Phew, I finally finished another chapter...my muse decided it liked ripped elves with an air of menace a bit better than vamps for the time being. Thank you those of you who have put this and my other stories on Alert and faveorites. I also want to thank those waiting so patiently for me to update, its been a bit rough to recapture my muse and plot bunnies. Without further adue...Chapter Four
The bond grows and Nuada finds he cannot so easily leave behind the passion he had for Pen. A little dancing, both martial and marital...*snicker* poison, and reverie...
Two weeks later...
Nuada let the lance sing as he moved through the form. He tried to focus as he used the lance in its shortened form, but he could not shake the thoughts of the Singer and the unborn child she carried. The ache began sharp in his chest, a constant reminder of the bond he wished had never been. He ignored it, pushing himself further as he tried to bring his conflicting emotions into some sort of resolution. So far all he was sure of was a distinct sense of soul deep pain.
He gutted an invisible enemy and whipped the shortened lance to stab another in the throat. He dodged a swung fist and drove the lance home into a heat. The ache became sharper, as if a trickle of acid had been released beneath muscle and skin. Again he ignored the ache of the bond in favor of the ache of muscle. She was close by somewhere, the ache was proof of it. He spun, going to his knee to begin another part of the form.
Half hidden behind an oak, Pen indeed watched. To say she felt every nuance of his anger and conflict would have been an understatement. She felt it acutely, it was a heavy weight upon her heart and spirit. She bore it in a way worthy of any Noble lady. Sometimes The burden was so much that it made her weep, but she would not let others see her tears. She knew of the ache in his chest, for she had begun to feel it too.
She had followed him, wanting to be near him in some way to ease her own ache. She had seen him dis-guard his shirt some time ago despite the cold. She knew he felt little of it with his own magick tight around him. With a heavy sigh, she pulled her cloak tighter to ward off the deepening chill. She watched him as he knelt and began again, the sweat turning to frost upon hid moon pale skin.. She knew he sensed her in some way, she could feel a minor trickle of annoyance as he continued through the complex form.
Nuada paused, a rustle of movement at the edge of the clearing caught his attention. It was her, he was sure of it now. She should have not been out, it was much too cold. He felt a twinge of guilt at her being there, his pain and anguish had drawn her. He shook his head and went back to his form, trying to ignore the ache as it turned to squeezing his heart.
Pen knew she should return to her cottage, but she was worried about him. She watched him pause, move and go to his knee again, head bowed. He was trembling as she moved toward him, picking up his discarded cloak and laying it over his shoulders. He did not move as the wool settled over his bare skin.
He felt the cloak descend upon him, the chill now cutting through his shields now that he had focused upon her. The trickle of acid had turned to a flood as he felt her close to him. He took hitching breaths, the air puffing in soft clouds. He looked up at her, she was standing a few steps from him. He used the lance to leaver himself up. He stumbled the few steps to her. He pulled back a step when she reached to brush the frost from his cheek.
"...You should not be out, Human." He said, the pain tight upon his face. "It is not good for you, or the child..."
"It is not good for you either." She said softly. "You're in pain..."
He turned his head away. "What would you know, human."
She shook her head, "I know..." She said. "And your bleeding..."
He reached a hand up to smear away the caramel stream from his left nostril, then looked at his hand. A cloth appeared and her hand held his as it vanished beneath the cloth's soft strokes. He felt dizzy, unsteady on his feet.
"Go back human, leave me." He said. "I can tend to...to..."
His knees gave way and darkness consumed his world.
He slowly came to with his head in her lap, her fingers brushing ice crusted hair back from his ear. His limbs felt stiff and he could feel the chill damp where the snow had melted beneath him.
"Your friend wink is coming, I sent rumor to fetch him..." Her voice was soft, slightly distant.
He wondered how long he'd lain there, her looking after him until one of the boggles had come looking for her. Her touch was gentle, as it had been through out the previous year. He did not want to think of that year, a sweet taste of peace he could never have again. His only thought was of relief, the ache seemed a distant memory even if only for this moment.
The still silence of the trees passed for some time before he heard the sound of the ogre's steps along with those of two others. He was lifted from her lap as the ache returned, he made a noise of pain. Her hands adjusted the blanket Wink had wrapped him in to ward off the bitter cold, and soft words spoken in Sindarin made the world slide away again.
Lochain caught Pen as she fell, cradling her tightly against the warmth of his chest.. He could already hear Jaren complaining about the girl's foolishness, and her devotion to Nuada. He had known from the very beginning that the heart bond between his heir and the prince would be a fragile one. He also had known what toll it had taken upon her, even more so now that she was in the early stages of pregnancy. He looked at the ogre and then at the girl in his arms.
"...When the prince wakes...bring him to see her." Lochain said, moving ahead of Wink. "Even if he protests..."
As usual Wink nodded. Some times he wondered if Nuala had gotten all the understanding and Nuada all the stubbornness. He shook his head as he headed back toward the enclave in Lochain's footsteps.
Nuada didn't protest when Wink near carried him to the small cottage the young singer occupied. He saw her sitting by the hearth wrapped in a large blanket, her fingers wrapped around a stoneware mug as she watched the flames dance. He rubbed a spot over his heart, the ache was still there despite the many hours since he'd been lulled to sleep. It was not until he came fully into the room that he saw the ancient elf sitting across from her.
"Prince..." Lochain said.
"Guild Master..." Nuada said.
Lochain rose, "I will leave you two alone..."
He watched her turn her head slightly. A memory came, of her sitting by the hearth singing as she embroidered upon a scrap of linen. He watched her face tighten, and her fingers grip a bit harder on the mug in her hand.
"...It is good you are well, prince..."
He took the seat Lochain had vacated, reaching to take the mug before it cracked in her hand. Her skin was still slightly chilled beneath his fingers.
"...You should not have stayed with me." He said softly. "You could have endangered the child..."
"What would it be to you if I lost the child..." She said, pulling her hand away. "You could be well rid of a burden you have no want of."
The words were like a slap, a sharp reminder of what he had rejected. He caught her hands, holding them tightly around the mug. His grip made her meet his eyes, amber shaded dark by a pain he would never admit to.
"Do you know what you have done to me human." He hissed. "Because of you I cannot take a breath without being reminded of a bond I have no want of..."
She looked hard into his eyes. "...I gave you what your heart truly desired, what the man beneath wished..."
The ache sharpened, he felt her tremble and grip the mug a bit tighter. It hit him why she was pulling away, she was bearing the brunt of their bond and it was hurting her.
"I have forgotten I am not alone in feeling this ache." He said, taking the mug from her hands and taken them into his own.. "This burden should not be yours to bear alone."
"No, prince you are not..." She said, rising, pulling her hands from his. "And yet I must..."
He watched her turn to go, the blanket trailing behind her like a train upon a queen's gown. The hard squeeze of his heart a reminder of what a fool he had allowed himself to become.
Four days later...
Nuada was back to his martial routines, this time he made sure she would not follow him. He had told either Wink or the boggles where he was going, dangerous to be sure but he could not risk the loss of a possible heir. An image came of a child that mirrored him but with her dark hair and evergreen eyes. The lance slid from his hand, the ache near stopped his heart. He fell to his knees and vomited into the snow. He tasted blood on his tongue, and what he had spewed into the snow was tinged dark with it. With a trembling hand he wiped a warm trickle from his left nostril, the smear was as dark as what stained the snow.
"What is happening to me..." he whispered.
You are dieing, for her... a dark voice seemed to echo in his head. The bond is already killing you...
He vomited again as a pair of delicate hands caught him before he pitched head first into the mess beneath him.
"...Master Wink, I've found him..."
Her voice, the little singer's voice was so close. He tried to pull away, but he heard the ogre make concerned noises as he was lifted to his feet. He tried to focus his eyes, finding he couldn't and everything was colored by a odd haze before darkness descended.
Hours later...
Nuada felt something cool against his face, he opened his eyes only to find the light hurt them. The soft sound of the light dimming, and soft sounds of concern. He closed his eyes, even the dimmed light made them burn.
"...Be at peace." Her voice, and again the coolness. "Sleep, rest."
He did not want to fall back into sleep, it was too much like death. Her hand touched his skin, and fingertips glided over the mark upon his face. The touch was light, the movement slow. He realized what she was doing as he sank down into a dreamless darkness. She was using the Reverie, the one state no Sidhe would fight when their bodies were badly injured or gravely ill.
"Wicked...Human..." He murmured as the warm darkness enfolded him.
A soft kiss to the mark on his temple was the last he knew for a long time.
Nuada came awake again with the sound of voices, but the voice he wished to hear was not among them.
"...The poisoning was subtle, it would not have been noticed if he had not vomited a good portion of the lining of his gut into the snow..." The voice was male, possibly the healer. "We will have the enclave searched, the poisoner could not have gone far..."
"It was fortunate we found him when we did, otherwise it would have been days before we would have found his corpse." a second male, older. "No doubt the poisoner is a corpse themselves, that poison is strong even in small doses..."
He turned his head, to find Pen's next to his. She was asleep, her head on her arms at the edge of the bed. He wondered why she had remained there.
"...So you're awake, we thought you had left us." Lochain said, from the other side. "She has not left your side since you were found." The pouring of water into a cup. "She fell asleep a short time ago, still wanting to be at your side. It has not been easy for her, to bear the burden placed upon her. Here, drink..."
He accepted Lochain's aid in taking the water, it was almost like ice as it numbed the aching pain in his gut. The cup was taken and he was eased back. He turned his head to look at the soft, dark waves that hid Pen's face from his view. For a moment, he could almost believe that his war could be abandoned and he could take up the life of a Sidhe noble and raise strong children, living in peace in this remote place. He knew after the child was born he would walk away, never looking back upon the heir that would take his place on the High throne.
"...She will bear it until the stars fall." He said, feeling a quiet sadness seep into his heart. "My world shifts, Guild master, it would be unwise for her to remain with me..."
Lochain looked to someone in the shadows, words in Drowic left his lips. A moment later, a piece of shadow detached itself and gently eased the young singer from his bedside. Nuada let his fingers catch a few strands of her silken hair as she was pulled away and the ache squeezed his heart once more.
Weeks later...
Nuada recovered slowly, retreating into the bare trees when the stench of humans became strong in his nose. He wandered in those woods, Wink or one of the boggles not far behind him. He silently accepted their company among the sleeping nature spirits. It was quite by accident he came upon Pen as she kept up her training as much as she was able. He watched her, the movements of a body long used to the fluid grace of a deadly dance. She seemed to have sensed him, the dance faltered and stopped. Green eyes caught his golden ones, he had not truly spoken to her since that night by the fire.
"So, you have found me..." She said softly, though he could hear her from where he stood.
He came a few paces closer as she walked calmly over to where a compact, near smokeless fire burned. She sank slowly to the flat rock beside it. She held up a water skin, offering him the hospitality of her fire. Rumor was with him this day and ran ahead to find warmth near the flame.
"Trust me or not," She said, taking a long pull of water. "...but do not stand there and freeze."
He let his legs carry him toward the promise of warmth. He heard the skin sailing at him, he near dropped it when it hit him in the chest. He heard her give a short laugh when it near slipped from his fingers.
"...So this is where you vanished to in the year you shared my bed." He drank, the water cool and sweet despite having been near the fire. "was this too part of your deception?"
Her face turned dark as she accepted the skin back, obviously her training was an open secret.
"No, my blood father is a teacher of such forms. I learned the basic movements before I was brought to the Guild...others were found to teach me after I passed the threshold of the hall." she set the skin down beside her. "I was Four when I was given to the guild..."
He could tell she was weary, perhaps from bearing a burden that should not have been hers. He moved to sit a short span from her, the stone cold even through the layers of wool and silk that kept the chill at bay. He watched her rub her hands in the fire's warmth, now seeing the fingerless gloves that adorned her hands. He was not sure how to broach the subject of her performance before the court of Bethmora.
"...You went to sing for my father's court." He said. "When you returned I should have asked how my sister fared...I would have liked to see her again."
She turned to him, taking up his hand sighing as she traced the near invisible scars. He could feel the tips of her bare fingers moving over his chilled palm, it was a strange sensation that near mirrored the touch of Reverie. He knew his reaction didn't go unnoticed.
"...She bore your wounds in faint echo." She said. "I spoke only once with her, that night after my first performance. She has felt your heart in its conflict, and told me to care for my child well..."
He gently pulled his hand away, being reminded that to love either this woman or his sister as he had...and still did was tearing his heart to pieces for he saw each love as a betrayal of the other.
"Fate bound you too closely, the bond of twins distorted, the echo too strong between you." She returned to warming her hands again. "Indeed you should have been one being..."
"But we are not." He said, reminded that what he felt for Nuala was a twisted reflection of what Pen had offered him. "...why do you continue your training, surely you are escorted about."
She licked her lips, she could taste some remnant of his breakfast upon them. For her, being bonded was a new sensation, for him it had been life long. She turned to take a drink from the skin again, collecting herself.
"...I cannot always rely upon the Light siders who work for the Guild, many are hirelings. Their loyalty goes only as far as the gold the guild pays." She said. "and I would like to be able to defend my child if the need arises." she rose slowly, stretching, muscles already aching. "Your lance will not be there to defend us..."
He watched her move from the fire and into the dance again.
For many days afterward, Nuada would come to watch her, and to share her fire for brief moments. Then one morning, he was waiting for her, lance in hand. He did not wait for her to begin her forms, he attacked. The clash of wood upon wood echoed as the haft of the lance met the sheathed blades.
"Are you mad..." She hissed, dodging the blade as it swung close to her body.
"Perhaps I am..." He said, bringing the lance around for another swing, this time at her head. "Perhaps I wish you to be able to defend against even me..."
"I have no desire to fight you..." She said, barely avoiding being smacked with the blunt end of the lance. "...But if you so desire, I will dance..."
The sound of Silver blades sliding out and the sharp smell of iron told him she would only have to scratch him and He'd be seeing the green Fields of the summerlands. He cast a weary glance when Wink appeared at the edge of the clearing. The Ogre gave only a brief nod, acknowledging the prince's gaze.
"...So, will you rely upon iron for your lack of skill..." He said, turning his attention back to her.
She ignored the taunt and went for him as she had practiced, the sound of encased iron upon wood was her reward.
"The only iron I need are my words and will..." She took aim low, and found the lance blade there to block the blow. "Shall I say the same for Magick with you..."
He let out a growl, She indeed had the bard's talent for turning a barb. He paused the blade under her chin in one swift motion.
"...I do not need magick to deal with such a hollow-hearted, vain creature..." He said, withdrawing the lance and tossing it to where Wink had settled himself at the edge of the clearing. "Shall we test your skills, I wish to see if your fists are as swift as your blades..."
the blades slid into their sheath with a click, and she moved to set them aside, only to be grabbed swiftly from behind, the sheath trapped against her body. She could feel his breath on her neck, the hard line of his body against her back. A sudden flash of arousal traveled between the bond, quickly quenched when she let out a soft sound.
"...What should I do with you human, perhaps end your torment now..." He said, one hand moved to caress her throat. "or end the mistake I have made..."
She froze as his other hand pressed to her lower belly, not yet showing the swell of new life. She felt him tremble, struggling between actually doing these acts and the intimate way he held her.
"...Silverlance..." She breathed out. "Don't..."
His lips brushed down the side of her neck, His breath flowing out in a pained sound. The sense of arousal became stronger, struggling to surface from the depths of his darkened Soul.
"...Beg me not to..." He whispered, then his voice lowered to a growl. "beg me..."
She knew if she didn't move he would take her, hard and savage as his whisper promised. She attempted to pull apart the sheath, only to have her wrists grabbed. He pressed her harder against his body, she could feel the solid hardness of him pressed against her lower back. Even without their bond, she knew what he desired. The blades were pulled from her grasp and tossed in the same direction as the lance, his grip upon her wrists returned as she was spun to face him.
"No Human, you will not escape..." He said, his eyes bright with lust. "Not this time, not ever again..."
The next she knew, she was pressed between him and the trunk of a tree. One of his hands encircled her wrists, the other fumbling between them to adjust their clothing. The sudden intrusion of his fingers was a poor substitute for what she had felt beneath layers of silk and wool. He made a pained sound as he withdrew the digits from her.
"Not here..." He murmured, laying his forehead against hers. "Not in the open...A bed...roof, walls..."
She felt his weight shift, easing up. She tried again to break his hold, only to be pressed hard against the trunk.
"My cottage...I will have you beneath me..." He said, looking down into her eyes.
The scent of autumn and spice rose up, making her reach up to touch the mark. She watched his eyes darken, and his breath hitch at her touch. One of his hands took her wrist and guided for another intimate touch.
"...See what you have done to me, human." It came out on a choked sound. "...I cannot wait..."
She had only a moment to touch velvet over steel before the ground came to meet her back and her clothing lay discarded beneath her. She heard him murmur something in Sindarin, a plea for forgiveness as He thrust deeply into her.
It was a long time later that his body lifted from hers, but he did not withdraw. Sweat had turned to frost, turning his skin to moon glow. He looked down at her, her hands moving up and down his ribs sent another shudder through him. She made a soft sound as the pleasure of it sailed through their bond. He looked toward the edge of the clearing, there was no sign of Wink. He wondered if the Ogre had wondered off before or after he had placed her on the ground.
"...He left the moment you pinned me to the tree." She said.
Too well could his oldest friend read his moods, perhaps he had departed to let them have some illusion of privacy. He leaned forward to kiss her, moaning when he felt her hands reach his hips and pull him deeper. Both gasped, the sensation doubled by the bond.
"...Wicked Human..." He moaned.
"...Evil Elf..." She moaned back.
Their bodies began moving again, striving to make the moment last.
When their bodies were stated and only echos traveled their bond did Nuada rise from her. He looked down at her sleeping form. He draped his cloak over her, letting her doze in the clinging warmth and scent of him. His sharp nose wrinkled at the smell of sex and release that hung in the air. He had to admit the mingled scent of their coupling was not unpleasant, like the last vestiges of summer turning into Autumn. He looked to where their weapons had landed, Wink must have set them together. He looked back to her as he rose, near naked to where they lay.
"...So this was my father's gift to you." He said, carefully picking up the nested blades. "...A blade made to kill..." He traced the inlaid notes. "...You will one day make the wind sing around them, little singer, I will insure it."
He turned to collect his clothing and leave the clearing, he did not want to face her when she woke.
