By: Calypso
Summary: Lust. Sin. Deception. Love can never be as simple as one pure kiss.
Author's Note: Don't read this if you're over sensitive it's
not meant for you.
Apologies ahead of time for writing Elves so humanlike. This story kind of
controlled me instead of the other way Around.
PLEASE help me think of a title (a DIFFERENT title) for this fic. 10
commandments and middle Earth don't go together very well....
Reviews welcome as always.
~
"I think you lie my lady," he whispers to me as his hands move to unlace my dress. In the faint lamplight, I wonder which of us is lying. His fingers brush my neck again and this time I do not stop the progress of his hands. If he asks, I could not deny that I had long coveted his touch, but he does not ask and so we do not speak. No words. No looks. No need to confront the lies that we both know to exist between us.
The stiffened silk slips from my shoulders, falling in a cascade of blue around my feet. The same deep sea blue as his eyes. Eyes I cannot look into. I know we are lying. To ourselves and to each other. My eyes rivet themselves on the fallen dress, catching a glimpse of a white shift and silken blonde strands brushing against dark chestnut brown tresses along the way.
My own dark hair.
He ran his fingers through it the first time we met. His heart and mind a million miles away even then.
I am suddenly impatient.
Impatient with these restless thoughts and impatient with him.
Suddenly, it is my hands brushing his neck, nearly tearing at his tunic. He is surprised, he did not expect this. Still, I cannot look at his eyes – or glance at his face.
Without a word, he catches one of my hands and roughly brushes his lips against its palm. I know he wants to speak, but I press my hand hard against his mouth.
I shake my head and do not look at him.
I know without looking that his eyes are fastened on the golden band around my finger.
I deny my sobs.
I will not cry.
After all, what is one more lie between two who have long forsaken honesty? What is one more sin but a forgotten regret? I cannot look at his face, so I take his hand and lead him to the empty bed. We are both shivering, but this night is too warm to blame the cold. Our bodies will not hide what is in our minds.
I slip quickly beneath the sheets; ever avoiding those sea blue eyes.
I know that our words deceive, but our bodies cannot.
Our eyes cannot hide what the silence does.
When he has lowered himself into bed beside me I turn and rest my head on his shoulder. Leaning the majority of my weight on his body, feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath he takes. Suddenly, I am keenly aware of the scent of wine surrounding us both. One more glaring truth exposed to me. Another comfortable lie stripped away.
Momentarily, I ignore it. Relishing instead in the feel of his hands running ever so slowly down my back, pulling the petal thin white shift away with them.
I know that his eyes see only my hair.
The dark hair he loves so much.
The realization cuts into me.
I cannot fight the anger building in me when his lips touch my shoulder.
Almost violently, I turn so that he now lies atop me; my fingers digging painfully into his skin.
Immediately, I realize that I've made a mistake. He pauses and raises himself to his elbows, confusion is plain on his face. I have made a mistake.
I have looked into his eyes.
His eyes could not lie to me.
So I cannot lie to myself. I cannot deny what I've seen in his eyes.
Eyes in which there is written lust. Lust for me, but love for another. In them, I find a pain deeper than my own. He does not notice that I have seen. His lips descend again and he whispers, "Arwen." Almost inaudibly as he kisses my flesh.
Arwen - her name, not mine.
I should not have listened for it. I would not have heard it if I had not listened for it. His one careless whisper has shattered the illusion for me. Pulled apart my lies.
Like my husband, he does not love me.
His heart belongs to her.
His Arwen.
Whoever she is, I am not her.
I can only whisper the word "stop." Surprisingly, he does. "Leave," I say more loudly, if less strongly. "Please." I cannot do this anymore. He has taken my blanket of lies away from me and burned it over the open flame of truths. Unbidden, the tears come to my eyes and I can no longer fight the sobs that wrack my body.
This time, he does not seem surprised. Have we danced this dance before?
Once again, his arms surround me, but there is no longer lust in his touch. Surprisingly I find that he too, is crying. Helplessly, I bury my face is his sun kissed hair. The golden white strands so similar to those of the man I greet each morning as 'husband'.
We are no longer sinners hiding behind the shadows of light and the veiled excuses of wine.
He is no longer prince Legolas of Mirkwoood.
I am no longer the seductive adulteress.
Our hearts have again betrayed us.
I am once again only a bitter woman scorned by her husband. Sobbing out her heartache.
He is only a forgotten lover, comforting his brother's wife, thinking of a woman in a distant land.
Another woman with long brown hair, and ring of gold chained around her finger.