Dru moved around Aribelle's tent, tossing whatever appeared important into packs that were settled in the corner. Time was not on his side; he thought wildly. If Thame was healing this quickly, they didn't have much more time to spare.
"The bitch had magic up her sleeve, I guarantee it," Dru griped.
"But what will we do with your brother?" Wren asked.
Dru glared at Thame, his lip curling in disdain at the weakling who he once called his brother. Thame allowed a beast to bewitch his mind, convincing him that their mission was no longer for the greater good of their own people. Thame fell in love with the beast who tortured him for days and stabbed Dru in the arm.
"That is not my brother, not anymore," Dru spat. "Let the beasts have their way with him; we leave him to die."
"But if he wakes up, won't he come looking for you, thinking that something awful has happened?" Wren asked dubiously.
Dru pondered that for a minute, rubbing the back of his neck as he hurried his thoughts along. His neck and chest began to itch as panic rose swiftly on the heels of his courageous takedown of the beast. He needed to get far away from the quickly healing Thame, or this would be all for not. As an idea formed, Dru rummaged through the packs, pulling out a bottle of ink, a quill, and a rather crumpled piece of parchment.
"I will write him a letter so that he knows to return home, shamed and likely disowned. He will know better than to follow, or he'd be risking his own execution as well," Dru said smugly.
Dru jotted down words he never thought he would have the chance to say to Thame, feeling victorious over his brother for the first time in his life. Dru would bring the bitch the heel and be forever worshipped as a hero in Vildaheim. Father would disown and likely exile Thame the instant he knew the truth of Thame's actions here, leaving Dru, the heir to the throne. As an extra slap in the face to Thame, Dru was planning on making very public displays of affection with Aribelle in the hopes that Thame would read or hear all about it. He would never sully himself by rutting the beast, but it sure would be wickedly delightful to see the heartbreak on Thame's face when he saw Aribelle wrapped in an embrace with him, Dru thought maliciously.
"What do we do with her?" Wren said as she pointed to the beast on the floor.
Dru sighed in aggravation, giving Wren a droll look.
"It would be quite nice if you could come to some of these conclusions on your own, you know. I can see why she called you a whelp; you're like a toddler waddling around asking the most basic of questions like you have no brains of your own," Dru snapped.
Wren just stood there, giving Dru a blank look as though she did not comprehend a single word he said, proving his point.
"Drag her, Wren. You shall drag her," Dru said slowly.
Wren nodded enthusiastically, giving the unconscious beast a spiteful smile. As she dragged Aribelle from the tent, Dru walked over to Thame torn between which he wanted to do more: stick a dagger in his heart or make him live the rest of his life as a joke, exiled in shame. Seeing as he did not know if Thame would again heal, Dru settled on knowing that in just a few days, Thame would be living the life Dru had always been forced to lead.
"Goodbye, Thame," Dru said as he set the note on Thame's lap. "I'll be sure that no matter where you are exiled to, you get an invitation to the beast's execution. Perhaps I’ll convince our father to give you both one at the same time. Wouldn't that be lovely?"
Dru walked out of the tent without a backward glance, whistling as he strode through the woods to where Wren stood, waiting for him with Aribelle.
"Come now, Wren, show me to my new throne," Dru said with a grand sweeping motion of his arm and a dark chuckle.
Epilogue
“Momma, if loving people is bad, does that mean you don’t love me?”
“My beauty, love is a foolish notion. I’ve yet to give my heart to any person truly, and if you’re smart, you’ll keep yours locked away as well.”
Three Days Later…
Thame woke slowly, the increasing brightness in the tent mixed with the obnoxious chirping of the birds outside grating on his nerves. There were no sounds of movement around the camp, save from those of the wildlife that roamed freely in the woods. Thame opened and closed his mouth several times, his tongue heavy and his mouth so dry that he began to wonder if he was chewing on sand in his sleep.
"Belle?" He croaked out, his voice cracking and sending him into a fit of coughing.
There was no answer to his call, so he assumed everyone had gone hunting and left him here as he was of no use, wounded as he was. As that thought crossed Thame's mind, his hands went to his chest in amazement. He remembered how badly he was injured, an arrow through the chest if he wasn't mistaken. How was he alive? He marveled. The wound was closed completely, leaving hardly a sliver of a scar in its wake. His stomach gave a loud rumble, and it suddenly felt as though his stomach was trying to eat itself out of severe hunger.
Sitting up cautiously, because he did not want to make a fool of himself by calling for Aribelle to help him back into bed, Thame glanced around the room for some food. Everything seemed much brighter than he remembered, smells were more intense, and...
"Gods above, will you please shut up!" Thame yelled hoarsely as the birds continued their chattering.
It was like they were next to his ear chirping away, just to annoy him. Clenching his fist on the blanket, Thame felt a piercing pain at the tips of his fingers and snatched them off the cover. Looking closely, he saw black claws retracting as shock replaced his anger.
"She saved me," Thame said, his voice filled with awe.
He hadn't known that she would even still care for him after the way they argued in the woods, let alone that she would use this amount of magic to save him. Aribelle had told him that she had never turned another into a wolf, and he got the impression that it was something that she wished she never had to do, which left him deeply touched that she had found him worthy of this magic. Despite her lack of trust in him, which was warranted, she cared for him and made that abundantly clear through her actions.
As Thame stood up, his legs shook, barely capable of holding his weight. His body was sore all over, like every muscle in his body had been in spasm for days on end. He shuffled towards the tent flaps inch-by-inch, exhaustion already taking hold of him. The absence of smoke from a fire along with the silence that greeted him as he called out for his brother and Aribelle told him that they were nowhere nearby, but Thame could not spend another minute in this tent. It felt like he had slept away the past month, and no matter how painful the simple exertion of walking was, Thame owed Aribelle an apology and an explanation. He couldn't continue to profess his feelings for her without giving her the truth of why he came.
Aribelle had been right all along. She deserved the truth, not just as the ruler of Jurot, but as the woman who had enchanted him with her wit and humor, her wrathful, vindictive ways and the softness that laid far beneath all those layers. He wanted to continue to learn about her, hear stories of her childhood, and watch as her face lit up with delight during the winter months. It was unfair to ask of her to give him all those things without first earning her trust, for that was the only honorable way he would win her heart as well.