Woah, sorry for the incredibly long wait. I got bored of the story and it took a while to get myself back into. But here's the next chapter, so enjoy!
Note: This is not completely my work. It is based on the world created by Anne Bishop in the Black Jewels Trilogy. All characters in this chapter are hers, but this plot belongs to me.
The first day passed quite smoothly, but Daemonar was agitated. He'd barely seen Orian all day, and when he had, it seemed like she was carefully avoiding him.
It was late in the evening, and he was positioned on the edge of his double bed, dressed only in a thin robe. He looked with utter displeasure at the door separating the Consort's room from the Queen's.
He could sense the dark power in the next room, could sense her presence. He wanted desperately to go in there and relieve the ache inside him and quell the desire that the scent of a dark Jeweled witch with a flavour that tasted distinctly of the Eyrien Black Widow Queen brought in him so strongly.
But the door was closed and he could not bring himself to enter uninvited this early in the game. He might have been given the Consort's ring, but that might not mean as much to her as it did to him.
He gave the door a final grumpy snarl before wrenching off the robe and throwing himself backwards on the bed.
On the other side of the same door, Orian was pacing her floor, occasionally throwing glances over at the door.
Although she didn't know what Daemonar was thinking, she knew she had spent the day trying to avoid him. She hoped he didn't think so, and that he didn't know what she had been doing, but deep down, she knew he did.
And just as he could sense her, she could feel him, could feel his aggravation and annoyance. But she didn't know the reason for it, so she miserably assumed that he was annoyed at her for avoiding him.
Orian didn't want him to be annoyed at her. She didn't want him to dislike her or hate her. That would be unbearable, and it would make her need to go and snuggle in his arms and comfort him seem humorously small and simple.
For that was the conflicting thought going through her head. Maybe it is so simple, she thought, but, oh, it doesn't feel so. It was the hardest thing she could possibly think of doing at this point. She didn't know what his feelings for her were like, and going in there and cuddling up to him could be the worst possible solution to all this. Who cared that the Queen was supposed to initiate things? It was a stupid rule. Stupid.
Orian paced for a little while longer before dropping into her bed and attempting to get some sleep.
Endar and Alanar sat next to each other at the breakfast table, both eyeing Orian and Daemonar. Orian had been ruling for almost three weeks and everyone seemed happy…except the Queen and her Consort.
Endar had been watching the pair for a number of days, interested on how his daughter's choice in a Consort would work out, and he was surprised at how little they were together. Even he could tell Orian was avoiding Daemonar.
They both look like they haven't had a decent sleep in weeks, Alanar said to his father, a mixture of amusement and concern on his face. Do you think it's because they are enjoying the arrangement, or because they're both having problems?
Judging by the looks on their faces and how tense they are, Endar replied, I'd say it's the latter, and I get the feeling that the problems are very similar.
They both sighed. Someone needs to do something, Alanar said after a few moments.
Endar nodded. But the question is: what? We both know how stubborn Orian can be and, considering his heritage, I have little doubt that Daemonar is just the same.
Both males looked at each other with a frown, then to the pair they were speaking of, and shook their heads. I've got about as much of an idea as you, father, Alanar said after a few moments of silence.
Which is none, the father replied.
Well, there you have it! I'll try and be quick and get the next one up soon. In the meantime, R &R please!