Mated To The Cruel Prince

Islinda believed that she made the best decision that benefitted both sides even though her bones rattled with the cold and her breath was a repetitive fog in front of her. She could not lose the deer that would feed her family for a while, nor could she abandon the Fae that might come after her for not helping him if he mysteriously survived.  So yes, she did not exactly have a choice. 

Hence Islinda fulfilled the task slowly yet persistently by taking the Fae with her and walking a great distance before letting him down at a spot and returning for the deer, covering the same gap. Thus, she repeated the same pattern over and over again till the abandoned hut came into view. 

Now close to her destination, her blood began to pound loudly in her ears as her heart rate increased. Islinda had no idea what awaited her there, were the rumors true or false? Does she walk to her salvation or her end? A lot of thoughts filled her mind as it hit her that this might be her final moment. 

Nonetheless, Islinda renewed her resolution and walked to the hut. The first thought that came to her mind was to knock and thus, she did. Perhaps, if the wicked Fae knew that she came in peace and to seek help for one of its kind, then he or she might be merciful towards her. 

But when she rapped her knuckle against the wooden frame that seemed like it would unhinge anytime soon for the umpteenth time, Islinda had a feeling that the wicked Fae was not home. That is if there was any wicked Fae in the first place. Islinda always had a feeling that this hut might have been built by a hunter or a wanderer - who doesn't reside here anymore. 

The first sign that the hut fell into disuse was the thick cobweb that got in their way and stuck to their body, slightly irritating her. With a continuous swipe of her hand, Islinda managed to wade through and they got to a corner where she settled him, his back against the wall. 

The temperature inside the hut was a huge contrast against the biting cold outside and for a moment there, Islinda was tempted to relish the cozy warmth until she remembered that she had a frozen carcass waiting to be picked up. Islinda should be tired but she did not feel the pain yet. And oh, she will when the adrenaline coursing through her vein was exhausted. 

She wondered if the Fae could hear her because his eyes were still shut and it was the assurance of his warm body that gave her hope of life in him. She said to him, "I need to go get my hunt and will be back soon." 

Without waiting for an answer or any sign of a reaction, Islinda was already out of the hut, cursing at the raging snow. This time she ran, eager not only to return to the warmth of the cramped hut but to ensure no human stumbles upon her Fae. 

Islinda almost did a double-take when she realized what she just thought. 

"Her Fae?" Since when did she begin to think of that creature that way? Something must be wrong with her head. Perhaps, that Fae has begun to corrupt her mind with his magic until she's nothing but a slave to his will. No, Islinda shook her head, if he had the time to use magic on her, he wouldn't be dying right now. 

She found her deer. More like a frozen version of it. But that didn't dissuade Islinda from carrying it and finding her way back to the hut. Islinda was not able to relax until she came in and found her Fae was exactly where she had dropped him. Good. Her first problem was averted. Now, how was she going to save a dying Fae? 

All this while, Islinda forgot about the cramping hunger because she no longer felt it, now filled with a stronger purpose. By the time she completely looked around the small hut, Islinda was sure that this was made by a human and not a Fae. No Fae would keep a cooking pot - unless he needed it to boil his victims - a small knife, a wooden plate, and a spoon. There was a small stool but most of all, Islinda was grateful for the hearth. 

It was obvious that whoever this hut belonged to intended to return judging from the dried woods parked at a side, but did not make it. A shiver made Islinda shudder at the idea that a Fae took him. However, as sorry as Islinda felt for him, so was life, and now his wood was going to be beneficial to her. 

Piling enough woods in the hearth, Islinda picked up the stones the owner must have used to light his fire and attempted to make one only to fail woefully. Her hands were shaking and she couldn't even create a spark. 

"Come on!" Islinda urged in desperation as she rubbed the stones against each other and yet there was no result. The only reason they weren't plunged into darkness was that the door to the hut was open, but the cold was beginning to permeate, gradually stealing the warmth away. 

Her frustration grew as the stones gave off sparks but not enough to light the fireplace. 

"Just do it already!" She had screamed in frustration only for flames to erupt out of god knows where and swallowed the woods, casting the fire that she wanted, but not without her shrieking and backing away in fear. 

What in the name of the gods just happened? Islinda was still reeling from the shock only for recognition to set in and she sat, ramrod straight. It was him. She could feel it in her bones and there was a charge in the atmosphere. 

With her heart racing so loudly it might leap out of her chest, Islinda turned around slowly and her gaze held with glowing amber ones, and the breath was knocked out of her lungs. 

Humans were not wrong to identify these creatures as predators because Islinda could feel the raw power emanating from him, it prickled her skin and raised a certain amount of awareness that made her swallow unconsciously. He could incinerate her on the spot without even trying hard but he didn't and it betrayed the view she had of these creatures. 

Could it be that there were good Faes just as there were bad ones? Or perhaps he was just keeping her alive long enough for her to save his life? Islinda shuddered at the thought but it was a rude awakening. She still had no idea what would come out of this unusual concord. 

Suddenly, as if the source of his powers was cut off, the unnatural glow of his eyes vanished and they returned to a normal but mesmerizing amber color. He was beautiful with sun-kissed skin, a pointed nose, and a square jaw that could cut glass. His long red hair that touched down his nape fell in opulent waves around his cheeks and she was tempted to check how silky it was. 

But what held her admiration the most was the pointed tip of his ears, the only noticeable difference between a Fae and a human. Curiosity tugged at her and she wondered what it would feel like to touch his ear. 

"Y-you wanted fire…." He said with pained difficulty and that was enough to arouse her to reality. So he was the one that lit the fire? That must be his power and how nice of him. 

Islinda set to work immediately by first closing the door before she tentatively crouched in front of the Fae. She knew how dangerous being this close to him was but he had built a certain level of trust by not harming her so far and even starting the fire for her. 

There were beads of sweat on his forehead and she could tell that he was in pain with his eyes closed again. He was pale, and even the warmth was beginning to cool off and Islinda was afraid there was no more time. 

"Y-your tunic…" She muttered nervously, "I need to take it off." Islinda attempted to be as calm and expert as possible. This was the first time she was going to strip a man, no, a Fae, but he was still undoubtedly a man, fine! Whatever he was! 

He didn't answer but she didn't sense any resistance from him either when she grabbed the hem of the material and pulled it over his head. And then she was treated to gorgeous, lean muscles that she had not seen coming and made blood rush to her cheeks and ear. 

Dear gods, her virgin heart was not prepared for this. Islinda nearly suffered a nosebleed. 

But her admiration only went too far until she saw the long deep gashes across his side and a lump got caught in her throat. Her eyes darted back to the Fae still sweating heavily and she could sense he was in pain. Why wouldn't he be when the wound was deep and weeps off a blackish color? 

 It looked poisoned. 

Or infected. 

Islinda hoped it was the latter because she didn't have Fae medicine nor does she know if human herbs worked on him at all. If that wasn't the case, then the Fae was as good as dead. 

It seems in the end, she wasn't able to help him after all.