Post by saphiraaiedail on Apr 7, 2011 15:58:55 GMT 10
Title: My Lover
Rating:PG 13
Word Count:1,473
Pairing: A/R
Round/Fight: 1/G
Summary:Gazing into her amethyst eyes, her copper hair spread over his pillows he wondered how they had ended up like this. (Warning: Mild sexuality and they try to kill each other)
Duke Roger of Conte leaned over to brush long strands of copper hair back off his loves face. Leaving his fingers on her soft skin he began to caress her cheek, smiling when she snuggled closer to him. Inhaling her scent he leaned down and kissed her softly, firm enough to awaken her. Her eyelids fluttered and she sighed happily. Slowly her eyes opened and she looked straight into his eyes, a light in hers slowly igniting.
Alanna smiled softly and leaned forward for another kiss, which Roger gladly granted with passion. Gazing into her amethyst eyes, her copper hair spread over his pillows he wondered how they had ended up like this.
Duke Roger sighed as he rolled out of bed. Finally sick of restless dreams and nights without sweet dreams he replaced his clothes and opened his door. Closing it with a snap of his fingers he doubled the power on the locks before wandering aimlessly down the halls, deep in thought his feet carrying him where they will.
They few servants he passed wearily watched him and as they thought he was out of earshot began to whisper about him.
He had long ago learnt to ignore the whispers of fools; they were below him, though if they continued with their murmurs they would have to be subtly silenced.
He didn’t need any more rumours turning the people against him, more than they already were. It was all that she-demons fault, he thought bitterly. If that-that thing...hadn’t slain him.....
Licking his lips he imagined what he would do to her when he claimed the Tortallan Throne. And almost shivered in delight as he imagined her screams echoing off the dungeon walls and ricocheting into the night where her friends could hear everything he was doing to her and be helpless.
Hearing the clang of weapons he frowned, lately his mind had been playing tricks on him. In every reflection he saw lavender and crimson, every voice was hers and during his dreams he saw her blade being thrust through his chest, the fierce look in her eyes as he slowly fell forward to her feet.
Shaking his head Roger leaned a palm against the wall and looked about him. He blinked; he had only been into this wing of the palace once, when he had got lost after a drunken night. It was mainly used as storage; most of the rooms were coated in layers of dust and very few people apart from servants ventured here. Good, Roger thought, he had found a place to think in silence.
The clash of weapons happened again and Roger blinked, nobody was supposed to be here. Straightening off the wall he followed the sounds until he came to a semi-open door. Peering inside he froze in shock, Alanna The Lioness was furiously attacking a spinning dummy, with blades struck out of it in various angles and lengths. Purple lights shone above the training figure, refracting off the mirrors lining the room, giving light to the darkness. Moistening his lips Roger though this the opportune moment and took a moment to praise the goods, an action he very rarely partook in.
Walking in behind her he soundproofed the room before slamming the doors shut. The Lioness spun around to him, her sword flashing at the intruder. Her eyes widened as she saw him, and she swiftly stepped away from the slowing dummy, eyeing him cautiously.
Roger took a moment to think, he had a dagger hidden in his sleeve, a precaution he had unconsciously thought to bring. But how was he to get close to her?
Looking around the room he saw a pile of staffs on the floor and smiled, She tensed when he walked over to them and picked one up. Testing its weight he nodded before picking another, heavier one and tossing it to her. She caught it easily, still tensely watching him. Removing his shoes and his coat he tossed them aside and took a defensive stance.
Surprise flashed in her eyes before she lowered her sword and kicked it across the floor towards the dummy. Spinning the staff she slunk forward and took a mirrored stance. “So be it,” he whispered huskily.
The Lioness nodded and then blocked his furious attack. He had been practising, taught in secret by Alex, ever since he had arisen to walk the lands of the living once more. She had mastered him once, he was arrogant and unprepared, now though, that would not happen again, this time he was ready. This time, She would die.
Parry thrust block, spin and side step they danced their way to exhaustion. Several times Roger caught himself looking at the sweat on her chest before forcefully directing his gaze elsewhere.
As he spun around to block a well timed blow at his side he couldn’t help but marvel at the movement she was gifted with. She seemed to flow from one effortless move to another, the only sigh of fatigue her increased breathing and the sweat on her tunic.
Panting heavily he decided he needed to end this quickly. Stepping forward he struck down towards her hips and across. She blocked him easily and barely flinched when he pressed his weight into his staff, trying to force her back.
For the first time he saw something other than the steady burn in her eyes, they began to spark. It became a battle of strength and stamina as she inched forward to keep her staff from pointing down in fatigue.
Their eyes were locked as the staffs rose and fell in a silent battle each was determined to win. Growing desperate the Duke suddenly released pressure on her staff and used his right hand to ram his elbow into her face.
She sidestepped seconds before the bone would have collided with her face, as it was his staff snapped up and struck her across the mouth. She cried out softly as the pain hit her and took a step back as her eyes began to water furiously.
Deciding to press his advantage the Duke withdrew his hidden blade from his sleeve and advanced on her as she hurriedly blinked tears from her eyes.
Raising the dagger to plunge into her side he was frozen in a vice like grip and his arm began to angle towards his own precious flesh. Gritting his teeth he silently vowed this would be the last time a blade connected to her would pierce his skin.
Blood began to pool on her lips and dribble down her chin, a steady flow of crimson. Their bodies were pressed against each other and the blade was held steadily upright, each warrior realising the foolishness of letting the other angle the blade towards their stomach. A small snake crept down her neck and into her tunic and the Duke couldn’t contain himself.
Leaning forward, careful to avoid the sharp dagger, he pressed his lips onto hers. She tensed as he sucked on her bottom lip, tasting her blood. Snarling she shoved him away and stepped back, releasing her hold on the dagger to slap him sharply on the face.
Roger looked at her in shock and then licked his lips, his eyes taking a ominous gleam at the taste of blood, her blood.
Breathing heavily she returned his gaze, her amethyst eyes beginning to smoulder in a new and more dangerous light.
Swiftly moving closer Alanna twisted the dagger out of his hands and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Leaning back, she flushed, seemingly embarrassed by her forthright actions.
Blinking Duke Roger Conte smiled and pulled her closer into another heated kiss before moving down the stream of blood on her neck.
“What are you smiling at?” The Lioness asked softly.
Roger started and kissed her forehead, “Just how beautiful you are.” Alanna smiled even wider and kissed him gently again, bringing a hand over to stroke his neck.
“My conscious is screaming that I shouldn’t trust you,” she murmured gazing adoringly at him. The Duke blinked and nodded slightly, understanding her reasoning. “But I don’t care,” she continued softly, “You only want Jonathan.”
A look of annoyance crossed Rogers face and he frowned, that measly cousin of his once again getting between him and what he wanted. “You aren’t going to hurt me, “she stated as she nuzzled closer.
Roger sighed as he pulled her closer, “But you’ll hurt me?” She didn’t answer, he knew she wouldn’t. If it came to duty or love, duty would conquer for her, he understood. He was prepared to die if it meant she would be safe, if it meant she would live.
His love, would reign eternal over his life for Alanna, and Alanna alone was the soul of Tortall, and Tortall must never be broken.
Rating:PG 13
Word Count:1,473
Pairing: A/R
Round/Fight: 1/G
Summary:Gazing into her amethyst eyes, her copper hair spread over his pillows he wondered how they had ended up like this. (Warning: Mild sexuality and they try to kill each other)
Duke Roger of Conte leaned over to brush long strands of copper hair back off his loves face. Leaving his fingers on her soft skin he began to caress her cheek, smiling when she snuggled closer to him. Inhaling her scent he leaned down and kissed her softly, firm enough to awaken her. Her eyelids fluttered and she sighed happily. Slowly her eyes opened and she looked straight into his eyes, a light in hers slowly igniting.
Alanna smiled softly and leaned forward for another kiss, which Roger gladly granted with passion. Gazing into her amethyst eyes, her copper hair spread over his pillows he wondered how they had ended up like this.
Duke Roger sighed as he rolled out of bed. Finally sick of restless dreams and nights without sweet dreams he replaced his clothes and opened his door. Closing it with a snap of his fingers he doubled the power on the locks before wandering aimlessly down the halls, deep in thought his feet carrying him where they will.
They few servants he passed wearily watched him and as they thought he was out of earshot began to whisper about him.
He had long ago learnt to ignore the whispers of fools; they were below him, though if they continued with their murmurs they would have to be subtly silenced.
He didn’t need any more rumours turning the people against him, more than they already were. It was all that she-demons fault, he thought bitterly. If that-that thing...hadn’t slain him.....
Licking his lips he imagined what he would do to her when he claimed the Tortallan Throne. And almost shivered in delight as he imagined her screams echoing off the dungeon walls and ricocheting into the night where her friends could hear everything he was doing to her and be helpless.
Hearing the clang of weapons he frowned, lately his mind had been playing tricks on him. In every reflection he saw lavender and crimson, every voice was hers and during his dreams he saw her blade being thrust through his chest, the fierce look in her eyes as he slowly fell forward to her feet.
Shaking his head Roger leaned a palm against the wall and looked about him. He blinked; he had only been into this wing of the palace once, when he had got lost after a drunken night. It was mainly used as storage; most of the rooms were coated in layers of dust and very few people apart from servants ventured here. Good, Roger thought, he had found a place to think in silence.
The clash of weapons happened again and Roger blinked, nobody was supposed to be here. Straightening off the wall he followed the sounds until he came to a semi-open door. Peering inside he froze in shock, Alanna The Lioness was furiously attacking a spinning dummy, with blades struck out of it in various angles and lengths. Purple lights shone above the training figure, refracting off the mirrors lining the room, giving light to the darkness. Moistening his lips Roger though this the opportune moment and took a moment to praise the goods, an action he very rarely partook in.
Walking in behind her he soundproofed the room before slamming the doors shut. The Lioness spun around to him, her sword flashing at the intruder. Her eyes widened as she saw him, and she swiftly stepped away from the slowing dummy, eyeing him cautiously.
Roger took a moment to think, he had a dagger hidden in his sleeve, a precaution he had unconsciously thought to bring. But how was he to get close to her?
Looking around the room he saw a pile of staffs on the floor and smiled, She tensed when he walked over to them and picked one up. Testing its weight he nodded before picking another, heavier one and tossing it to her. She caught it easily, still tensely watching him. Removing his shoes and his coat he tossed them aside and took a defensive stance.
Surprise flashed in her eyes before she lowered her sword and kicked it across the floor towards the dummy. Spinning the staff she slunk forward and took a mirrored stance. “So be it,” he whispered huskily.
The Lioness nodded and then blocked his furious attack. He had been practising, taught in secret by Alex, ever since he had arisen to walk the lands of the living once more. She had mastered him once, he was arrogant and unprepared, now though, that would not happen again, this time he was ready. This time, She would die.
Parry thrust block, spin and side step they danced their way to exhaustion. Several times Roger caught himself looking at the sweat on her chest before forcefully directing his gaze elsewhere.
As he spun around to block a well timed blow at his side he couldn’t help but marvel at the movement she was gifted with. She seemed to flow from one effortless move to another, the only sigh of fatigue her increased breathing and the sweat on her tunic.
Panting heavily he decided he needed to end this quickly. Stepping forward he struck down towards her hips and across. She blocked him easily and barely flinched when he pressed his weight into his staff, trying to force her back.
For the first time he saw something other than the steady burn in her eyes, they began to spark. It became a battle of strength and stamina as she inched forward to keep her staff from pointing down in fatigue.
Their eyes were locked as the staffs rose and fell in a silent battle each was determined to win. Growing desperate the Duke suddenly released pressure on her staff and used his right hand to ram his elbow into her face.
She sidestepped seconds before the bone would have collided with her face, as it was his staff snapped up and struck her across the mouth. She cried out softly as the pain hit her and took a step back as her eyes began to water furiously.
Deciding to press his advantage the Duke withdrew his hidden blade from his sleeve and advanced on her as she hurriedly blinked tears from her eyes.
Raising the dagger to plunge into her side he was frozen in a vice like grip and his arm began to angle towards his own precious flesh. Gritting his teeth he silently vowed this would be the last time a blade connected to her would pierce his skin.
Blood began to pool on her lips and dribble down her chin, a steady flow of crimson. Their bodies were pressed against each other and the blade was held steadily upright, each warrior realising the foolishness of letting the other angle the blade towards their stomach. A small snake crept down her neck and into her tunic and the Duke couldn’t contain himself.
Leaning forward, careful to avoid the sharp dagger, he pressed his lips onto hers. She tensed as he sucked on her bottom lip, tasting her blood. Snarling she shoved him away and stepped back, releasing her hold on the dagger to slap him sharply on the face.
Roger looked at her in shock and then licked his lips, his eyes taking a ominous gleam at the taste of blood, her blood.
Breathing heavily she returned his gaze, her amethyst eyes beginning to smoulder in a new and more dangerous light.
Swiftly moving closer Alanna twisted the dagger out of his hands and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. Leaning back, she flushed, seemingly embarrassed by her forthright actions.
Blinking Duke Roger Conte smiled and pulled her closer into another heated kiss before moving down the stream of blood on her neck.
“What are you smiling at?” The Lioness asked softly.
Roger started and kissed her forehead, “Just how beautiful you are.” Alanna smiled even wider and kissed him gently again, bringing a hand over to stroke his neck.
“My conscious is screaming that I shouldn’t trust you,” she murmured gazing adoringly at him. The Duke blinked and nodded slightly, understanding her reasoning. “But I don’t care,” she continued softly, “You only want Jonathan.”
A look of annoyance crossed Rogers face and he frowned, that measly cousin of his once again getting between him and what he wanted. “You aren’t going to hurt me, “she stated as she nuzzled closer.
Roger sighed as he pulled her closer, “But you’ll hurt me?” She didn’t answer, he knew she wouldn’t. If it came to duty or love, duty would conquer for her, he understood. He was prepared to die if it meant she would be safe, if it meant she would live.
His love, would reign eternal over his life for Alanna, and Alanna alone was the soul of Tortall, and Tortall must never be broken.
Maybe once we'd have seen it during Smackdown!