Shielded in Broken Armours
Midwinter Dream
I am standing in my old room - the room I grew up in, my sanctuary against the harsh reality of this world. My old room in Meralda Castle, with the old furniture and all the things I have collected over the years. My old room, my personal universe...
... only I am a stranger here. I did not remember this place as cold as I feel it at this moment. I used to be happy here; now it is just another of those places where I do not belong. Returning home after this campaign should have been a blessing. But not even my dear mother managed to pull me away from this sudden loneliness.
I am laying on my bed, motionless in the night, the cracking of wood in the fireplace the only sound I hear. I look up at the ceiling, my gaze empty and sad. There is something missing, always missing, inside my soul. I wish I could claim not knowing what that is - but I know all too well.
I rise from the bed and walk toward the window. I press my hands against the frozen glass, cold penetrating my skin gradually. I try my best to ignore it, and press my forehead against the chill surface, hoping this will chase away my memories and thoughts. It does not help, however. The memory of our hunt surfaces, of you shrouding me in your cloak and taking me to your tent, and of what happened there.
Cursing softly, I break the contact with the window. It is like every gesture, every thing, every word is working against me; my very mind is working against me.
I sigh and give up trying to forget; I need to find another way of handling this. Perhaps, if I try to come to terms with the past, things will become more bearable in time. Perhaps...
I sit back on the edge of my bed. I can picture you here, sprawled naked on the dark purple coverlet, your pale skin and red hair a deep contrast to the dark fabric and the black feathers of your wings. You lift one hand up at me in invitation, while the other lingers carelessly on your stomach. "Come here, beloved," you whisper seductively, and I grasp your proffered hand, bend down over you and place my mouth on your silken lips. You resist me for a moment, but then your lips part and I am once again overwhelmed by your sweet taste.
I have always drowned in your kisses. Nobody has truly kissed me before you, my love. None of my previous lovers ever bothered to make such a great deal out of a gesture that appeared insignificant to them. But you are different; you place the greatest meanings in your kisses.
My left hand tangles in your hair, while my right cups your face. You smile up at me, one of those sincere smiles that have always managed to undo my reasoning. You pull my head down and allow me to kiss and nimble at your throat, moaning a little. I have discovered your neck is one of the most sensitive areas of your body. One touch in the right place sends you trashing under me; your breath increases and you try to push my head away.
I decide to have mercy on you, and use my hands to explore the rest of you. So beautiful you are, my lover, your slender body pliant under my caresses, the little sounds of pleasure you make now and then urging me on. But soon you grow impatient, and pull my body down over yours, one hand circling my waist as you rub against me, claiming my mouth again and again.
Your legs curl around mine, and you increase your rhythm even so slightly; my moans of pleasure soon join yours and both my hands make their way down your sides, over your thrusting hips. I take hold of your thighs and push them apart. I can feel your burning need against my stomach, mere inches away from my own.
"I want you, Marzio," you say, and there is no need for more. I know what you want - what you have always longed for. You want me to possess you; you always did, even when our roles were reversed and you were the one taking me on the heights of ecstasy. You never confessed it, but I guessed anyway. You need to abandon control for a while, and this is the safest way to do it without harming anyone.
I part your legs further; the left one ends up coiled around my waist and backside, while the right one is still lying against the mattress, bent from the knee. I run the fingers of my right hand over your petal lips, and you suck at them obediently. When they are wet enough, I lower my hand between your legs and search for your opening, circling it slightly before my index penetrates you slowly. Even though you have loosened a bit, you are still far from being able to take me in easily. I prepare you as best I can before guiding my erection against your entry. Then I push inside of you, painfully slow for both of us.
I know you think me overly-cautious - you have told me this on various occasions. But this is you, and I have sworn never to consciously hurt you. I know that, were our parts reversed, you would be just as careful with me as I am with you.
I am finally buried inside the tight heat that is the most intimate part of you, and I pant heavily against your sweaty skin, stealing a tender kiss before I pull out slightly, and push back in. "Aaahhh..." your cry fills the room as I rub against your pleasure spot, making you buckle against me.
Your hands roam my body freely, and your eyes are wide open, wild with passion. You are mine, my beautiful warrior, my fierce prince! Mine, and I won't allow anyone else to have you! Your kisses, your body, your passion is mine alone! I would go through hell and back to keep you!
We are now united in this carnal dance, moving against each other with untamed abandon. My hand finds you painfully aroused, and I work you in the same rhythm I use to push in and out, in and out, faster and faster and faster until you come, shuddering under me as your orgasm hits. This sight of you - eyes closed, lips slightly parted, limbs unable to move as floods of pleasure break through you - has always been the last thing I could remember before my shields collapsed; and so I follow, releasing my seed inside of you as my body crumbles over yours, content and warm and exhausted.
By this time, you always regain some strength, and your hands coil around me possessively. Just as you are mine, I am yours. I know I can trust you, and that you won't let me go. I am safe in your arms; for they hide both strength and gentleness, in a way specific only to you. You were the one to stop my fall and restore my faith, giving me new dreams and ideals. You have changed my life, and you know it, and you have never asked anything in return safe for love and honesty.
Two tears fall in the cold room. I am still alone. My fantasy cannot replace your real presence. And there is no way you can be here; you are a few hundred miles away, trapped in your palace, with your own problems to take care of. Do you ever think of me, my Demon lover, in these cold midwinter nights? Or have you found solace in the arms of another? I know you swore you would not forget me, but there is no real future for us. There are too many things separating us, at this point. Too many problems, too many prejudices. And yet... maybe you will find a way for us to be together. Your brilliant mind always comes up with the unthinkable.
Gathering my robe around me, I make my way downstairs, and through the torch-lit hallway, finding the door to the hunting room. I light the candlestick nearest to the door, and look for one of the tangible reminders of you in this place. Pale light is cast on the large bearskin adorning one of the walls, my trophy from the hunt in the Black Mountains. I run my fingers through the short hairs, imagining your pale hand covering mine, your arms wrapping around me. Even if you are not here, I will always hold a part of you in my heart.
"Marzio?"
I turn my head to see a woman's figure in the doorway. It is my mother. I smile, knowing she will see this in the faint candlelight.
She comes closer, always the concerned parent. "What is wrong, my son?" she asks. "Could you not sleep well? You are home, with your family. What is it that bothers you so?"
I shake my head. I cannot sleep at all, no matter the place. I go on for days before collapsing for a couple of hours, exhausted. And then the dreams come.
"I am fine, mother. Really... I am glad I came to spend some time here."
She shakes her head as well. "You cannot fool me, Marzio. I know you, remember? The others may not see this, but there's a certain strain in you, and it won't go away. Tell me, what is it? Another lover that has left you?"
My hand instinctively seeks the gold chain around my neck, and I finger the medallion. The metal is warm against my skin; I never take it off. I can feel the imprint on it, a burning flame - and hidden inside, a thin braid of reddish hair.
I smile up at my mother. "No. Not this time. None of us left, we have merely been separated. But we will meet again, I am sure." I only realize I have spoken the last words loudly when mother gives me a puzzled look. "Have no fear, mother," I reassure her. "Unlike the others, this one truly loves me."
Her voice is still uncertain. "If you say so. And does he have a name?"
A name? Of course you have a name. All I have are memories, and your name. Your precious name, which I have entrusted to just a few dear friends.
"His name is Ignis," I whisper. 'Prince Ignis Sagni-Dor of Demonis,' I add in my mind.
Taking mother's hand in mine, I look outside, at the snow falling lightly over the land. Through the large windows, I can see the moon still high in the sky. It is a long time until the new dawn arrives.