It Is You (I Have Loved)
By
Dana Glover
As they descended the grand stairway to the ballroom below, Meliara glanced about her person somewhat apprehensively. So many curious eyes upon her, waiting for her to make a mistake. What if she should trip and fall down the stairs?
She gave a mental snort of laughter. Should that happen, at least she'll have the satisfaction of dragging the Marquis of Shevraeth down with her. A quick glance to the man by her side made the idea all too appealing.
He caught her staring and must have noticed her nervousness, for he leaned over casually and began whispering into her ear, describing a scene of evil sorcerers and their minions to be vanquished. She laughed with true delight, for once, at ease with this enigma.
His eyes were narrowed with amusement, and he smiled. She felt a jolt at the pit of her stomach when their eyes met, no words were spoken, but that one moment of shared happiness was enough.
There is something that I see
In the way you look at me
There's a smile, there's a truth in your eyes
She drew the sapphire ring off her finger, admiring the way it caught the light and wondering for the umpteenth time who could have sent it. She had come to admire her Unknown in more ways than one, and laughed at the irony of it all; for was he not her secret admirer in the first place?
Was that all he felt? Admiration? Their relationship had grown from just a casual acquaintance to a deep confiding friendship. She liked it this way, she truly did. There were no complications in a relationship by letter, she only had to watch what she wrote.
She didn't think it was love, but who was she to judge? She had never been in love before to know the difference. There were different forms of love was there not? The natural love between friends and family, the puppy love of childhood sweethearts, the true love that resonated between newlyweds and the timeless love between a couple joined in holy matrimony decades before.
But an unexpected way
On this unexpected day
Could it mean this is where I belong
It is you I have loved all along
It's no more mystery
It is finally clear to me
You're the home my heart searched for so long
And it is you I have loved all along
She stared dully at the profile of the Marquis, admiring the way his lips moved to form the words he spoke and the slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes when he smiled – which was rarely. He was currently in the company of the esteemed Lady Elenet of Grumareth, and seemed much absorbed in what she had to say. She felt a sharp pierce at her heart, an unfathomable feeling.
The classical strains of music from the orchestra did nothing to lift her spirits that night. When the singer began to sing a song of epic battles and great romances, she was reminded of a saying she once heard. Love is friendship set on fire. But where would the spark come from?
Lost in her own thoughts, she was startled out of her reverie by a light tap on her shoulder. It was only her brother's fiancée Nee, staring at her with a puzzled expression, for she had given no indication of leaving although the concert had ended minutes before.
No, she would not dare to ask the question that had been weighing on her mind. The question she couldn't quite seem to grasp. But where then would the spark come from? A voice from the deepest recesses of her mind reminded her that it was he who had initiated this courtship with ring and rose; but then again, was it not she who took it a step further by penning letters of her thoughts and feelings to him?
This man knew who she was and how she felt about various issues, he had the upper hand. From that aspect, he was dangerous. But the lure of having a conversation – or the like of one – free of restraints with one as knowledgeable as he, was strong. He passed no judgement, enabling her to come to her own conclusions. He treated her as an equal.
The letter regarding queens and thrones confused her for some reason she could not understand. 'Elenet would make a good queen,' she thought, 'they even look good together, both equally subdued in character and colouring. But wasn't it said that opposites attract?'
Perhaps it was best not to encourage such topics of conversation. Love and Romance were not subjects one could study up on in the library for discussions. They had to be experienced firsthand.
There were times I ran to hide
Afraid to show the other side
Alone in the night without you
The kiss seemed to last an eternity, but even then it did not last long enough. Her lips still burned from the heat of his kiss, her skin still tingled from the caress of his hands, and her cheek was still warm from the brush of his breath.
"Why?" she had asked when they were alone once again.
Sitting beside her completely at ease was the Marquis of Shevraeth, or Vidanric as he had bid her call him. Elbows resting upon his knees, he looked into the palms of his hands, as if seeking an answer to her question.
"I fell in love with you," he stated simply, as if those words explained it all.
"But I've been horrible to you all this while, and now I feel terribly guilty about it all!" she moaned, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands.
She felt his slender fingers wrap around her wrists and gently prise her hands from her face. On bended knee before her now, a look of intense longing filled his eyes. She noticed the faint frown of worry creasing his brow, and was tempted to smoothen it out, as one would brush away a stray lock of hair.
"You can make it up to me for the rest of my life, dearest Meliara," he whispered, bowing his head to brush each of her knuckles with his lips.
Her eyes widened at the implication of his words. "You want me to marry you?" she asked, incredulous.
His brow furrowed further and his morale seemed to collapse before her very eyes. But still he persevered. "Yes, Mel. Will you marry me?"
He attempted to hide the pleading look in his eyes; he did not want her to marry him out of pity for a lovesick swain. Her unanswered questions regarding his relationship with Lady Elenet escaped her lips before she could stop them. He answered them all with a fresh innocence, as if he knew naught of the truth. It was then that the true import of his words hit her: she held his heart.
Leaning over to kiss him on the brow, she gladly noted that she had erased his frown. Pulling her hands from his gentle grasp, she moved them to cup his face. Having caught his eye she said, "Yes. I will marry you with all my heart Vidanric."
But now I know just who you are
And I know you hold my heart
Finally this is where I belong
It is you I have loved all along
It's no more mystery
It is finally clear to me
You're the home my heart searched for so long
And it is you I have loved all along
White, pink and red rose petals rained down upon the newlyweds as they ran through the parted crowd towards the awaiting carriage, hand in hand.
The bride was radiant in her elaborate pearl white gown. The spring green bodice was studded with emeralds and rubies, stitched to look like little rosebuds. Seed pearls lined her wide collar, encircling her shoulders. Fine lace peeked out from beneath her hem and flowed into the graceful train. The vast amounts of silk and lace did not hinder her movements, but only enhanced her natural beauty. Her veil of silk gauze failed to hide the auburn flame of her hair that flowed freely down her back. Pale pink and green ribbons with jewels at the ends were braided into her crowning glory. A diamond tiara and necklace, and a pair of diamond earrings were the final touch.
The groom's tunic was no less impressive than his wife's. A tunic of cream white edged with gold along the cuffs, hem and collar hung upon his slender frame. The crowned sun of Remalna was stitched upon his breast while a sash of forest green with gold tassels sewn to the end, belted his tunic and hung by his side. His sword that was sheathed in its scabbard was partially hidden by the sash, a seemingly uncomfortable adornment that he wore with admirable ease. Delicate lace encircled his neck and wrists, a feminine touch that only brought out his masculinity. Knee-high blackweave boots encased his strong legs, a stark contrast to the white of his tunic. Emeralds were braided into his hair, complementing the diamond stud in his ear.
Thus impeccably dressed, the couple embraced before the crowd. Pulling apart, they basked in the glow of true love before slowly nearing each other for yet another touch of lips. The crowd cheered their approval as their new King and Queen broke apart with equally wide grins.
Meliara paused on the step leading up into the carriage as if deep in thought, before turning to Vidanric with a question in her eyes. "Wouldn't it have been more memorable if we raced back to the palace?" she asked.
"You wedding gown?" he questioned, arching an eyebrow.
"If I could ride with a broken foot, I can ride in a wedding gown," she assured him.
The guests had just begun to murmur about the lack of activity when two horses were brought up, one a dappled grey and the other a golden chestnut. Vidanric swung on to his grey after helping Meliara on to her chestnut. "Ready?" he asked, watching her as she assessed the road they had to traverse.
The only indication she gave of having heard him was the brisk reply of "Let's go!" before spurring her horse into a gallop.
He gave chase a fraction of a second later, leaving a group of startled courtiers in his wake. He was nearly catching up with her for her heavy skirts were slowing her down. When he came up beside her, she turned to flash him an impish grin, her veil whipping in the wind.
"We forgot to get a wager going!" he yelled across at her.
"Loser apologises to the rest of court for our inopportune and hasty departure!" she yelled back with a laugh.
Life! He had forgotten about protocol. Well, it was too late for regrets now, what with foreign diplomats, ambassadors and not to mention royalty inhaling their dust. He had to admit, breaking away from convention once in a while was very liberating; and he was sure with this wife of his, he'd feel liberated more often than he'd like to be.
The Royal Wing loomed up in the distance, an impressive sight to behold by all accounts. She was pulling ahead, bent low over her horse's withers. He did the same, hoping to catch up with her. "I win!" she exclaimed, turning her horse to face him.
Her face was flushed with exertion and her eyes sparkled with triumph and delight. His breath caught in his throat for an instant as he gazed upon the vision before him. It was hard to believe that she was now his wife, friend and lover, when she wouldn't have given him the time of the day a few moths ago.
"Danric?" she called, intruding upon his thoughts. "I need some help here, these voluminous skirts are such a nuisance!" she slapped the said garments in exasperation.
Laughing, he swung of his horse and taunted, "Perhaps I should just leave you up there for beating me."
"Danric," she cautioned, holding out her hands to be helped of her horse.
Wordlessly, he slipped his hands around her waist, while she rested her hands on his shoulders, and lifted her off her horse and back onto the ground. She smiled her thanks before looking down at her dusty gown. "Life, I'm a mess!" she began rearranging her veil and dusting her skirts when he caught her hands and pulled them back to her sides.
"What ...? " she began, only to be silenced by a kiss that made her heart stop for a moment.
Then he broke the kiss and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, whispering huskily in a deeper shad than usual, "You look best in sensuous disarray, my wife."
"Why, thank you!" she replied exclaimed, not knowing what else to say. "I never knew you ...oh, never mind." She waved her hands before her expressively before settling them against his chest. Fingering the fine embroidery of his tunic, she slowly laid her head on his shoulder and sighed with contentment. "I love you too, my husband."
Over and over
I'm filled with emotion
Your love, it rushes through my veins
"I hate you!" screamed Meliara as another wave of pain wracked her body, "I hate you!"
Vidanric winced from both her verbal assault and the vice-like grip she had on his hand. He glanced at the harried Healer who just shrugged and said, "They say that all the time."
"Shall I go then?" he asked Meliara, trying to seem as unperturbed as possible.
He stood to leave, but her hold on his hand tightened. "No! Please no!" She begged as another contraction hit. He smiled grimly and settled back down on the armchair beside her bed, gently brushing the hair plastered to her damp forehead.
By the time the baby was in his arms, Meliara was exhausted. Reclining against a mountain of pillows, she asked for the baby to be passed to her. Gingerly, he placed their son into her arms, commenting, "He's as red as a tomato."
Summoning enough strength to laugh at his ignorance she replied, "Haven't you seen a newborn babe, Danric? They're always red for the first few days. Then they'll begin putting on weight, their eyes will open and ..."
"Shh ... you should get some rest," He interrupted, kissing her on the tip of her nose. She smiled up at him in contentment.
"I've got to feed him first. Do you want to watch?" she grinned mischievously, watching him fidget slightly in his seat.
"It's not as if you haven't seen me naked before!" she exclaimed with amusement.
"Mel!" he hissed, glancing about furtively." Thank goodness there's no one here!" She eyed him sceptically. "All right, all right," he added, catching her meaning.
Without further ado, she untied the ties of her tunic and proceeded to feed their hungry baby. A curtain of hair fell across face as she watched her suckling baby with wonder. When the baby – whom they had decided to name Alaraec after his grandfather – had finished feeding, Meliara gave a motherly smile of tenderness.
"Would you like to burp him?" she asked Vidanric, who had leaned back comfortably into the armchair and whose chin was propped up in his hand.
"Hm?" he murmured, before coming to his senses and saying, "Burp him? But I don't know how!"
"It's easy. I've seen Nee doing it a million times." She passed Alaraec to him and positioned his hands so that they supported the baby's head and back. "Just pat him on the back in an upward stroking motion, be careful though, you had best put a towel on the shoulder of your tunic in case he throws up."
"What? You mean he'll regurgitate all over me?" asked Vidanric, incredulous. He looked just about ready to shove the baby back into her arms.
"Danric, look at me," she coaxed. "It's completely normal for him to regurgitate – as you so eloquently put it. Stop acting like a child!"
"I'm sorry. I guess watching Bran all this while has not fully prepared me for fatherhood, but I'm sure I'll get used to it." Thus, saying, he began burping his son with a look of apprehension on his face as Meliara looked on the both of them grinning from ear to ear.
And I am filled
With the sweetest devotion
As I, I look into your perfect face
It's no more mystery
It is finally clear to me
You're the home my heart searched for so long
And it is you I have loved
"Happy wedding anniversary, dear heart," whispered Vidanric, leading a blindfolded Meliara into their bedroom that he had painstakingly 're- decorated'. Swiftly, he untied the blindfold and bid her open her eyes.
Meliara gasped with delight, a faint tinge of pink ridging her cheeks. The smell of roses permeated the air; rose petals of every colour imaginable were strewn upon every surface. Reds, yellows, pinks, peaches and whites. What caught her eye however, was the bouquet by the window. Amongst the bundle of roses nestled one single rose made of crystal.
"My love for you ends the day the last rose withers."
Meliara turned to regard the man before her, her head cocked to one side. He was turning redder by the minute, it could be deduced that he had never done something like this before. She could not help laughing at his discomfiture. When she did, he turned even redder.
Flinging her arms around his neck she said, "This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me! I never knew you were such a romantic." She placed a cool hand against his burning cheek. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about being sweet to your wife, is there?"
His nervousness ebbed away at her words, and he leaned in to claim her lips when she stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Don't you want your gift? I'm afraid it isn't as grand as all this," she gestured to their surroundings, "but it'll have to do."
Thus saying, she pulled a pair of scissors from the drawer and snipped it experimentally. "Mel?" he asked, licking his lips nervously.
Taking a lock of her long auburn hair, she cut a part of it off and placed it on the table. "May I?" she asked, fingering his hair.
"Sure. Go ahead."
As she worked, she talked to him, "I had wanted this to be a surprise, but I didn't dare to cut your hair without your permission." Her fingers nimbly wove the locks of hair into two matching rings of their combined tresses. "I read somewhere that a person who gives you his or her hair ring, wishes you to be their sweetheart. Since we're married, I figured I'd make a slight modification."
"They're actually quite pretty, but they don't seem long lasting to me," he said, taking the ring she handed to him.
"That is why I got lockets!" she waved the said objects in the air triumphantly. "We'll just put them in, snap it shut and you've got yourself a lover's locket."
"Thank you. It's really thoughtful of you."
"You don't like it?" she asked, watching as he fingered the locket.
"No, of course not! I love it. Well, not as much as I love you, but I love it anyway." He smiled and hung the chain on his neck.
"Thank you. I love what you did to our bedroom too. It smells like a rose garden in here," she sniffed the perfumed air daintily.
"It smells like you." He drew her close and buried his face in her hair, emitting a theatrical moan at the same time.
She laughed and snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer still. "That tickles!"
He drew back suddenly, a rare impish glint in his eye. "Does it? Well, how about this?"
Expecting him to kiss her, she tilted her face up to his. However, he began nuzzling and kissing her neck instead. More giggles ensued as they fell onto the petal-strewn bed. "Get off me, you big oaf!" she exclaimed, trying to shove him off her.
"All right, all right," he said, rolling off her with a laugh. When he had managed to move himself into a half-upright position by resting backwards on his elbows, he turned to look at her and found her studying him with an indescribable expression on her face. Wordlessly, she shuffled towards him on her knees as her full skirt billowed about her small form.
She looked so serious, in an adorable way. "Mel, I ..." he began.
"Hush," she relied, easing herself onto his lap till she was straddling his thighs. "Kiss me, please?"
Slowly lowering himself onto the bed, he felt her lean towards him, her soft form against him, her hands cupping his face. Instinctively, his fingers found the nape of her neck and his thumb caressed the sensitive skin behind her ear.
Then the soft brush of lips, the gentle caress of hands and the warmth of breath. Pure bliss and true love.
It is you I have loved
It is you I have loved all along
