There was sense to what she said, but the young prince could not suppress his discomfort at her touch. Is this the way of elves? How she does reach for me so much. One might think we've been wed for many yahren already. In another time and place, she would have been dragged out by Sir Geldrik long before her hand found it's destination. Still, this must be an elven custom. If she will give, then I must as well... he thought, his discomfort at this new lady's suddenly intimate touch escaping him briefly.
"You're very wise," he began, giving her an appraising look. "Certainly, judgement from some can be more severe than others. And you must consider upon this closely, for soon you will have to journey to a new home to live among those you don't know, and bend knee to a man who will be your king. You say you cannot do this because you do not know me? And yet I command armies of men that might follow me to hell...men that have followed me to hell...that did not know me. They did not do this out of love, affection, or obedience. They did this because they have faith. Faith in me...faith in the throne...faith in the future."
"I've made mistakes in the past. I've listened when I should have spoken, and I've waited when I should have acted," he continued, reaching out to her to clasp her hand in his, a move inspired by her own touch. "I won't make these mistakes again, and I won't betray that trust with weakness any longer. When I return, I will rule, as befits a King. I would like your help and your obedience in this. But if you cannot live under my rule, then you must never come to King's Court. I would not have a flower wilt under my hand anymore than I would have a nation do the same. Will you at least think on this? I'm only a King. Not quite as bad as an ogre."
Side thread Patricians house: out in the dark
Moderator: Mods
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Elevie
Elevie opens her eyes as Balthasar speaks once more, putting one hand to her temple for a moment and pressing, the pain there seeming to receed as she looks back at him and concentrates upon his face and his words. She waits, choosing her words carefully before she bites her lip and then says candidly,
"So men do have faith in those who lead them. But can you truly say that is why they would follow you? How can you know what lies in their true hearts. But faith is a different matter altogether from trust."
Her face looks sad and lovely, and one hand lifts from her lap and then goes up to her throat to finger the silver torque there as she says softly,
"Balthasar, faith requires no proofs by its very nature. Faith in you, I may have- I must have if we are to do this thing and keep both our kingdoms safe. But trust- between the two of us, that requires more than just faith. I will not be some faceless yeoman, some squire whose men at arms rise to your banner. I will be Queen, and I will be there in the Palace and I must hold the place which your mother held and still more. How am I to know where I stand in Kings Court- how is anyone to know- if I do not know where I stand with my own husband?"
She shakes her head a little, and her eyes unfocus a moment as if she is trying to remember something, and she says,
"I must have faith in you. This I know, for otherwise I shall be lost completely. I only hope it is justified."
Her face falls a little at his last words and she clasps his hand tightly and says,
"No, ah, no! I did not mean to make of you an Ogre, milord! I would never name you that at all. I think I was... startled, and perhaps even affrighted to find my marshland heron turned to a prince from one dance to the next, that is all. But you are no ogre..."
A slight flush steals up Elevie's throat and she looks down once more, blushing.
"So men do have faith in those who lead them. But can you truly say that is why they would follow you? How can you know what lies in their true hearts. But faith is a different matter altogether from trust."
Her face looks sad and lovely, and one hand lifts from her lap and then goes up to her throat to finger the silver torque there as she says softly,
"Balthasar, faith requires no proofs by its very nature. Faith in you, I may have- I must have if we are to do this thing and keep both our kingdoms safe. But trust- between the two of us, that requires more than just faith. I will not be some faceless yeoman, some squire whose men at arms rise to your banner. I will be Queen, and I will be there in the Palace and I must hold the place which your mother held and still more. How am I to know where I stand in Kings Court- how is anyone to know- if I do not know where I stand with my own husband?"
She shakes her head a little, and her eyes unfocus a moment as if she is trying to remember something, and she says,
"I must have faith in you. This I know, for otherwise I shall be lost completely. I only hope it is justified."
Her face falls a little at his last words and she clasps his hand tightly and says,
"No, ah, no! I did not mean to make of you an Ogre, milord! I would never name you that at all. I think I was... startled, and perhaps even affrighted to find my marshland heron turned to a prince from one dance to the next, that is all. But you are no ogre..."
A slight flush steals up Elevie's throat and she looks down once more, blushing.
Last edited by Elevie on Sun May 02, 2004 5:49 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Guest
A blush? She seems so very bold, and yet she might still blush? How interesting. Perhaps she does this because of my touch? Or is this embarrassment of her earlier defensiveness? I find myself more and more hopeful with every passing moment. But the mark is past: we must part, and yet I would not have her forget our meeting so easily. No, this dream should be remembered...
Rising to his feet, the Prince helped the princess up after him should she wish it. As he did so, he quickly imagined her in his arms, his lips exploring her body as he slowly shed her clothes, a vibrant, realistic, mental imagine designed to arouse his lust in hopes of sending as much to the elf empath, blocking out the scene of havoc he turned to put behind and beyond him.
"Shaeliana tells me you have taught her to shield out feelings. I find this to be a rather questionable practice, but I hope it may prove of some use to her. Perhaps you might close your eyes and tell me what you feel just now, princess? Mind you, do not peek, else I would refuse to believe in such a trick as this..." dared Balthasar, smiling wistfully down at her as he held her hand still.
Rising to his feet, the Prince helped the princess up after him should she wish it. As he did so, he quickly imagined her in his arms, his lips exploring her body as he slowly shed her clothes, a vibrant, realistic, mental imagine designed to arouse his lust in hopes of sending as much to the elf empath, blocking out the scene of havoc he turned to put behind and beyond him.
"Shaeliana tells me you have taught her to shield out feelings. I find this to be a rather questionable practice, but I hope it may prove of some use to her. Perhaps you might close your eyes and tell me what you feel just now, princess? Mind you, do not peek, else I would refuse to believe in such a trick as this..." dared Balthasar, smiling wistfully down at her as he held her hand still.
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Elevie
Elevie allows the Prince to help her to her feet, putting a coutier's perfect amount of pressure upon his hand as she stands gracefully beside him.
But even as Balthasar speaks her eyes widen and the flush upon her cheeks and throat deepens as he feels a little tremor run through her and her mouth opens slightly as she nearly gapes at him in surprise before remembering herself and closing it, still holding his hand as if she has forgotten she has it.
Still she does not pull away, nor seem displeased- merely very startled, as if this is not an emotion the Tarien Elevie finds herself unshielded from very often. She takes a deep breath as if to speak, but it catches in her throat and she does not, looking up at him, as if trying to search out what his purpose might be.
But even as Balthasar speaks her eyes widen and the flush upon her cheeks and throat deepens as he feels a little tremor run through her and her mouth opens slightly as she nearly gapes at him in surprise before remembering herself and closing it, still holding his hand as if she has forgotten she has it.
Still she does not pull away, nor seem displeased- merely very startled, as if this is not an emotion the Tarien Elevie finds herself unshielded from very often. She takes a deep breath as if to speak, but it catches in her throat and she does not, looking up at him, as if trying to search out what his purpose might be.
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Guest
"Now, see, you're peeking..." began the Prince, a smile upon his face. He stepped forward into her, his hand still holding hers, as he closed the distance between them. "You must close your eyes if I'm to believe you're capable of this. And tell me...what do you feel from me now, princess? What words would you use to describe it?"
Whether a game or not, the Prince was clearly amused. He hadn't expected such a direct response to his generated lust, and when it came, it only served to build upon him, which would only heighten the impression he sought to leave upon her. Without thought, his other hand came up, passing her hip but staying clear of her touch for now, a hand that yearned for her back with a trembling, imperfect patience.
Whether a game or not, the Prince was clearly amused. He hadn't expected such a direct response to his generated lust, and when it came, it only served to build upon him, which would only heighten the impression he sought to leave upon her. Without thought, his other hand came up, passing her hip but staying clear of her touch for now, a hand that yearned for her back with a trembling, imperfect patience.
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Elevie
Elevie freezes as Balthasar steps close to her, but waits a flicker before closing her eyes, meeting his first and raising her chin just a little as if in defiance of his 'test'. Her lids drop slowly and deliberately and she tightens her hand upon his just a fraction, her skin cool and soft against his own.
"You are.. amused, milord. Amused at me- and also with yourself. There is a hopefulness to you that was not there before. I feel surprise and satisfaction as well... do you know so little of empathy, milord?"
Her voice is soft and focused, her lips moving as her eyelids stay firmly shut, and her fingers move once more within his hand for a flicker, before they still and she says lightly, teasingly,
"Is that what you wanted me to feel, milord? Or was there something... more?"
Balthasar's hand passes near to Elevie's hip and she trembles suddenly, a fine tremor running through her. She cannot disassemble the effect he has upon her any longer and swallows hard, her breath coming faster and more shallow with excitement as she lowers her voice even further to whisper,
"You want me, milord. You crave me as the sun desires to overtake the moon, or the falcon stoops to blood his prey. I can feel longing; a hunger..." Her voice fades away as she becomes lost in the emotion and then whispers again,
"You desire me. Open yourself to me, milord, and let me return what you have given me."
Elevie's eyes remain closed, but her free hand moves up slowly and settles upon his cheek, her fingertips resting lightly against the pulse of his throat.
"You are.. amused, milord. Amused at me- and also with yourself. There is a hopefulness to you that was not there before. I feel surprise and satisfaction as well... do you know so little of empathy, milord?"
Her voice is soft and focused, her lips moving as her eyelids stay firmly shut, and her fingers move once more within his hand for a flicker, before they still and she says lightly, teasingly,
"Is that what you wanted me to feel, milord? Or was there something... more?"
Balthasar's hand passes near to Elevie's hip and she trembles suddenly, a fine tremor running through her. She cannot disassemble the effect he has upon her any longer and swallows hard, her breath coming faster and more shallow with excitement as she lowers her voice even further to whisper,
"You want me, milord. You crave me as the sun desires to overtake the moon, or the falcon stoops to blood his prey. I can feel longing; a hunger..." Her voice fades away as she becomes lost in the emotion and then whispers again,
"You desire me. Open yourself to me, milord, and let me return what you have given me."
Elevie's eyes remain closed, but her free hand moves up slowly and settles upon his cheek, her fingertips resting lightly against the pulse of his throat.
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Guest
"Very good...very good..." whispered the prince, though he never really doubted her abilities at all. Her hand came up to touch his face, but he would move faster. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips to hers, a very soft, almost ephemeral and ghostly kiss designed only to hint at what more might await them in the distant, unforseen future. Moving his cheek to hers, he whispered into her ear. "Do not forget me, princess, and try to have faith."
He knew it must end, and this seemed as good of a time as any, else he might leave her with regrets. Pulling away from her, he focused upon her eyes, his look one of confidence and strength, a new attitude for the once worthless young heir.
He knew it must end, and this seemed as good of a time as any, else he might leave her with regrets. Pulling away from her, he focused upon her eyes, his look one of confidence and strength, a new attitude for the once worthless young heir.
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Elevie
Elevie gasps as Balthasar's hand catches her own and her eyes fly open, meeting his as his mouth brushes against hers. He can feel her lips move against his own, and that brief flash of contact suddenly floods him with a wealth of emotions as she is caught unshielded and naked in his hands.
Desire, wonder, hope arousal... the Tarien knows nothing of lust, but she feels the Prince's own and turns it back upon him, so that he feels the searing touch of his own needs and wants even as she had. Gripping his hand tightly she whispers back,
" How could I ever forget you, milord? I cannot- even would I try, I carry you with me now..."
Her mouth moves again, as if she might kiss him back- but a shiver runs through her and she does not.
And underlying it all, there is a thread of fear and weariness that does not seem to belong in the bright and shining lady standing before him. Elevie seems to sense it as well, for her eyes meet his and a sudden wave of desperation pours over them both as Elevie grabs at Balthasar's other hand.
But she is pouring through the Prince's grasp as if she were made of water and her mouth opens in a soundless cry of fear and realization as she reaches for him once more and all around him the grove is suddenly filled with a creaking and groaning sound and the slap of waves against the hull of a boat.
A great smell of seawater leaves the taste of salt in Balthasar's mouth as the silvery figure of the Tarien melts away from his dream, leaving him alone in the grove as it snaps abruptly back into place.
Desire, wonder, hope arousal... the Tarien knows nothing of lust, but she feels the Prince's own and turns it back upon him, so that he feels the searing touch of his own needs and wants even as she had. Gripping his hand tightly she whispers back,
" How could I ever forget you, milord? I cannot- even would I try, I carry you with me now..."
Her mouth moves again, as if she might kiss him back- but a shiver runs through her and she does not.
And underlying it all, there is a thread of fear and weariness that does not seem to belong in the bright and shining lady standing before him. Elevie seems to sense it as well, for her eyes meet his and a sudden wave of desperation pours over them both as Elevie grabs at Balthasar's other hand.
But she is pouring through the Prince's grasp as if she were made of water and her mouth opens in a soundless cry of fear and realization as she reaches for him once more and all around him the grove is suddenly filled with a creaking and groaning sound and the slap of waves against the hull of a boat.
A great smell of seawater leaves the taste of salt in Balthasar's mouth as the silvery figure of the Tarien melts away from his dream, leaving him alone in the grove as it snaps abruptly back into place.