Work Text:
The lock was unlatched with a familiar click before the door opened into the dim tower room. Inside only a single candle remained lit. It sat slowly melting on the table next to an uneaten supper of bread and fruit on golden plates. They were partially covered by a cloth to prevent any possible insects from getting to the passion fruits and mangoes.
The prisoner in the room, Lady Marianne, the new Maharani of Kiltar, sat by the sole window on the other side of the room. The moonlight shone in just right from between the iron bars that it painted her long hair with stripes of silver. She had been in the process of braiding it, but stopped when her captor stepped in.
“ For someone who says they feel it their duty to follow social customs, you sure do barge in an awful lot.” Marianne quipped, turning in the chair to face the man. The woman set the hairbrush down onto the little shelve on her left. She hated this stranger with every fibre of her being and would not give them the courtesy of watching her prepare for bed. That was a privilege only her husband and Nanny had.
“ Your words wound me, miss Marianne. Is it truly wrong of me to want to wish a lady a restful night’s sleep?” The White Rajah asked, doing his best to feign some sort of innocence. His tone was disgustingly sweet, it made her want to slap him.
“ No, it wouldn’t but let’s not kid ourselves. We both know that is a lie. Now,” She got up. “I would like to go to bed, if you wouldn’t mind stepping out.”
“ I can excuse your behaviour now, it is quite late. You must be very tired.”
“ I assure you my behaviour won’t be any different tomorrow morning.”
“ It’s good to know your rudeness doesn’t only extend to the waking hours.” The man crossed his arms and shook his head. She could tell his patience was running thin. “But you should really start reconsidering how you speak to me.”
“ I’m sorry, is there a proper way to address ruthless, blackhearted villains? I didn’t know that.”
He let out a sound of frustration.
“ I’m warning you, young lady. I have a feeling you won’t like me once I’m no longer so nice.”
“ You seem to be under the false impression that I like you currently!” She nearly laughed and when he took a step closer, she attempted to hit him. “I hate you, I hope you nothing but misery, you hear!”
He met her hand with his own, catching her wrist into a tight grip.
“ Silence! How dare you speak to me in such fashion?!”
“ Let go of me, you beast!”
Marianne might have been weaker when compared to the rajah, but she was still a full-grown adult. She used all her might to rip her hand away from the man, taking a step backwards to get some room in between them so that he couldn’t retaliate as easily. But what ended up happening was much different than the outcome she had hoped for.
They both stumbled, Marianne backwards like intended, and the rajah forward in consequence of that. At some point during those seconds, balance was lost and they almost fell to the harsh wooden floor. It was pure luck that Marianne’s small bed was there to cushion their fall. The force of the two falling onto the mattress sent the pillow flying over the edge.
Having grown up in London until moving to the island of Labuan, Marianne had become accustomed to certain sets of rules one had to oblige by. Even if her stay on the island of Mompracem had thrown some of those customs out, her new royal life had brought some back in.
One of those rules dictated that women and men who are not married and will never be, shall never be found in the same room at this time of day, let alone on top of each other in the middle of the night. This was an outrage, this was insulting. And better yet it was humiliating. The rajah knew she was happily married and still chose to humiliate her like this.
The White Rajah was in a predicament of his own. He seemed to be fully inept to handle this sudden turn of events which he couldn’t have foreseen. A part of him wanted to jump up and apologize, but some twisted corner in his mind whispered for him to keep still.
Marianne’s unfinished braid had opened in the fall and strands of hair now decorated the beddings like golden vines. The belt holding the pink robes she had been given closed had loosened enough for him to see the curves of her neck and her collarbone.
“ H-how dare you.” She whispered, much too angry to speak properly.
“ This, uhm, this i-isn’t—.” He attempted, but she was much too furious.
“ I knew you were a scum, but trying to humiliate me like this is a new low even for you. You think you can do whatever you wish just because I’m your prisoner,” She tried to push him off. “I’ll tell you now I won’t allow it!”
“ Won’t allow?” He asked, as if repeating her, before raising his voice. “Won’t allow?! Need I remind you that you are on my island?! The fortress is mine,” His other hand captured hers, “The men here are in my command, the weapons are mine,” He pressed down onto her wrists so hard she was afraid a bone would shatter. “The ships are mine, the roads are mine, the horses are mine, I own everything on this bloody island. And that,” He leant closer, “Includes you, Marianne.”
“ I could never be owned by someone so pitiful and small! I feel sorry for you, more than you realize.”
“ Never, eh? Oh, Marianne,” One of his hands let go of her wrist as he spoke, voice tight with unconcealed anger. His fingers went to the edge of his mask, pushing under it just enough so that he had a good hold on it. “You have no idea how easily I can prove you wrong.”
Lightning fast the man lifted his mask just enough for Marianne to see the shape of his chin and dove down, capturing her lips with his cold ones.
The Maharani of Kiltar had been kissed before. Once by a young boy when she still attended ladies college in England, and many a time by her then-lover-now-husband. Sandokan’s kisses had always varied in intensity, sometimes they were light pecks, other times they embodied his longing for her after being apart. Some were hasty, some everlasting, but they were always so love filled she could do nothing but swoon into his arms and sing poetry about how they will never be separated.
But this was nothing like it. This was the farthest thing from love and devotion one could find. The kiss was practically bruising, their lips did not appear to properly fit together. His lips were also freezing, there was an odd sensation they did not cover hers entirely. They pressed down like a man traveling through a desert without a map or a guide, lost and without a clear destination. His inexperience would have been hilarious if the situation hadn’t been so sudden and alarming.
“ Mphm?!” She attempted to move her head to the side, but the fingers which held his mask at an angle came to hold her chin in place. Even if he seemed to have everything planned out, his hand shook. The skin on her left cheek could detect something, like long hair or a moustache, but she couldn’t see anything identifying.
When the lips finally left hers and they both could breathe again, neither said a word. Neither moved from the position, Marianne because she was so terrified, and the rajah because of the shock of his own actions. For the time being they kept on catching their breath.
Carefully, the woman raised her freed hand and wiped it across her mouth.
“ G-get out.” She whispered once the shock was beginning to crash down onto her. Tears began to slide down her cheeks as she stared at her attacker. “Please get out.”
Without so much as a protest the man climbed off of her and took a shaky step back. His masked face stayed on her laying figure for a moment before he practically bolted out of the room.
Marianne just about managed to lift her legs onto the bed before she began to weep, from fear, exhaustion and confusion.
The White Rajah stormed into his own chamber and locked the door. He ripped his mask away and threw it carelessly onto the bed, where it luckily landed onto the pillows.
“ Curses.” He muttered to himself and braced both hands onto a table where a porcelain washbasin sat. It had been emptied luckily, otherwise it might have splashed from the force. The man leaned his entire bodyweight there, trying to quiet his racing mind and heart. He lifted one of his hands to embarrassingly find it still trembling.
“ What on earth was I thinking?! How could I have been so foolish.” He closed the hand into a tight fist, the material of his glove creaked. Then, out of some strange need, he raised his gaze enough to see his disfigured reflection in the cracked mirror. His unsymmetrically scarred face greeted back, cheeks flushed red even if his skin was concerningly pale from the earlier shock. The rajah frowned at himself before closing his eyes, shame was beginning to crawl inside his very being, wrapping around his organs like a snake.
Then the man distractedly reached out to touch his mouth with his ungloved hand. His fingers ran along the curves and bumps until they felt something smooth and sticky on the corner of his remaining lip. He stopped.
Brooke wiped at it before examining his fingertips closer to the light, they gleamed with a thin coating of something. It was most likely some sort of oil, perhaps coconut or something similar, but the ex-governor wasn’t knowledgeable enough about women’s beauty products to make a proper guess.
The only reason he could even make an estimate in the first place was because he recalled Ushitora suggesting they give the lady proper tools to make her stay more comfortable. That had included a hairbrush, a vase along with a couple of candle holders, a mirror, a long piece of coloured string to use as a hair tie, and a little vial of coconut oil. She could do no damage with it, so he deemed it as acceptable to gift her.
The trembling in his hands ceased as he smelled the substance. Back at Labuan Nanny had mixed argan oil and coconut milk together to make a lotion, or medicine, he honestly couldn’t care less. But the almost familiar scent forcefully brought back memories from home, memories from the good old days when he still sat as the crown appointed governor, before everything had gone up in flames.
“ Curse Sandokan throughout all eternity.” The man cussed under his breath. The tiger really did bring out the worst in him.
Then he did something unexpected. On the list of unexpected things which had happened today, it wouldn’t be in top three, but it still definitely and undoubtedly was on the list.
The White Rajah licked his fingers, the unrefined, tropical aroma filled his tastebuds near instantly. He wasn’t planning on it, in fact he wasn’t thinking at all. But his body seemed to move on its own, and when the fingers left his mouth, he was left feeling empty.
With that the ex-governor came to a decision.
She wouldn’t leave this island without him getting another taste.