She didn't get it. He knew she didn't get it--- why he simply could not let her go. It was more than want for sexual pleasure that he kept her in his bed chambers. It was nothing as cold and as callous. Her virtue was prized and sure. But her company was more important than sex. He needed her there because he wanted her there. For as long as he could possibly hold.

She did not get it. Not yet. But soon, she would see him the same way he saw her. Like a breath of fresh air. Salvation. Freedom from all his sins

The world tilted a bit after that day. Tomoyo no longer slept beside him. Often, she scooted over to the far ends of the mattress of silk and protectively covered her body with cold hands. When she awoke, it was because of the soft kiss he placed on her temple. She didn't show it though—that she was awake. As still as she could stay, she kept her eyes closed and pretended to still be in the deepest of slumbers. The tenderness in those kisses did not shake of the feeling of a common doxy that was branded to her skin. He refused her. And it was humiliating.

Eriol opened his eyes when the sky was colored in purple with slices of pink. It was early dawn and he had a two weeks worth of responsibilities he had neglected sitting on his desk. Donned in warm woolen cloth, he crept out of bed and walked over to the other side of the bed. He had not yet known what to do about his predicament with Tomoyo. He wanted to talk to her, but he was not sure of what to say. So instead he reverently stroked her hair away from her face, and she flinched from his touch. He kissed her temple and she turned her back to him.

"The Valkyrie's return is to be soon, and although it has been---." Eriol had been in the middle of dictating a letter to the kingdom where the Kinomoto's ruled hard and swift, when a shadowy figure he knew very well crossed his left most vision. "Bloody hell." His legs, as if they had a life of his own, shot up quickly, and Nakuru, his trusted servant went wide eyed with confusion then promptly shrugged her shoulders and jotted it down as well. "I don't speak much royalty gibbrish," she said in a very knowing voice, her head bowed down and her hand scribbling on paper, "but I must say, that last sentence won't do you much good with the Kinomoto's, especially if you are planning to---."

"Nakuru."

"Hm?"

"Shut up," he hissed through gritted teeth, his mind wandering over whom had left Tomoyo unaccompanied, especially at her disposition as of the moment. Anyhow, it did not matter much. Guards were scouring all over the damned palace. Any second now, she would be walking through those doors with hands tied behind her back and fire in those bewitching vibrant violet eyes of hers. Her hair would be in disarray and like any warrior, she would be ready to pounce, at him most probably---.

A knock sounded loudly on his door, and Eriol could only smile at the unfailing promptness. "Enter," he invited of the wild woman he knew to be standing outside, no doubt captured by one of his men. But as doors opened, instead of a disheveled girl baring her teeth, she was calm, slightly haughty, but all the while incredibly poised and elegant despite the handling of his soldier on her arms.

"Tell your man to release me," Tomoyo coldly commanded of the king whose last meeting with her was still fresh on her mind. "I told him I wasn't going to go outside the castle walls and he ignores me. Much like an ignoramus monkey." She cast a glance at the soldier whose face she presumed was made of stone as he did not attempt to strangle her with his large fists. "I think he's deaf."

Had he been in his tussles of amusements with her, he would have chuckled at the bluntness of her statement. But today, he was more curious that amused, and he gave a swift nod towards his soldier to release her wrists.

Rubbing her wrists to emphasize the ache, she glared viciously at Eriol, as if he was to blame for the soreness. "I don't need governesses," she evenly said, "I am not eight years old. You can't treat me as if I need a governess."

"And as you can see, they are not governesses," Eriol replied casting a thoughtful glance at one of his men, his tone unruffled by Tomoyo's mean looks, "they are soldiers. You are a captive. Let us not forget that."

Her mind reeled back to the times he had chased away her nightmares and held her in her sleep, when he had kissed her tenderly on her forehead, and then when it became dire and he had almost made love to her. You're not trivial, little one. All of it had been a trick. And for what? To ice his victories with a fallen angel as the gleaming golden trophy? If it were the case, it wouldn't come as a shock. So many have tried it, and now he has her. She had only thought him different. "Yes," she forced the hardened words out of her mouth, and it came through a nasty hiss, bitter and irate. "Let us not forget that."

The instant he saw the incensed fires in her words and face, he regretted his words. He didn't see her as a captive. Not really. But as it were, it was the truth. She was, by definition, a captive, taken forcefully from her land. Plain and frank. But evidently, she thought of it much deeper than meant to be. She had some feelings regarding their encounters for the past few weeks. She had come to feel for him. That knowledge filled him with an unknown emotion that was much poignant. Reaching out to her, he touched her elbow lightly and gently murmured, "Tomoyo, I didn't mean---."

"Don't touch me." Jerking her arms back as if she had been burned, she whispered furiously, "I don't want to be touched."

It took only a moment. She closed her eyes, straightened her shoulders, and regained composure.

"If you weren't planning on escaping, then why were you outside the chambers? Were you looking for me?" Eriol asked, but Tomoyo only laughed at him though it sounded terribly scornful and belittling.

"You are so arrogant and self-centered. You think you're the most important thing in my life. I have more important things in my life. Things you would not even begin to comprehend, so just stop thinking you are the most important thing in my life," she heatedly said, almost daring him to defy her reply. "And if you must know, I was looking for one of your soldiers. Arik."

"You can't."

Drawing her eyebrows in a furrow, she a frown set on her haughty lips. "It would only be for a second, I assure you. I won't disrupt anythi---."

Eriol only shook his head. "You can't, because he was disposed of a few weeks back."

"P-pardon? Why? What do you mean?" Tomoyo's face fell flat. And pain-filled sorrow filled her in the pit of her stomach. "I haven't even told him that I forgive him." Her statement trailed of in a weak voice of hopelessness. She simply couldn't leave things as they were with that soldier. It was important to tell him she forgave him. Terribly important.

"He tried to rape you," Eriol angrily pointed out, "Or have you forgotten the way he touched you with his dirty hands?" His eminent temper exploded within him when he had learned of the mistreatment he had done. To him, it hadn't been enough that he had the man killed. If it had been possible, he would have liked to kill him again. "Have you forgotten the way he looked at you and violated you? Did you not feel the sin in his actions? Or did you enjoy it? Is that why you want to talk to him---"

"God forgives!" she fought back at his hurling accusations. It wasn't that she had forgotten the way the soldier had with her. She had remembered, and that was why she needed to talk to him. But Eriol had only been stunned for a moment at her fiery respond, and in his silence she quietly told him, "God forgives, and I forgive."

"Well, I don't," he wrathfully said with anger bottling in his fists that clenched till his knuckles were pale.

"Did you kill him in my name?" she quietly asked, "I don't need blood on my name. I don't want blood on my name.""

"He is my soldier and I gave him no orders to treat captive in such a foul way! He disgraced the kingdom," he coldly answered, purposely avoiding an answer of yes or no. She did not need to hear his real answer; it was in his face and in his refusal to meet her eyes. She strode back to the door, reached for the brass handles and turned it. But before leaving, she told him in a murmured voice, "I shall pray to Zeus for forgiveness of this unholy murder, my lord."

"Damn your forgiveness, and damn your god."

When he went to bed that night, he saw Tomoyo kneeling by the bed with her elbows propped on the silken sheets, her head bowed down, and her lips moving in a silent prayer. "Save your prayers," Eriol drawled when she had finished. "I don't need them."

"And again, your arrogance does not fail you, my lord," she mocked, pushing back bed covers and slipping under them, but not before he stole a glimpse of her in white silk. He could only stand on his side of the bed, with arms crossed over his chest and his head tilted slightly to the right, contemplating on the way her ebony curls of her hair cascaded upon the pale glow of her shoulders and to the soft curve of her breast, and her long lashes fanned across her rose-kissed cheek. It was her voice that snapped him out of his reverie. "Will you ever learn to put away your pride? Or is it unbecoming of a Dark Lord to be humble?"

"I do what it takes to govern this country, madam. As king, while I am loyal to only my country, I am entitled to my pride," he said, rolling his tongue over the word madam, as if to return her mockery in his sarcastic courteous way.

He stripped himself of his woolen tunic, as he had done many times, only other times, she had been asleep; this times, she was awake. And at the sight of his bare chest that gleamed like bronze oil under the candle light, she furrowed her eyebrows and pursed her lips. If she could not tear her eyes away from his finely chiseled physique, she would atleast sum up the pretense displeasure--- despite the quickness of her heart.

Eriol gave her a side way glance, and did not miss the light lick of her lips. It was only at the sight of the irrepressible quirk of his mouth did she force her body to divert itself to the other side. Just as he opened his mouth to comment, she beat him to the punch line, telling him with a glare in her voice, "Shut. Up."

A boyish grin swept his features and he too slipped under the bed covers.

Tomoyo felt the bed shift and she knew he was in. She had meant to treat him now like she did all the while they were silent enemies--- with animosity. But when his hand rounded her tiny waist and his hard chest came in contact with her back, she stiffened, unable to speak, unable to think. Only when her thoughts snapped back did she manage a breathy whisper. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I like you," he breathed to the crevice of her ear, shivers running down her back and powerless to hold back soft gasp. "You shouldn't," she told him in her weak state, closing her eyes and unconsciously relishing the sweet closeness, "I am only a captive."

He forced her body to face up and his own covered hers. His hands pinned themselves to the sides of her shoulders, effectively and intimately trapping her with his body. "Yes, you are my captive," he agreed, and she felt anger surge up her balled fists and across her face. She opened her mouth to give him the meanest speech she could think of at the moment, but he continued before she could breathe a word. In the most serious voice, he leaned his head close to her, where there breaths mixed, and murmured, "but that is not all you are."

"What am I then, if more than a captive?"

And right before he covered her mouth with his own and released his torrents of wanting, he whispered roughly, "Among many other things, my sweet, you are mine."

At first the kiss was gentle, tentative like a greeting between two lovers. He sweetly licked her bottom lip and glided his hands under the lining of her dress to caress whatever he could touch. His blood burned at the sound of her soft moans at the back of her mouth as he deepened his kisses and left her wanting much more. His tongue stroked the crease of her mouth, begging her to part her lips so he could explore the cavern of her mouth. And when she did, she knew not what to do, and instead relied on her instincts and lust that bellied in the pit of her stomach.

His hand sought the soft globe of her breast that swelled and filled his palm. He had told himself that he would stop. He would let go of her now, before his wanting did something to them that she was not ready for--- But the groan that poured out of his mouth when he felt a hardened nipple beneath his thumb, was one of desperate desire for more.

She did not know when her clothing came off, she was only certain of the heat of his tongue trailing down her neck; and when he licked her breast, she ceased to think at all. All her defenses fell that moment and she moaned, "Eriol…"

At the sound of his name, he stopped, lifted himself with his hands and looked at Tomoyo's half-lidded passionate gaze. "That's the first time you said my name," he whispered with a husky tone to his rough voice, feeling so much at that instant than in any other.

As he began his descent back to her body, it was only then her mind snapped back into place and she became aware of the graveness of her situation. "No," she said, turning her head to the side and shutting her eyes. But he did not listen and instead brought scorching kisses down her flat stomach. "No!" she cried, when he took hold of the waist band of her cotton underwear and began to peel it off. With a force she did not no she had, she pushed him up and away from her womanhood. Firmly, she spoke, "No more."

"Don't act like you don't want this," he told her with intense frustration denied of its satisfaction. "You want this, and you damn well know it!"

"I'm not ready!" she cried, half-pleading, half-frightened. Then suddenly embarrassed about her body, she lifted the blanket to cover her nakedness. But Eriol yanked it back down to expose her skin to the cold emptiness, and angrily demanded, "Don't cover yourself from me."

She grew fearful of his actions and felt herself go back to that place in the woods, behind the bush, with the cruel twist of the lips on the soldier and his dirty hands between her legs. It was an emotion that was more than fear. More than anything else. "Please," she begged him in a trembling whisper, feeling the blood in her veins run terribly cold for a minute. "I'm not ready."

Tears threatening to fall off the side of her cheek and Eriol felt a foul disgust for himself. He leaned in to kiss the tears to amend this sin, but she turned her head sharply again and had her eyes shut as if she braced for pain. So he left her alone, let his body shift to the spot beside her and his hands drop to his sides. He had intended to watch her sleep, but his face haunted her, and she twisted to face the other side. But he took her cold hand into his and just this once, when no one was looking, when no one else was listening, he whispered a soft apology for his wrong doings towards her and left.

Only then did she sleep.

In the night, his voice floated in her dreams and fell back to his sweet apology. It had been one of sincerity and uncertainty. You are a goddess, little one. And I--, he had swallowed and coughed to clear his clogged voice, I am not fit to touch you.

The next day, she awoke with Eriol gone and her mind in shattered confusion. Don't act like you don't want this. Scenes of last night played over and over and over again. Each caress and each kiss burned sinfully and deliciously against her skin that flushed under his body. The thoughts did not cease, even when she commanded herself to stop the indecency. She cried again that moment--- because the truth, in all its simplicity, was that

he wanted her,
and she wanted him.

In the library, Eriol lounged like a sultan. A drunken sultan, he corrected, with a glass of brandy in one hand and his head faced to the ceiling. Just as he knew Tomoyo was contemplating last night's events, so was he. The dirtiness of his actions brought forth disgrace to himself as king and added to fear of those women who thought of him as the babe-slaughtering, blood-drinking Dark Lord. Desperate lust had possessed him that time, and he was never desperate in terms of lust.

Perhaps the reason he had been so intent of having her was the thought of having the first woman who refused him. He was never refused. The knowledge of that it had finally happened stung his bloated ego. That was why. That was it. His mind allowed no other plausible or inconceivable motive.

He had been running his mind to the ground when the door knob turned and Tomoyo herself stepped in looking like a princess in a blue dress and her hair loosely tied to the back. She was so heartbreakingly young; he cursed himself for the nth time for his misdeeds.

She was shuffling about the long hemline of her clothing, she had not noticed Eriol till he cleared his and spoke. "Tomoyo," he carefully said, and she looked up with surprise in those beautiful doe-eyes of hers. "O-oh! I'm terribly sorry," she quickly said, tripping on her words. Jerking up the edges of her dress from the floor, she started back for the door, "I-i did not realize---."

"We need to talk," he cut her quietly, then amended, "I need to talk. To you."

"I don't want to talk to you," she told him quietly, already backing up to the door. But he stood erect and sensually strode in the powerful, domineering way he did. Feeling trapped, she fought back, but her words came out in a whispered when he neared her, "I don't want to be anywhere with you." Because I can't think when I'm around you. Unable to help the last train of thought, she stumbled backwards a bit when Eriol reached out and grabbed her. With the door to her back and his hard body to her front, she felt immensely small and meek.

She closed her eyes for a moment when he ran his fingertips up her arm, powerless to stop the shiver. Intending to give him the most challenging glare she could muster, she opened her eyes to find him only inches to her face. His hot breath to her mouth and his chest lightly touching her bosom gave a sense of powerful euphoria that filled her senses. With the softest and huskiest murmur against her lips, he told her, "liar," And took her into a kiss that spiraled into intense lust when she groaned.

Placing one hand against her cheek and the other against the flare of her sun-kissed dress, he swallowed her into his arms and moved her to dance with him in tongues and caresses. Licking the crease between her lips, he silently begged for entrance and surrender to what was to be the hottest kiss she would ever feel. There was a small sound she made at the back of her throat when he touched his tongue to hers, and it drove him to heights of heady passion.

He promised himself he would stop after one kiss. But after one kiss, it wasn't enough. Nothing that had to do with her was ever enough. More was good. More of her was most definitely good. And she flushed promisingly as his hand fisted her skirt up so he could have the feel of the smooth skin.

Her legs trembled beneath his fingers and fell slightly as she clung to his body. He was so close to the heat and satisfaction. So close, she could no longer deny the yearning. But he had to stop now. Stop. A little more and he would stop, he promised. Just a little more.

Soon and rather reluctantly, he gentled his kiss and let the hemline of her dress fall soundly to the floor. With her forehead leaning against his and her hand clutching on to dear life on his shoulders, she closed her eyes as he watched the beautiful scatter of pink on her cheeks and neck, as well as the deliciously pink of her lips that parted. When Eriol had the strength to speak, it came out in a rasped whisper. "This is why we have to talk."

"We'll talk," she panted, staring into his half-lidded eyes of sensuality, "when you stop looking at my lips."

He lifted his eyes from her lips to the depths of her amethyst eyes. "I'll stop looking when you stop being so damned beautiful."

"Am I to understand," Tomoyo began, a quirk that curved up on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes, "that you'll stop looking only when we're old and turning into carcass?"

"Never," he firmly said, and with a graveness in his voice and seriousness in his face, he gave his most solemn promise. "Even then, you'll be beautiful."

She felt a melting somewhere in her, but paid no heed to it, or even to the hammering of her heart against her chest that first came quick then began again in slow, painful beats. Something was happening she could not understand. Something of important value.

When they had taken the time to shake of lightheadedness and waves of euphoria, Eriol held out her hand and walked her to a chair situated by a small coffee table that had another chair across it. He saw the uncertainty of her face and knew this was a topic long overdue.

"I want you," he said bluntly, clasping his hands together. "And you want me." Pausing for a moment after his declaration, he half-expected her to deny their lust and need. He caught the grim line on her face, which opened for a second. And when nothing came out, she closed it and nodded slightly.

There was a smile that came to his face at her courageous and honest answer. So he reached for her hand across the table and smiled encouragingly. "But we are not allowed to satisfy those wants because you're not ready and ---." He cut off suddenly and looked thoughtful for a moment. "And?" she said, telling him in one word to continue his sentence. But already he shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing. You're just not ready for that kind of relationship." And she nodded.

"So I propose, we make things… easier for us," he knowingly said, and he leaned across the furniture when she asked, "how?"

"I should be allowed to give you a kiss," he simply said, placing a quick peck on her cheek, "here," and he placed another one on the other cheek, "and there," and he placed one on her nose. She giggled under his lips when he put another on both her eyelids and one on her chin. "And everywhere."

"Do you agree?" he inquired with a boyish grin when he gazed at her smiling face. And she contained a laugh and nodded. "I also agree," Tomoyo said as he began to descend his lips onto the hollow of her neck, "that you are in need of a quizzing glass, my lord. For you do not know my lips from the rest of my body."

And for the first time in his life, experienced a laugh in a kiss. Or was it a kiss in a laugh?

It was nearing six of the eve when they resurfaced from the library, and promptly went for an early supper. The day had not been so missed as they spent the afternoon with a bit more kisses and him teaching her the basics of chess. When he beat her seven times, she flung her arms in the air and demanded he lose out of proper decorum.

"Where is the proper decorum in that?" he said, arching a brow and looking at her with a challenging gaze.

"It is unbecoming, sire," she gravely said, shaking her head with a sham of seriousness, "to be go about trampling--- no, parading, on a lady's ego, when it hasn't even been a day since I've learned this."

Eriol sat back and scratched his chin in a thoughtful manner. Then he leaned forward to arrange his pawns and her pieces back its starting state. With a look of amusement and enjoyment, he told her, "one more game."

It was the last and only game Tomoyo played where in she won. Despite the lack of skill Eriol put into the game, she was nonetheless exceedingly pleased. "I shall tell everyone I won against you in a game of strategy," she chuckled, her voice echoing through the halls, "Imagine what they will say about a Dark Lord, conqueror of lands, losing to a girl."

"They shall say I am a countrified paragon of proper decorum, madam."

They parted ways after the game, preparing for their supper attire. But as soon as she was ready to eat, she had lost her way to the dining area. It had been a good fifteen minutes before she shrugged off her pride reluctantly and asked a soldier for help.

Tomoyo dug her shoes into the lush carpet as she stared uneasily at the grand door before her, where apparently the food was on the other side. It stood before with an unequalled height that stuck intimidation into her arms and legs. Swallowing audibly, the lump in her throat, she gave a heavy breath and lurched forward, then turned and walked backward—then forward, then backward. And when the footmen swept the door open with soundless flourish, her knees wobbled. She found herself standing in a room about ninety feet high, held up by imposing pillars of carved stone, and dominated by a three crystal chandeliers of outstanding proportions. For a moment, she would have guessed the room empty, as her gaze traveled to the dining table of mahogany outlined in intricate gold. But at the very end, she could hear a distant rustle of paper but could not see the man behind it. Awkwardly, she fidgeted and shifted her feet. "Good evening," she uncertainly greeted waiting for the man she knew to be Eriol to stand and recognize her presence, as he always did.

Author's Note: My brain is so fried from all this.