Post by domluvr on Dec 5, 2010 1:28:21 GMT 10
To: My darling, Jess ♥
Message: I was so excited when I found out that I’d get to write for you! I hope you like it.
From: Crystal
Title: Mourn
Rating: R
Wishlist Items: #1 – Raoul, and #4 – deep (I think)
Summary: Raoul mourns.
Note: Special thanks to my beta-girl, Alix! Who came through on like… zero notice.
Raoul lounged in his chamber, waiting for the time to pass. Returning to the fief had seemed like a good idea when he received the news. But now this place seemed rather large and empty. Was it possible that time actually moved slower here?
She’s gone. He had to come to terms with that. It would hurt wherever he was, and he knew as well as anyone the danger of a distracted man on the field.
So he would sit here and reminisce.
Pacing the corridors, he tried to tell himself that he was not avoiding sleep. But the windows showed a dark horizon, giving evidence that he was probably the only one still awake in Goldenlake.
As the stone floor slowly numbed his bare feet, he ran out of internal excuses for roaming the dark halls. Sighing heavily, he felt his way back to his bedchamber.
Pausing in the doorway, he let his eyes adjust to the new light that came from his hearth. Thinking it funny how much heat emitted from dying embers, he gently closed the door behind him. He didn’t want to have to build the fire up again; how would he ever sleep with blazing flames lighting the room? It was not because she always used to build the fire up before retiring for the night.
Crawling into bed, Raoul cocooned himself in the blankets, wriggling his toes to regain feeling in them. Watching the shadows pass along the ceiling, his exhausted mind wandered.
He hated trying to not think of her. In fact, he loved to think about her. To remember her the way she deserved. After all, who really knew her better than him? Although their romantic life together had been cut too short, they had been close friends long before that.
Smiling, he brought to mind a perfect recollection of her face; he could almost feel her lying next to him again. So easily, he could recall what he loved most about her.
Her beautiful strength, her devout independence and sense of duty…
She had pledged her fealty to the Crown; every day willing to lay her own life down. And even though she had been in Tortall for years, he knew there were times where she still felt like a stranger within her own borders.
He even admired her skills as a commander, which ultimately earned her the respect that she had spent her lifetime obtaining.
This was how he wanted to think of her. And if only when he slept, Gainel would bring him those pleasant dreams of her… well, he would opt for eternal rest.
But it never did last.
Eyes burning, he tried to cling to her fading image. His side cooled as he felt her leaving him all over again. The tears escaped down his cheek as he surrendered his focus. He wanted to remember her the way she deserved.
But it was hard to push their last moment from his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he would involuntarily replay the scene over and over.
The well-shot arrow.
Her slipping from her horse.
He could still feel her warm blood soaking through his own tunic as he held her, watching the awareness leave her eyes as he rocked her in his arms.
Rolling over, he buried his face trying to force the image from his mind. He had to think about something, anything else.
“I’ve received an imperial command. My great-aunt Sebilia of Disart orders me to present myself at her house tonight. She and the other local relatives will be there to greet me. They’ll want to know why I’m not married. They’ll have lists of eligible women – not the best of the crop, of course, because I’ve let things go much too long and will have to be happy with those no one else wanted.”
“Why not bring someone?” Kel asked sensibly. “They can’t try to match you up if you bring an eligible female. Not me, though. Not even for you, sir, would I face at your great-aunt’s what I get at my Grandmama’s.”
This startled a bark of laughter out of him. Then his face turned gloomy again. “If I bring a lady of our rank, she might think I mean something by it. I don’t want to hurt someone that way. I may be a ‘feckless gawp of an overage boy,’ Aunt told me once, but I don’t play fast and loose with people.”
“Why not Buri?” she suggested at last.
The memory played through his mind as he finished brushing down Drum. He remembered how Buri had been hesitant to indulge in the drink before the party; that didn’t even last through the first introductive interrogation. He could still see her introducing herself to resentful family members… and he still smelled the wine that played on her breath.
He had fallen in love with her then, he knew.
Did she love him then? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps she had just been trying to help a friend. Or maybe she was simply trying to introduce romance into his unbalanced military life.
Securing the lock on the stable, he couldn’t help but feel as if it didn’t really matter anymore. She had fallen in love with him at some point. That’s what was important.
After extinguishing the candle, Raoul crawled into his bedroll. The men around him were silent; he had to get more sleep tonight. Although his orders were being obeyed, he didn’t miss the quick flashes of worry or the sympathetic glances he was receiving.
Rubbing his temples, he tried to will away the headache that came with sleepless nights. Thoroughly engulfed in his growing depression, Raoul had a strong urge to confide in someone. But he had no one to really talk with, so he settled for curling up in his bedroll, which for once, he didn’t mind was annoyingly too small for him.
He missed talking with her. She was always so easy to talk with, somehow always knowing when to provide opinionated input, and when to quietly listen to him vent.
He wasn’t sure what he missed the most: their intimate moments or their late-night conversations. They had been so much more than lovers. She was his friend, his comrade in arms. It wasn’t often that their duties placed them in the same location, but knowing it never would again… it made his bedroll feel especially empty.
His thoughts reminded him of something Flyn had mentioned once, and the guilt began eating through his stomach like bad meat.
“Did you ever notice how selfish people get when they lose someone they love?” Flyn turned the body over, taking note of the face description to bring back to the town.
Satisfied that this was the missing man the townspeople had reported, Raoul straightened. “Can’t say I have,” he replied. “How do you mean?”
“Grievers… they miss what disrupts their own lives the most. As if one feels worse for their own loss, than the actual loss of the deceased?” Flyn nodded towards the distant town.
“For instance, his wife,” he gestured toward the body, “will grieve her loss of income resulting from his death. She will grieve the loss of a father figure for her children. And she will miss him at night through her own desire for companionship. But she likely won’t grieve on his behalf at all. His loss will go unnoticed.”
Thinking it over, Raoul felt his stomach ease. Of course his life would change. Of course he missed everything he would never share with her. But he knew Flyn was wrong. More than anything, Raoul ached for her loss. Maybe that was the difference between what they had found in each other, and the typical courtship for social survival, or physical desire.
Whatever it was, it was certainly her loss that hurt him the most.
Knowing she would never enjoy another midwinter, which was her favourite night of the year.
Knowing she would never see the tropical climate of Carthak, which she had confessed to be curious about.
Knowing she would never have children. They hadn’t spoken of the possibility, but he knew she would have made an excellent mother. She would never even get the chance. Thinking of all the opportunities that were lost to her, he closed his eyes as his chest grew heavy. It was as if there was a large weight on his chest, making it impossible for him to breathe; the feeling was becoming all too familiar to him.
“Well?” She lay bare before him, cheeks pink, but she otherwise seemed at ease.
Letting his fingers graze up her thigh, he slid his hand between her legs before gently moving it back down to her knee. He really didn’t know why she was shy at all; her legs, toned from riding, were simply stunning. She was stunning.
He answered her with a kiss, pulling her against him. His breath quickened and his loins burned; her heart beat furiously against his chest… or was that his own?
Trailing kisses along her neck, he could feel her hips start to move against his as she pulled at his breeches. A moan escaped her as he moved his hands to her hips, pulling her closer.
He hadn’t known that their first time would be her first time.
Raoul could recall the moment as if it had only just occurred.
Her little gasp of pain when he entered her for the first time…
The series of stifled moans that shortly followed as he brought her new awareness of her own body…
The way her –
“More tea, my Lord?”
Startled back to the present, Raoul glanced down at his full cup of tea, dwarfed by his encompassing hands. “Oh, ah… no thank you.” What was her name again? He never really was around the fief enough to know everyone.
She had always been much better at learning the names of all of the serving staff.
Pouring the tea out, he made his way back to his bedchamber.
The fire blazed; lighting up his bedchamber. The bottle of drink, resting on his desk, reflected the flickering flames. He watched the vivacious reflections, lost in thought.
It would be so easy to drown away the memories. To get temporary relief from the constant aching in his chest. But that drew out a side of him that he was thankful she never had to witness. He knew she would hate to be the cause of him reincarnating the man he hated. And for that reason alone, the bottle of temptation remained sealed.
At one time, that bottle would be the most attractive thing to him in the room; it would call to him like a siren. But no more. Drinks did not make him smile, and could not make his heart skip.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention to his new obsessions.
The precious few remaining griffin feathers that she had given him on their first Midwinter together. The orange feathers caught the light of the flames, the magic in them accentuating the reflective light; they were… almost glowing. As if they were alive… and she was still with him.
The body of the small waving cat she had given him for luck, when they parted ways after she had earned her shield. The head had been lost along the way… damn that thing was fragile. He could still picture its smiling face, though.
Footsteps approached him, and he attempted a weak smile in greeting. But he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the waving cat.
“You loved her,” Buri said gently, taking his hand.
“Of course I do,” he snapped.
“You did,” she corrected quietly. As she pulled her husband’s chin toward her, he managed to tear his gaze away from the cat to look her in the eyes. Bending to kiss her, he didn’t respond.
Message: I was so excited when I found out that I’d get to write for you! I hope you like it.
From: Crystal
Title: Mourn
Rating: R
Wishlist Items: #1 – Raoul, and #4 – deep (I think)
Summary: Raoul mourns.
Note: Special thanks to my beta-girl, Alix! Who came through on like… zero notice.
Raoul lounged in his chamber, waiting for the time to pass. Returning to the fief had seemed like a good idea when he received the news. But now this place seemed rather large and empty. Was it possible that time actually moved slower here?
She’s gone. He had to come to terms with that. It would hurt wherever he was, and he knew as well as anyone the danger of a distracted man on the field.
So he would sit here and reminisce.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Pacing the corridors, he tried to tell himself that he was not avoiding sleep. But the windows showed a dark horizon, giving evidence that he was probably the only one still awake in Goldenlake.
As the stone floor slowly numbed his bare feet, he ran out of internal excuses for roaming the dark halls. Sighing heavily, he felt his way back to his bedchamber.
Pausing in the doorway, he let his eyes adjust to the new light that came from his hearth. Thinking it funny how much heat emitted from dying embers, he gently closed the door behind him. He didn’t want to have to build the fire up again; how would he ever sleep with blazing flames lighting the room? It was not because she always used to build the fire up before retiring for the night.
Crawling into bed, Raoul cocooned himself in the blankets, wriggling his toes to regain feeling in them. Watching the shadows pass along the ceiling, his exhausted mind wandered.
He hated trying to not think of her. In fact, he loved to think about her. To remember her the way she deserved. After all, who really knew her better than him? Although their romantic life together had been cut too short, they had been close friends long before that.
Smiling, he brought to mind a perfect recollection of her face; he could almost feel her lying next to him again. So easily, he could recall what he loved most about her.
Her beautiful strength, her devout independence and sense of duty…
She had pledged her fealty to the Crown; every day willing to lay her own life down. And even though she had been in Tortall for years, he knew there were times where she still felt like a stranger within her own borders.
He even admired her skills as a commander, which ultimately earned her the respect that she had spent her lifetime obtaining.
This was how he wanted to think of her. And if only when he slept, Gainel would bring him those pleasant dreams of her… well, he would opt for eternal rest.
But it never did last.
Eyes burning, he tried to cling to her fading image. His side cooled as he felt her leaving him all over again. The tears escaped down his cheek as he surrendered his focus. He wanted to remember her the way she deserved.
But it was hard to push their last moment from his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he would involuntarily replay the scene over and over.
The well-shot arrow.
Her slipping from her horse.
He could still feel her warm blood soaking through his own tunic as he held her, watching the awareness leave her eyes as he rocked her in his arms.
Rolling over, he buried his face trying to force the image from his mind. He had to think about something, anything else.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
“I’ve received an imperial command. My great-aunt Sebilia of Disart orders me to present myself at her house tonight. She and the other local relatives will be there to greet me. They’ll want to know why I’m not married. They’ll have lists of eligible women – not the best of the crop, of course, because I’ve let things go much too long and will have to be happy with those no one else wanted.”
“Why not bring someone?” Kel asked sensibly. “They can’t try to match you up if you bring an eligible female. Not me, though. Not even for you, sir, would I face at your great-aunt’s what I get at my Grandmama’s.”
This startled a bark of laughter out of him. Then his face turned gloomy again. “If I bring a lady of our rank, she might think I mean something by it. I don’t want to hurt someone that way. I may be a ‘feckless gawp of an overage boy,’ Aunt told me once, but I don’t play fast and loose with people.”
“Why not Buri?” she suggested at last.
The memory played through his mind as he finished brushing down Drum. He remembered how Buri had been hesitant to indulge in the drink before the party; that didn’t even last through the first introductive interrogation. He could still see her introducing herself to resentful family members… and he still smelled the wine that played on her breath.
He had fallen in love with her then, he knew.
Did she love him then? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps she had just been trying to help a friend. Or maybe she was simply trying to introduce romance into his unbalanced military life.
Securing the lock on the stable, he couldn’t help but feel as if it didn’t really matter anymore. She had fallen in love with him at some point. That’s what was important.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
After extinguishing the candle, Raoul crawled into his bedroll. The men around him were silent; he had to get more sleep tonight. Although his orders were being obeyed, he didn’t miss the quick flashes of worry or the sympathetic glances he was receiving.
Rubbing his temples, he tried to will away the headache that came with sleepless nights. Thoroughly engulfed in his growing depression, Raoul had a strong urge to confide in someone. But he had no one to really talk with, so he settled for curling up in his bedroll, which for once, he didn’t mind was annoyingly too small for him.
He missed talking with her. She was always so easy to talk with, somehow always knowing when to provide opinionated input, and when to quietly listen to him vent.
He wasn’t sure what he missed the most: their intimate moments or their late-night conversations. They had been so much more than lovers. She was his friend, his comrade in arms. It wasn’t often that their duties placed them in the same location, but knowing it never would again… it made his bedroll feel especially empty.
His thoughts reminded him of something Flyn had mentioned once, and the guilt began eating through his stomach like bad meat.
“Did you ever notice how selfish people get when they lose someone they love?” Flyn turned the body over, taking note of the face description to bring back to the town.
Satisfied that this was the missing man the townspeople had reported, Raoul straightened. “Can’t say I have,” he replied. “How do you mean?”
“Grievers… they miss what disrupts their own lives the most. As if one feels worse for their own loss, than the actual loss of the deceased?” Flyn nodded towards the distant town.
“For instance, his wife,” he gestured toward the body, “will grieve her loss of income resulting from his death. She will grieve the loss of a father figure for her children. And she will miss him at night through her own desire for companionship. But she likely won’t grieve on his behalf at all. His loss will go unnoticed.”
Thinking it over, Raoul felt his stomach ease. Of course his life would change. Of course he missed everything he would never share with her. But he knew Flyn was wrong. More than anything, Raoul ached for her loss. Maybe that was the difference between what they had found in each other, and the typical courtship for social survival, or physical desire.
Whatever it was, it was certainly her loss that hurt him the most.
Knowing she would never enjoy another midwinter, which was her favourite night of the year.
Knowing she would never see the tropical climate of Carthak, which she had confessed to be curious about.
Knowing she would never have children. They hadn’t spoken of the possibility, but he knew she would have made an excellent mother. She would never even get the chance. Thinking of all the opportunities that were lost to her, he closed his eyes as his chest grew heavy. It was as if there was a large weight on his chest, making it impossible for him to breathe; the feeling was becoming all too familiar to him.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
“Well?” She lay bare before him, cheeks pink, but she otherwise seemed at ease.
Letting his fingers graze up her thigh, he slid his hand between her legs before gently moving it back down to her knee. He really didn’t know why she was shy at all; her legs, toned from riding, were simply stunning. She was stunning.
He answered her with a kiss, pulling her against him. His breath quickened and his loins burned; her heart beat furiously against his chest… or was that his own?
Trailing kisses along her neck, he could feel her hips start to move against his as she pulled at his breeches. A moan escaped her as he moved his hands to her hips, pulling her closer.
He hadn’t known that their first time would be her first time.
Raoul could recall the moment as if it had only just occurred.
Her little gasp of pain when he entered her for the first time…
The series of stifled moans that shortly followed as he brought her new awareness of her own body…
The way her –
“More tea, my Lord?”
Startled back to the present, Raoul glanced down at his full cup of tea, dwarfed by his encompassing hands. “Oh, ah… no thank you.” What was her name again? He never really was around the fief enough to know everyone.
She had always been much better at learning the names of all of the serving staff.
Pouring the tea out, he made his way back to his bedchamber.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
The fire blazed; lighting up his bedchamber. The bottle of drink, resting on his desk, reflected the flickering flames. He watched the vivacious reflections, lost in thought.
It would be so easy to drown away the memories. To get temporary relief from the constant aching in his chest. But that drew out a side of him that he was thankful she never had to witness. He knew she would hate to be the cause of him reincarnating the man he hated. And for that reason alone, the bottle of temptation remained sealed.
At one time, that bottle would be the most attractive thing to him in the room; it would call to him like a siren. But no more. Drinks did not make him smile, and could not make his heart skip.
Shaking his head, he turned his attention to his new obsessions.
The precious few remaining griffin feathers that she had given him on their first Midwinter together. The orange feathers caught the light of the flames, the magic in them accentuating the reflective light; they were… almost glowing. As if they were alive… and she was still with him.
The body of the small waving cat she had given him for luck, when they parted ways after she had earned her shield. The head had been lost along the way… damn that thing was fragile. He could still picture its smiling face, though.
Footsteps approached him, and he attempted a weak smile in greeting. But he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the waving cat.
“You loved her,” Buri said gently, taking his hand.
“Of course I do,” he snapped.
“You did,” she corrected quietly. As she pulled her husband’s chin toward her, he managed to tear his gaze away from the cat to look her in the eyes. Bending to kiss her, he didn’t respond.