Hello everybody. This is the last chapter for this fanfic, as you've noticed I've made it quite large to wrap up our story and yet leave a possibility for a sequel in the future. For now I was planning on working a little more on my Moonstruck universe, if you have not read it you can find it in my stories by clicking my username. Thank you for bearing with me in this story, I know my updates were not as frequent as I'd have liked them to be but I'm glad you stuck around and I hope you've enjoyed it to the end.
L
Chapter twenty: Sweetest Orders
Jane had never been stranger to darkness. Growing up her training always took place in the small hours and when the time for rest came the luxury of lit barracks was sparse. She could eat, dress and sleep in complete darkness and most importantly, in total silence.
And yet now her thoughts dilated the blank space, making her often reach out with her shackled hands, in case she was not alone anymore.
She was more or less certain that she had been left in the dungeon to away some resourceful yet painful end or simply to expire in darkness, surrounded by rats and worms and such vermin as befit her low birth.
Ironically, in such a place her mind traveled back to all the other things she had done in absolute darkness. Flashes f the rustle of skin on skin, the smell of sweat and wine, intoxicating in it's own familiarity. The sound of a drawn breath, a trapped thing against a lover's throat.
And then, crystal clear in the pool of her mind, Maura's throat, reflecting the ripples of the water, shadow against white skin that night night in the river.
Had she come there by herself, Jane would now allow herself to die. For a warrior death is but the expected outcome, a death in battle indeed is the most one could expect of honour in their world of limited propabiliies. A death here, in a dungeon, covered in filth and dying as the cold seemed into her bones, there was little honour in that. She would however not have minded, had she been alone. It would simply be a release, the fulllfillment of a predestined purpose.
But she wasn't. She had not been for a while now, not since arriving in Winterfell. Perhaps the only thing able to elevate one of her status to honour was purpose. And by all the Gods, purpose she had.
On might think that an unsullied warrior, a creator born out of brutal training, with all cravings and all emotions so methodically eradicated, would be incapable of love. And yet she had no words to describe the swelling in her chest that had very little to do with the persisted coughing, brought on by the chill of the dungeon.
Every time she closed her eyes -making little difference to the dark- she dreamt of riding. She did not dream often, not since she had been a child, but now she was trapped in an endless cycle of galloping atop a dead horse, alone in an empty field.
She had fallen off that horse, she was certain about that, when the door creaked open and she was pulled out of the dream and onto her knees.
A torch was brought close to her face, most likely to ensure her identity and then she was unceremoniously dragged outside the cell.
She made no effort to stand, unwilling to indicate that she was more alert than they expected, fearing deeply whether they were right to judge her useless. Her guards, two men that did not sound -or smell- like the brightest men in the caste, for she presumed it was a castle, eventually gave up and bodily carried her, ascending endless flights of stairs, until the clean air of the surface hit her in the face like a closed fist.
Jane considered using the shackles around her arms to strangle one of her guards then attempt to use his weapon to kill the other but she had neither seen nor heard of Maura and she did not wish to be a fugitive in a castle she did not know and in which she had not idea where to look for the Doyle Lady.
She dangled over the incredibly thick shoulders of her guard, smelling the cheap wine oozing our of his pores as the chill of winter slipped through the tatters of hr clothes and she wondered just how long it had been since she was sentenced into the dark. The insanity had bounced endlessly around her head, the North was always cold, it could be that a whole moon or even a whole year had passed while she lay trapped there in her chains, while Maura was in such terrible danger.
Or perhaps -and that had been Jane's cruelest fear- she was already dead, victim of the senseless war of their realm.
The lit torches flashed like eyes of an exotic beast to her light deprived eyes. Somewhere along the way the gravel of the floor changed into royal crimson carpet and then to cool tiles as she was thrown down.
She allowed her body to go limp, feigning uncounsciousness, and then when she was awakened by a kick to the ribs, disorientation.
The chamber was large and brightly lit by dozens of torches. Maura was the first thing she saw as she gathered her legs under her and sat up. She was in a comfortable recliner, wearing a rich blue gown, but her eyes were deeply set and there was a dark bruise over her cheek.
''Janie...'' The disembodied voice slithered, and Jane heard the footsteps too late to realise he was right behind hr in his silky tunic and leather britches.
He was monstrously blown out of proportion by her forced persepective on the floor, his boots enormous and his body like a stone tower as he leaned over her and cupped her face.
He was clean but smelled of sweat and disease, sweet and strong like rotten fruit, his teeth were dangerously sharp and white.
''I have neglected you for a long time, could you forgive me?'' he whispered close to her ear, his breath wet on her kin. She kept her gaze fixed on his boots, unsullied were trained within an inch of their lives to fear no man and yet there was something so vile in him that for the first time in her life Jane was not only repulsed but also afraid. Fear was a foreign emotion to her, so unfamiliar that it physically paralyzed her.
''I was so busy you see...'' he continued. ''..with sweet little Maura here.''
As their first test in resolve the unsullied children are given a newborn puppy. They are taught to care for it, feed and clean it, day and night until its a grown loyal dog. And the day this happens, in the training session they are told to strangle the creature bare handedly. The animal at first shies away but its great than its instinct of self preservation and soon it whines in pain under it's master's touch and expires.
''Speak!'' he spat at her, backhanding her across the face. ''I know you are not mute, woman!''
For their final test they are presented with a child, no more than months old. And when they are covered with that child's blood then a terrible warrior emerges, devoid of empathy and incapable of fear. The same warrior that Lord Hoyt was now effortlessly crushing.
Blood spattered the tiles as her bottom lip split open, ruining what was left of the shirt. The strong copper taste seemed to help bring her out of the daze: blood meant battle, she was trained for this, but what sort of battle could she wage, chained at a Lord's feet, less than a dog.
She expected another blow that never came and she looked up in confusion to see him approach Maura instead.
''People preach about love...'' he mused, grabbing Lady Doyle by the arm and yanking her towards him. Maura allowed herself to be pushed against the dinner table in the middle of the room with ease that let Jane know this was not the first time. ''There is nothing pure, nothing true in what you call love.'' He pressed her face down into the wood, trapping her hands above her head in one of his, in quite the vulgar position. ''Love is simply ill conceiver lust,'' he continued, kissing the side of her neck. ''Fear, however, is the truest of emotions.'' He turned to Jane with a smile obviously pleased with her horrified expression as he pressed himself against Lady Doyle's back in a constricting embrace.
''This castle is under siege,'' he whispered sharply to them, a perverse intimacy. ''The Lady's brother has finally tracked us down and I know well what he'll do to me when he finds out what me and his Lady sister have been up.'' He wound a lock a golden hair around his finger and gave a sharp twist. ''I do not intend on letting that happen, until not before I enjoy my prize one last time, and what a prize it is that delicious fear of yours, Bastard.''
Jane let her head drop back heavily on the cool tiles, staring up as the high ceiling swam around her in unpredictable, dizzying patterns. This nightmare was perhaps the result of her death and the beginning of whatever eternal punishment cruel Gods had invented for her numerous evil deeds. She found no reason however for this hideous suffering to be extended to Maura.
''Now, don't you look away, Janie Jane, don't look away of I might just need to make this a little uncomfortable for the sweet Lady.''
Jane's head snapped up as he elicited a yelp from Maura, dragging a heavily adorned dagger lightly across her bared shoulder. A faint red line that bled thinly appeared instantly. ''A few good men can defend this castle against hundreds of soldiers, and I have a lot more than that Jane.''
An unsullied soldier will always be subject to his mater. Order him to stand in the sun and he will stand until the next day comes and then the next and he collapses on his post. And so Jane stood. She wished for someone to order her to remain standing, wondering if all her strength came after all from brutally taught discipline and obedience and whether, as a free woman, she was was nothing.
If her soul and resolve was small and petty like her life.
What sort of free man would let such a thing happen to the woman he loves and just stand watching, simply because he was told there was nothing he could do, simply because he was starved and chained and beaten half to death.
And so what.
Did the fact her legs were about to give make Maura's life less meaningful? Did it make the finger shaped bruises he was now leaving on her thigh any easier to bear-
''No...'' She said, grabbing onto the table for support, meaning her voice to sound way stronger than it ended up coming out. ''I won't-''
She stared down wordlessly as his dagger came down on her hand, piercing through and pinning her to the wood.
The pain came with some delay, the time it took for her uncooperative brain to catch up. She gasped, unable to conjure up enough air in her lungs for anything louder. It was shock that made her uninjured hand move to the hilt of the dagger and he laughed turning his attention back to Maura, forcing her face away so she could not see the Astapori trapped to her side.
Jane's hand, locked around the hilt, pulled, hard and fast, fingers spasming in pain. Blood poured freely, pulsing rhythmically with the beat of her heard. The dagger clicked on the floor as she clutched her bleeding hand.
It was probably not been the brightest idea she'd ever had, judging from the amount of blood she was now losing, and, more importantly, the rate at which she was losing it. If she went on like this she knew that there was very little she could do about passing out and quite soon.
She was not used at feeling pain, at least not experience it this way. It was as if the fear had unlocked something inside her, some remnants of humanity her training had not managed to obliterate, some piece of the puzzle of her psyche that awakened as she stood on the verge of losing everything.
The pain almost paralysed her arm up to the shoulder in sere agony. Had she known how to she might have knelt and screamed the remaining instances of her life away like a common wounded peasant. She could not understand how she had been the woman who once was allowed to mount a dragon, fearless behind her Queen, but all that was so long ago. How had a simple, mortal man, reduced her to this scared bloody mess.
She knew he had visited her cell, and quite often at that, but this was not the first time she had been beaten or tortured, but there was something about hi, something that made his reptilian features more terrifying than a roaring dragon.
And then she knew that of all the days in her life this could not be the one she remembered fear. This man could bleed and what bleeds can be killed. Had she been trained all her life to be afraid of asingle man then it had all been for nothing. A soldier that cannot fight has not purpose and when all she knows was fighting then what is she without purpose? Nothing.
He had reached to that conclusion himself and payed her no mind anymore, busying himself with the way Maura writhed under him. Jane's hands wrapped blindly around the hilt of the sword that hang on his hip and she pulled it out with a whiny hiss. Her hands locked and he turned to her with surprise, not bothering to move away from the Lady.
She had the chance to finally see his fear as she swung.
His head tumbled instantly on the ground but for a few instances his body remained standing as if propelled by some invisible force. Maura, sensing his unusual muscle twitch, turned a weary look at him, then screamed.
She scrambled away, showered in blood, lost her balance and fell to the floor, crawling away from his body as he collapsed. Her hands slipped on the blood as it poured out rapidly through the severed arteries of his neck, as she tried to smoothen down the gown that had bunched around her hips.
She looked up at Jane's lost expression and could not help but curl into herself in fear. The Astapori still clenched the sword but her arms were already trembling in exhaustion, or perhaps shock at having killed the first man that had managed to bring her fear.
Lord Hoyt's guard fell upon her like a pack of mad dogs until Maura lost her slender outline through the mass of armour and muscled bodies. There was not time or way for Maura to react as the Astapori was buried in the sea of sweaty flesh.
She had no time to process much else either as a cluster of men burst in through the ornate double doors, their armour clattering, adding to the noise of the wide hall.
''The gates!'' one of them shouted. ''They're tearing down the gates!''
A thunderous sound spread past all the noise, screams echoing all the way from the yard.
Jane laid on her back, immobilized by necessity. Her chains, still there, were whispers of steel against skin, but they were probably the last thing keeping her trapped. Even without them she knew with certainty that she not be able to rise.
Her breath came wheezing out in a white mist in the chilly air of her cell. She could neither tell how she had gotten there, nor for how long.
She could feel the irregularities of the cold stone floor on her back but every time she coughed her dark surroundings seemed to pulsate like a bright fire. The silence was strange, there were no other prisoners, at least not close enough for her to hear.
They would certainly kill her now, after what she'd done. For once she had been impulsive, she had not considered her escape or what would become of Maura after he was dead but now she could only lie in her cell and wonder, nightmarish scenarios of the woman she had loved being torn apart.
Unsullied were trained into an obeying killing machine. For once, executing a decision she had made herself, felt right but not right enough to have risked all she held dear.
And yet, from the floor of what may be her last living quarter, there was little she could do to redeem for her moment of thoughtlessness.
The door creaked open and for the first time in her life her mind held no plans of escape. Eve if the guard was alone, trapped inside her incapacitated body, the Astapori had no way of getting past him.
The man that entered, first, however, could not possibly be a guard, not in the brilliant blue shirt he wore to underline pale blue eyes that perfectly matched his fair hair. He was tall and seemed to expand endlessly above her.
''Yes,'' he said, simply, otherwordly illuminated by the light of the torches in the corridor behind him. ''That is her.''
Just as suddenly as he came he turned on his heel and departed, but the light remained, her door hanging open like an unspoken promise of freedom but at the same time a taunt, for she could not follow.
Two men in full guard armour walked in and Jane was suddenly lifted in the air.
The pain grew, multiplied by their crude handling and she fell into a dark abyss of unawareness that was soon replaced by what could either be a dream or just a fever twisted memory.
The Witch, surrounded by an odd glow, her white hair spread around her face like a benevolent Medusa. Their mute cohabitation in the warped passing of time inside the Weeping Forest, out of which Jane walked out barely months older when she had known it had been years. The hundreds of books she had been able to understand even though she did not yet possess the gift of being able to read words written.
A place where she had almost forgotten the burden of being a soldier and was taught how to be human again, all in absolute silence. That same silence she had taken so long to break out of, even when she chanced upon Maura in the forest.
She often wondered if it had been the Witch's doing, when she found herself suddenly unable to remember how to yield a sword and had been captured, led to Winterfell in chains. She could not exactly pinpoint the instant i was gone from both her body and mind, for she had not missed it when she was in the old woman's house, but perhaps that oblivion was part of the charm as well.
When she woke Jane found herself laying atop a soft, warm bed. She brought her hands before her face and despite the deep wounds around her wrists the shackles were now gone, her left hand thickly wrapped in a bandage that smelled of balm.
Her movements felt odd now, unrestricted, as if she'd gotten used to the heavy motion delay of the chains and suddenly her arms were far faster than she'd ever recalled. She looked around for a familiar face but found none in the emptiness of her small chamber.
Slowly, careful to keep her shackles from making a sound, then recalling their absence, Jane sat up. Her chest was heavy but that momentary freedom felt different and nice on her skin. The fire burnt bright o her left and it would have seemed odd, considering the sunlight streaming through the window, had Jane now known the north was colder than anywhere she'd ever been before. By the bedside was a cup of water and a flagon of wine, which she poured after draining the water but did not drink. It was not fear of poison, if they wanted her dead she doubted they would have gone to so much trouble as to move her to a room with a view to the yard.
She rose and she could see the dead being wheeled away from the ruins of battle. One of the castle walls had been badly damaged during the siege but she saw no signs of fire and the sight of the Doyle sigil on the banner gave her a mixture of emotions. If Collin had found Maura harmed or worse, had he himself survived the siege then he had no reason to keep her alive. Without being able to stop herself she started looking for the blue gown she had last seen on her among the piles of dead soldiers but her room was high enough to prevent her from making entirely certain and she knew that the possibility of falling asleep once more without knowing seemed insane.
The door opened and Jane jumped, reading for a sword on her hip that as not there. Thankfully it did not seem like she required one against the petite twin maids -for they looked so much alike they could only be twins- that tiptoed in.
They seemed young in a way Jane could tell they weren't, possibly boasting as long as twenty summers. They dragged behind them a large copper tub and begun heating a cauldron over the fire. Jane realised their intention only a little too late, just after her torn and dirty shirt started being repeatedly tugged by the shorter one. Despite her protests Jane had to eventually accept her fate and allow herself to be undressed and pushed into the water.
Warm water was a luxury she was not accustomed to nor could ever expect to be. It seemed so long since Maura had made her sit in the tub when she first arrived to Winterfell and even longer still since she had laid endlessly with her Queen, covered by hot water and surrounded by exotic wines and fruit.
The twins seemed that except from their chambermaid duties were also trained as healers and they proceeded to dutifully clean every cut and scrape on her body.
Jane had spoken but briefly, only to voice her unwillingness and the twins seemed to suppose she held no understanding of the common tongue, interpreting her silence as ignorance, and as they continued cleaning wounds that had been long neglected or wounds freshly obtained, they begun to talk to each other quite freely, mostly making observations that, as Jane soon realised, had to do with her.
She flushed a deep shade of red at their almost childish giggling and enthusiasm regarding her physique. Their smiles, she now observed, were not only in dutiful pleasantry but also in shared admiration of what they considered a charming and exotic barbarian.
They took a long time washing and untangling her previously uncared for hai, which had now grown past her shoulders, all rich black curls that suddenly shone in the glow of the fire. When they finally dressed her they put her in dark silk, embroidered with the Doyle wolf and fine sturdy gloves and boots. Jane could not help but notice that she had not been allowed a weapon, despite her polite treatment, and her spear was nowhere in sight.
Suddenly, despite her anxiety regarding her situation and despite smell like winter blossoms from the scented water, Jane felt her own exhaustion. When she was allowed to sit back on the edge of the bed and the pale skinned northern girls were lacing her boots, she realised she was unable to stand once more, which was unfortunate since He entered her chamber.
Maura felt condemned to eternal waiting. Her heart hammered against her chest, looking for an escape route past the constricting cage of her ribs. Collin had always been a brave but impulsive young man, one who took decisions very quickly and changed his mind rarely.
Seeing him after so long was very odd. He had grown taller, she thought, if such was possible in that length of time.
His beard was neatly trimmed and gave him a certain roughness that the dash of blond curls around his face could not longer deny him. Telling him all these things had not been easy, not had it been a decision exactly, but his sight after so long made her lips part and words poured out effortlessly, one after the other in almost incomprehensible pace.
Bloodied by battle as they both were, he wrapped his arms around her as she begun to cry, Lord Hoyt's body at their feet. All in all Maura learned from him that they had been in Lord Hoyt's less than pleasant company for almost a full turn of the moon.
She had told him everything. About Garrett, then about Lord Hoyt. Then she had told him about Jane, between tears of pain at seeing her brother and learning that her sister Cailyn was still in harms way.
It scared her more that he had said no word to her after that. He had ordered her- yes, her brother was now the Lord of all the North- to return to her rooms and join him at mid day at the great hall, which had been scrubbed clean from the remnants of battle. All the Hoyt banners had been torn down from the walls, replaced by the Doyle wolf, yet nobody else inhabited the hall, save the guard outside and the serving girls that came and went, setting a full table.
Suddenly the large ornate door parted noisily and down the corridor Maura could hear -no it couldn't possibly be?- hoof beats. She stood alone, in her white gown and furs, waiting, expecting...
A glorious black stallion of impressive stature trotted past the doors into the hall. It carried a man in full light armour on its back, his great helm with the visor drawn down his face, wearing the Doyle colours. His sword clicked against his armour as he mutely dismounted in slow, measured movements, landing two paces away from her.
Suddenly intimidated Maura considered taking a step back but she was frozen in place by anticipatory energy as he reached to remove his help. Rich black tressed spilled out against cold steel.
Maura clasped a hand over her mouth as Jane went down on one knee before her.
''Please excuse my appearance,'' the Astapori said thickly, staring at the marble mosaic as she swallowed hard. ''I've had a difficult year.''
Maura did not notice Collin enter behind them as she knelt down next to Jane and wrapped her arms around her neck .
''I thought you were...'' Her fear f the worst remained unvoiced as Collin begun to talk.
''The debt I owe you, foreigner, is one that cannot be repaid by goods alone but also requires deeds.'' Jane watched him carefully over Maura's body trebling tearfully in her embrace. ''House Doyle welcomes you as one of our own now, you have a home here if you so wish to stay.'' He waited patiently for her answer as she stood grateful for Maura's hands, steadying around her waist. The armour however unusually light was still hard to stand in given her state.
''There is still a war to be fought,'' Collin continued, keeping his distance. ''Had you not killed Lord Hoyt when you did his men would no have fled, allowing us to reclaim this castle so easily. But this war is not over. You are welcome to rest here for as long as you require but then you are both riding out with me.''
Maura finally pulled away, her hands both locked around Jane's arm. ''Why?''
''I have word of our sister Cailyn taken to Whiterun by Lord Hoyt's men. I am not leaving you here unprotected,'' he countered. ''And I could use Jane's experience in battle. If she agrees to help me lead our bannermen to victory.''
Jane suddenly felt both of them staring at her in expectation. She raised her gloved hand, looking down at Maura's slender fingers resting in her palm. ''Tell me to stay...'' she whispered, ''And I will.'' She brushed a thumb gently over her skin. ''Otherwise I'll ride out tomorrow and return to Astapor.'' She was thankful for Collin's silent patience as she waited for Maura's words.
''You could really just leave?'' the Doyle Lady said in a fragile voice. ''If I ordered you to go back and never return to the North, you would?''
''Maura.'' There was bitter humour in the word. ''I am no night, no Lord. I cannot win your heart with acts of bravery and great castles, if you refuse me I have no means of earning your love. My only option will be to lave. I am a soldier. A slave. I have always been one and always will be. Order me to leave and I will obey, my Lady.''
She waited for an answer that never quite came. She stood, feigning interest on the cracked marble, when Maura stepped closer, placing both palms on her chest, and kissed her.
Sitting quietly next to each other at the edge of the bed, Jane and Maura both waited. Jane, after having smoothed every possible crease of her shirt, finally mustered the courage to speak, cringing with her own heavy accent that slipped through, conscious of it for the first time.
''I had not known Collin meant us to share your bedchambers,'' she said. ''But I am sure there are more than enough empty quarters for me.'' She did not make a move to leave.
''I'm sorry Jane,'' Maura mumbled. ''I...''
''It's of no concern.'' Jane reached for her hand, brought it to her lips and kissed it. ''You need not say a word.''
Maura looked at the gentle brown eyes that mirrored herses and she almost melted. She could not remember a man or woman looking at her with such undisrupted admiration. She would not doubt Jane would do for her what nobody could think possible and, perhaps, with Jane she could do what she had thought possible with nobody.
Slowly, as if an abrupt gesture would scare herself out of whatever had possessed her, Maura placed a hand on the Astapori's chest and pushed her down on the bed. Jane, however surprised, complied, and Lady Doyle climbed over her, instinctively mindful of all her injuries. She leaned over, kissing the side of her mouth before reaching to unbutton her silk shirt. On the second button Jane reached up, covering her hands with hers, holding her still.
''Maura, we don't have to-''
''I want to. Because we don't have to.''
Despite her hesitation Jane released her and she went back on her task, her heart sharply against her chest, her gown pooling around them.
''When we walked in here together, just for an instant, I thought of Garrett and how I told you I loved him just to hurt you.'' She traced the edge of the linen bandages across Jane's shoulder and stomach with a light finger. ''I thought I loved him. I thought I had to.'' She watched the Astapori's eyes darken impossibly under the candle light, her breath coming laboured.
''You cannot order someone to love you, can you?'' Maura asked her with uncertainty.
Jae sat up, bringing her arms around her to keep her in place. ''You do not have to.'' She whispered, kissing the pulse point just under her ear. ''Maura...'' she craned her neck, resting her head atop Lady Doyle's shoulder. ''Tell me to stop.''
''What if I don't want you to stop?'' Maura asked, in a mixture of excitement and fear of the unknown.
Jane hooked a thumb on the strap of her gown and bared her shoulder, trailing a path of kisses down her collarbone. She smelled like the scented water she had been in herself earlier that day and Jane wondered if she tasted the same, like wildflowers and honey and she succumbed to the temptation of seeing for herself.
She looked up briefly, trying to sense the reaction she was getting but Maura's eyes were closed, her lips parted.
Jane discovered, after uncovering her other shoulder, that Maura did not need to wear anything else to look the way she did and when the gown slipped past her chest she was suddenly exposed for the waist up. For a few instances Jane was unsure whether she should avert her eyes, but then Maura, blushing deeply smiled shyly at her. She moved just enough to help her lean back on their pillows and pull the gown even lower, her hands working up her ribs as her lips traveled down.
Maura gasped and Jane felt her body react under her touch. It helped ease her mind a little and she forced herself to think past the intoxication that clouded her mind. She had not planned it, but when she reached for her gown, intending to reveal her stomach, Maura raised her hips, helping her pull it off entirely.
She had seen her naked before, but never in that context, never for her. Every logical function of her brain ceased and for the first time in her life Jane found her hands shaking. She was no longer a soldier, hard and callous, trained in combat. She was scared. Not the fear she had felt when Lord Hoyt looked at her, the fear that made her shrink into a lesser being, but a type of softer yet sharped fear that went straight to her chest.
As she moved lower and lower she could no longer see Maura's face and she had to rely on sound alone. The sudden gasp she heard when Jane's kisses went further up her thigh was enough. Maura looked down at her with surprise to her own reaction, the way her body was replying with a mind of its own until her so capable and intelligent mind became similar to a pot, boiling violently over the fire, until something inside her exploded with a sound she could not believe came from her own throat.
Her body was heavy as her blood drummed in her ears. The next time she opened her eyes and managed to even her breathing her head was laying atop Jane's chest, rhythmically rising and falling with her breath.
A loose strand of rebelious dark hair tickled her nose and she reached to brush it aside, alerting Jane that she was once more aware.
''Hey...'' Maura felt the word ease shyly out of her chest below. She had been under the impression Jane had absolutely everything under control but this scared half question betrayed her.
Suddenly, Maura felt the urge to comfort her instead.
''Don't go...'' She draped an arm over her waist, trying to bring her body even closer if such was possible. Despite the Winter outside the fire burned bright and their proximity was enough to stay warm. ''Nobody would wait like you did.'' she whispered. She was by now accustomed to Jane's silence and it did not worry her. ''I'm sorry for everything.'' Her fingers traced Jane's prominent ribcage. ''I spent all my life learning all there is to learn and in the end I was wrong and you were right.'' She laughed quietly. ''In the end love does not concern itself with details.'' She felt a hand trail down her leg as Jane rose an an elbow to look at her as she spoke. Maura shuddered, surprised by the small sigh that spilled past her lips as she struggled to collect her thoughts. ''I need you...'' Suddenly continuing was exceedingly hard. ''I need you to forgive me, Jane-''
The kiss that came next, creeping up on her, made her forge the reason she was apologizing on the first place. Her body arched, her arms reaching for Jane's shoulders as she hovered above her. For a few instances Maura forgot about it all, for a few instances she wasn't a queen anymore, nor was she a Doyle, there was no war. When all her titles tumbled down, her identity peeled back, all she were was a woman in a lover's arms.
And, for the first time, it was enough.
The end, for now at least. Please let me know what you think of this and have a nice day y'all
L