The Princess and the Blade

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi nodded and let her past so she could go to bed. When she was inside, he clutched the railing and let out a deflating breath.

His Yurivis wished for his happiness. That beautiful, powerful, graceful creature that glowed in the moonlight acted like she might accept him, even if it was dangerous for her, even if it caused strife between her and her family. She accepted his body, even though he felt sure it wasn't to her preferences. Her primary spoken concern about being "stuck" together was that he might be bored.

He looked up at the sky warily. It was a lie that he didn't want anything, now more than ever. He should cast all forethought aside and just wish as he pleased, let the pent-up desires spring from his lips and be done. He stood for a long time, debating silently against his own thoughts. It was silly to argue with himself so. Even if being with him damaged Tenara's health and her relationships, it would only be her own fault for accepting him in the first place.

He frowned at the empty space where the shooting ray of life had left the sky dull and black. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to do it. "...I cannot decide yet," he informed the sky grimly. A cloud dropped over the moon, leaving the night in deeper darkness. He took that to mean his conversation with the heavens was over.

He finally went back inside to find the lanterns off. Tenara had left a candle by the bed so he could find his way. Her form rose and fell slightly with her breaths under the blankets. Havi went to the bedside and moved to lay on top of the blankets beside her, as they had in their woodland cottage. He hesitated. They had spent the last two days bared to each other. Even without the rutt, he found himself missing the closeness of her heat and scent.

He got up again and folded the covers down instead so he could slide in with her. He lay fully on his side of the bed, but found himself focusing his senses on the warmth that radiated from her side beneath the blankets. This was nothing like he'd expected having a Yurivis would be. He had been prepared for the servile instincts and physical desire, but this mixed sense of peace and torturous longing was new to him.

He took a deep breath and twisted to blow out the candle.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara had slept relatively motionless in the night, waking in the morning to find Havitharon on his side of the bed. She blinked in and out of sleep until her mind woke more and she stretched her hand beneath the sheets. He seemed so far away from her. Distant.

She’d woken in his arms the morning before. She’d kissed him and he’d kissed her back. Though, even that had been her initiating. In fact, well into the day after his fever had passed, most affectionate gestures had been her first move. Perhaps…

Perhaps he had been wrong about drives outside of rutt, or remembering what she was to him. She had suspected, deep down, that things would change once it had passed, but had foolishly grown used to his worshiping touch. Two days of him—of nothing but him—had been enough to imprint him onto her soul as well as her body. But, affection wasn't a thing on his world, as he described. It was cold and bitter and women treated their men like things. She could teach him that he could touch and be touched outside of his rutt, as his heart desired. Would he even want that?

Tenara bit her lip before she slid closer to him, hugging herself to his side. She rested her head on his chest for a minute, listening to the beat of his heart while her own felt like it would hammer its way outside her chest. Eventually, she gathered up the courage to tilt her face towards the soft fabric of his shirt and pressed a kiss against it. She knew she was risking rejection, and a final answer to the question lingering in the back of her mind—if he had really, truly wanted her, or if it had been instinct all along spurring his hips and mouth and words. She kissed over his clothes to his collar, nudging the fabric aside with her nose. She kissed his chest lightly, and then up his neck. Slow, playfully light kisses against his skin, trailing along his jaw, towards his ear. She nibbled at his ear, nuzzling his hair. "Good morning."

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon's senses teased at the edges of his consciousness. He felt a weight on his chest, lips against his skin, but his mind was deep inside a memory. He was in his sister's antechamber, entertaining her guests.

"Come now, Lord Ruthe. Do not scowl at us so. It's not as though you're in flame. You'll have your duel tomorrow. Your sister promised you'd amuse us. Surely you're not so strict as to deny us a little harmless fun?"

"If you bed one of us tonight, your deal with your sister will be off, and you won't have to fight that pesky duel at all," one of them giggled.

He couldn't even turn his head to see the wine glass that had rolled from his loosened fingers. He lay on his back against the overly plush pillows., unable to properly move as their fingers began to trace his chest, his neck, trailing up toward his horns. He tried to speak, and choked on his own saliva instead. Distantly, as if this were all happening to a stranger, he wondered if they'd gotten the dosage wrong. Maybe this tingling sensation was his body shutting down for real.

If not, would it wear off in time for the duel?

His thoughts were barely there as hands slid over him, undressed him. He could clearly feel their fingers on his skin, up his neck. Closer and closer to his face, his horns.

A mouth closed on his ear, teeth playing at the skin.

He glanced down to see hands reaching for his horns, closing over him.

He jerked awake, eyes ablaze as his body finally did as he asked. He wrenched backward with enough force that his horns tore through the mattress. As soon as he realized they were stuck, instinct stilled him. Only then did his alarm start to morph into confusion. He froze and looked up at Tenara.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara jerked away from him as he thrashed back, her eyes wide. "I'm sorry," she said, raising her hands. She shifted back on the bed, kneeling a few feet away so he had room to move, to release himself from the trappings of her feathered mattress. "I..." What could she say? She swallowed, uncertain if he'd had a nightmare or if he'd disliked her touch so much. "I shouldn't have. I won't... I won't do that again. Okay?"

[Soran Nightblade]

Havi lay breathless, absorbing the look on her face. He remembered where he was. He remembered who he was with. He slowly reached up and touched the place where his horns had torn into the bed. He sat up slowly, mentally wincing at the sound of additional damage being dealt to the blameless mattress. Then his complexion dipped a shade paler. What if that had been his Yurivis's chest, and not the mattress?

"Did I injure you?" he asked as he reached his senses. In a dream like that, there was no telling what he might have done. He scanned her urgently for signs of pain.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara shook her head, but looked herself over to be sure. Her heart was thumping so fast she thought she might not have felt it if he had. Her hands were trembling, and she wasn't certain if it was because of his quick movements or the rush of wondering if she'd angered him. "I'm fine," she said, resting her hands on her knees to stop the shaking. "You didn't hurt me... Are you alright?"

[Soran Nightblade]

"Yes," he said too quickly. His attention had caught on her trembling fingers. He reached up to remove a scrap of fabric that had caught on his upper right horn. The shock of what he'd done was starting to wear off, and shame was taking its place. "I damaged your bed, and startled you... I am sorry."

[Emora Deen]

Tenara hesitated, then reached out and took the scrap of fabric from his hand. "Oh, Havi. It's fine. It's just a mattress. We can fix it, or get a new one. Don't worry." She admired the fabric in her fingertips. "I thought you didn't want me touching you. When you jerked away."

[Soran Nightblade]

He paused at her words. Had she been touching him? "You were..." A horrible mental image of how it all might have played out haunted his thoughts. "I thought it was someone else," he said grimly. Such a rudeness against one's own Yurivis was unfathomable. His Yurivis.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara rubbed her arm, her cheeks darkening. He'd thought she was someone else... Someone he didn't want to touch him. Was that better or worse? She inched closer, staring at the texture of the sheets beneath them. She stretched out her hand, resting it over his. "I shouldn't have touched you while you were sleeping. I thought it would be... fun. To wake you like that. But, I don't think I know where... where I stand with you. You know? I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Please, tell me if I do."

[Soran Nightblade]

He tried to digest her words and think of some cogent response, but it felt like he would sink into the ground instead. What could he tell her? Could he swear it wouldn't happen again? He'd never had a Yurivis, but he knew what he'd just done was grounds for severe punishment... why was she talking about his comfort? He placed his other hand slowly over hers, sandwiching her pale fingers between his clawed ones. "You are my Yurivis. You have the right to touch me however you wish," he whispered. He grimaced. Those didn't feel like the right words, either, but he was too anxious to think straight.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara shook her head, admiring his large, clawed hands over her more delicate one. "I want to touch you however you wish it." She pursed her lips and sighed. "I don't want rights to you. I want you. All of you, as you wish to be. Your mind, your freedom, your pleasure, your happiness, your peace. I... care about you." She reached up with her other hand and touched his face. "I want to kiss you, but only if you want it. I want to make love to you, but only if you want it."

[Soran Nightblade]

He stared at her. Her words translated, but his mind was blank confusion. She didn't want rights to him. She wanted all of him. He shook his head, overwhelmed with frustration and confusion and want. "I don't understand," he said. His face burned, and then something slid down his cheek. He swiped at it and looked down at his tear-wet finger like he'd found some rare caterpillar.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara's heart ached at the sight of his tears. How cruel had his world been for the simple autonomy to be and love and feel as he wished to bring tears to his eyes? She leaned closer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "You're free, Havitharon. You can be whoever and whatever you want. With whomever you want, or no one at all."

He was free, she thought, and did her best not to glance at the sword. As long as she held the sword, he was free.

[Soran Nightblade]

He tilted his head longingly into the touch of her lips, wanting the contact. He wanted her touch, her attention, her baffling kindness and impossible promises. "I do not want freedom. I want to be yours," he said softly.