So sorry I disappeared! I'm back and read to attack :*)
WITH my laptop and not my phone so say goodbye to all those spelling errors!
Please make sure you have read my Hypothesis of Vampires before reading this chapter because it'll all make sense.
Enjoy!
"I had learned long ago that Oliver was first, last, and always a warrior."
-Bitter Blood; Prologue
"I always knew you were near," Amelie whimpered looking at him.
"Begging doesn't bemuse of you, My Liege," Oliver said, leaning back in his chair. Amelie's hand instinctively made it's way to cover her stomach. Oliver's eyebrows rose quickly and Amelie watched as his whole demeanor changed. Gone was his agitated look. Gone was the evil smug. Gone was the fire in his eyes.
Gone was the warrior.
"I-" Oliver started, his eyes downcast. "I'm not who you think. I wish I was, but I'm not."
Amelie, with some resistance, removed her hand from her flat stomach underneath the silk suit of the day.
"Oh," she whispered, her eyes too were downcast as she mulled over his response. "I'm sorry."
Oliver stood with the ease of centuries worth of practice and took the hand that was covering her stomach in his. He place a gently kiss to the top of it looking deeply into her eyes— wishing she got what he was trying his hardest to say. He wouldn't call himself a romantic, nor would anyone of this century, but the feelings he had for Amelie made him a romantic. She brought out the human behind the warrior, and he was still trying to figure out if that was good.
-0-0-
The jasmine scented garden was a small enclosure, but with the amount of colorful flowers, the space seemed to never end. Amelie let a small smile grace her lips as she gently tosses velvet rose petals into the fountain. She heard light footsteps on the walkway.
"We know what we are, but know not what we may be," Oliver whispered into the night, halting on the other side of the fountain. Oliver watched Amelie from the distance. Her head tilted ever so slightly, just like a ballerina.
"Shakespeare," Amelie stated, her smile staying. "He was a brilliant man." She cupped the petals of the rose in her hand and sprinkled them over the water. Oliver's fingers traced the damp marble as he walked towards Amelie. Amelie stood slowly.
"You might not want me to know-"
Amelie put an open palm on his chest and gently pushed him back. "You know as little and as much as I do. Do not presume to know me better than myself."
-0-0-
"I'll show you what I showed Oliver," Myrnin said. And with the same theatrics, the noises, the clouds, a little child called out, "Mommy! Mommy!"
Amelie's hands fluttered restlessly; one covered her stomach the other her mouth as her brain reeled. All the thoughts of the night before flooded back to her. Amelie spun on her heels and ran from Myrnin's lab.
-0-0-
Oliver slowly made his way into Amelie's room. He observed the delicate trim and lace and mirrors in the room.
"And letters. So many handwritten letters that seven ironbound chests couldn't contain them all. One or two, I thought, might've come from my own pen. They would not have been love poems. Likely they had been threats."
-Bitter Blood; Chapter 5, Oliver
Oliver made his way to her bed, and slowly, tentatively almost, he sat on the edge and rested a hand on her head. He watched her in peaceful slumber. In a moment of weakness, Oliver found his free hand resting just above her stomach. His hand cautiously made it's way down and splayed out over her abdomen. Amelie's hand came to rest on top of his but she didn't wake. And he didn't move. Time flew.
Oliver grew weary. He tried to pull his hand away, but her even in her sleep Amelie had an iron grip. He gently rested his head on the pillow next to hers. He would sleep soundly tonight.
-0-0-
Amelie woke with a smile on her face. She stretched like a cat, her arms over her head and her toes curled. She twisted her back.
A hand tightened around her waist.
Amelie's eyes shot open. She didn't want to struggle in worry of harming the life inside herself. She straightened her back, her body went limp, the arm tightened.
Oddly, became homely.
When Amelie woke again, the arm was gone.
-0-0-
When Oliver moved on the nice and cozy bed, and another moved with him. His eyes opened; an arm involuntarily tightening around the waist of the other. Soft white hair tickled his nose, and lavender filled his senses. Oliver relaxed, but his arm didn't. His thumb was drawing small circles on her stomach, and voluntary or not, her back pushed farther against his chest as murmurs escaped her soft pink lips.
I should go, Oliver thought, his lady circles stopping in their course. In just a few seconds…
Oliver moved with human speed. He untangled himself from her and made his way from the bed and into the night.
Amelie watched as he jumped from her balcony and ran into the night, a smile toying at her lips. He might not be her secret admirer, but he was her secret something, she just didn't know exactly.
-0-0-
Oliver called on Amelie around noon. She hadn't been into the office, according to Bizzie, and not many have seen her around town. Her guards we're a tad resistant on letting him in, but let him in nonetheless.
Amelie had spent the day in her library. Oliver found her curled in a worn leather chair in front of a low burning fire. The lights were dim as the row and rows of books Oliver had observed previously were uneven. Piles were towered around Amelie and looking over the loose and frayed bindings Oliver found one thing in common: childbirth.
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