to see his reaction. I know I'll get a handful from my father, but he's the one who bound me to such a man in the first place.

By the end of these four months, everyone will know that I am no ordinary princess.

Leighton's negligence is my benefit as I ascend the ivy walls. When I reach the top of the wall, I dash across the stone roof towards the main bridge—stumbling over Leighton's clothes and towel. If I get to my bedroom, I'll be safe from Leighton's wrath, but gods I would pay a million coins to see that ass-hat run through this castle butt-naked.

I enter back inside the castle and dash through one of the main corridors. Servants wander and guards give me odd curious glances as to why I'm sprinting with a bow and arrow and a pile of wrinkled clothes.

I nearly run into Elena through the rush of it all.

"Imogen!" she shrieks, then takes a hold of my shoulders to stop me. "What are you doing?"

"Going for a, er, run?" I hold Leighton's clothes against my chest. A pair of foul-smelling stockings falls on the floor between us.

"Some run," she snickers before picking up Leighton's socks, then tugs at his tunic. She studies the dark green shirt embroidered with the Adoridian insignia. "Gods, Imogen! These clothes are Adoridian!"

"Shhh," I glance around us. We got odd stares, but nobody seems to be eavesdropping. All the castle staff have their own duties to take care of. Stealing Leighton's clothes just happens to be mine. "I need to hide these. Somewhere obvious, but somewhere a grown man can't reach."

"These aren't..." she studies the clothes a little more, a wisp of tawny hair falling into her dark forest eyes. "These aren't Leighton's clothes, are they?"

I grin.

Her face twists a little as she leans in towards me. I'm expecting her to scold me on behalf of my father. I don't know how he does it, but he convinces Elena to do some of the dirty work for him, especially when it comes to my antics.

She keeps her voice hushed. "There's a balcony tier in the throne room. Leighton has to cross through it to get to the guest wing. Pin his underpants up there with an arrow."

"I thought you'd tell me to apologize," I chide.

Elena's never been one to be mischievous. In fact, she was almost the polar opposite of my father. Although I was confined to the castle, my father still wanted me to fly. Elena kept me grounded in the best of ways since my mother's death. Whenever I was about to do something utterly dangerous and stupid, she'd remind me of the consequences.

"To that bastard?" she smirks. "He deserved it the minute he proposed the marriage to you."

Somehow, the grin on my cheeks grows wider. I don't think I've smiled this much in months, even before Tobin's arrival and the betrothal. For the first time in so long, I feel like I'm fitting into my skin.

If I am to be a weapon, I need to make sure my blade is always sharpened.

I open my mouth to speak when a shrill rageful growl echoes through the entire castle corridor.

"GAHHH! WHO THE FUCK DID THIS?"

Leighton. I guess his calming dip in the hot springs has come to a bitter end.

"WHERE ARE MY FUCKING CLOTHES?"

Elena stifles a giggle. The few servants and guards within the main hall all glance down to the farthest end. There, marching down the corridor with fists clenched like iron, is Leighton. Water drips across his boulderish skin, his long peppering hair and beard saturated and heavy. His boots squeak with every step—but aside from that, he lets everything free to hang exposed.

He points a finger at me. "YOU. You weasley little—"

"Wife-to-be," I spit at him before he can finish. With every step he takes to approach me, I take one back. I gesture to his manhood. "If this is what I'm getting on our wedding night, I'm going to be very disappointed." I burst into laughter. "It's so small."

He points a finger at me, icy eyes blazing with fury. Gods, I've pissed this man off—a man who I'm supposed to fear. "Give me my clothes back, you little fucking bitch!"

"So tiny," I show him with my hand, narrowing my fingers slowly.

"HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY COCK!"

Not that I've seen many. Not even Tobin's—but my imagination only runs wild when I felt his erection through his pants.

Leighton runs. He's a bull rampaging towards me, and if the man could grow a pair of horns he'd certainly deal his cards of damage to me with them. Elena pushes me down the hall, urging me to keep running before this man tramples me in the worst of ways.

"IMOGEN!" Leighton hisses from behind me.

I take a sharp turn, then barrel into the throne room on the lower level. The sanctum remains large, nearly empty, if it weren't for my father and Lorcan dealing with an uptight duchess from one of the southern regions. Leighton's growlish barks echo through the room.

The three turn their attention over to me.

My father squints when he sees me, then chuckles when the naked ox behind me emerges in only a pair of boots. Leighton marches up to me, his face now contorted a crimson red in agony and embarrassment.

"I wouldn't think about pulling another stunt like this again," Leighton spits out at me. "There will be no more forgiveness, princess."

Lorcan could never keep a straight face even if his life depended on it, and burst out laughing at the sight of the great king of Adorid in full humiliation. Even the duchess in the room spares a chuckle. My father manages to keep himself composed, but there's that mischievous glint that burns in our Mironescu blood. He wasn't easy to tame either when he was younger, so I've been told.

"Enough of this," my father's lips curl with a hidden delight. "Return the clothes to King Leighton, Imogen."

"But—"

"Now."

Leighton towers before me—his skin now dry from chasing me through the castle corridors. He might not be as old as my father, but he still lets age define him. He's surprisingly well built and toned, but I don't dare look down at his pelvic region. I keep my eyes on his furious icy glare.

I begin returning his clothes—most of them. His robes, his tunic, his stockings.

When it comes to his underwear, I swing the bow from my shoulders and load an arrow, piercing the cotton of his briefs.

Leighton scowls. "What the hell are you—"

I shoot the arrow up towards the grand archway doors. It pierces above the large opening, his underwear dangling in full glory for anyone who enters the throne room to see. Like a trophy.

My father stands behind me now. The slight delight that was once written on his face now becomes a warning. I've taken this too far. Yes, I wanted to mess with him, but there's also a thin line between stealing Leighton's clothes, and Leighton waging war on us because I stole his clothes.

But I don't dare apologize.

"I'll have someone retrieve those," my father tells him.

"You better," Leighton grits as he redresses himself in front of us. At least he's half decent now, still not appropriate to be wandering the castle. "I did not come here to be insulted like this by my future wife."

Leighton leans towards me, steam nearly billowing from his ears. He towers over where I stand, attempting to intimidate me with his sheer strength and power. Gods, he's terrifying up close, and my heart pounds as fast as a scared hare.

I swallow my fear and hold my ground.

"Remember, princess, this might be your territory," Leighton seethes, "but in four months you will be mine. You will be in my castle, in my bed, under my rule."

"It's funny you think I'll be in your bed."

My father pulls me away before I speak anything more. I've already dealt enough damage for the pending wedding between Leighton and I, and it's clear the king of Adorid is far from impressed.

Leighton finishes putting on his Adoridian tunic. "I will not be speaking about this until tomorrow," he grumbles, "and I'd suggest reevaluating your fucking childish behaviour. I won't always be this generous, only for my beloved."

Childish or not, he deserved every second of that humiliation. I may not know the truth behind Leighton's icy eyes, but I do know he is a venomous snake ready to bite. The bite may poison me, eliminate my system one by one, but I will not die without making sure he's on his way to death as well. This marriage between us will be a brutal war behind closed doors, and I will never surrender.

If I have to, I will steal his clothes again and make an embarrassing scene out of him.

"Imogen, why don't you go to your room and prepare for dinner?" my father suggests. "I think you've done enough."

Little does anyone in this castle know, the mischief won't end. I'm not going to back down, because he chose to threaten the wrong kingdom with the wrong princess. If I am to be fire, then Leighton will burn under my grasp.

And somehow, someway, I'm going to take him down one piece at a time.

── •✧• ──

There's that fire in Imogen that Tobin adores! I had SO much fun writing this chapter, and I think it's a great break from the pressures these beloved characters face in the rest of the story. Just because their kingdoms are at war, it doesn't mean they can't have a little fun, right?

Don't worry! Tobigen will return soon in 2023, as this will be the final update until the new year!

Make sure to vote, comment, & share as well!