The General - S01 E34

5 months ago

The General - S01 E34

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 34

"I think I love you."

He didn't bother to whisper like I did. The deadliest man in Zolan isn't afraid of looking soft.

So what do I reply? Nothing. I gape like a fish, unable to find a reply although I'm bilingual. None of the thousands of words I know in English and Zolano can satisfy the shock within me.

The rest of the room has become as stiff as I am, and I swear I heard a body drop as if someone passed out.

"Love?" The Queen screeches. "War, you—"

"Don't use my given name," he interjects. "I did not give you the right."

He gave the right to me, though, and I'm no Queen. So why does he look at me like I am one? Why does he give me the right that should belong to his leader?

His eyes lock on my throat, and he glares at the collar there. With quick tugs, he removes it and throws it on the floor.

"We will leave after I get all the facts," he says, lowering me to my feet.

His arm remains tightly locked around my middle, keeping me pinned against his nakedness. His warmth and rage, seep in through the back of my dress.

"Why is she here?" he asks.

"She was to be investigated for theft of a jewel from my personal collection," The Queen answers.

"Members of my camp are not thieves, especially not my woman!" he booms, the blade he's holding loudly scraping the floor below as if scouring for flesh.

'My woman?' When did that happen?

"I was going to investigate—"

"It looked like you already found her guilty if you were humiliating her by parading her as a pet," he decides. "Vrint lied. I have previously warned him against staying away from her, so he must have devised this plan to coerce her. I want him dead."

"He is a high officer," The Queen argues. "Evidence must be gathered before his sentencing."

"Everyone else that played a role in dragging her here will be punished too. Every one that dragged her, touched her, lifted her. That includes the ladies of the court. I'll return tomorrow to oversee all of this. Prepare for war."

"I— I—" the queen baffles.

"Obey me, or I will abandon the title as your General. Good luck finding a worthy replacement for me. I know you've searched and failed," he snarls.

War knows his potential. He's confident in his strength, and he's turning it into a weapon.

"Roll out!" he orders the Masters before tugging me beside him.

I hiss when my bare, cut feet touch the ground, and his eyes snap to them. I can feel the murderous waves radiating off him when he realizes I'm injured.

Dropping his sword, he picks me up and walks off.

"Your sword—" I begin, knowing that the weapon is encrusted in precious gold.

"I have more," is all he says.

I pass Malik on our way our. He looks... relieved. I'll have to talk to him later after I've calmed War down. Something must have happened for him to come searching for me.

"War..." I begin.

"There is nothing to say now, Joan. I will take you somewhere safe and tend to your wounds. Talking comes tomorrow. I have nothing civil left to say."

He says those words through gritted teeth. He is at the edge of patience and mercy, as if one more word from me will trigger him into another frenzy.

I set my hands flat on his shoulders and shrink into him. Weak, as always.

War walks past halls and rooms, and I see the destruction he brought in. There are holes in walls, displaced items, injured bodies slumped on the wall.

At least I hope they're only injured.

The halls are now deserted. The guards have left posts because the Masters swept in here and rinsed them out as if they're some sort of virus.

A strong beat rings through the messy halls as masters march outside, following their leader.

Outside, the sun attacks me once again. It's good to see it again, though. Its angry affection is more welcomed than the darkness I would have found once I got executed and put 6 feet under.

"Where are your things? The orphanage?" he asks.

"Yes."

"We will stop there later."

Stop there, as if I'm not staying. He's not letting me leave a second time, which means I'll have to say goodbye to the orphanage, including the children I was bonding with. It's so hard to part from them. I thought teaching those kids was my calling, but it looks like the universe wants me to keep scrubbing plates and floors.

I miss War, but I'll miss the children if I leave. I wanted my experience to count for something other than sad memories, and becoming a teacher was my only shot.

I don't dare voice these thoughts. War has had enough for today. He saved me by defying his very Queen and deserves a few hours of rest.

He sets me down for a moment, and I keep my eyes on him. The contours of his face are deeper, his red eyes dilated. The lips I dreamt of are pressed together.

A blanket is lifted over me, covering my head. When all I see is darkness, he carries me and continues walking.

"No one is looking at you. Just focus on me," he says.

I do. I listen to his heartbeat, and I stare at his firm flesh under the blanket. I'm on the safest part of Zolan, only because I'm in War's arms.

He mounts his beast and rides it with me on his lap, still tucked under the blanket. I know he's riding hands-free because his hands never leave my body.

"Give me a room, now. The largest, and bring up a bath, bandages and medicine," he speaks.

I realize I dozed off, and he has entered an establishment.

"Of course. Of course. Follow, please." Some Zolano answers, fearing his life.

Keys ring, light footsteps are followed by War's heavy ones on the wooden floorboards, and a door opens. There's a final creek when War sinks into the bed and slides the blanket off my head.

He stares into my eyes, our faces inches apart, and he looks angrier with every new thing he notices. My hair is messy, my neck likely reddened from the collar.

To distract him, I ask, "where are the Masters staying?"

"Some will camp on the outskirts of the city. Others here, others in a brothel. I do not care."

There's a knock. "The bath, sir."

War slips me off his lap and goes to answer the door. He's still buck naked and unbothered as he opens and watches two boys drag a filled tub inside. They leave a small basket behind containing bandages, soap, and medicine.

I don't want War to see the extent of the cuts on my feet, but I don't want to reject his touch, either. I choose to let him stand before me, broad shoulders covering my view of the room until all I see is his chest.

He cups my hips, and I shudder.

"Did they touch you?"

I know what he's asking, so I immediately answer, "no. Not like that."

That doesn't make him relax. It keeps him on the same spectrum of displeasure.

"I will bathe you now."

He tugs at my dress, his thick fingers struggling with the delicate ties. When my dress drops to my ankles, I intertwine my fingers and shyly keep them over my sex, although he has seen that part of me before.

His eyes remain on my face as he carries me to the edge of the tub. He guides my feet inside, and I jolt when I feel the water on my ripped flesh.

War looks like it hurt him more than it did me.

He takes a while to clean my feet. Once he dries them, he moves his attention to the rest of my body. In focused, methodical strokes, he cleans my body, including my trembling thighs and sex.

He covers me with a dry towel, sets me on the bed, and wraps my feet in bandages. Then, he sits beside me and sulks.

"Thank you, General."

He doesn't reply, only stares at the now-brown water in the tub.

He cut ties, abandoned camp, and risked retaliation by coming for me. Who knows what is going through his mind. How do I thank him for saving my life? There is nothing to my name but my cleaning skills.

"Do you want me to bathe you?" I offer.

He grumbles, and I take that as a rejection.

His back is slightly hunched, and his hands are flat on his knees. He looks defeated, although he won today. It's a disturbing look, because he is always confident.

He looks vulnerable, and it's only because we're in private. I know I'm one of the few that have seen him like this.

I don't know what to do. I feel vulnerable, too, but I want to contribute. I don't want to be the burden that constantly needs saving without giving anything back, because that's would prove me worthless.

Only thinking one way to make him feel better comes to mind. I touch his thigh and slip off the bed to kneel in front of him. My injured feet protest, but I ignore the pain.

I reach for his groin, knowing the timing is terrible, but also needing him to feel better.

War grips my wrist tighter than usual. I look up, and find disgust in his expression.

It hurts me.

"Get in bed. I'll get you food."

He tugs be back to my seat, and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.