Beneath the View of Lord and Lady, Sun Sword, Valedan/Diora, strength
Her beauty cannot be contaminated by physical imperfection; Valedan has seen Diora's shame in the scar that caresses her palm, and her pride. As her proud husband, he hides his smile when she appears before unruly Tyran, his broken and remade Ospreys, who honor her scars more than her perfection.
As Tyr'agar, he holds out his arm, waiting for her to settle her hand upon it, so she can conceal it before the Dominion and beneath the Lord. Valedan admits he needs to touch her and that the Southerners who know him not will claim it a weakness. But he learned of the heart in the North and fortitude is Valedan's strength.
Sometimes he sleeps alone; the waters of Justice bubbling over, whispering secrets that never leave the harem's heart. Sometimes she arrives during the Lady's hours, joining him, gaining trust each night he leaves her untouched.
Some nights Valedan asks her to leave; the third such time, Diora returns moments later, Teyla en'Leonne sleepy and confused yet willing to touch their husband. Valedan recoils, but Diora steps into the shadows, whispering words only their husband can hear. If she cannot provide one way, she will provide in another.
He acquiesces and Diora watches him part the uncommon silk that adorns their common wife. Teyla trembles as calloused fingers glide across her pale skin, gasping as they slide lower, finding heat between her legs, her body arching into his touch as she reaches for him, drawing him closer. Lips meet, her breathy moans swallowed by his kisses. She paws at his clothing and Valedan laughs, then helps her.
Diora watches their careful lovemaking in silence, unconsciously noting the things he prefers.
Is there a rhythm for life? For love? Eventually she refuses when he asks her to leave. Instead she rests palms, one scarred and one perfect, against his shoulders and he leans back, motionless beneath her bold fingers. She undoes buttons and does not hesitate. It may have been years since Diora's provided this, but she's never forgotten. He lets her lead and Diora smiles, content that his strength isn't threatened by her actions.
Clothing aside, Diora cannot stop smiling as she kisses his chest, reveling each time his breath catches, noticing each time his hands curl into fists as her hair brushes against his skin. She stands and catches her breath, hiding laughter, as he whispers a protest. Until her sari falls to the ground in a pile of yellow silk and Diora is barely hidden by unbound hair.
Ivory skin enfolds him as she kneels above his body and Valedan asks--asks--for permission to touch her.
Sword to sheathe, they are separate no longer. He holds her hair aside; its black length, the opposite of sun, curling around his tan forearm. They are more than kai Leonne and Flower. Valedan does not see a conquest when he looks at her.
"Diora," he whispers, voice broken and humble. Pulling her closer, he presses his mouth to her forehead, her nose, and her lips. Her breasts rest beneath his palms and Valedan rubs thumbs across the sensitive skin, astonished when she whimpers.
Each touch makes her tremble; each kiss undoes the steel in her frame until her heart is pressed against his. Valedan wraps arms around her torso and rolls them over, sliding in and out of her, tilting his hips until Diora cannot remain silent.
He rejoices each time he pushes inside, kissing her throat with each breathy moan until Diora arches back, her narrow neck exposed. Teeth against her collarbone, Valedan moves quicker, tumbling over the edge moments after his wife.
They remain unclothed after catching their breath; Valedan kneels in front of Justice, cupped hands catching the pure water to rinse the sweat from their bodies. Finished, he kisses her scarred palm then returns to bed, arms held wide until she joins him, content to sleep in his protective embrace.