All of These Lines

Summary: Kind of a hurt/comfort piece about Diavolos and his scars that turned more emotional than I intended. These two. They do what they want. 🙂

Almost immediately after their wedding, Diavolos returns to Abanthus. There has, unsurprisingly, been some fallout in the aftermath of Luther’s demise, especially with the knowledge that it was done by Diavolos’ own hand. Most of Abanthus seems to support Diavolos, and his marriage to Kenna, but Luther had angry, outspoken supporters who are outraged that Diavolos would choose to protect anyone over his own father and the Nevrakis name.

Diavolos teases Kenna lightly about her concern for his safety as he prepares to leave. “Kenna, my love, I have been in a few battles before. Survived a war? I’ll be fine.”

Kenna frowns as he leans in and kisses her. “Yes, well, I’d prefer if my husband returned without any injuries or additional scars this trip.”

Diavolos raises an eyebrow and smirks. “I thought you liked my scars.”

“I do,” Kenna answers, flushing as memories of the previous night flood her mind.

Diavolos is ticklish, which had amused her to no end as she straddled him and kissed and touched her way across his skin, playfully smacking his hand away whenever he tried to touch her. 

“Kenna,” he said warningly. 

She ignored him, pressing her lips to a scar on his left shoulder. “What’s this one from?”

“I’m not going to tell you,” Diavolos said in mock annoyance. “Not until I can touch you.”

Kenna merely raised an eyebrow and slowly moved off of him, grinning at the groan that escaped his throat as she slid over his hips. “Hmm. It’s late, and I’m tired-“

She shrieked as Diavolos picked her up easily and settled her back on his lap, her legs on either side of his. 

Sighing loudly, Diavolos relented. “Fine. I was….20, I think. We’d gone to Ducitora. They’d just started using those damn Iron Claws they’re so fond of. I was so focused on those that a soldier almost managed to get the drop on me with his sword.”

He smiled wryly. “I thought Father was going to kill me.”

Kenna traced the scar with her fingertip, her touch simultaneously soothing and arousing him as he settled his hands on her hips. Her gaze flickered to his fingers, pushing up her nightgown and lightly rubbing the skin over her left hip, but she didn’t push his hands away this time. 

She pressed her lips to the scar near his left clavicle. “And this one?”

“Mmm…I was 25. Azura had sent troops to Lykos…”

He stopped, distracted by her hands sliding down to his hips, tongue flicking against his clavicle. Kenna stilled her movements and sat up, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Diavolos groaned. “You’re killing me here, Kenna.”

She grinned wickedly as she ground her hips into his and he bucked up into her. 

“Continue the story,” she whispered in his ear. 

She made her way across his body, her lips and hands finding and caressing almost every mark and line as he told her the stories behind them. Nearly all of them are from battles, though one is from a fight with Marco (“You should have seen him afterwards,” Diavolos had remarked) and one is from running into the sharp edge of a table when he was young. 

There was a jagged scar just below his right rib cage that made his face go dark when she touched it. “It’s just from another battle against Ducitora,” he said tightly. Something about the look on his face made her not press him for more, though it was apparent the scar held some particularly bad memories. 

Instead, she lightly kissed her way across the faded white mark and whispered, “Okay.”

He rolled her over suddenly, grinning at her as he kissed down her chest and she arched underneath him. “My turn.”

“Just…try not to get stabbed or beaten?” Kenna says as Diavolos readies Hector’s Shadow. 

Diavolos’ face softens slightly with affection. “I’ll try.”

He presses a lingering kiss to her lips, grinning at her. “I love you. I should be back in a couple weeks.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Kenna is nearly asleep when Diavolos quietly enters their chambers, shedding his clothing and sliding in beside her. She rolls into him automatically, pressing a kiss to his bare chest and sliding her leg over his.

“Mmm,” she hums happily. “You’re back.” She runs her hand over his bare skin, aching to feel him after so many days apart. She frowns at his wince when she touches a spot on his lower abdomen.

“What happened?” she asks, a hint of worry creeping in to her voice.

Diavolos presses a kiss to the side of her hair, sighing. “We got ambushed on the way back.”

“What? By who?”

She crawls out of bed and lights a lantern, returning and running gentle fingers over him, assessing his injuries.

“Some of Father’s supporters. They were lying in wait just off of the trail. Spooked Hector’s Shadow and he threw me,” Diavolos explains, gritting his teeth as Kenna lightly touches the bruise forming on his left side.

“Sorry,” she murmurs. She brushes her hand over a cut on his forehead. “We should have the healer look at you.”

“In the morning,” Diavolos replies.

Kenna goes to protest, but Diavolos tugs her back down to lay across his chest. “Right now I just want to lay in my bed next to my wife.”

His hand draws circles across her lower back, then slides lower to run over her thigh.

“Diavolos…” Kenna says. She can feel him smirk against her.

“What?” he asks innocently. She covers his hand with hers and tugs it back up.

Diavolos pulls his hand away and runs it down her side, just brushing her hip bone, and she gives him a warning look. “Fine,” he relents, moving his arm up to wrap loosely around her waist.

The steady rise and fall of his chest is soothing under her cheek as Kenna closes her eyes, but she can tell he’s nowhere near sleep and wonders if he’s hurting more than he’s letting on. She lifts her head to find him looking at her.

“Do you want to know where that scar on my rib cage is from?” Diavolos’ voice is quiet and carefully controlled.

She runs her hand down to gently touch the scar in question as she waits for him to speak.

Diavolos looks up at the ceiling, though his arm stays wrapped around her.

“We’d been on the coast in Abanthus, battling troops from Ducitora. Azura sent more troops to ambush Lykos almost immediately after we returned,” Diavolos begins.

“We had no time to rest, to prepare, to treat any of our wounded. We were back in battle immediately.”

Diavolos turns to look at her, his hand drifting down to the scar, brushing his fingers over hers. She takes his hand, squeezing lightly.

“They knew who we were – me. Baltair Seoras. Singled us out. It was an onslaught.”

Kenna slides her hand up to run through his hair, scratching her fingers lightly against his scalp. She’s known that Diavolos didn’t have a happy upbringing, that almost his whole life had been about this war against the Iron Empire, but somehow, hearing it coming right from him made her ache for him even more.

Diavolos continues. “One of the soldiers caught me off guard and had his sword in me before I knew he was even coming after me. Baltair and Seoras were…hells, I don’t know. Distracted, maybe. Exhausted. They didn’t even have a second to try and defend themselves.”

His eyes are regretful and sad as he pulls her close, blinking rapidly. “I’m lucky I didn’t die. Some of our troops managed to get me back to the castle. But Baltair and Seoras died before anyone even got to them.”

“Oh, Diavolos,” Kenna murmurs. She wishes she could do something, say something, to soothe the hurt she knows he feels. But she knows, from her mother and Gabriel and Leon, that one never really gets over watching a loved one die, especially in such a violent manner. So she settles for wrapping an arm around him and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth.

“I’m sorry about your brothers,” she whispers against his lips.

Diavolos threads his fingers into her hair. “Me too.”

“I love you, you know that?” Kenna tells him.

“I know,” he responds, kissing her deeply as he tugs gently at her hair to pull her in closer, smiling against her.

“But you’d better say it again for good measure.” The wounded look on his face is slowly replaced by that smug grin she’ll never admit she loves.

She shakes her head at him in amusement, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs, kissing her once more. “Well. I think that’s enough story-telling for tonight.”

He nudges her down to settle against his chest, wrapping his arm around her. “Good night, my love.”

Gods, this man. She wonders, sometimes, how he managed to turn out the way he did, with everything he’d seen and gone through. His mother assassinated, fighting in battles at thirteen, dealing with Luther and Marco and Zenobia, watching his brothers die right in front of him…

“Kenna. Stop thinking so much. Go to sleep,” Diavolos says sleepily.

“Yes, Diavolos,” Kenna says teasingly. He pokes her side lightly, and she smiles as she curls into him and closes her eyes.