OOC: After this post.
No one but the moon itself bore witness to what transpired between us. There was the acute awareness of our breathing; each inhale, and exhale, when he paused, or punctuated a thrust of himself. Eager hands, touching, always touching tracing cleft and mound, and rippled muscle. And when he rolled me atop him, my hair covered us both like a great, dark curtain that shielded the gaze from eyes that would pry on this most intimate of moments. He pushed me further and further, bounding up the hill toward my pinnacle until I was caught and held tight there. Gasping even as his hands steadied my thighs that were tightly locked around his, until at last falling back against him crying out his name, eyes wet with the joy of it all.
When I awoke the fire in the fireplace within my boudoir was still going, the room still warm. The bed curtains that had been pulled open once more and the heavy portiers had been also opened to let in the reflective light of the sun and snow. The melted wax formed stalactites on both the candelabra and the nightstand beside my bed. The fact that Sebastien was not still abed with me struck a small prick of regret within my heart. I knew that in becoming the lover of of the Comte de Rochefort, there would be no guarantees that he would make me his Mistress, especially not after all that had transpired between us.
I pulled myself to sit up in the bed, still nestled under the thick comforter. I glanced down at a small round table that was near my bedside, it’s surface gleaming in the sunlight. On it rested the chessboard that we had left the night before in the library. On the chessboard were only two pieces bound with a white satin bow. The Chinosoire ivory queen stood upright and proud, and at her feet laying on it’s side was the black ivory Knight. Caught within the bow was a sprig of mistletoe punctuated with the waxy white berries. Entwined within those leafy branches was a ring. It was a ring that I well recognized from the portrait that had hung above a stairway of a distant home that was a day’s ride from my own. I had seen it on the finger of Joselyn Ysabetta De la Montagne, Comptesse de Rochefort; Sebastien’s mother.
The emerald was exquisite, surrounded by diamonds and other emeralds that went down either side of the ring. The significance of both his mother’s wedding ring and the mistletoe together was clear. Sebastien did not only wish for me to be his lover the night before or to become his Mistress. He intended for me to become his wife. It was then that the door opened and Sebastien came through it. With him came the greatest holiday gift I have ever received and the best reason of all not to regard winter as so bad a season after all.
Muse: Fanny Fae / Faelyn
Fandom: Original Character / Folklore / Mythology
Word Count: 498
crossposted to
Fanny Fae 