Saetan gazed out the windows of his study. Blood red sunlight was pouring in weakly, the very last traces of what had been an unimpressive sunset. As the final rays dimmed and twilight creeped in, he turned away and sat in one of the low comfortable couches, resting his head in his hand. The day had been slow, and it hadn't helped that he had been, and still was, oddly restless.
Sighing, he stood up once again and left the room, thinking of finding Andulvar. No doubt the Eyrien warlord would decide the solution lay in some good old Eyrien training, which roughly translated into physical exertion in the extreme. Saetan chuckled to himself. Now that would undoubtedly put an end to his restless state. But there was still something nagging him at the back of his mind, reminding him of the likeliest reason he was in such a state; he hadn't seen Tersa all day. He knew she worked in the garden or read as he took care of official, and some not so, buisness during the day- but she would always turn up to have a drink with him, or tell him about the book she finished. There were times when she was almost like a vulnerable girl-child, taking comfort in the familiar, but these was far and few, thank the Darkness. Those moments worried Saetan, and angered him for past injustice done. But mostly she was as he knew her; understanding, wise, caring, strong.
Saetan walked out of SaDiablo hall and caught the opal wind to Andulvar's Eyrie. He was about to knock on the door and let himself in when he stopped to the sound of female laughter coming from inside. It was crisp and melodious, and Saetan stiffened as he recognised it as Tersa's. He could hear Andulvar's lower voice over hers, and judging from his tone, he was re-telling a story Tersa was obviously finding amusing.
Silently, he turned the knob of the door and opened it an inch. Tersa was sitting in a comfortable armchair with her legs crossed, resting a bowl of fruit on her lap. She took a bite of the plum in her hand and laughed again. Andulvar didn't seem to hear Saetan open the door, as he continued his tale with hand and wing gestures, sitting in an armchair opposite.
"Ah, SaDiablo, come in! We were just talking about you..." Andulvar said to Saetan, without so much as a glance in his direction. Saetan scowled. Damn Warlords' acute hearing. Tersa looked up and smiled, resting a hand on the chair beside her to indicate he should sit down. Saetan straightened and took the seat, noting Andulvar's expression of amusement with disdain.
"As intrigued as I am, please spare what you find about me so amusing," Saetan answered dryly.
Andulvar's smile widened, and he poured Saetan a glass of Yarbarah. Readjusting his wings and leaning back, he adopted an expression of innocent nonchalance.
"Come now, that wouldn't be very hospitable, would it?"
Saetan snatched the glass of blood wine off the table irritatedly. Tersa's gaze wandered from Andulvar's barely concealed glee to Saetan's disgruntled manner, and she tried to hold back another laugh.
"As I was saying, darling," Andulvar continued, grinning, "he walked forward, all collected and ever-abiding by protocol... at this point all eyes were on him, as these were the ceremony's most important moments... he got nearer Cassandra's throne, respectful yet still imposing, you know how Saetan is..."
Saetan cleared his throat loudly. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped referring to me as if I was absent, Andulvar. I'm sitting right here."
Andulvar's grin widened and he ignored him. "So yes, he knelt, and his cloak- heavy fabric that was, mind you, he could have knocked someone senseless if he swung it back- just rips from one corner to the other..." his wings shook as he laughed, the memory obviously still vivid in his mind, "the sound! Echoed throughout the hall, a ridiculously loud ripping sound. He had stepped on a corner, and when he knelt the fabric had torn under the pressure. But what a tear! The whole thing hung loose, only attached to the collar by a measly thread or two. Saetan didn't move at all, did you SaDiablo? Just kept on with the procedure as if nothing happened. Even Cassandra had had a hard time keeping her face straight! What an entrance for the Consort- "
His story was cut off with the sound of Saetan coughing and spluttering into the wine. Tersa let out another melodious laugh. "Oh Warlord... you have a gift for storytelling. Although that is one incident I have difficulty imagining," she said, smiling.
Saetan snarled softly. "I don't hear you re-telling any of your embarrassing little incidents, Andulvar. If I remember correctly, they far surpassed mine in every way."
Andulvar smiled arrogantly. "But of course they did. Although Cassandra certainly wasn't laughing the next morning. In fact, if I recall, she looked quite dazed..."
Saetan cleared his throat loudly. Andulvar frowned in his direction. She is stronger than you realise, you know. She won't flinch away at the slightest mention of anything sexual, he sent on an Ebon-Grey thread.
Saetan's expression was coolly distanced as he placed his empty glass back on the table. I don't want to push her limits. I told you. She must feel comfortable rather than obligated to perform a duty.
Tersa seemed aware of a conversation occurring beyond her reach, and sat silently, continuing to eat the fruit thoughtfully.
Andulvar stretched his wings agitatedly. And I don't want to remind you, SaDiablo, but I must. How long are you planning to keep her from your bed? She will soon begin to question her use here, she already has. Secure her position and secure your heritage.
Saetan frowned and studied the designs at the arm of the couch, choosing to remain silent.
She doesn't deserve the suspicion and distaste of anyone. And the longer she remains here with no visible result, the more people will talk about what her place here must be. Does she deserve that? Andulvar added.
Saetan shook with anger, remembering the insulting Hayllian woman who had been a guest at the Hall a month ago. "Of course she doesn't," he hissed.
Tersa jumped at the sudden exclamation, which to her, was seemingly out of nowhere.
Andulvar eased the atmosphere of the room by suggesting they go back to the Hall for dinner, and once more engaging Tersa in conversation, this time about Mrs. Beale's many culinary delights and her generous portions for those with appetite's large as his own.
Saetan let himself be led into the carriage and lost himself in thought on the way back to the Hall. They couldn't catch the winds as it would be an uncomfortable experience for Tersa to ride winds of any jewel rank at all.
All throughout dinner the conversation was carried by Andulvar, with the regular questions or additions of Tersa. Saetan remained silent and preoccupied, in particular with what Andulvar had said. It wasn't that he didn't want to sleep with Tersa; he was a man in his prime after all, and Tersa an attractive woman- it was not that at all. He just couldn't abandon the anxiety of whether she would feel simply like a tool, an instrument. A body to use for nine months, and nothing more.
When Hekatah was expecting Mephis, she would remind him of every moment of weariness or discomfort, almost in an accusatory way. The more she'd nag and subtly threat, the more Saetan would lavishly meet all her expenses out of worry for his unborn child. He wasn't used to a woman so willingly and selflessly presenting herself in this way.
He had not liked the idea of simply picking a strong witch just to bear his heir. But time had run short, alliances had been broken, and Saetan had been advised from all sides to name his heir and secure his heritage now, at the height of his power.
And now, with that healthy, powerful witch, who was not only full of other great qualities but also willing to bed the most dangerous and influential man to have walked the realms, here Saetan was- wavering, hesitating.
All throughout these thoughts, a part of him was still present at the dinner table, and was making low sounds of agreement or interest whenever he was directly addressed.
But always his eyes were on Tersa; the way her mouth softened, how her irises glittered ancient gold, how inviting the paleness of her delicate neck looked... Saetan ran his nails slightly on the wood surface of the table.
Andulvar's voice, pointedly raised in volume, brought him back to the present. "Well, I think I'll retire for tonight, SaDiablo. I have to talk to the weapon-master tomorrow morning. The man doesn't seem to understand that all I need from him is some tools, as I prefer to make my own weapons," Andulvar wrinkled his nose. "Human craft. Fancy, certainly, but whether it's practical or suitable for Eyrien use is questionable indeed..."
"Goodnight, Andulvar," Saetan said firmly. The Warlord could go on about the inadequacies of non-Eyrien weaponry for a considerably long time.
Saetan had felt a shift somewhere in him tonight, one that had no connection to the 'urgency' of securing an heir that Andulvar had warned him about earlier. No, this was different. He felt a sort of subtle hunger he hadn't felt for a while, one much stronger and gentler than pure desire. The sight of Tersa's eyes glittering in the candlelight and her lips curling into a friendly smile, as she bid Andulvar goodnight, was certainly not helping.
Decades later, it seemed to Saetan, he and Tersa finally retired to their bedroom. Saetan was far from tired, and even Tersa seemed too alert to want to go to bed. He thought this a little odd, as she usually preferred sitting in his study, having some wine, and talking until she felt sleepy enough to climb the last staircase and go to bed. She never came to the bedroom until she needed to.
Then she must have sensed it too, Saetan thought. And she looked completely at ease. Why had it taken him this long, this many excuses, until he could detect this mutual understanding? Then a new thought occurred to him.
Perhaps, it had taken him this long to trust himself with her. He had constantly used her health and well-being as an excuse. While all along it really was whether he trusted himself to erase whatever horrors her last sexual experience had left her with.
But seeing her there; one of the simpler dresses hugging her curves, her pale shoulders alluringly soft, her eyes weaving right through his mind, her hair untamable... self-doubt and questioning fled, leaving in it's place the exquisite lover kept within the strategic, powerful man.
He took a step towards her.