Firsts
They kissed. It was the first time for both of them, but both were too proud to say otherwise. It was electric and sweet and dangerously untamed. It was the first, and yet felt like they had been doing so for years.
He held out his hand. She took it, attempting to hide her nerves. For all of her claims of suitors and courtiers, this was her first ball. She was amazed at how they glided across the dance floor, how she fit so perfectly against his frame. He held her close, far too close for it not to look suspicious. She smiled as he led her to the balcony. For the first time, he didn't care about appearances.
I love you fell from her lips readily. She gasped, wishing she had not said it aloud. She turned away only to have him turn her to face him. He peered into her eyes with more passion than he realized.
For the first time, he ran his hands along the lengths of her body. Undressing her was foreign, yet natural. She lay down, inviting him to ravish her more.
For the first time, he lost control.
He gazed at her, both aroused and disgusted. For the first time, he regretted his actions. No longer in the throes of her spell, he plunged his blade into her stomach.
For the first time, she saw red. With the iron resolve of a soldier, she struck him down as readily as he had her.
It was both foreign, and yet natural. To lay dying in your lovers embrace. His eyes flickered from gray to green the instant his last breath was taken from him. Her hands stroked his silver tresses, as he had done to hers once a long, long time ago.
For the first time, she wept.