Lord of the Sun Clothed in Flame and Fury (sunlord) wrote in faeparties, @ 2014-07-23 13:25:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, *gardens, aelius, winter |
Who: Aelius and Winter
What: Discussing feelings
Where: The gardens
When: Truth plot
Warnings: FEELINGS EVERYWHERE
They met at the entrance to the gardens, and Aelius took her hand, lacing their fingers together to hide his own nervous jitters. He brushed a light kiss over her knuckles and gave her a smile, his skin shimmering with light and heat. “Don’t give me that look,” he said softly, tugging her close to kiss her cheek. Drawing back, he led her into the gardens, weaving through the paths to find some place secluded. Eventually, they came to a garden separated from the others by a high wall, and a thrill of excitement and alarm went through him. There was only one garden walled off from all the others. “Here.” He spoke quietly as he pushed the door to the garden open, as though afraid of disturbing the air. All around them was a still, quiet sort of vitality. An energy that didn’t pulse or vibrate or move but was undeniably present, like the breath one held in the moment before creation. Inside the wall, the garden was lustrous and impossible. Its angles were symphonic harmonies of color, its curves the sweetest caresses stroking down his spine. He led her to a patch of what humans might have described as grass by something they may have called a stream. As he sat, a garden bench sprouted beneath them both, wrought from priceless filigree that smelled of rich incense. “I…” Now that they were there, in the Queen’s gardens, words were failing him. The Queen’s gardens were a mystery to her. They weren’t a portion of the palace to be stumbled upon, especially by the unseelie, and Winter was never one to take leisurely strolls out. Then again, she was doing much recently that she normally wouldn’t have. The recent gift that the King had bestowed upon them had kept Winter talking as sparingly as she could. And when she couldn’t keep her thoughts to herself, for the magic was simply too powerful, she had hidden herself away. But Aelius had asked for her, and she was finding it harder and harder to resist his gentle entreaties, so she came to the garden with him, and still held his hand as she sat beside him. “You said it was important?” The tension amongst the revelers, the food from the King aside, was clear. The feast was starting to wind down and soon they would be calling the evening over and returning to their lives. She supposed this talk of his might have something to do with that. She ran her thumb in idle circles over his hand as she waited. The garden soothed her in equal turn, warmth seeping into her bones, the quiet melody of colors tickling the nape of her neck. She was still anxious about what Aelius had to say, that much was clear, but the garden, or perhaps the queen, was helping. He didn’t know how to tell her, and that frustrated him. It should be easy to say three little words, but he was, ultimately, terrified that she would reject him one final, awful time. If he misspoke, if he said too much or too little, he could ruin everything. And he didn’t want to ruin everything. He wanted forever. But she might not. She might laugh at him. Or she might be terrified of the commitment he wanted and simply flee. She might kill him for a perceived slight. Or she could do something even worse, like freeze his insides and leave him for the Queen to find in her garden. Who knew what would happen to him then; the Queen might be giving them this space for the moment, but overstaying one’s welcome was never wise. Taking a long, slow breath, he turned to Winter, still holding her hand. He wanted to run his fingers along her cheek and through her hair, but he didn’t dare. “I’ve been pursuing you for seven hundred years.” His words were quiet, almost drowned out by the strange music of the impossible garden. “And for much of that time, it was because you were a challenge. At least, it was until I realized that my only solace comes from your touch.” Even as he spoke, the chill of her touch crept into his skin. A mortal might find that icy bite deadly, but he found it a relief. A balm on whatever fae had that was like a soul. “I came to crave you. But the craving died away and left something else in its wake. This… this seems the most appropriate time to tell you that I love you, because now you know it’s not a lie, and I can tell you honestly that there is no ulterior motive in my saying it.” He closed his eyes, afraid to see her face. “Everything I am cherishes everything you are.” Every word he said gave weight to the tension swirling around them. She thought she could follow where he was going, and as they crept closer to some revelation, she grew more and more still. But even as the words left his lips, she was surprised, her eyes wide and a soft chill wind picking up from the warm summer air and blowing her dark hair over her shoulder. “I... I don’t know what it is I feel.” The King’s magic ensured that she was honest, and for once it also ensured she didn’t her confusion and worry behind a sharp temper. There was a trace of fire then, the burn of the coldest of ice trying to hang to her words, but it didn’t have the heat now that she was being honest. All that fell from her lips was truth, and fear. “I know lust, Aelius. Desire. Fury. Bloodthirst. These things I understand perfectly. But this?” She looked away, unsure. “How did you know? How do you know? When did it change?” A beat passed, the harmonious air of the garden sending a prickle of sensation down her spine, a flutter of nervousness in her stomach. “What is it like?” He could manage her confusion. Confusion wasn’t outright rejection or rage, it wasn’t temper and awful, awful cold. His fingers brushed along the back of her hand in little caresses, gentle strokes meant to offer comfort. “It’s hard to explain, and I am no mortal poet who is rich with words.” He’d always prided himself on passion. It was passion that had swayed the Queen to end the Hunts and passion that kept him a perennial favorite. Passion made him vibrant and bright. But it did not make him particularly eloquent. “I’m not sure when it changed, but it… it did. Perhaps more recently. Perhaps sooner, but I simply didn’t realize.” He tapped his chest with a finger. “The idea of being without you leaves me feeling hollow here, and sick in my stomach. It makes me feel… weak. Mortal, even. When I imagine my life without you in it, it seems less. Like the sun seen through fog or snow that melts as soon as it touches the ground. Without you, everything is shallow and superficial, facsimile instead of reality. I find I want to share things with you. Little things.” A wry grin turned up the corner of his lips. “Inane thoughts and profound ones. I think, if I didn’t love you, the thought of being without you wouldn’t leave me feeling starved for air.” It was wholly romantic, and if Winter was the type, she would have swoon. In truth, she was quite close. But it was a thin line she was teetering on, and though she wanted to fall headlong into everything he said, there was still so much that held her back. “That frightens me.” The words fell from her lips before she could stop them, the fear, the worry, all knit so tightly into three little words. “I feel…” She thought of what he said and tried to imagine a life without him. She thought of her rooms in the unseelie palace and returning to them without him, and the agony etched itself across her fine features. “I feel the same way.” There was a moment of relief, the truth lifting the weight off of her, the iciness of the frost maiden melting away and a warm smile broke through the chill. A small but lovely flower breaking through the snow. Then her brow furrowed. “But does it not frighten you?” Her emotions continued to war within her, fear and longing nearly making her tremble. Her back, ramrod straight, wouldn’t relax now even with the soothing of the garden. “That you, who had been fine and strong on your own are now lacking? That another could fell you so deftly? That now you are less than you were once before?” “It did frighten me.” He lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. She was so tense, but he didn’t dare wrap an arm around her. Instead, he shifted closer to her and rubbed his fingers lightly over her hand, offering comfort without invading her space. He didn’t want her to feel like she was under attack. “But then I realized it’s not being less, it’s becoming more.” A smile flitted across his face. “It’s change. Mortals say that change is frightening, and they change all the time. It was, I imagine, even more frightening to me. But I’ve come to terms with it.” Then he did lean toward her, still smiling, though now the expression was playful. “You make me stronger than I was, snowflake. By myself, I’m just the heat of the sun. With you, I’m also the chill of winter. You make me more.” The smile, at least, was soothing, and hers grew warmer, the corners of her mouth rising her in time with the sardonic lift of her brow. “Have you gained control over my dominion and I not noticed? Will I be able to melt a mortal until he’s nothing but ash soon?” The hand that was in his turned as she laced their fingers together, her eyes downcast as she stared at their interlocked hands. “Are we truly more than before? Perhaps it’s easy for you. This is a victory in your conquest. This is a weakness in my armor. A turning point for my enemies.” He blinked, momentarily blindsided by her words. She thought fae would take advantage of her for this? “It’s hardly that,” he replied dryly, squeezing her hand. “If fae want to attack me to hurt you, I’ll destroy them.” He was old enough and powerful enough that few could stand against him. “And if others think you’re weak for loving me, you’ll freeze their hearts or lungs or encase them in ice, and then everyone will remember why they fear you.” Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her mouth. It was warm and gentle and made no demands and offered no expectations. “We make each other stronger, Winter. You have the sun at your beck and call, and I hope that, should I need it, you would bring your chill winds to my defense.” She smiled against his mouth, a motion that was quickly becoming second nature when she was with him. Their entwined hands in her lap, she lifted the other to brush his temple and drift across his cheek. Her kisses were hungry, needy, soaking up his affection like a flower starved for the sun, when she pulled away her nose brushed his as she locked their gazes. “You speak of defenses as if you would need them. You’ll never let me kill anyone for you and we both know it.” She gave him mocking sigh but her amusement still curved her lips against his mouth. He was right, and she could concede to it, and there wasn’t much room for arguments now. |