Summary: I really love re-writing scenes to get more time with these two, so this is a re-imagining of the night of the banquet before the final battle in Book 3.
Diavolos isn’t at the banquet. Kenna keeps glancing around for him as she makes her way through the dining hall, but he’s conspicuously absent. He doesn’t seem like one to miss a gathering like this, especially the night before such an important battle. When she’s spoken to everyone (and managed to refrain from slapping Luther), she slips out of the room in search of him. Zenobia stops her just outside the door, giving her an appraising look before saying, “Check the roof.”
“The roof?” Kenna asks in confusion.
Zenobia shrugs, adjusting one of her bracelets. “Diavolos. He used to go up to the roof in Lykos when he wanted to be alone.”
“Oh. Thank you,” Kenna says, confused by Zenobia’s uncharacteristically pleasant behavior.
Zenobia scowls. “Don’t make this into some big thing, Kenna. Diavolos and I don’t always get along, but he’s still my brother. And he likes you, for some reason.”
Ah. There’s the Zenobia she knows.
“Right,” Kenna says, hiding a smile. “Well, thank you anyway.”
Zenobia waves her hand dismissively before disappearing back into the dining hall. Kenna makes her way up the winding staircases to the roof. Sure enough, there’s Diavolos, his elbows resting on the stone wall as he looks out over the fields. Kenna watches him for a minute, jumping a little when Diavolos says, “Are you going to stand there staring at me all night?”
She feels her cheeks turn pink when Diavolos turns around, grinning at her with that damn cocky look on his face. That look has been more present since she kissed him on the airship. She should have known that would inflate his ego, Kenna thinks wryly as she walks over to him. If he was going to keep looking so smug about it, he really needed to be kissing her more.
“Not in the mood for a banquet?” Kenna asks, leaning against the wall next to him.
“Not tonight,” he answers, drumming his fingers on the rough stone. “Too much restless energy to sit and make idle chatter.”
“You could dance,” Kenna suggests.
Diavolos chuckles. “I’m too tense to dance.”
“You could drink,” she offers. “Val has been looking for drinking partners all night.”
“I’m confident that Val could probably drink me under the table.”
She laughs at that. “That’s a good possibility.”
They’re silent for a few minutes, Diavolos fidgeting with his sword belt.
“Are you nervous?” Kenna asks in a quiet voice.
“Gods, yes, I’m nervous,” Diavolos says.
He shakes his head, smiling faintly as he glances over at her. “I need to do something to burn off this energy.”
That comment has all sorts of possibilities behind it, and Kenna finds herself inching closer to him until her arm is pressed against his.
“I was going to go for a ride. Do a little reconnaissance on Azura’s camp,” he says, his nonchalant tone belying the want on his face as he looks at her. “You’re welcome to come with me.”
“You want me to…go do reconnaissance with you?” Kenna asks, an amused smile spreading across her face.
“If you want,” he says.
“There’s a party going on downstairs,” she reminds him.
Diavolos grins. “There is. In a dining hall full of people,” he points out.
“I have private quarters,” she says, and Diavolos groans.
“Yes. And a castle full of people who would probably try to assassinate me if they saw us entering and leaving those quarters together.”
He has an unfortunate point there.
~~~~~~~~~~
She follows Diavolos down to the stables, watching as he readies his temperamental black steed. He’s calm and confident as he works, soothing Hector’s Shadow in a low, reassuring voice.
“You’re staring again,” Diavolos says, and Kenna grins.
“I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t say I minded.”
Kenna rolls her eyes. “You’re kind of full of yourself, you know that?”
“I know,” he says easily, and flashes her another of those damnable smug grins that she simultaneously loves and hates.
“Almost ready,” he says after a minute, adjusting the saddle.
“You look worried,” Diavolos observes, glancing up at her. “I know Hector’s Shadow is strong-willed, but I promise I know what I’m doing.”
She snorts out a laugh at his description of the horse as “strong-willed”.
“It’s not that,” she explains. “It’s just…we might die tomorrow.”
Kenna glances up at him. “It’s odd to think about it finally coming to an end.”
Diavolos steps out of the stall, shutting the gate behind him.
“I know what you mean. But there’s only so much we can do now.”
“I know, I just…” she trails off, struggling to put into words what’s on her mind. “I know you said you didn’t think about your future much, but I do. I’m prepared to die, for Stormholt, for my people, but I wonder what I’ll miss out on,” Kenna admits.
Diavolos takes her hands, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle. “Then we’ll just have to make sure you won’t miss out on anything.”
“You can’t promise that.”
His brow furrows, one of his hands coming up to run through her hair. “I can’t. But I’ll be fighting alongside you tomorrow to try and make sure it happens.”
Her hands have wandered up to grip his shirt, Diavolos leaning in towards her, and she sighs as he kisses her. “Don’t think about it,” he urges her.
“I’ll try.”
Diavolos presses her into the stable wall, his lips hungry on hers, his hands sliding around her waist as he holds her tightly to him. Kenna rises on her toes and wraps her arms around his neck. She likes kissing him, wants to keep kissing him like this.
As worried as she is about tomorrow, about what she might miss out on, she knows he’s right; there’s only so much they can do now. So she gives in to the moment, the feel of Diavolos’ lips on hers, his arms secure around her, and pushes all thoughts of what’s to come out of her mind.