Written for the 10whores challenge on livejournal - see meine profile for details.
Prompt #9 - without a name.
She didn't know who it was. For a long time, she'd thought she was having a recurring dream. Each night, she'd be awoken by something soft and silky and cold trailing across her face. Then the something would reach her lips and disappear, to be replaced by a set of warm lips.
She'd be half-asleep, and by the time she'd fully comprehend what was going on, the lips – and the person attached – would move away and disappear.
Miaka had thought she was dreaming. She'd mentioned it once, tentatively, to Hotohori, who had had guards placed at her door. But the men hadn't seen anyone and Miaka had still been kissed by her nighttime visitor, so she'd concluded it must be a dream.
Then, one morning, she'd woken up to see something lying on her pillow. She'd reached out for it and her fingers had closed around the stem of a yellow rose. The symbol of eternal love.
Miaka had never been visited at night by the mysterious man again. But the rose had never wilted, seemingly enchanted by some powerful magic. And she'd always wondered who the man who loved her so had been.