Author's Note: Sorry for the delay. Sometimes these transitioning/ expository chapters are the ones I have the hardest time with.


Lover Mine: Chapter Four


Love is like war:

Easy to begin, but very hard to stop.

-H.L. Mancken


Lucinda scrubbed the sleep from her eyes, grumbling to herself. Who in the name of the Great Goddess would be pounding on her door when the sun was barely up? And the morning after Samhain! She was going to hex them into next week, good witch or no good witch.

But she never got the chance. When she threw open her door, Sofia pushed her way eagerly in. "I had another dream."

Lucinda blinked at the frantic princess standing in her kitchen.

"I'm sorry," Sofia frowned, seeming to just now realize how early it was. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Lucinda sighed, dropping her wand on the table, hexes forgotten. "I'll make coffee."


Later when they were each settled with a hot cup in their hands, Lucinda pursed her lips in thought. "But I thought the spell only worked for one night. I'm sure I read that. Or, at least, I thought I did."

"Well, it was definitely the same man. And this dream was even stronger than the first."

"What do you mean?" Lucinda stifled a yawn.

"I remember more this time. I still couldn't see him, it was too dark, but I remember certain things he said. I didn't understand any of it, of course. But there was something, right at the end. He called me something, ahgraw I think it was. It seemed to be some sort of name, maybe a title."

"Ah graw?"

Sofia frowned, deciding that didn't sound quite right. "More like, a ghrá."

"Oh," the witch pretended to shiver, "Sounds dirty."

"I don't think so, though I'm not sure about some of the other things he said." She flushed. "He said it sort of soft, whispered it against my hair, like ... like a term of endearment."

Lucinda studied her for a moment. "Careful there, Sof, sounds like you might be falling for your own husband."

Her pulse quickened, and Sofia recognized the feeling as anxiety. It was all so much to take in. She was a maiden, a virgin who had never done more than dance with the opposite sex. And she'd never felt particularly enticed by their embraces. Despite being friendly and popular, she often preferred the quiet company of a few close companions to the throngs of admirers Amber liked to garner. Sofia had friend from all walks of life, and she loved them all in her special way, but none of them had ever inspired the depth of emotion that this dream man had. She found some of these emotions frightfully strong. Which reminded her why she'd come in the first place. "Luce, you said the spell was over, so why did I have another dream?"

The green-eyes girl chewed her lip. "Honestly ... I have no idea."

"But," she sputtered, unable to accept that as the only answer, "What does the spell say about it?"

"That's the thing ... I don't know. I put mom's spell book back so she wouldn't know I took it. I can't go back and read it now."

"But-," Sofia sputtered. "What am I supposed to do then?"

Lucinda thought a long moment before her shoulders dropped in defeat. She groaned, eyes sliding closed.

"What? What is it?"

The witch dropped her head onto her folded arms. "We're going to have to talk to my mom, aren't we?"


Cedric was having a hard time concentrating. Understandable, given the circumstances, but that didn't change the fact that he still had work to do. The royal family left All Hallow's Eve free for the village festival, but All Hallow's Day, November 1st, was the night of the Enchancia Costume Ball. And he had a whole bloody castle to enchant. He waved his wand with one hand, smothering a yawn with the other.

The dream he experienced last night was hazy by the morning light, but this time he was able to retain some fragmented pieces. Impressions mostly of feelings, and the odd piece of sensation.

He remembered being outdoors, in the woods of all places. It was very dark, but that hardly mattered because there was little time to look about before the sound of rustling leaves drew his attention to a figure running towards him. She'd crashed into his chest, screaming in high pitched terror. Somehow he knew her, the same woman as before, slight and delicate with a head full of loose inky curls. He could only recognize the vaguest sense of her outline, the darkness too complete.

He felt an astonishing reaction race through him at her fear. He didn't know why she was running, or what from, but he felt a fierce, and certainly foreign for him, desire to protect and comfort her. Usually inclined only to self-service, he'd certainly never been inspired to such bravery before. He was usually an unabashed coward by nature. But he'd soothed her, clasping her close, murmuring words of comfort in his ancestral lexicon. She couldn't possibly understand him, but that hardly mattered seeing how she was a figment of his imagination. His words seemed to sooth her, then ignite something inside her. She reached up, clasping her arms around his neck and dragged his mouth down to meet hers. And he's gone to her willingly.

That he was speaking to this woman, whispering words of love and comfort in his ancestral language disturbed him. Magic handlers only shared such secrets with those they possess the utmost love and trust for. Friendship was not binding enough. Even marriage didn't guarantee such conviction if the couple was not strong enough together. Some secrets were never relinquished between husband and wife, only the blood ties of children strong enough to pass on such coveted knowledge. They were just words, a code that unlocked the translation into plain language, but magic handling families guarded their secrets closely. Such mistrust was nurtured in them from birth and not easily renounced.

That he spoke to this dream woman to freely, spoke of a desire to share all of himself with her. No one in his life held such devotion or trust. Even Sofia didn't know all the dark shadows of his soul, even if she was the one person who had come the closest to tempting him to reveal all. But the intimacy of his dream spoke of a relationship much different from the one he shared with the princess.

He'd littered this dream woman with kisses, stroking her breasts to stiff peaks. And when they'd fallen to the ground, clothes dissolved away in the way of dreams, and he'd lifted her up before lowering her down to mate their bodies together, he'd never felt anything so amazing, so complete in his pathetic life. No coupling with any woman of flesh and blood had ever inspired such ardor as the vision in his dream. But it wasn't just the physical pleasure, but the emotion predicating it.

He didn't want to simply bed this woman. He wanted to worship her.

The feelings he had for this fantasy woman were shocking not only their intensity, but their newness. Cedric knew many layers of emotion in his life: the warm, comfortable love for his mother; the complicated resentment mixed with obsequious attachment to his father; restrained devotion to Sofia shot through with a sense of self-preservation that kept her at arm's length despite their close friendship; paternal pride for Calista; and borderline apathy for Cordelia mixed with guilt that he didn't love his only sibling more.

But what he'd felt at the end of his dream, as he held this woman in his arms, easing her shaking body down to rest against his chest, still joined intimately, her ear pressed against his heartbeat- that feeling he had never felt before in his life. That memory was crystal clear in his mind. The one where he petted her hair, combing through her long curls to touch the downy smooth skin of her back. He pressed his lips to her temple, whispering with reverence, "My love."

Overwhelming and unrelenting in its ferocity, naked and kneeling the dirt, her warm body draped over his lap, pressed tight to his chest, he could barely breath around the emotions that filled him. They were so foreign and yet so intuitive. He never wanted to let her go.

So, of course, that's exactly when he woke up. Torn from the warmth and comfort of her presence into cold, empty reality. Oh joy. And with another mess to clean to top it off.

In the light of day, squinting with fatigue, he desperately wished his sleep tonight would be blank and dreamless. This dream woman proved a disconcerting harbinger, reminding him of uncomfortable parts of his reality. He should be reveling in the pleasant diversion she provided, blithely pulling out bits of memory when it please him, easing the dullness of his days. Instead he wanted to push her as far from his conscience mind as he could, sweeping her back into the inky depths of his subconscious that birthed her. She made him feel things. Things he shouldn't. Things he didn't allow himself to acknowledge, having built a comfortable wall of denial which to hide behind. Cracks had begun to fissure through that wall the moment Sofia slipped her fingers between his, unwittingly setting the memory of this dream woman free.

Now this wild incantation, this nymph born of starlight and desire haunted him, her memory whispering in his ear throughout the day, the ghost of her arms caressing him , infusing his loins and heart with longing. An intangible phantom, he feared what she really represented: a dangerous desire for love and connection that threatened to overwhelm him with its ferocity.

He shook his head, viciously trampling down his paranoid musings, resolutely focusing on the many tasks at hand. She was a dream, nothing more. A fantasy, a specter who didn't exists, he told himself, even as his heart gave a miserable pang at the loss.


"You stole my spellbook? Oh, Lucinda, I've never been so proud of you."

Lucinda rolled her eyes. "Focus, Mom, now is not the time to go all misty eyed over wicked deeds."

"Right," Marla, Lucinda's mother, opened the book before her. Sofia recognized it as the family grimoire. "Ah, here it is, the Proffwydoliaeth spell."

Her long, painted nail skimmed over the lines of script, moving down the page. "I remember this one. Not particularly wicked, but still plenty naughty. My friends and I tried this ritual when we were about your age. None of us could complete the spell, though. The cake we made smelled like feet."

"Wait," Lucinda interupted her mother's reminicing. "What do you mean complete the spell? I thought you only had to eat some of it."

"Nope," Marla smiled, popping the "p" on the end of the word. "To complete the spell you have to eat your entire ninth portion. Hence, why Sofia here seems to be the only one affected."

"Well, if I'd known that," Lucinda muttered, digruntled. "Okay, but I thought the spell only lasted one night."

"It can only last one night, but this is Samhain, Dearie, the veil between the worlds has begun to thin, lending all sort of strength to spells like this. You, little witch, opened a door without knowing how to close it."

"So," Sofia sat forward, looking at the page, though she couldn't read it, "How do I stop it? How do I close the door?"

"It may be that you can't, Dearie. Magic isn't a toy to play with. Some spells carry serious consequences. Normally I'd be delighted, hearing that a spell was causing some one distress." She shrugged. "Wicked witch and all. But from what you say, it sounds like you've forged a strong connection with this person. A connection like that cannot be so easily severed. Are you sure ending these dreams is really what you want?"

"What do you mean?" The princess asked.

"Magic, real magic, not simple parlor tricks or the odd hex, shouldn't be worked without a clear purpose in mind. You threw open the barriers to your mind, inviting this man in with no regard for control. You are not steering these vision, like you should. You're like a puppet, being lead. The magic is pulling the strings, when really you should be holding the reins. You're actually rather lucky these vision are as pleseant as they have been. If your future husband were a different sort of person, it could be most unplesant indeed."

She took a slip of her coffee. "I can only imagine how he feels about being drug into this chaos."

Sofia stopped, her cup half way to her lips. "Wait, what?"

"Your man," the older witch clarified. "I just wonder how he feels about being drawn into these dreams."

Lucinda and Sofia blinked in unison. They turned to look at each other, then back at the older witch, both sharing identical looks of surprise and confusion.

"You did realize," Marla said slowly, "that you are not the only one experiencing these dreams?"

Sofia shook her head slowly while Lucinda cringed, prompting the older witch to throw her head back cackling.

"I'm sorry," she huffed, when she could breathe a little again, "I don't mean to laugh, but you two just look so stunned. Lucinda, dear, you really need to read a spell more carefully next time before you cast it. Why do you think it's hidden in my grimoire? If it was a simple matter of conjuring a single dream, you don't need to go to so much trouble for that. The spell you cast is so much more."

She took another sip before setting her cup down. "Samhain divination is powerful magic. With the veil between world thinned, even the smallest spell can travel across the realms. You two haven't just conjured a simple vision of Sofia's future lover, you have actually called him to her."

"Are you saying," Sofia clutched her amulet, worrying it between her fingers in a nervous gesture, "that these aren't just dreams. That we're actually ... That he and I have ..."

The princess's face turned red, trying to articulate around her sudden embarrassment and alarm.

The older witch reached out to pat her hand. "If you mean, have you physically consummated your relationship? The answer is no. You're not meeting him in the physical realm, but in one of the shadowy dream worlds between realms. Your minds are involved, prompting, I've no doubt a physical release in your bodies, but you are not actually copulating with him in the flesh."

Sofia's face burned, but she felt relief. The dreams were uncomfortable enough for her to bear, but the thought that she'd bodily consummated her marriage before even meeting her husband was far too distressing. "But," she said slowly, when she could speak again, "is he aware of this?"

Marla shrugged. "Yes and no. For now he's probably no more aware than thinking he's having some pretty intense erotic dreams. He's probably not aware of who you are, or that you are, in fact, a real live person."

"Will he become more aware?"

"Depends. Some people can be awfully dense even when the truth is starting them in the face, but right now you're the one in charge. You see what you are ready to see. You reveal to him what you are ready to reveal."

"I thought you said I wasn't in control. That the magic was leading the dreams."

"Point taken. More like your subconscious is in charge to a certain degree. This is your spell, so you are tied to it. You haven't seen him because you are not ready to see him yet. You're still frightened of what he represents."

"And what's that?"

"You tell me," Marla shrugged. "Sexual abandon, loss of innocence, a change in the status quo, could be any number of reasons. But you do have some measure of control, and you can work on gaining more control ... for now."

"What does that mean?" Lucinda asked, frowning at the ominous sound of those last words.

"You two," she pointed between the two young woman, "in your dabbling seemed to have forgotten one very important element here, it take two to make a marriage bed. You called to this man, Sofia. That you can hear him speak in another language, one you don't understand, that between the two of you only he could know, means that he is answering you. He may not be aware yet, but he will become more so. That he can exert some control, without knowing what is happening, means he has power."

Sofia couldn't look at Lucinda, although she felt the other girl giving her a significant look. "You mean like magic?"

"He could be a magic handler, but it could be as simple as possessing a strong personality. I know of young woman for who the Proffwydoliaeth spell became a nightmare. He future husband proved a man of terrible, but strong character. He took control of their dreams, forcing himself upon his future bride night after night. So distraught about her future, she took her own life."

"By the Goddess," Sofia shivered, hugging her arms tightly over her chest. "That's horrible."

"The world," Marla said gently, giving them both a significant look, "is not always a nice place. And magic is hardly ever easy, and rarely pleasant.

"But," she added, seeing that she had affected the princess so, "You could also consider that perhaps your man has the ability to take control of these dreams and is choosing not to. Perhaps he is giving you the space to discover him. Or, maybe he feels as you do, and he is scared of where this relationship will lead, and what it will reveal."

What the witch suggested hinted at a certain level of vulnerability in this man. Sofia thought on his manner with her, strong, intense, but also soft and tender. She felt safe with him from the beginning, though she really had no reason to do so. But the loss of control, the loss of her autonomy still frightened her.

Marla sighed. Rising off her chair, she went to a dresser, searching through the contents of one drawer. She pulled out a candle and some jars of herbs. "Severing such a connection can be done if you wish it," she explained, "But you should know it could be detrimental for one or both of you. If your dreams were ... non-consentual, I wouldn't hesitate to help you, but it sounds like that is not the case at all."

Sofia flushed as Marla came back to the table, setting down the candles and twisting open jars. A strong, herbacious smell filled the air as she sellected some dried leaves from one and tied them to the branches she retrived from another jar. Using a bit of string she tied together a smuging stick.

"As I said, magic should never be worked without a clear purpose. If you wish it, burn these herbs until they smoke, then waft the smoke around your bed counter clockwise. Snuff out the herbs, then light the candle and keep it lit as you sleep."

Sofia took the white candle Marla held out to her. A red symbol was carved into the side. "Will that make the dreams stop?"

"What it will do is give you full control over your dreams. What you do from there will be up to you. You can stop them, if that is your wish. Or, when you are ready, you can use this magic to revel yourself to this man and he to you. But think on this, Sofia," Marla looked her directly in the eye to see she had the young woman's full attention. "The connection between you is strong for a reason. You have let the magic run wild with you so far, and it has not hurt you. Trust your instincts. Trust what the magic is telling you about him. If you listen, it will guide you to the right decision."


Author's Note: More sexiness coming in the next chapter.

Proffwydoliaeth - means prophecy in welsh