Forgive me lover, for I have sinned,
For I have loved you wrong.
Steel meets steel in a battle of wills. Neither will relent – neither can. One must prove the other does not dominate, while the other must prove that is just the case. It has been like this nearly every day for the last three years, perhaps more. One has become a master at such battles, the other a master at talking out of them. They both know how this will end – on the bed, rolling around, hushing each other so no passersby hear.
They continue to stare, seeming never to blink, testing each other. The smaller one clenches a fist, the taller one's mouth curls into a teasing half-smile. The smaller one swears and lunges forward, only to be caught by the wrists, eyes never drifting.
"I hate you," the smaller one hisses, narrowing fierce violet eyes – eyes causing many a larger man to swallow hard and back down. But not this opponent. Never this opponent.
"You love me." The words sound accusatory, rather than like the sweet sentiment they are. The space between them closes, until the violet-eyed one can feel the tall man's breath on her face.
"I don't love anyone." The tall one raises an eyebrow, making an amused sound vaguely resembling a snort.
"You're a liar."
"Prove it."
His mouth crashes down upon hers, pulling her close until she fits perfectly against him. She relents, but not because she has lost. There are no losers in this battle, but there are no winners. They begin to tear at tunics, discarding the now-useless garments. The man now stands shirtless, beginning to work on hers, when they hear laughter in the hall. Both freeze, once-steely eyes now filled with terror. "Are the doors locked?" the young woman asks quietly. A quick glance reveals they are not. The bodies break apart, throw the bolts, and come together once again, ending up twined together on the man's small bed, argument momentarily pushed aside.
"See?" the man asks as they lie in bed beside each other, basking in the moment. "You do love me." The woman says nothing, feigning sleep. Even if she did love him, what would ever come of it?
But this estranged organ in my chest
Still beats for you; it will not rest.
A tall man with coal black hair and brilliant blue eyes slides from his horse, eyes immediately scanning the gathered crowd for a familiar head of copper hair. He spots it and suppresses a smile. He has missed that hair, those violet eyes, that small frame. She sees him, and must force herself to walk, rather than race forward, calling his name, and leap into his arms.
They greet each other cordially, with no indication they are anything more than close friends. Hearts race in chests, eyes meet and dart away, both aware of their ridiculous feelings, cursing themselves for it.
Hours seem to pass before the copper-haired woman wanders back to her tent, followed by the dark-haired man. He follows a safe distance as not to attract attention – what they are about to do is not considered appropriate, but it is impossible to resist the thrill of breaking the rules.
He enters the tent, standing across from her, allowing the cloth to close behind him. She steadies her gaze on him, appreciating his muscular frame. Something has changed in the last several months, a new glint in his sapphire eyes, a new set to his broad shoulders. He is familiar, but a stranger.
She likes it.
"How was the ride?" she asks, rubbing her sweating palms on her thighs.
"Long," he answers, running a hand through his hair. She nods, unable to find other words. Before she can locate them, he crosses the tent and seizes her in his arms. "I missed you," he whispers, kissing her deeply. Her heart races. Some things have not changed.
And I'll show you how much you have missed
Through the time we weren't right.
She enters the room, stomach tight with nervousness. Her heart races, but not for the same reasons as it has before, but because some part of her fears seeing him again after all this time, after the words they shared. He looks up, seeing a familiar face, searching for some inner response to her presence. He finds only warmth, but not like before. He rises, and she drops to her knee.
"Alanna." She looks up into those familiar blue eyes. He smiles down at her, offering a hand. "Get up."
She stands, smiling back. Without thinking, she embraces him warmly, as she has embraced many old friends since returning from her adventures. "Jon." The word feels right on her tongue after all this time.
"Welcome home."
So forgive me, lover, for I have sinned,
For I have let you go; but you've been
Every now and then on my mind.
