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 Posted: Thu Dec 03, 2009 12:08 am
I daydreamed this up after I had my country singer by day/vampire aristocrat by night dream, felt like writing it out, and decided to post it here because I really have nowhere else to put it. XD
The latest ball was over, at least for the couple now alighting from the carriage. She was usually the first to leave no matter when she made her exit, and she amused herself now and again by leaving hosts and guests alike guessing as to the reason she would leave a particular gathering insultingly early or stay unreasonably long. Tonight - or rather this morning - had been one of the latter.
She laid a gloved hand lightly into the one held out by her consort and held the furred collar of her cloak close about her neck as she stepped down onto the paving stones that lined the courtyard. Snow had been falling steadily all the night as it did over half the nights out of the year on this lonely mountaintop, but a wide path had been kept as clear and dry as brooms and cloths wielded by terrified servants could keep it, so that Her Ladyship's glittering ball gown should not be sullied with gritty snowmelt as she came home. No nervous forms were in evidence at the moment per her preferences. She loved surrounding herself with lovely things, as her clothing and castle and consort could bear witness, and sweaty servants with racing heartbeats and tensed muscles were an offense to half her senses.
The elegant male now escorting her at a leisurely pace through the courtyard and to the entryway was not only a decorative companion but a very efficient steward as well. Having received declarations that he found his happiness in guarding and adding to hers as she would allow him, she had promptly handed off her steward and head maid to his superintendence and since then had managed her household through her consort alone. She freely admitted to herself and sometimes even to him, that he was without fault in how he attended to her desires. No small task, as even she could not keep up with her own whims and fancies at times.
All her little preferences were catered to, of course. He kept the castle running efficiently and managed to keep the servants out of her sight no matter how she wandered about. Her personal maids were as devoid of heat and heartbeat as she herself was, all personally chosen by him although she turned them herself to retain control. Every last inch of her domain had been improved as needed, with his judgment oft-times proving more in keeping with her tastes than her own original choices in material or working had been. One suite of rooms had been entirely re-done in nothing but white and crystals despite her insistence that she enjoyed at least some splashes of vivid color in her apartments, and they were now her favorite rooms. She loved being the only "splash of color" in the otherwise snowy space, so much so that she forgave the hint of smugness that entered into his smiles whenever he was allowed to visit her there. He knew when she would delight in having a new selection of jeweled flowers displayed in her windows, he knew what music would soothe or amuse her when she needed such a distraction, and best of all, he almost always knew when to leave her alone.
She really couldn't do without him, and he knew it, but the only person she loved was her own self, and he knew that as well. He had been her consort for centuries but never once her bedmate, and even now as they walked alone through the main hallway of the first floor, she only kept her fingertips lightly upon the wrist he held up for her, rather like a bird of prey in the middle of daintily setting down upon a falconer's arm. She had no physical need of his arm, and there was no one about to remark upon any lack of contact between two beings supposedly so very much attached to one another, but the continuation of the contact was not a sign of affection. It seemed rather that the light touch was maintained to remind him that this minimal contact was the maximum allowed.
Under other eyes, she was more demonstrative. A jewel was best shown off worn close to the heart, and so she kept this most prized treasure on a close chain. She nestled up to him, required his arm, sought his eyes sometimes even when speaking to another, gave him the lion's share of her smiles and only allowed him the freedom to address, approach and touch her without any sign of consent first received. Almost everyone was fooled. He was not.
There was another, too. Her treasure came with a bauble attached, in the form of a green-eyed, black-furred were-woman who loved him to distraction and hated his Lady with a truly impressive passion. The were-woman lived in a manor allotted to him on the very same land upon which the castle stood, was granted an income and free run of the grounds, and there was even a standing invitation to visit the castle itself at any time. All this unparalleled generosity and condescension were as maddening coals laid atop already hell-hot fires of jealousy, and it amused Her Ladyship to no end. Even tonight, the were-woman had followed them uninvited to the ball and prowled outside the host family's keep. Her Ladyship had sent a servant out at regular intervals to offer such comforts as hot milk and meat, and a cushion by the fire in the kitchen. Eventually one of the servants failed to return, and the next one to be sent cringingly out found - to their relief - no infuriated were-woman and instead - to their dismay - shreds of flesh and shards of bone lying amidst crimson patches blooming in the snow.
He loved the were-woman, worshipped his Lady, silently watched his Lady tease his woman, and had to watch out for his woman constantly attempting to slay his Lady. He never presumed that his Lady actually required his protection and vigilance, and in fact he had never yet had to intervene in one of the assassination attempts either, for which he was quietly grateful. Deeply though his woman loved him, she did not exclude him from her jealous rages through fear of losing him. His woman was passionate through and through and wore her heart on her sleeve for him to see at all times. What thoughts passed through his woman's head also fell off her lips despite that she knew he would not conceal anything from his Lady. He spoke against the were-woman's actions but had never forbidden her anything as if knowing that the only result would be to hurt and not dissuade. Seeing his Lady enjoy playing cat to his woman's mouse and finding that Her Ladyship never once mentioned his woman's murderous intentions to him directly, he did not consider sending the were-woman away either. It was apparent that his Lady enjoyed having the were-woman around, and his unease and torn feelings were of no moment. He never voiced the conflict he felt, only trying to be ever-vigilant, fearful of a moment when inattention or overlapping coincidences might allow harm to come to his goddess through his lover.
Her Ladyship kept him at arm's length, but on the other hand always kept him within reach, and he was content though never satisfied with being the only one whom she acted as if she loved. His wish was to be her consort in true, despite how it would wreak havoc with the were-woman, but knew that she neither needed nor desired any such partner of flesh or heart. There were other considerations, however.
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Posted: Thu Dec 03, 2009 12:11 am
He tipped his head to look at her as they walked, allowing himself a long moment in which to drink in the sight of her. This, at least, was one pleasure he never tired of through the long years. The main hallway cut straight through the castle, a wide corridor lined on both sides by archways and columns. The rooms and other hallways beyond the columns were shrouded in curtains and cloudy night, and so dark that they seemed to repel the faint light cast by the small candles that hung in each archway. More candles burned in dainty crystal globes along the center of the hallway ceiling, adding light. The effect was almost as if they walked a trail of golden-glowing marble in the depths of space, with nothing at all beyond the boundaries of the candlelight. She was in white tonight, embroidered with silver and encrusted with pearls, slashed and beribboned in midnight blue. Dark hair tumbled down from an elaborately braided and diamond-pinned crown into a white fur collar, and the deep blue folds of her cloak spilled away from her shoulders, trailing behind her along the marble floor. More silver thread chased itself down the cloak in elaborate vines. In the candlelight reflecting off of the white marble all about them with the velvety darkness, she seemed to him like one of her favorite diamonds, but infinitely more rare and precious.
He curled his fingers just a bit as if he could not help himself from wanting to hold her hand more fully, and she glanced over with raised eyebrows and an expectant smile. Well, and what is it? her gaze seemed to ask.
"The whispers continue at your lack of an heir," he began, no preamble necessary to a conversation they'd had countless times.
"I need no one to claim what I will always be able to enjoy myself," she responded, her voice as reasonable and patient as if they had no trod this conversational ground before. She needed only but to tell him never to mention such a thing to her again and he would obey, but she never did. He took it to mean that it amused her to keep him hoping that she might one day acquiesce though she never would, but he hoped anyway.
"Other families have spread their influence through the marriages of their children."
"They are all united against me already yet fear to even exclude me from a ball. Which family do you feel is worthy of alliance with me?"
"A single target is ever more tempting than a group, let that one be ever so powerful. Children would increase your base of power and the security of your place."
She gave a soft laugh at that and shook her head, softly curling tendrils of hair bouncing about her face and catching in the diamonds that hung at her ears.
"Only if I could be certain that my children would grow up entirely unlike their mother. I thank you for your care, but I will not add a child to my household this coming summer." And with that, the subject of an heir was closed for a couple of months. Sometimes, if he had chosen her moods wrong, she would shut him off from speaking of the matter for two seasons or an entire year at a time. Tonight, however, she was in a permissive mood, and before many more footsteps had echoed down the hall, she cut her eyes to him once more expectantly, knowing that he had more to say.
"There is another way in which I am not fulfilling my formal duties," he noted, and gambling upon her high spirits, shifted his hand higher along her fingers and clasped her hand in full. She took one more slow step and then stopped, tilting her head slightly to look up at him more fully.
“I believe there is,” she returned.
Her simple, short acknowledgment was unusual and gave him pause. He had been expecting more bantering refusals to hear him and perhaps some rebuke at his persistence over the centuries in wishing to bed her despite her original and unchanging intention of only having an “accessory” consort. After a moment he revisited old arguments and she continued to answer him in the briefest of acknowledgments.
“I am your Consort, after all.”
“You are.”
“If I fail to please you, you might simply send me away.”
“I might.”
“There is hardly any pleasure you deny yourself, so why this?”
“Indeed.”
“I know that it is not fear of betrayal or double dealings which makes you bar your bedchambers to me.”
“I am glad.”
And so on.
She let him go on and on, and he actually ran out of suggestions and remarks, which he had never had the opportunity to do before. He stood silent, still lightly grasping her hand and looking down at her in puzzlement. That small smile was upon her face still, and then it widened as she slowly and deliberately curled her hand so that where before he had simply been holding on to her hand, their hands were now clasped together. The look upon her face was both predatory and full of promise, and he suddenly felt dizzy as if she were using a charm upon him instead of just charm.
Without knowing what he did, he took one step nearer to her, bringing their joined hands to his chest and reaching for her waist with his free hand. Her dark eyes were aglitter with candlelight and something else – excitement? lust? – and he could not look away. If he had a heartbeat it would have been racing wildly, or perhaps even burst his heart entirely. If he had need for air he would not have been able to breathe. He felt rather than saw her unclaimed fingers slide up his arm as he bent his head to hers, trying to capture in his memory the sensation of being so close to her upturned face that what with air currents and hair and stolen warmth, he could feel her on his skin although their lips had not yet touched. As if to crown this dizzying experience with another layer of unreality, she dropped her gaze shyly, and under his wondering gaze, curled her lips into a small, sweet smile utterly unlike the wolfish expression of before.
And yet during this impossible, enchanting moment, he could not help wondering in the back of his mind, what she was playing at now.
She tilted her head slightly to nuzzle at him, lips brushing ever so lightly against his, and even that last vestige of thought fled from him.
His arm tightened about her waist to bring her that last remaining hair’s breadth closer and in an instant the early morning exploded in noise and chaos. The light touch of her fingers upon his arm disappeared as his jaw and throat were suddenly gripped crushingly hard and he was whirled around so that their relative positions in the hallway were reversed. A sharp blow to the back arrested his flight so suddenly that he was stopped before he could fully realize that he’d been moved. He thought distantly at first that she had thrown him through the air to fetch up against one of the pillars, but as he tried to blink away the confusion he realized that he could still feel her fingers at his jaw, now holding him up as his knees had given way.
Small wonder, with an enchanted blade skewering him back to front and leeching away the blood it had spilled.
Held upright by the throat as he was, he could not look down, but he hardly needed to verify with his eyes that there was a dead black blade protruding from his torso, with the drips and streaks of dark blood decorating it disappearing swiftly as the short sword soaked them up like thirsty ground receiving the season’s first rain. The draining sensation centered in his chest told all to one familiar with the manner in which this particular weapon worked, and if that had not been enough, the shrieks of horror and rage coming from behind him would have provided enough of a clue to illuminate the truth.
His Lady was the cat. His woman was the mouse. And unfortunately, for this latest game, he had apparently been the bit of cheese in the mousetrap.
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