Work Text:
Mortarion was barking orders, voice gravelly through his mask, green smoke filtering out of the vents occasionally. He breathed heavily, looking far larger than usual in his armor, Silence thudding steadily as he walked, matching his steps. He appeared every bit as Pale King as his title commanded, an aura rolling off of him that demanded obedience.
Demanded? No, that was the wrong word. Compelled, perhaps. He did not need to command his men to follow him into the bowel of hell. His sons were loyal to him as he was, through all his faults and flaws, they adored him and he would join them where they went in exchange. Their pain would be shared.
One of his sons lingered near his Deathshroud, clutching a scroll in hand, a flower jutting out from the wax seal. A formal message from Aconia, her wax seal the same bright white he used. The Pale Queen some called her - much to her endless amusement and his agitation. He should be the bringer of death, she should be the bringer of life.
Sending out the last order, he sent off his sons to carry on their slogging siege. He walked to the messenger, taking the scroll. “Did she say it was urgent?” If he wasn’t needed aboard the Endurance, he would rather stay on the ground with his sons.
“No, my lord. She simply wanted you to have it.”
He nodded, breaking the seal carefully to not lose the flower. Tucking it in the safety of one of his pockets, he uncurled the parchment. It crinkled and spread open, still fresh and rolled only recently.
His eye twitched at the three words. A very simple message, but one that his eyes narrowing and looking up towards the anchored ship. ‘Get loved, idiot!’ written in her scratchy print, splotches of ink staining the parchment where she’d held the quill incorrectly.
He crumpled the parchment in his hand, shoving it deep into his pocket. How dare she insult him! He would deal with her later, once he’d worked off the worst of his rage.
He growled under his mask as he stalked off, cloak billowing behind him. He blew poisoned air from his mask, his hand squeezing Silence tightly. His wife… His wife would hear from him as soon as he returned.
Back on the Endurance, Aconia hummed happily as she picked fruits from the trees, a basket in her hand. She worked alongside the programmed servitors, their longer arms reaching where she could not. She sang softly as she went, rubbing her thumb over the skin of apples.
Each fruit was deposited gently into the barrel a servitor carried for her, her hands careful to not bruise them. When one was only slightly out of reach, she snapped the stem with her magic and caught it in her palm. She always made a point to thank each fruit for breaking from its tree without fuss, their soft song reaching her ears.
She heard Mortarion’s heavy steps before she saw him through the parted curtains and smiled brightly, waving her hand high at him. “Morty! Over here!”
He looked unhappy. The siege had gone longer than their previous estimates, but he usually took it in stride. Any grouchiness could be easily soothed, but she couldn’t think he’d ever looked so angry before.
Stepping towards him, she flinched when he threw a crumpled piece of parchment at her, her eyes wide. “Mor-”
“You insult my intelligence? While I’m in the middle of a damn siege?”
Kneeling down, she picked up the crumpled thing, keeping her eyes on him. “Mortarion?” Her voice was thick with confusion, her brow furrowing.
He jabbed his finger at her, glaring at her. His hair was still damp from his shower, but she could smell the lingering battle on his skin under the soap. “Don’t play dumb! Or would you appreciate it if I called you an idiot?”
Uncrumpling the paper, she frowned at him from the corner of her eye before sighing. She rubbed her face with her hand, shaking her head. “Mortarion,” she groaned, “I wasn’t insulting you.”
“You called me an idiot!”
She couldn’t help but smile, shaking her head quickly when he growled at her. “No, Mortarion! Calm down! It’s a joke! Look, it says ‘get loved!’! By the mother, you’re being ridiculous! Did you really think I was calling you an idiot?”
The effect was instant, his face falling. He stared, blinking almost owlishly at her. The tension in his shoulders left and he reached out, taking the note from her to look over it again. His eyes flicked across the parchment.
“I even sealed a flower to it! I told you that one means adoration, too.”
He tugged the flower from the safety of his pocket, still beautiful due to her magical care. She had taught him flower meanings. He knew what her flowers meant.
Her giggle cut through his growing dread. “I’d never think you were an idiot, Morty. Stubborn, but not stupid.”
His face flooded with red and he looked away, breathing in deeply. He shook his head stiffly. “No. You wouldn’t think that.”
She smiled, patting his hand. “Exactly. Maybe, read the full sentence next time?”
He glared down at her, but it lacked any real bite. “Don’t mock me.”
She giggled again, reaching up and curling her fingers. “Oh, pick me up and give me a kiss, you hard-headed man.”
He grumbled, but the Pale King could never deny his queen.