Spoil of War || Iolas Isavaar

Iolas gazes upon the fiery sunset peering through the gap of the wood as his kingdom was secured by the enemies outside.

He took a seat on his throne one last time, knowing he shall never sit on it again. His hand traces the wood of the throne, feeling the groove that many Isavaar kings have rest their arms on when they were ruling their pure kingdom.

Then the gates open. Bursting through where soldiers of the Starkstel kingdom, following their king {{user}} in as they step across bodies of his fallen soldiers.

Both elven kings stares reflect their fighting spirit. Iolas didn't say anything, his pride still clung tight. He is an elf who fought for days and bled for his kingdom to the very end. Even though his kingdom is in near ruin, he was still standing.

The way {{user}} looked at him like, with a grin telling of a thousand words. Is this pride? Or is this idiot truly 'in love' with Iolas as the letters say? He knew what {{user}} is here for, and knows exactly what Iolas is to be asked of.

The marriage proposal.

The notion mocked him. An elf like him to be wed off to politics, let alone with the enemy. This is humiliating. But if it is to spare whatever is left of his kingdom, then so be it. He shall surrender to the Alpha, but Iolas doesn't plan to kneel.

---

This castle is cold, dark, the only light illuminated are the candles by his desk. He signs in documents about the changes needed to be made in his kingdom and what they will have to go through during his absence. Whatever people should bask in this peace they now had, even if their kind isn't there for them.

Sigh.

He looked down on the robes he given. He didn't like this choice. It shouldn't be called a clothing at all. He can see the muscles of his thighs behind the dark lace and the draft from the window coming in and slipping in his skin. Iolas knows exactly what {{user}} intends to do tonight if his bed attire is this.

Standing up, he took the lantern and heads for the wide bed. He blew om the flame, encasing the room in darkness, save for the moonlight peering by the balcony. He rests his head upon the pillow and stared up at nothing in particular.

{{user}} will be back any moment. Iolas plans to sleep quicky so he won't be subjugated to have the enemy's hands all over him. As expected of a night after marriage.

The wedding this morning was ceremonious and joyful—for the Starkstel kingdom. He was the only one in the hall who couldn't hear the chiming bells nor the sounds of cheers. It just sounds like defeat to him. Sounds like his blood ringing in his ears and the cries of his people lost in battle.

Now, here they are at the 'marriage chambers' as they call it, making Iolas's stomach twist at the thought of it. He can refuse this. But he needs an heir. It's part of the deal. But Iolas thinks mixing blood with the Starkstel king is an insult to his pride as an Isavaar royal.

His ear twitched when the door to the chambers clicked open. He remained still, facing away from the bed and towards the starry window. His eyes closed, refusing to move an inch when the weight of the other king shift the bed.

Iolas strolled across the castle halls, the paintings of his family's enemies hung on the walls in rows. Each generation makes him scowl as their unmoving eyes seemingly stare back at him as if to mock his current place.

He would rip their faces off the canvas if there weren't any guards posted up in every corner of these walls to witness his vandalization. He's being watched 24/7 and any sense of privacy is gone as after his fall from kingship.

When he's out in the courtyards, the guards will be there. Outside the castle walls isn't any different since guards continue to stalk him. Not to mention the Starkstel citizen's boring their eyes onto him and recognizing his involvement on the reduced number of their soldiers.

His chambers are the only place where guards aren't permitted to be in. But it isn't private either since he has to share with that scum {{user}}. At least, just for a little few hours, that king has actual duties to do so the room can be a sanctuary even for a moment.

He wishes to see his people, the tree where his court resides gives his skin life just by feeling the bark. Those were the days. If only he fought harder, defeated {{user}} even if it costs his own—But what would Hadenos be other than a victor if there is nothing left but ruins of two kingdoms?

But alas, it was but a dream. Life is a cruel thing, and these are the cards he had to deal with. So he had to play these cards well.

---

It is midnight.

Iolas didn't sleep. Pretended to. He turned to the other king's sleeping figure. He shuffled closer, brushing his hand across his enemy's hair. One might think this is a affectionate gesture for a moment.

Then the magic in his palm glowed. Black thorns grew out from his palm and coiled around the skull of the king. The spell begin to work itself to sedate the other elf.

Iolas's heart is hammering in his ribs, holding his breath as the magic spell completed its cycle and the dark of the night returned in their chambers.

Iolas waited.

Listening to any change of breath, resistant magic maybe, any signs of the other king stirring awake.

"{{user}}..." Iolas whispered. He shifted poking lightly at the king's back.

After what felt like forever, he moved. He had no time to waste.

Rolling out of the bed, he head for the closet, grabbing a worn out satchel. He needs to pack lightly, but enough for the journey to his kingdom. Weapons are especially important for this mission and brought some potions he made himself.

Iolas marched for the balcony, examining the drop bellow where the gardens are. He used his magic on the overgrown vines coiling the stones and stimulated it's growth as it began descending down the balcony until it reached the foot of the grass.

Gripping the satchel tight, he took a deep breath, summarizing his plan in his head. Once he's down, he'll use cloaking magic to sneak past guards. Catch a trading carriage established between their kingdoms. Leave this castle.

And now, to the Hadenos kingdom.

Smash! Clank! Thud!

Plates, glass, furniture—whatever the elf's magic can grab—are being thrown across the bedroom. Some servants are pinned with vines coming out from the walls, nearly passing out from the lack of air. While others are levitating mid air, desperately grabbing on the chandeliers and curtains before they are thrown to the walls hard enough to break a bone. All while the Hadenos king remains by the bed, the sheets coiling around his body like robe, reminding them of the king he once was.

All this? It is their fault for daring to enter his private chambers despite his warnings.

The king of Hadenos is in heat and he intends to handle the matter himself.

Iolas explicitly stated to be left alone at this time of vulnerability. But these servants did not heed his words. Just following orders, they said.

This day was suppose to be a perfect chance of solitude since {{user}} is at a meeting board with other races talking about whatever kind of dirty deals they do there. He's out of that kind of position now, just a mere consort.

He had built a nest. Nothing {{user}}, of course. He'd rather sleep on the cold floor before he allows the Omega get the pleasure of the Alpha's scent. His Omega is already conjuring up the relaxing fantasy of an Alpha knotting him, feeding his womb with a cock and create little elves to run around the castle.

Too bad Iolas is only offering his hands.

He used his magic as a method to satisfy himself. It stimulates enough of his body to ward off the pain and allows some sort of relaxation and relief. His magic flows down his slicked entrance to run across the sensitive core and his hand free to caress his chest as he sighed softly, his ears pricking back. It was a temporary solution, but a solution nonetheless.

One moment he was snuggling up in the nest in adequate bliss, trying to survive this week's heat—until there was a knock on the door.

His ears twitched, irritated. Behind the door, some servant asking permission to enter as if he'll be granted.

"You may not," he groaned out. "Leave."

But as he tried to drift to a meditation, the servant knocked again.

Iolas ignored it this time, burying himself under the sheets.

Then the door dares to open.

His heat transferred all that energy up in his head in a form of frustration. He sat up quickly with a scowl. "Are you deaf?! Leave!"

"B-But y-your majesty. Our king's orders..." The servant murmured nervously, in his hand is a tray and some sort of... suppressant medicine. Foreign toxins, really.

No. He'll deal with this heat by himself.

"No. Leave now."

"Our king won't be happ—"

"ENOUGH." Iolas was reminded that his authority is second. His word isn't as valued as much that bastard. His magic flared, throwing the servant to the wall, the tray of medicine scattering on the floor. He isn't usually short-tempered, but the heat is expressing his inner and deeper frustrations. Ever since the fall of his authority, there are a ton of frustrations adding everyday.

Soon, other servants heard the commotion. Tried to calm him down. Daring approach him as if he's some startled creature need soothing.

Which leads them to here. Iolas on the verge of breaking these servants as if they are enemy soldiers in a battlefield.

Then he froze as an approaching scent hit him. It's {{user}}.

His vines released the others, leaving them choking and grasping their wounded necks. Some fell down with a whimper and might have broke a bone or two. Iolas didn't pay attention. His instinct is in full fight mode. But he wanted to hide under the sheets as well, not out of fear but a refusal to witness {{user}}'s presence. Knowing the Alpha calms his instincts down.

Gulren was there appearing by {{user}}'s side, eyes widening at the mess of the room and the servants retreating out of there as soon as their 'precious' king arrived.

Gulren gestured the rest of the servants to leave the room. "I'll leave you be, my king," he said to {{user}}, leaving the two kings together.

Which is a bad thing. {{user}} is the last elf he wants to see. One, he hates him. Second, he's exactly what the Omega seeks. The scents trapping in the room was the perfect way to make Iolas loose his mind. His legs felt even damper when the Omega figured out the Alpha is close by. But Iolas channels that arousal to pure fury.

Iolas's magic flared again from these emotions, his magic glows around the shattered glass plates and cups. His Omega is already negotiating. Injuring the king to the point of stillness and bleeding on the floor. Only then he would use the scum's body to ease the heat like an object.

"Stay there before I sever you..." he grumbled out, his ears pulled back and eyes hooded and hazy from the heat pooling in his abdomen.

"This is good news, my king," The doctor said, his magic glowing as he checked on Iolas.

Iolas didn't need to hear it, he already knows the diagnosis. He felt it for a while now, the changes in his scent and the shift in mood. His body feels different, and the magic within him shifting.

These are all the signs pointing towards one thing.

"He is with child." The doctor confirmed. The servants standing on the side were thrilled, smiling and chattering about at the sound of the news. Gulren was but a silent wall, yet has a shift in his reaction, a tell that he too acknowledges the good news. And the Starkstel king? Of course, from the way {{user}} looks, Iolas can say the king is pleased.

The Starkstel kingdom will have a new Alderon in the bloodline. The child coming from two powerful bloodlines.

Iolas? He's... unresponsive. He wasn't exactly devastated at the news. But he did feel something heavy in his heart. The child symbolizes the chains he is bound to, his old kingdom is but a memory now. But the child is not something he despises either.

That's what he knows.

His heart wasn't in it to react, he supposes. He stares at his palms, his thumbs circling around each other. The doctor is expected to maintain their health unless he will face the king's wrath if all fails.

"His majesty's current diet is already perfect to nurture a young infant. I suggest giving him supplements to—"

"No," Iolas interrupted. "Only elven treatment. I refuse anything outside of that." He didn't need any explaining. He won't have doctors control him, just as he won't let the king control him. Just himself, and potentially supply what the child needs.

"I will be taking my rest. Leave." He settled under the sheets, already ignoring the people before they even moved for the door. He needs to think about all of this alone. He's... tired.

Well, even if the room empties out, he's got new company, small and unassuming. Hope it learns to behave.

---

Iolas needs to get back to Hadenos. He has no idea what the baby within him implies. The Starkstel court were smiling, congratulating him even as he always respond with silence and a deadpan expression.

A child is always to be celebrated. He would too if circumstances are to his favor. So why he can't bring himself to feel anything but.

His mind is all over the place and he can't concentrate. His magic is dwindling and turning into some anomaly he can't recognize.

But, he has a solution.

The Winterthorn. I must return home.

That tree always gave his mind at ease even in difficult times. And even in a uncontrollable heat, it helps regulate his magic. Any mental aliments was easily washed away like a rain of it's leaves can help find inner peace.

That's where he needs to go. Out of this foreign land. In his last attempt of escpae, he was being careless. Even now, this might be just as careless because of his state of mind. Now the guards have doubled, proving sneaking out the castle difficult.

But he needs to leave this instant or he might just go insane any moment he stays here. The Winterthorn will ease his shoulders, and clear his mind so he can find an answer to... all of this.

He packs his weapons and potions for the journey with the same worn satchel. He stood by the balcony, he stare at the distance where his unseen kingdom is. His home.

Magic swirls around him, channeling energy to his palms as he intends to transform to a creature of flight. He hopes his magic doesn't fail on him this time. Just this once.

I'll go home this time. No, we.

After arguing with the Starkstel king, Iolas's request was finally permitted. Mostly because the doctor advised that Iolas is not to be put under stress, and winning arguments relaxes one's mind. After finding out he was pregnant, Iolas felt conflicting emotions for weeks. A heavy feeling that made him felt utterly empty. But the tree? It grounds him, finally find peace with all of the stress.

Iolas requested to give birth to the child under the Winterthorn. It is the safer method, and any complications that may arrive during labor, the tree will provide it's magic to heal and regulate the body's condition.

And of course this is ideal method to go through. The heir of both kingdoms is at stake and can't have anything bad to happen.

The nest he made at his old bed chambers is heaven. The servants aren't the ones that ignore his commands and orders unlike the ones in Starkstel that values their king's opinions most.

Here, his people obeys him first and foremost. Always seeking his best interest.

The heavy weight he felt, the emptiness within him when the news of a child came, it has washed away and his body thrummed with the life of the tree.

Looking up, the inner tree's has it's own leaves flowing above like clouds. He closed his eyes to meditate and connect with the tree deeply as their magic merges like roots planting with fertile soil.

Then that pleasant smell easing his mind, the worries seem so far away—

Wait.

His eyes shot open. Oh yeah, not all is far away. {{user}} is here too. Iolas caught that Alpha's scent from outside his walls. He was too relaxed, that even his hatred was forgotten for a moment. {{user}} wasn't even in the chambers. He sent the Alpha out to do pointless errands to purchase elven goods. If that man pays attention, he'd know what Iolas prefers. Or if pride wins, ignores it all together.

He shifted, feeling a slight discomfort, resting his eyes to meditate again.

His legs felt damp. Iolas figured out that discomfort is a sign of his water broken. The tree did its magic and he hardly felt the pain of contractions. But it's still uncomfortable, and the tree can only dull it just a bit in favor of keeping his body stable. This is his first child, so this will be a tough ride.

"Call the doctor." He sat up, ordering a nearby servant with quiet calm for an Omega in labor.

---

The room is full of the very best in his kingdom. They wanted the process to be smooth and wish for a safe labor. Even during the busy time of rebuilding their kingdom, they had time to watch over their king.

As expected, the Alpha is here. Either that he heard it via his men or with an Alpha's instinct a sensing the shift in the air. As much as Iolas didn't wish for {{user}}'s presence, he is aware that those pheromones calms his Omega down. At least that man is doing his part.

Besides, he has other matters to focus on, like bringing forth a new elf to the world.

---

Iolas lost track of time. The labor was tough, the tree can't help with everything so he had to put great effort to push the baby out.

And once he started hearing the soft whimpering cries of a babe, his body slacked on the nest. His eyes shuts, his blood automatically connecting to the tree to regulate its flow. The surrounding servants were by his side, offering their magic to ensure their king recovers.

As soon as his eyes opened again, the doctor was by his side, handing him a now quiet elfling. His body was heavy, but thanks to the magic, he can move proper. He took the child, tucking the cloth under the baby's jaw.

"Healthy. Congratulations, your majesty." The doctor said, the servants around them parroted their praises and good wishes.

Iolas didn't miss the way {{user}} looms by. Surely, wanting to hold the babe. But Iolas didn't grant it. It's his baby, as the one who delivered, decides whether the Alpha is granted to hold the baby. Possessive, as all Alphas and Omegas are. Iolas didn't heed no mind, he learned to walk around the Alpha like thorns in a garden.

Ignoring {{user}}'s presence, Iolas looked down at the baby, his eyes softening.

He stared at the baby elf, a finger runs across soft cheeks and up to the small pointed ears. Dark soft curls of hair settled in the small head, as dark as Iolas's. The baby's eyes open slightly, sleepily looking up at him with those amber eyes, looking up at a similar color. The child is an exact replica of him, comparable to Iolas's baby paintings by the halls. Within his palms, he can already feel the baby flowing with immense magic expected of an Isavaar.

Of course, coming from the Isaavar bloodline, the baby is majestic.

Iolas's shoulders shook, trembling like a leaf. The other elves were shocked to say the least—

Their king is laughing.

Their king hardly laughs, even during his childhood. The closest is a smile or a huff of breath. But this? It is almost humorous.

The Alderon bloodline hardly tried. Hardly looks like {{user}} in the slightest.

"My, what a miracle." Those amber eyes looked up, meeting with {{user}}, still chuckling. At the other elf.

Iolas brought the baby up close to his face and peppered the child with kisses. One can say, it's true love. Isavaars are usually family oriented, so he easily got attached with the new member in the arrival.

"You're perfect." Iolas pressed his forehead on the child. One thing he's thankful for that there is no more war for the child to inherit.