Her soft words were like a whisper of gentle wind to Balian. The candle that was lit was gutted, and she set it down gently. Even in the darkness, her eyes sparkled, and he could feel his heart racing madly. The air itself breathed of desire and passion, and Balian couldn't help but feel a powerful longing.
Sibylla approached Balian slowly. Her intentions were clear, so the question in her mind was, how would he react? Would he push her away, refuse himself and deny her? She doubted it, but when she laid her hands on his chest, she could feel him trembling. She hesitated for just another moment, before pushing his black outer shirt off his shoulders.
With a sweeping rush, he caught her in his embrace and she brought her mouth to his. She was surprised slightly. Despite his almost rough hands and harsh breathing, he was very gentle in his kiss. He yielded up his mouth in a willing fashion, and when her tongue slowly caressed his lips, his breath was ragged.
She parted her lips to invite him in, and he accepted, but slowly, as if he was still unsure. Yet with a motion of Sibylla's fingertips, he responded swiftly from thereon after. His tongue snaked into her mouth, feeling her, tasting her flesh, wanting to know more. He was curious and playful, but tame in his movements still. Until, that was, Sibylla's hands found the fastenings to his shirt and undid them.
Something wiped away the last thoughts of reason in Balian's mind, and he swept her up into his arms. Still locked by the mouth, he carried her to his bed where they collapsed together, snuffling and rustling the sheets and blankets.
Balian was halfway undressed when he made the first move to undo a fastening on Sibylla's clothes. She encouraged him by running a hand up his firm abdomen and crawling towards his chest. His flesh was sleek and alien to her touch, and oh so burning hot. She relished his passion, and drank in his scent when she breathed.
As her nails bit into his shoulders and back, his hands grew swifter and smoother. Her dress came away from her small frame, and she rolled swiftly, carrying Balian with her. Kicking the last of the fabric away from her body, she slowly was toying with him, winding her hands towards his belt, and then shirking away.
Balian moaned in longing, his kiss growing deeper and more full. His fingertips wove patterns of all sorts down her smooth flesh, and Sibylla sighed in pleasure. She relented and gave into the groaning man, and the sound of metal being rubbed against metal sounded briefly, before the scraping of leather against leather.
Sighing, Balian felt a rush of blood in his veins when the clinging fabric around his legs was replaced with Sibylla's skin. Writhing, they rolled again, Balian's belly resting between Sibylla's thighs. She lowered herself to his stomach, her chest pressing against his as her mouth trailed kisses down his neck and jaw. Balian responded with an outpour of affection, and a crooning note of passion escaped his lips. How long had it been since he'd felt so loved before? How long had it been for either of them? Too long and Balian only clung tightly to Sibylla whishing this would never end.
Long alabaster fingers curled in Balian's thick wild hair as the pair of them writhed together. Balian's fingertips graced Sibylla's chest sliding against her curves, and she arched to please him. He groaned and dove in for another lip lock, eager to catch her mouth. Consequences of this didn't enter Balian's head as he gave away his mouth to her tongue. Passion and desire raced through his veins, and his fingertips wound every which way over her skin. He shuddered as she traced lines of liquid with her nails down his back.
It was a dangerous game they played. A very dangerous game; it could cost them their lives. They weren't thinking of that now were they? They were totally and completely succumbed by desire and longing, and each strove against the other. Balian's eyes smoldered beneath half closed lids, but Sibylla could feel in his very kiss the hungry passion that raged within. She fed his hunger, soothed his thirst for affection, and made him drunk with her scent.
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The hours after were spent in fear for Sibylla. Balian lay next to her, his arm draped over her side, even in his sleep, keeping her near. Now the consequences flooded her mind, making her break into a cold sweat. If she was found out, she could be killed for adultery. And so could Balian. She slowly switched her position to see the man, sleeping so calmly, for the moment, unaware of the danger she'd put them in.
Sibylla felt like pouring her heart out in tears and begging forgiveness of those she'd now wronged. But she'd wronged, not her husband, but Balian the most. She'd made him unsafe, and herself unclean. If she became with child by him, it'd be traced back to him before long. And then they would kill Balian, herself, and her child no doubt.
Sibylla buried her face into Balian's neck and chest, wanting him to hold her close for one last time. She would leave him, and hopefully, be able to stay away, and cause him no more grief. This would hurt him, her leaving before he could say goodbye. But she had to leave, she couldn't do this anymore. Since the day she'd come to his home, she'd been torn in agony, but last night, her longing had just been too much. Now it could cost her and Balian their lives.
She slowly moved out from underneath Balian's comforting embrace and dressed. Her clothes were scattered everywhere, and as she placed each one back on, her skin shuddered pleasantly as she remembered Balian's fingers removing it. She sighed heavily as she left his room, determined not to look back. If she did, she would break down, and her resolve would crumble.
When Balian woke, the sunlight was streaming down to his bed, and as his eyes slowly opened, he expected to see Sibylla. But no, she was gone, had been for a while by the coldness of the sheets. Balian sat up slowly, the blanket twisted around his waist.
Leaning forward, he rubbed his eyes to clear them of sleep before glancing around his room. No sign or trace of Sibylla remained. And in his heart, Balian knew, she'd left Iblien. He knew she would, it would look better then if she lingered here.
The consequences rushed into Balian's mind, and he let his head fall to his hands. He'd been so foolish, so careless, so wicked. He cursed himself again and again. "You fool, Balian, a bastard they named you in the village, and a bastard you are" he growled to himself. If Sibylla carried his child, they all would be killed, that he was sure.
Yet one thing, too, he was sure of. He would protect Sibylla with his life. This had been his fault, he should have known better, told her to stop, and ordered her to leave him. Yet he hadn't, and it made him just as guilty, even if she had seduced him. He'd done nothing to stop her, and he would be held even further at fault if they were found out.
"Choices, choices, choices, Balian, choices, never can you make wise ones" he said to himself pushing his thick hair out of his face and raising his head.
The whole reason he was here was because of a bad choice. But he'd been driven to murder; he hadn't set out to kill the priest. Yet he could have stopped himself. Put his wrath beneath his feet and let the man go. The priest had touched a nerve far too inside Balian, and the blacksmith had thrust a burning sword into the man's chest. He remembered the man's scream of agony and howls of horror as Balian had pushed him off himself and into the fire.
Balian was prepared to leave him exactly where he was, but a flash of silver amidst the burning red flames had caught his eye. It was the cross worn by his wife. Rage had surged inside him, and he was heedless to all pain. He'd plunged his hand into the flames and wrenched the cross from the dying man. His palm seared in agony as the burning metal scorched his skin, and the flames licked at his wrist, but he didn't care. It was the last thing he had of his wife, and he was damned if it would perish with her tormentor.
As Balian looked back on it, he realized that so far, his life had been a game of one choice after another. Now it was a deadly game that rested on how well he and Sibylla could lie. It had been a deadly game that had cost him his father before he'd ever known the man. His father had defended him in the face of his enemies, even when Balian would have gone willingly to his death. Now his sin with Sibylla would surely take him to his doom.
"And so will this war" he said softly as he gathered up his clothes and dressed.
He went to his balcony and watched the workmen tend the fields and smiled slowly. These men were just pawns for him to use as he whished it. Was that was he was? A pawn of some bigger game that only God understood?
"Two can play at that game" he spoke softly, and he turned away from the fields and headed down to the field to begin his day's work.