Books and Castle Walls
By SP

When she turns pages in a book, she tries to let it flutter softly, only moving it to the point where she is positive gravity will take over and have the leaf fall soundlessly to the left. She learned how to handle books from watching her mother (with the few memories she already had of her in the first place), the way that she would take care of them like they were dear friends, holding them and treasuring them as if they were thick as thieves. Her eyes trail over the page, skipping over the inane numbers and droll sentences that are all too commonplace in this. She smiles to herself, ever so softly, taking pure enjoyment from just reading, even if it's just something as boring as this record. It's a window to the past, a clue to help her on the way to rebuilding the lives of her subjects, one step at a time. Better than nothing.

But when he reads, it's like he's trying to rip apart the book, to tie it to a chair and beat it with a lead rod so it can spill out is guts and secrets in a horrible, bloody mess that no one really wants to clean up. He's so loud, with all the sighs and tapping and loud page-turning that is going on at the other side of the table. The last time she allowed herself to take a break, his entire body was slouched to the left with his cheek in his palm, eyes drooping as his book remained untouched for the past ten minutes

Calista didn't dare to look up to check this time around. She knows that she should be reading about the Ordinance of Year 062 in this dusty, faded tome so she can figure out how to effectively colonize the Vono Islands without overconsuming its already-precious resources. She knows that his eyes are still trained on her face, daring her to raise her eyes and see his piercing stare, daring her to close her book and pay attention to his boyish whimsy. The soft thump of his book closing (A History of Reptid Evolution, she chanced to notice) gave the impression that Zael was leaning back in his seat, arms folded, grumpily looking at everything in the Library underneath his dirty-blonde fringe.

He asked for this. He was the one that said he'd come along to her "studying," said he needed to catch up on some things in the Military Wing, and would be done by the time she'd probably have the information she needed in the first place.

He came back only thirty minutes after she started. His boredom began ten minutes after he sat down. Now the light had faded from the ceiling windows into the final stages of dusk and most people had dispersed, save for the few mages that were still wandering the shelves on the second level.

Temptation proved to be too much for her as she glanced up in time to see a smirk gracing her husband's features. Her husband. The phrase still sounded alien and strange to her. Not that she didn't want it, of course not. Just… different. It wasn't what she expected out of life, nor something she could even hope of having. Her real-life knight that was impatience and caring and brash and comfort all in the same person.

The impatient side was winning out right now.

"You said you'd be done in five minutes," he hisses through gritted teeth. The heels of his boots scrape the wood of the floor as he scooted his chair forward, resting his arms against the table and leaning forward over the edge. "It's been seven minutes."

"Give me a few more minutes, Zael," Calista mutters while furiously skimming the pages in what little time she had left before he possibly hoisted her over his shoulder and dragged her from the Library. She set her lips in a thin line and ducked her eyes beneath her bangs. "If I can just figure out the duration of these land accounts, I can-"

Something knocked against her leg, jolting her from her rambling words, and then again. "No," he said with surprising authoritativeness. She lost concentration again, looking up to see his smirk develop into a broad grin, teeth and all. "No more 'I.' You've had your time for fun. Your books and all." He nods towards the small stacks that were next to her, previously stacked haphazardly earlier in her frustration. Something worn and leathery trailed up and down her calf, shivering from the contact. "My turn." His tone was between a statement and a question, caught in that awkward grey area. As if he already knew what he wanted and how he would do it, but only running the idea by her to make sure her blessing would be from pure good faith.

A judgmental eyebrow quirks up before she could stop herself. "I'm not about to go to the Arena at this hour, if that's what you want. It's not that fun, despite popular belief." A few more pages, and they could go to whatever it was he wanted. Even just walking through the City. That's a perfectly normal activity for a young couple, or so she read about. Perfectly normal, thank you very much. "All those monsters and people and guards. And you know I don't like the City at night, Zael, I'd really rather-"

"I don't want to go to the Arena. I don't want that. Not now."

"Then what," she asks in a more exasperated tone than she intended.

"Calista," he repeats, dragging out the 's' to the point where she had to tear her eyes from the pages that all looked the same. He only said her name that way before they stumbled to her bedchambers, or when he wanted to rile her up and make her face heat up in the middle of a crowded room when he tugged a lock of hair to the side and whispered it lowly in her ear. His pupils were dilated, from what she could tell in this light, and hungry. A hand disappeared, but she felt it return as he rubbed his thumb and index finger in circles around her kneecap, his shoulders awkward and slanted as he reached.

Every touch, every movement he did to her had this overwhelming effect, one that she'd rather not have the few people that were in the vicinity know about. He usually had better self control than this, she mused, and that pent-up energy from both their sides was certainly well-spent in the hours that they now spent in her bedroom. Of course, without making a scandal out of it.

No, she didn't have a problem with sex. That came easily and enjoyably enough. But she did have a problem with the potential of being branded a harlot if a noble walked in on Zael stretched over her as if the legendary Library of Lazulis Island was nothing better than a brothel.

Her bosom rose and fell as she sighed sharply. "Not here, Zael."

"Oh come on," he says as a whine escapes his throat when she slaps the fingers that were dancing underneath the edge of her dress beneath the table.

"There are people," she manages to sputter out before she stands up and he follows suit, albeit less gracefully as the chair is knocked back. "Not right now."

Zael blinks, and pauses only for a moment, before a light gleamed in his eyes and he stretched his hand out to her. "Then let's go."

Now it was her time to look somewhat reluctant and perplexed before carefully folding her hand into his own calloused, tough-as-leather palm. "The books…" she started to say.

"Someone else will get them. C'mon," he uttered with a grin. Calista nearly tripped over her feet as he unexpectedly tugs her into following him, throwing open the doors of the Library with no regard for the commotion they could cause.

That was Zael, though. Never caring all that much about appearances, or how the façade that she was able to still maintain actually mattered, that they couldn't let their lives be so public and open with everyone watching. Sure, the aura of fear and ulterior actions of her Uncle's reign had long dissipated, but the effects still lingered, especially in Calista's eyes. She was still paranoid, still wary of everyone that talked to her or Zael about the simplest subjects, that they knew the bond between the Arganan heir and the Savior of Lazulis Island ran much deeper, way deeper, contrary to popular belief. She couldn't even imagine what the nobles would think if the halls were less deserted as they saw the pair race through up and up the stairs and around tighter corners and dusty passages that even Calista forgot existed.

He stopped suddenly on a stairwell, so abruptly that she bumps into his broad back. His hand twists so it's lightly placed on the small of his back, keeping a firm grip on her much smaller, much more delicate hand. The heavy groan of the wooden door in front of them interrupted her reverie as he dragged her behind him before slamming it shut, creating a deafening crash that she prays won't draw a concerned knight over to them.

She can tell they're in one of the turrets – towers that used to fight off sieges and attackers that now are just storage when she told one of her retainers to dispose of something so they just dumped it in an unused corridor, like the tiny room she stood in the middle of that was packed to the edges with crates, barrels, faded bags and empty shelves and dusty books on a long and firm that looked like they hadn't been touched in years. The dying light streaming through the arrowholes and windows cast jagged patterns on the stone floor, with their shadows extending on the circular walls. Half – no, a quarter of the people in the Castle probably didn't know this still existed.

At least no one would be looking for them all the way up here. Hopefully. She made a beeline for those stacks of tomes, carefully opening the aged spines of book after book and combing through the delicate pages as he fumbled with the bolt on the door, swearing underneath his breath as the metal groaned in protest from disuse.

How astute he was.

After a moment he says, "look at that, it works." It was probably rusty and old and easy to bang open, but it worked for him.

"Might there be a reason you've locked us in the southeast tower, Zael?" Calista asks, doing her best to keep a lighthearted tone but not entirely succeeding. She kept her eyes on the pages, though the history of barley was the last thing she wanted to read about right now.

"Well," Zael draws out as he walks towards her, letting his footsteps echo, "I thought you needed a break; you've had a rough few days, with finally finishing the accounts and making some of those nobles go back to the mainland," he finished with a shrug. "I thought I ought to check that you weren't… too tense."

"Oh?" A certain coyness leaks into her voice, knowing that she should get started on signing documents Uncle had put off, catch up on the minutes she lost dealing with him, practice her spells in some deserted alleyway, take a well-deserved nap, but the more she thought of all she had to do, the less she wanted to leave this tiny room.

"I can't let my ruler get too stressed, now can I," he murmurs as he stops, just behind her, his fingers beginning to stroke little circles on her shoulder, and the movement forces her to put the book down with the others. "We have other plans."

"Such a dedicated knight. I should make it a priority to find others like you," she says as Calista turns towards him, reaching up to trace the curve from his chin to his temple. She smiles as his pleased features morph into something more like rage at her insinuation. He'll find vengeance for that comment, somehow, someway, someday. "Care to inform me about these plans?" She perches up on her toes to but he greedily pulls her face to him and kisses her, letting his arms draw her into his chest, enveloping her with his everything. Her hands find the back of his nest of hair and she presses her mouth hard against his while his fingers dig into the fabric of her dress.

"Incorrigible," she manages to get out in the fevered rush after those few long minutes. A groan bursts from Zael's throat as her tongue sliding past his lips as he slides his fingers forward, down her ribcage, dancing to the sharp jut of her hips. She lets out a breath that she could've kept locked up inside for years. A familiar heat settles in her abdomen as they press closer together, Zael slowly guiding her backwards in small, shuffling steps until her back hits the edge of the table.

She'd thought, in the few weeks after their marriage, that with time her need for him would temper and become more manageable, becoming something that she could merely compartmentalize and bring out as needed, but if anything it's gotten worse. He sits at the edges of all her thoughts, tempting and distracting her, and being close to him in public, where they can hardly even touch, is almost unbearable. This exists between them, quietly persisting in the background from the day that they met, but all it takes is the pressing of her tongue against his and his hands on her body to open the floodgates and send it into a roaring, overwhelming fury that threatens to sweep them away all together. Calista knows he feels it too, catching too many of his unsubtle glances and frustrated sighs to harbor any illusions. She hooks one leg around his, tries to draw him closer to her.

All too soon, he draws away, but not before letting a satisfied sigh escape. Zael nudges the tip of his nose against hers and blinking slowly and murmurs "are you feeling any more relaxed?"

She feels quite the opposite actually, and it's only going to get worse if he keeps kissing like this, but she sighs, "a bit, but we really ought to go back…"

"No. We have time," he responds quickly with a grin, and then his hands are on her hips and he's lifting her onto the table so lightly, scattering the books to the sides and letting one or down fall off.

For a long minute they sit and stare at each other, breaths coming fast and expectant from both of them. Eventually Zael laughs quietly and closes the distance between them again, and she responds eagerly. Calista loops her arms around his neck and digs her nails into his scalp, feeling the strands of hair pool over her fingers like flax. He makes a small moan against her mouth and smiles, his palms sliding to the tops of her thighs, locking her in place. She closes her eyes delightedly, wishing for more more more.

They'll most definitely be missed soon enough and she doesn't trust that bolt all too much, but Zael's long fingers and drawn-out kisses tosses every routine and semblance of coherent thought out the window, just as she used to long someone would do for her.

She slides the heel of her boot up against the back of his thigh and when he groans she playfully nips at his bottom lip. His hand slips to her knee and then dips beneath the hem of her dress, eliciting a small gasp from her before he pulls away yet again.

"C-can I-?" He offered, nuzzling her jaw and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses above the collar of her dress. Calista can see the serious, intent look in his eyes, one that she's only seen a handful of times beforehand, back when the Outsider still resided on Lazulis Island. She closes her own and nods, wetting her lips. For a moment she's confused as he pulls away, opening her eyes to see him kneeling on the stones. She has half a mind to forget the "plan" and pull him back up and force him against the table and make love to him slowly, sensually, but not as nervous as their wedding night.

Priorities, Calista¸ she thinks softly to herself.

Her fingernails dig into his skin as his fingers glide higher, pressing against her underwear. "Help," he chokes out as she scoots forward, legs now dangling off the table as the dainty undergarment is pulled away rapidly and entirely, lazily discarded on the floor.

"I thought about doing this earlier, back in the Library," he quips before placing a lazy kiss on the inside of her knee, trailing up her thigh and pushing the hem higher and higher. His voice is cool against her skin, making that tight feeling in her belly contract even further. "I wanted to kiss you like this beneath the table while you were trying to read."

"Oh" is all she manages to sputter out around the image that is conjured in her head (his dirty-blonde hair nestled between her legs, her gripping a book for dear life, trying frantically to keep quiet so they don't get caught), and then tipping her head back as he tentatively presses his mouth against her.

It starts soft and light, almost like kitten-licks at her folds, his fingers still tracing loops and curves on her thighs in nonsensical patterns that make her legs shake all the same. Touching the small scars on her knees seem to have as much importance as circling her clit with his tongue, firm and rolling and gently building her up. She just wants to press into the heat of her mouth, to bury herself in this sweet sensation that she knows only Zael could ever give to her. Calista moans, one hand winding his hair into her fingers and the other gripping the table for support so she doesn't buckle and writhe on the shaky table as she would in bed, every touch magnetizing her to Zael more than she thought was possible.

She bites her lip from making a sound, but begins to give sparse, vague instructions, as unsure as she was. His mouth works steadily against her, caressing and sending small floods of heat to the very core of her person. Calista finds herself becoming more specific between moans, tugging at his hair in anticipation, directing him further to the right – no, your other right, a bit down, farther over, before her hips jump and twist beyond her control. She clenches her thighs a little around his head, muttering "close" from behind clenched teeth before Zael presses his tongue in and in, undoing her from the inside out. Something in that grey area between words and wordlessness; she arches up and he latches his lips over her folds giving one last nip, hard enough to throw her head back in her silent, peaking cry of pleasure, and for the longest moment there is nothing in the world but him and the blood pounding in her veins.

They're both breathing hard as she tries to recompose herself, though there's practically no point in doing so, as the flush of her cheeks and the mess of Zael's hair are going to be detrimental in any circumstance. His head rests against her thigh, a pleased smile gracing his features, staring up at her still-heaving body.

"You look rather pleased with yourself," Calista murmurs affectionately. Zael strokes her other knee and presses his cheek a little harder against her thigh for a moment before standing up lethargically and leaning over to kiss her forehead. She wraps her arms around his waist and kisses his chin and then his mouth, slow and lazy and pouring every "thank you" that was possible into it.

"We probably shouldn't do this again during the day," she says after a while, pressing her forehead against his.

"Are you saying you didn't enjoy your-"

She cuts him off, sliding her hand up his back to grip at his hair again and remind him just how much she'd enjoyed it with a kiss. His hands settle on her bare thighs, tracing little circles with his thumbs.

"I just think it was a little dangerous to be doing this here," she murmurs against his mouth. "Anyone could walk in, people are going to ask where we were, so on."

"We'll have to find somewhere more secluded then," Zael shoots back, his tongue flickering out to lick at her lower lip in a most familiar way. Calista doesn't hold back her little gasp, even as she quirks an eyebrow. "And we should go back," weariness and melancholy evident in his voice.

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "I assumed we still had other plans...? Unless you're not in favor of that course of action, so by all means-" Zael interrupts before she can finish, closing over her mouth mid-laugh, grasping her hips to draw her closer in.

"Other. Plans," he groans out. Calista laughs, sliding her hands down to the belt of his pants.

And she couldn't agree more with him.

A/N: Wow, thanks for reading all that! I know that The Last Story doesn't have a lot of fanfiction literally anywhere, so I just wanted to change that a bit. I obviously used the NA/Europe versions of the characters' names - I'm sorry if you prefer the original names, but I was more comfortable using the translated names. What even is the Zael/Calista couple name? Zaelista? Cael? I may never find is my first time writing publishing any smut, so I hope I did this couple (that I love to death now) some justice. Please review if you have the time, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Thanks again,
SP