Marguerite found herself alone in her chamber. She felt a storm of emotions swirling within her. There was a sense of betrayal, as if her life had been scripted without her consent. A lineage revealed, a destiny imposed—all without her say. The revelation that she was the reincarnation of Morrighan weighed heavily on her. It was as though her individuality, her autonomy, had been swept away. Her thoughts diverged to the family she never got to meet, her parents, earl and countess, their daughter yanked away to fulfill some cosmic role. Tears welled in her eyes.
And John – her beloved John. The realization that their destinies were intertwined from the very beginning added another layer of complexity to her already unsettled feelings. Had fate not been so cruelly twisted, they could have grown up knowing each other, been childhood sweethearts perhaps, without the burdens of their current lives. The thought that someone had taken that possibility away from her – from them both – burned in her chest.
She sighed, staring at the foreign beauty of Avalon, grappling with the realization that her life was no longer just her own. And as she sat there, lost in thought, she couldn't help but wonder what choice, if any, she had in shaping her own destiny amidst these grand cosmic schemes.
The knock on the door brought her back to the present.
Marguerite half-expected to see Roxton on the other side, ready to envelop her in his reassuring embrace, to whisper words of love and promises of facing every challenge together. But as the door creaked open, it revealed Finn. She was holding a bottle of wine and two glasses.
"Hi." The girl from the future said as she casually marched into Marguerite's room.
Without saying a word, Finn proceeded to set them down on a small table situated conveniently by the entrance to the balcony. Marguerite watched as she carefully arranged the glasses and popped open the bottle, her actions bringing a temporary but welcome distraction.
Marguerite gladly joined her, saying, "Finn, I wasn't expecting you."
Finn smirked slightly, pouring the wine into the glasses. "No, you were expecting Roxton. But I've seen you two and more often than not, emotions get the better of you. I figured you could use some girl talk — a conversation with someone who can be objective."
Marguerite nodded and taking a glass in her hand said, "Go on."
Finn leaned in, her voice earnest, "Look, what happened to you? Absolutely sucks. And the people who did this to you? Complete assholes. But you have two choices here: wallow in sadness, or take control."
Marguerite, unbothered by Finn's choice of words, arched an eyebrow: "What exactly are you proposing?"
Finn leaned in, her enthusiasm evident. "Ditch this whole thing. Destinies, prophecies, the impending war… Go back to England, marry Roxton, have kids, live happily ever after." She paused, swirling the wine in her glass. "Life is too short to be stuck in some prearranged script."
Marguerite sighed, looking wistfully into her glass. "I wish it was all that easy. I'm afraid if we don't defeat Mordren's forces, there is no future for any of us."
Finn, never one to back down, raised her glass in a mock toast. "Vee already destroyed him once. I don't have doubts we'll defeat him again. But what happens afterwards? I truly want you to grab your happiness and don't let go. If you do, the bad guys win."
Marguerite took a deep breath, searching for the right words. "You are probably correct. However, because of what the bad guys did, my life became very complicated, a huge mess, and it's not something I want to drag John into."
Finn leaned in, her eyes serious but understanding. "Marguerite, if there's one thing I've observed, it's that he is already in it — willingly. He cares for you, mess and all. But it's ultimately your decision on how to navigate that. Just don't underestimate the strength of the bond you two share."
Marguerite smiled, grateful for Finn's kind words and a comforting distraction they provided. They continued chatting about various topics, sharing laughter and memories, discussing everything from the frivolous to the profound. They shared stories of heartache, joy, and the journey of self-discovery that accompanied their individual journeys. It was a rare moment for these two to share such unfiltered stories that left them both with a sense of solidarity.
As the evening wore on, the conversation gradually wound down, leaving a comfortable silence between them
Finn, starting to move towards the doorway, threw over her shoulder, "Oh, before I dash off, thought you'd like to know: I'm Malone's great-great-great-granddaughter. And Summerle's Abigail's father."
Marguerite's eyes widened dramatically, her hand involuntarily flying to her chest. She felt as if the floor beneath her had shifted. "What...?" she stammered, trying to process the sudden revelation.
Finn laughed, noticing the utter shock on Marguerite's face. "Just another Avalon surprise for you," she said cheekily and with that, she left, leaving a stunned Marguerite in her wake.
A few moments of contemplative silence later, there was another knock on her door. Marguerite's heart leaped a little, again thinking it was Roxton. However, as the doors swung open, she was met with a group of Avalonian servant girls. They pushed in a trolley laden with exotic-looking instruments, fine soaps, and fragrant creams. Beside the trolley, a plush massage bed draped in fine silks was set.
Caught off guard, Marguerite blinked in astonishment. "What does all this mean?" she asked, her gaze moving between the items and the girls.
The lead servant, a young woman with flowing hair and serene eyes, stepped forward, bowing slightly. "My lady, we are here to cater to your needs," she said gently. "We offer hair washing, waxing, manicures, pedicures — our services aim to make your stay in Avalon as pleasant and rejuvenating as possible."
Marguerite's eyes danced with a hint of glee. "Oh, what a delightful and unexpected treat," she murmured, her worries momentarily fading. "It's been quite some time since I've been pampered in such a manner. Please, proceed. It's a pleasure I've sorely missed and intend to fully relish now."
The subtle scent of the creams and oils enveloped her, evoking distant memories of luxurious days and nights from her past. The rhythmic dance of fingers through her hair during the washing was almost hypnotic, allowing her thoughts to drift away.
The meticulously precise care of the manicure and pedicure felt like a delicate art form on her skin, each stroke of the file and brush a testament to the skill of the Avalonian girls. The sensation of warm wax followed by the liberating feel of smoothness was strangely satisfying.
As each service was rendered, Marguerite sank deeper into a state of relaxation, the weight of recent revelations lifting, if only for a while. She reclined gracefully on the massage bed, her tension melting away as gentle hands attended to her.
By the end, she felt rejuvenated, wrapped in the cozy cocoon of Avalon's pampering – a much-needed respite from the storm of emotions she had been grappling with.
Not long after the girls left, the soft rustle of the curtain caught Marguerite's attention. Turning her head slightly, her eyes met Roxton, who stood hesitantly at the entrance. His gaze swept over her, taking in her radiant appearance, the glow of relaxation evident on her face.
Marguerite smiled, a genuine and warm smile, "John, finally…" she breathed, her voice soft.
Roxton stepped closer, the weight of their shared destiny, the emotions of their earlier conversation, all momentarily set aside. "You look… ravishing," he commented, the corners of his mouth curling up in a playful smirk.
Yet, he could sense a distant quality in her eyes, as if she were lost in a maze of thoughts he couldn't begin to navigate. He wanted to discuss everything—the extraordinary revelations, the newfound familial connections, and the looming responsibilities they faced. But her faraway gaze made him pause.
"Marguerite," he began softly, "Are you alright? I know this has been a difficult day for everyone, but especially for you… If there's anything I can do to make it easier for you, just tell me."
She looked at him looking a bit disoriented and shrugged her shoulders without replying.
Roxton took a step forward, filling the room with his presence. "I can't imagine what's going through your mind right now. But you are not alone. I'm right here for you, ready to listen if you want to talk, or if you don't want to talk, then to simply keep you company."
Marguerite looked at him with a touch of vulnerability piercing through her. Without a word she took deliberate steps towards him, and kissed him. A kiss that started gently but soon transformed into a deep, lingering embrace.
After a few moments, he pulled away, attempting to speak. "Marguerite..."
"Shhh," she said softly, placing a finger on his lips to silence him. "No more words, no more thoughts. Tonight I just want to… love and be loved."
Roxton's eyes met hers, and he nodded, understanding the depth of what she was asking for. He kissed her with a tenderness that belied the passion he felt. It was a kiss of comfort, of promise, of tomorrow.
His fingers gently brushed against her cheek, tracing a soft line down to her chin, lifting it slightly as he deepened the kiss. The warmth between them grew, a slow burn that threatened to consume them both. The world seemed to stay still as they explored this newfound closeness, each touch a word, each caress a sentence.
He pulled back for a moment, his eyes locked with hers, a concern etched across his features. "Are you sure about this? I don't want to take advantage of your vulnerability," he murmured, his voice quivering with the earnestness of his words. "I care about you too much to let a moment of desire overshadow what's right."
She smiled gently, her eyes glistening with a blend of emotion, as she caressed his face tenderly. "John, you're not taking advantage. You're providing comfort in a way no one else can," she reassured, her voice steady and warm. "Tonight, I want to escape the harsh reality, even if just briefly, in the warmth of your embrace. You make me feel safe, loved... and that's what I need right now."
His eyes searched hers for a moment longer, seeking any trace of uncertainty, but finding none. The sincerity in her eyes was the assurance he needed. "I want nothing more than to be your sanctuary," he whispered, his voice tender yet firm.
As Roxton's hands tenderly explored the silhouette of her frame, the reverence in his touch spoke volumes of his feelings for her. The patience in his actions allowed the anticipation to build, forging a connection that was as profound as it was passionate. With every tender touch, every kiss, they unraveled the layers of longing that had existed between them.
Slowly, his fingers moved to the sash of her burgundy silk gown, untying it with reverent care. The fabric glided down her frame like water, pooling at her feet. She looked utterly breathtaking. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her irresistibly close. The world around them seemed to blur as he effortlessly lifted her, cradling her delicate form, and carried her to the bed with an intent that promised wonders. As he gently laid her down, their eyes met, silently affirming the magnetic attraction that neither could resist. Their hearts raced, yet the world around them slowed, allowing them to savor this moment and dvele into a depth of intimacy that was as infinite as the night sky.
They tasted and felt the warmth of each other's lips, their hands gently touching and communicating without words.
John leaned down to place a soft, lingering kiss on Marguerite's neck, his lips barely grazing her skin. His touch sent a wave of warmth through her. She responded by wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closer as if to meld their souls into one. Each touch was a discovery, each caress an exploration that left them both yearning for more.
For them, the bed transformed into an island in their own private universe. In that very room, they realized just how deep love they had for one another, a feeling so strong it felt timeless.
As the night gave way to dawn, the first rays of sunlight gently seeped through the windows, casting a soft glow on the room. The fresh morning air began to replace the heaviness of the night, and distant birdsong heralded the start of a new day.
Roxton awoke to the morning light filtering through the sheer curtains of the room. He found himself enveloped in the warmth of Marguerite's arms, her body pressed softly against his own under the sheets.
He turned his head slowly to gaze at her, her face serene in slumber, hair tousled across the pillow. He reached out, lightly brushing a stray strand away from her face. The subtle touch made her eyebrows twitch, a sign that she too was on the brink of waking.
With a faint smile curving her lips, she slowly opened her eyes, the world coming into focus around her. Their eyes met, and in that shared moment, no words were needed. The memories from the previous night and the promise of the day ahead enveloped them, and for a few moments longer, they simply basked in each other's presence.
"Good morning," Roxton whispered, his voice tinged with awe, as if he still couldn't quite believe they'd shared the night together.
"Morning," Marguerite replied softly, a small smile dancing on her lips, her gaze a mixture of happiness and a hint of shyness.
"How did you sleep?" he asked, the words coming out almost reverently.
"Wonderfully, Lord Roxton. You made it easy to forget the world outside, making the night seem endless."
He kissed her softly, savoring the simple intimacy of the moment. She smiled, pulling the covers a little tighter around them.
As they lay there, wrapped in the comfort of each other's arms and the promise of a new day, it became clear that no matter what challenges or surprises life had in store, they felt certain they could handle them together.
The serenity of the moment, however, was punctuated by an unexpected knock on the door.
Startled, Marguerite quickly disentangled herself from the sheets, pulling on a robe as she made her way to the door. Roxton watched, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement at her flustered state.
Opening the door, Marguerite was met with the sight of a young Avalonian girl, her eyes bright and curious. "Greetings, my lady," she began in a melodious voice, "I am Onara." Beside her was a trolley, laden with a colorful array of fresh fruits, a pot of aromatic coffee, assortments of cheese, slices of ham, freshly baked bread, and other delightful treats to ensure a pleasurable breakfast. "I've been sent to ensure you start your day on a delightful note," she added with a smile.
Feeling slightly self-conscious about the clear indication of Roxton's overnight stay, Marguerite managed to express her gratitude to Onara with a somewhat shy smile. She swiftly wheeled the trolley into the room. From the bed, Roxton sent her an affectionate, teasing grin, enjoying the unexpected twist to their morning.
Marguerite carefully lifted the tray setting it down on the bed beside them. Taking in the spread, Roxton couldn't help but remark with a satisfied tone, "I could get used to this."
Marguerite, noticing the small detail, pointed to the two sets of cups, a puzzled look on her face.
"Two cups… They know you spent the night in here," she mused aloud, a realization crossing her features. Indeed, everything was obviously arranged for two people.
Roxton, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smirk, replied, "Perhaps Avalon has its own ways of knowing, or maybe they just anticipate everything here," he leaned in closer, whispering, "or we might not have been as discreet as we thought." He winked playfully.
Marguerite chuckled at Roxton's teasing remark, rolling her eyes playfully.
"Discreet is hardly a word I'd use for last night," she retorted with a mischievous glint in her eye, "but I must say, it adds a certain charm to this place, knowing they cater to our every need."
With a sly smile, she added, "You know what, I fully intend to indulge in every bit of pampering Avalon has to offer, unapologetically so. After all, it's not every day you find yourself in a place where every wish seems to be anticipated and every need, catered to."
Roxton chuckled, "I expected nothing less from you."
Marguerite looked at him, her eyes sparkling, her lips curving into a tender, knowing smile. As the morning light filtered through the windows, the room was filled with a sense of warmth and intimacy, sealing the promise of many more shared moments to come.