Hey guys! So I'll be completely honest - I fully intended for this story to be a oneshot xD But your reception of it took me totally by surprise. You're all so sweet! I really appreciate the feedback, so I think I'm going to give this a shot and try to make it a multichapter. As I have it planned right now, the chapters will be of varying lengths, but will string together to form a coherent story, I promise! This one will probably be among the shorter ones, and for that I apologize. Again, thank you all for your wonderful reviews, you have no idea how much they mean to me.
It was shameful, the way she spent the entirety of the night tangled in her sheets trying desperately to remember exactly how his lips had felt against hers. He had an infuriating tendency of causing restless nights, and she'd about had enough of it.
After several hours of drifting in and out of some semblance of sleep, she finally awakened with a pounding headache and a raw feeling at the back of her throat. When a servant attempted to pull the curtains open she groaned and begged that they be kept shut. It was absolutely ridiculous - she couldn't remember being sick since she was a little girl - but upon seeing the state of her Kenna immediately insisted she stay in bed and had some warm, tasteless mush and herbs brought to her room. Lola regarded them with distaste and refused to eat them, instead requesting that a fire be built and then that she be left in peace. A chill had set back into the air of France again, stealing the hope that had been granted by the unusually warm temperatures of the last few days - teeth chattering, Lola pulled her blankets up to her chin and curled up on her side, perfectly content to keep her misery to herself.
It was mid-afternoon when the door swung open again. Lola squeezed her eyes shut and rolled so her back was facing the door. "Kenna, I'm fine, I promise. I just need some rest."
"Now that is absolutely not true." The drawl made her freeze, eyes snapping open. She swore the pain in her head spiked, and after a moment she buried her face in her pillow, breathing in its scent and hoping that if she ignored him long enough Narcisse would simply give up and leave.
But he'd never been the kind to give up, had he? It was something they had in common, though she resented the fact as she heard his footsteps approach her bedside rather than leave it. She wanted so badly to be angry, to spin around and snap for him to leave her alone like she'd asked. But she was exhausted and a mess, and besides with he'd promised to do the exact opposite.
(And a small, secret part of her didn't want him to leave. She wouldn't acknowledge it, but it was there nonetheless. The past couple of days, she'd tried to dismiss her feelings toward him as simply enjoying her company. It was a lie, of course, but one that she was perfectly willing to tell in order to hide a much more terrifying truth.)
"And you haven't even touched your food? Terrible."
Rolling over onto her back, she mustered the best glare she could. She imagined she looked a mess, her face pasty and her hair disheveled, but she was beyond caring at that point. Or at least, that was what she told herself. Under his scrutiny, though, she shifted uncomfortably. She hated having anyone see her so weak and unkempt, least of all him. "Just leave me alone to suffer in peace."
Narcisse listed his head. "I think that might be the first time a lady requested I leave her bedroom."
"I'm not requesting. I'm ordering."
"You always were rather demanding, weren't you?" Narcisse settled himself at the foot of her bed, thoroughly enjoying himself. She could tell by the sly look in his eyes, the barely concealed smirk. She was tempted to kick him, but decided against it. The action would probably hurt more than it would hurt him, anyway. "Such a shame to see that spark confined by illness." A pause, and he glanced again at her bedside table, raising an eyebrow. "You should eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"Starving yourself will only make it last longer." He reached over her for the tray and she shrank away, eyes wide. By the time he'd manage to lift a spoonful of the mush, probably cold by that point, she'd composed herself enough to glower.
"I won't be fed like a small child."
She expected him to fight back, but something in her expression must have conveyed all the stubbornness she was prepared to unleash upon him. He sighed dramatically and replaced the tray. "Very well. But an empty belly certainly won't make you any less ill."
"I'm not ill, just tired," Lola asserted, closing her eyes to emphasize her point. "I simply need rest."
She felt the weight on her bed shift, and suddenly something pressed up against her forehead. Her eyes flew open to see him much closer, his hand pressing up against her face. She could see the angles of his face, the line of his jaw, just as clearly as before he'd kissed her. He knew it, too. His eyes mocked her. "Are you certain? You feel a bit warm."
"Do you truly enjoy seeing me such, Lord Narcisse?" she jerked away, cringing at the pain the sudden movement caused. He saw, she knew he did, but said nothing. "Leave me be."
"It would be against my moral obligation to do so." He finally released that smirk, and she would be lying if she said that her heart didn't stutter a bit when he did.
No. You can't do this. Not again. Lola groaned loudly and rolled away from him, glaring at her own covers. "Fine. Then you can simply sit and entertain yourself by watching me sleep. I'm certain it will be quite exciting."
"Perhaps I will."
She refused to give into him, so she lay still, not squirming even when her muscles grew stiff. Eventually she managed to drift off, listening to the sound of the dying fire and his soft breathing not far from her. It was a simple hymn, a soothing lullaby that let her believe, for the few moments she spent between wakefulness and sleep, that such a thing could be normal. That she could always lie down beside the sound of his breathing. And then she tumbled into a dream where she was back among tumbling green and crashing blue, a wind pulling against her as she stood along the shores of her homeland.