[Gil'dae] Darkness in thought and heart... (Pre-Veil & GF'd)

[Calairiel Mynendil Gil'dae]

First of Junctior, Autumn, Era XIV pf.

It was late. Within the nursery, all Calairiel could hear was the soft, steady breathing of her adopted children. In the next room, within her eyesight thanks to a partial open door, was her eldest daughter…and within her was the newest addition to their family…months from being born.

Truly, Calairiel’s body was only barely beginning to change due to her pregnancy…at least outwardly. Inwardly, the hormones caused by the pregnancy had already taken over and had begun running rampant throughout her. Mood swings were commonplace and even at that moment, the change in her was easily noticed…

….because she was crying. Cala rarely cried.

Now, she couldn’t help it. She didn’t know why she was crying either. She had a beautiful family and everything she could ever want. A loving, but often absent husband, beautiful children and an extended family throughout the Cheb that she could count on for anything.

Sighing with that thought, she finally knew what it was…

Nimavel. She missed him.

That was it. That was why she was crying. She -missed- him. Not just now…but for all the times he had been gone on business and she had been alone in Syl’rosya. She didn’t blame him for being gone…and had always given him her blessing…but she couldn’t deny that it was wearing on her emotionally, possibly because of the pregnancy.

She didn’t want to go through it alone.

There were other fears as well. He hadn’t really told her how he was feeling about her being pregnant. He was a man of few words and someone that would never falter his duties. He had stepped up when Calairiel had presented the idea of adopting the elven children from Medonia. He had given her his support. This was a little different though. It was -their- child. It would be his first-born heir to the Mynendil House and she was perplexed on his true feelings. Sometimes she wished that he would be more vocal…that it didn’t always come down to her to translate his emotions through gestures and actions…but that was just how it was.

She loved him…she did….but she couldn’t stop crying. She wanted him there.

Wrapping her hands gently over the barely discernable baby bump that had developed in her lower abdomen, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She couldn’t go back to their bed. It was simply too lonely.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

The elf lord’s streaming mantle whispered behind him as he ascended the steps to the Cheb’s second level. Its white silk, emblazoned with the insignia of House Mynendil, swirled loosely about his slender shoulders and around his tightly muscled physique. Years, no, decades of bloodshed stained the assassin’s pale hands, and although they were washed clean this evening, they would never be purified of the death that tainted them.

Nimavel Mynendil paused outside Calairiel’s room, his right hand falling centimeters short of the doorknob. It was not fear that held the Lord of House Mynendil in place; it was his wife’s sobbing. Listening silently for the next couple of minutes, the Heru Mynendil stared absentmindedly at the hallway carpet, lost within the reservoirs of his mind.

Click!

Standing at the opened threshold, Nimavel’s gaze softened as he focused upon Calairiel, tracing the contours of her alabaster-hued cheeks and the wet streaks that marred her otherwise perfectly sculpted face. She was beautiful, even in sorrow, and the incriminating reality assaulted the assassin with guilt. How long had Calairiel been crying, waiting for him to return?

Frustration. Although the sentiment was masked behind his immaculately composed visage, the elf lord was pained by his own inadequacies. Staring at Calairiel reminded him of his shortcomings as a husband, and the glimpse to her slowly developing belly reminded him of his deficiency as a father.

In many ways he lived two lives: one of a family man and the other of the shadows. The latter, as was evident from Calairiel’s shattered demeanor, had taken precedence in recent times –or had it always? Nimavel swallowed guiltily, forcing the thought away as he swept into the room, his descending feet not even producing a whisper. He was a master of the shadows, but at what price? He wondered.

“Crying is not becoming of you…”

He said softly, arriving at the side of the bed where Calairiel was huddled beneath the sheets. Sighing, Nimavel ensconced at the edge of the mattress, wiping away several of the tears that continued to streak his beloved’s pale face. He rubbed her gently.

“What’s wrong dae’amin…?”

[Calairiel Mynendil Gil'dae]

His voice shattered through her like thunder. Immediately, she began wiping the tears away from her eyes. Lovely…her husband, who didn’t tolerate weakness had managed to catch her in the throes of her pregnancy hormones…a truly sad sight. While she was thrilled that he was home, she would have preferred him to come home to a sleeping figure who didn’t appear to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

Too late for that.

Sitting up quickly, she tried to wipe away the remains of the tears, hoping that he would just let it go. Caressing his face softly, she embraced him tightly, allowing her hands to slip through his long dark locks.

“A’maelamin! I wasn’t expecting you until next month. Please forgive me…the midwife said that I should expect my hormones to be in extreme flux due to the pregnancy and that it isn’t anything to worry about. I started crying in the middle of Sai practice yesterday, for no reason. I guess I was just missing you a bit tonight and the hormones took over from there.”

In all their time together, Cala had only cried one other time…and that was because of the rift that had erupted between her and Motito which had sent him to Diana and left her in charge of House Gil’dae. Nimavel, who had not been her husband yet, had been extremely understanding and supportive of her feelings during that time so she never expected less of him, but at the same time, she didn’t want him thinking that she had -completely- lost her mind.

Well, perhaps only -temporarily- lost her mind. A pregnancy induced insanity, to be sure.

Kissing his lips softly, she gave him a gentle smile…the one that belonged to him and him alone….to let him know that the Cala he loved was still somewhere inside. Silently gazing at him, she caressed his cheek softly and allowed herself just a moment to cherish the fact that he was home once again.

“You must be hungry, my love. Would you like me to get you a bowl of soup or something else? I would imagine you’ve been on the road for some time.”

Oh, how she loved him. There would never be anyone else for her. Of course, there had been minor relationships in the past, but what she felt for Nimavel was beautiful, enduring and real. Since he had walked into her life, her eyes had been for him and no other. He loved her for who she was and who she wanted to be…for the goals she wanted to accomplish in life and for their joint goals. He allowed her to be herself, and loved her for it. While some would have looked at the pair and shook their head for the pure insanity of even attempting to mesh their individual personalities, she had never worried…nor had they ever even come close to having a fight or disagreement in the time they had been together. They respected each others concerns and ideas and worked together to make sure their choices were truly made in the sense of togetherness.

They were partners…mates…and eternally, each other’s best friend…but why she couldn’t confess to him the worries in her heart and mind at the moment were beyond her comprehension. She was scared…but didn’t want him to know that…didn’t wish for him to perceive her with having weakness.

No…that wouldn’t do.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

For his wife’s sake, Nimavel pretended that he did not notice the tears -no matter how evident they were. Scooting on the bed beside her, the elfin lord rested his head against the bed frame, one arm looping beneath Calairiel’s head and around her lithe shoulders. He sat quietly, listening to her explain the haphazard mood swings that had recently overcome her. Nimavel knew little of feminine biology besides the basics, but he feigned understanding nevertheless.

“I thought to surprise you…”

The Heru calmly said, his callused fingers massaging her skin gently as she lay in his grasp. Running his digits through her pure silver hair, Nimavel traced the curve of her shoulder-blades down to the tip of her lower back. His touch was soft and tender, unalike anything others knew of him.

Despite the generalizations that elfin-kind made about the Heru Mynendil, he was always compassionate with his wife. It was true that he was not around as frequently as many other husbands, but whenever he was with her, he demonstrated affection in his own way. Nimavel was not an elf of many words. Verbal communication almost did not exist in House Mynendil for the clandestine family was generally inexpressive and taught to be emotionless. They all loved one another, but they conveyed it in far different ways.

His lips fell upon Calairiel’s in a light kiss, speaking what words never could for him. Slowly pulling away so that his head was only a few inches from her, the elf lord’s lavender eyes aligned with her quicksilver ones, boring into her gently like a seer into a crystal orb.

“No, dae’amin, please stay where you are. I can get it myself.”

He said, setting a withered hand atop hers and rubbing it softly. The elf lord’s eyes, readable only by Calairiel herself, betrayed his thoughts. Calairiel was always so self-sacrificing, willing to serve others before herself. She would have traveled the Empire while inflicted by a mortal ailment for the sake of one she loved.

“The trip was not a long one…”

Nimavel added duly, failing to expound further on the matter. He seldom spoke of business-related topics with Calairiel, not because she was unconcerned with his activities, but more so because he wanted to protect her. He wanted to protect her from himself…

How would Calairiel look at him knowing that he’d slain countless men and women? All of them were evil in the elf lord’s eyes, but that did not change the fact that he was guilty of the gravest sins. And the worst part was that even if Calairiel knew, and a part of him understood that she did already, her opinion of him would never change. This was the reason that she was the only person he really trusted, the only person that deserved his love.

“Calairiel, tell me what’s wrong…”

He finally demanded, though his tone was soft and more concerned than anything else. His wife was strong, stronger than anyone he knew, and tears, as he’d earlier said, were not becoming of her. Calairiel did not cry, at least not very often, and as Nimavel knew her just as much as she knew him, so too was he aware that something was bothering her.

[Calairiel Mynendil Gil'dae]

There was so much she wanted to tell him…so much she wanted to say. They never seemed to have the time, or even if they did, they couldn’t figure out a way to say the words that they wanted to. True, they could read each other better then anyone…but there were some things that actions couldn’t convey….things that only words could.

Laying her head on his chest and enjoying the closeness once again, she allowed her thoughts to consume her. They spent a great deal of time in silence which she had gotten used to over the months…but there were things she had to know. She loved Nimavel more then life itself but there was a sudden realization that to love someone meant learning and growing with them…cherishing the differences in opinions as well as similarities.

She had to tell him. He deserved the truth.

Sighing softly, she returned his gaze…reaching up and touching his face gently…tracing the lines she had so engrained within her mind…memories of him for when he was away. While sometimes it was hard to know his mind, he deserved to know hers.

“ A’maelamin, I….”

It was hard…admitting to him the weaknesses within her…the needs she had. So very hard. He had a strength that was undeniable and to admit her own weaknesses made her feel…unworthy of his love.

“ You’ve been spending much time away from Syl’rosya…and I feared that it might be because of the baby. You didn’t ever say if you were happy about the news so I’ve been worried that perhaps the reason you’ve not been around is because you didn’t want to deal with it…or me. I know that sometimes you keep your thoughts inside but I think….no….I know that I need to know your mind on this. I need to know that we are in this together. You’ve supported everything I’ve ever done without complaint and I love you for that…but this is a little different. This is -our- child…your heir…everything good about each of us will be within this child…I -need- your strength now…more then ever. There are many things in life that I would face alone without question, but I -need- you now. You have been, and always will be my love, my heart, my soul and the source of my strength. I -need- to know that we are one in mind and heart…and I need to hear it from your lips.”

There were a few other…minor things…but the major one had been voiced. She loved him..so very much…and this was just one of the things in life that they needed to face…together.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

The elf lord’s raven hair tangled with his wife’s silver tresses, twisting around hers to form a silky weave of light and shadow. Staring silently at the intricate pattern, the Heru wondered if it was symbolic of their relationship. Their love for one another was incontestable, but they were as different as the night and day. Calairiel was verbally expressive; Nimavel was not. She was an extrovert; he was an introvert. The juxtapositions were plentiful, but most importantly, they reminded the elf lord of Calairiel’s many sacrifices.

She’d given up a lot to be with him: an archetypal family, someone who treated her as she deserved, a more active role-model for her children, and so much more. And yet, despite forfeiting all of these things, she’d still chosen to marry him. She was a special woman, and the elf lord was always conscious that he was undeserving of her.

He already knew her words before they danced from her lips.

Nimavel’s callused hand paused atop her backside as she voiced the burdens of her heart. He listened attentively, attuning to every word as if it were the last he would ever hear. They pained him because they reminded him of his failure as a husband and as a father, a failure that stemmed from his unavailability and his frequent departures. But it was not only a failure of the physical, it was also his inability to express himself to Calairiel, to clarify what he was feeling and not force her to deduce his sentiments for herself.

It was time to come clean. She deserved it.

“Dae’amin, you know that we are living in dangerous times. The Empire is in disarray and Silrosia is vulnerable…”

He began slowly, picking his words carefully as he always did, much like a vineyard worker plucking the choicest grapes for the finest wine. It was not until the words spilled from his mouth did he realize that he was avoiding her question, a tactic that he oftentimes employed against competitors and enemies alike. But why was he evading Calairiel’s question? He wondered. She was the only woman in the world who knew who he was, the only woman who accepted him for all that he was. She was no enemy, and there was no need to guard himself from her. There never had been.

But that didn’t mean that it wasn’t hard to be honest…

“I’m scared, Calairiel…”

Nimavel finally whispered, disbelieving the statement even as he heard himself speak it. He sighed deeply as if an enormous weight had suddenly dissipated from his shoulders, and his slender frame crumpled against the bed frame again in resignation.

“You and the children mean more to me anything; that will never change. But an infant? Look at my hands, dae’amin…”

The elf lord’s eyes closed as he revealed his palms face up for his wife to examine. Heavily callused and withered, they wore the demolished texture of a person centuries beyond the Heru Myendnil’s age. But most significantly, they were the hands of a murderer, the hands of an unrepentant killer who understood that there was no other higher calling in his life.

“…these are not the hands befitting a newborn child…”

He shook his head dismally. Perhaps he’d inadvertently not answered Calairiel’s train of questions, but in many ways he had. With a few sincere sentences and expressions, not only had he admitted the importance of Calairiel in his life, but perhaps something even deeper than that. Guilt? Remorse? Inability.

The elf lord’s violet eyes opened slowly, searching for Calairiel’s own.

[Calairiel Mynendil Gil'dae]

She wasn’t sure what she expected to hear, but whatever it was..it most certainly -wasn’t- what came from his mouth.

He was…scared? That was not possible. Her husband did not get scared.

And that is when the reality set in. He had been scared the entire time they had been married. She just hadn’t been observant enough to notice.

Their marriage…nay, their love…was something he hadn’t been prepared for. If it hadn’t been for her, most likely things would have been different for the Heru of Mynendil. Love had not been in the fates for him and most assuredly he hadn’t expected it. Hesitant he had been, but he learned to embrace the love he felt for her and not turn from it.

He would never turn from her..or their family. This she knew as deeply as she knew his love for them…but instead of being scared, he needed to learn to embrace it….actually, they both did.

“A’maelamin…please hear my words…”

It wasn’t easy, facing their fears. But perhaps together, they had a chance. Wasn’t that what love was all about?

Taking his hands gently within hers, she kissed each softly and gazed deeply into his lavender eyes.

“ These hands were the ones that held me on the day we married. These hands are the ones that hold our children…and dare I say, these hands are the ones that held me as we created this new life. Would you say that those things are any less precious? I think not. You…you deserve to be happy. We both do. This should be a joyous time, not one of worry and doubt. This is not for you to experience alone. I -love- you, Nimavel. I always have and I always will. This is a time for us to enjoy…watching the new life grow and preparing for its arrival.”

“Regardless of -who- you are, the most important point is that -you- are the father of this child…and that child deserves to know of the love it came from. Some never find the solace and peace we’ve found with each other and it would be wrong of us to not share that love with our family. Perhaps we never expected this relationship to grow and mature as it did, but I -do- know that what we have is special and I will never forsake it for anything. I want you to be happy about this….to -experience- it with me. It is okay to be scared…as long as you allow me to be scared with you…and not push me away.”

Dropping her hands from his, she slipped them softly up to his face, caressing it as she continued to hold his gaze with hers.

“Our child…has nothing to do with anything other then our love. The only thing they care about is having loving parents that will protect and care for them…and love them. “

She wasn’t sure how much her words would effect the way he felt, but it was a place to start.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

The elf lord winced as Calairiel’s soft lips brushed against his coarse hands, the likes of which were undeserving of the purity of her touch. He loved her, more than the children even, and this was the reason why. They were one, united as much in body as they were in mind and spirit, and neither of them needed to brave the adversities of life alone. Back in Natura on the day of their nuptials, he’d taken her as his wife and she’d taken him as her husband –for eternity. They’d accepted both the bad and the good in one another.

Calairiel was strong, stronger than him by far. Whereas he contained his emotions in a compartment of ice, hers were like a perpetual conflagration, enflaming those around her with passion and purpose. As much as Calairiel needed him to be strong, Nimavel knew now, that he needed his wife to be stronger in a different way.

She was his conscience, the reminder of his mortality and the reminder of who he truly was. To the Syl’rosyan Combine he was the Lord Mynendil, a weapon of unbridled destructive capabilities, but to Calairiel, he was simply Nimavel.

He heard everything that she said, and her words struck him an internal blow that he could not ignore. Nimavel thought of his role as a father, a role that he’d neglected since the brightening when he and Calairiel had adopted the children from Medonia. He was still uncertain if he could provide for his future child, be it a boy or a girl, but he was convinced that he would not have to provide for the infant alone. Calairiel would and would always be there to help him.

With his face captured between her hands, Nimavel’s lavender-flecked eyes could stray nowhere but Calairiel’s own. He stared at her softly, gently, and meaningfully. He’d been unable to look his wife in the eyes for a very long time, but the feeling seemed peculiarly natural now.

It seemed normal.

“Calairiel…why are you so good to me?”

The answer was obvious: she loved him; however, it was not the response that the Heru Mynendil was searching for. Calairiel was possessed of an abundance of love, more than the elf lord could ever know. Likewise, though, there were others out there who would probably have made better husbands and better fathers –and certainly more deserving of her affection. Why, then, had she chosen him? Why had she chosen to love a man whose love in return paled in comparison to her own? She was a Princess of Syl’rosya, the finest maiden in all of Elfhame, and she’d chosen him, a murderer at best, as her life partner.

It made no sense to the elf lord, no, not the elf lord, the assassin.

To every nobleman and peasant alike in Silrosia, it would be evident that the Lord Mynendil was unworthy of the Lady Gil’dae, the apple of the eyes of every available man in the entire Empire. She loved him, he did not question that, but he needed to know why. What was there about him to love?

[Calairiel Mynendil Gil'dae]

She felt the emotions storming within him….knew of the conflict…and truthfully, the question didn’t surprise her in the least. Calairiel had been expecting it for some time. Her husband was a most logical creature…one born of instinct and action…but -deliberate- action. She had known that he would eventually become perplexed, when he had the chance to think about it, upon the reasons why his wife loved him so.

Many marriages in elfhame were born of political and social motivations….not anything that remotely had to do with love. Calairiel had rejected the idea of those types of relationships, preferring to marry for something real and lasting…something she could be proud of.

That day in Imperia…it had hit her like a rock over the head. Their first meeting…a chance encounter of two Houses that by all rights should have been enemies. But there had been something there…something powerful. She had felt it like a thunderbolt throughout her entire body. She hadn’t been wise in the ways of the Combine but she had known enough to know that Nimavel hadn’t any reason to like her…yet, when he had bested her in their spar, he had held her as though she was the most precious thing on Telath…and had refused to release her for several moments….at least that’s how it felt to her.

Yes, she had been naïve back then…but no more. Since that time, she had grown into one of the strongest Arwens in Syl’rosya. Skilled in Sorcery and Sai, she was no longer the helpless girl that had come to the city with no clue regarding her future in House Gil’dae.

She -was- the future of House Gil’dae…her and her family…her husband…her children.

Nor was she any long naïve in matters of the heart. She had given it, the whole of it, to Nimavel that day in Imperia…and now he was asking why. What had set him apart from everyone else? What made him worthy of her love?

As complicated as the matter seemed to him, it was extremely simple to her.

So, she smiled at him, brushing her lips softly against his, and replied.

“ Because, when you look at me with those beautiful eyes of yours, you see me as I am. You looked at me in Imperia that first day the same as you look at me now. Your arms held me close that day, searching for -something- that you needed…that you were missing in life...something that you didn't even -know- you were missing….and you found it in me and you never doubted that feeling. Despite the reservations you might have held for the wisdom of the situation, you -never- doubted me…just like I’ve never doubted you. I was born to love you, Nimavel. That’s the only explanation. With you, I can bare my soul and know that you will not judge me. We both found something in each other that we could have never found in anyone else…and that is what binds us beyond mere mortal vows. We are extensions of each other…the balance that nature strives for. I look not to change you...but to grow with you. To learn with you. In that, we will find out path in life...together...always together.”

Her fingers softly brushed through his soft locks, searching his gaze for understanding. It had been a long time since they had sat and just….communicated….with each other. It was something they both desperately needed.

Just time together.

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Nimavel remembered that brightening in Imperia all too well. Even from a distance, Calairiel’s nobility could not be mistaken. Her flowing silver hair and elegant demeanor screamed of a Princess of the Combine, and Nimavel, at the time a conspirator against the subversive forces of Elfin society, had quickly taken note of her. Theirs was a unique preliminary encounter, eventually leading to a duel that, peculiarly, blossomed into a marriage.

Calairiel had, in many ways, fascinated the Heru Mynendil in more ways than he’d liked to admit. Besides her blatant physical allure, her resilient and unyielding spirit was impossible to ignore. It attracted him immediately, and he’d naturally gravitated towards her without a second thought. And the worst part about it was that they belonged to Houses on polar ends of the Combine’s bureaucracy.

He’d even stared Siaren Luviel in the eyes and threatened to secede from House Luviel for Calairiel’s sake…

In retrospect, the Heru Mynendil realized that his decision, although brash, stemmed from his incalculable love for his wife. The Mynendils were a traditional family, one renowned for its assiduous loyalty to its benefactors, and yet, Nimavel had been so quick to defy convention for the Princess of House Gil’dae. His heart belonged to Calairiel; it always would.

She’d evoked feelings in him that he’d never known to exist. She’d revealed to him a world outside of darkness and shadows, a multilateral realm of opportunity that had been concealed from him since birth.

He knew the reason that he loved her, and he now understood her reasons in return.

Yes, he’d accepted her despite her affiliations with a rival clan, but she’d made a similar sacrifice. Likely against her brother’s wishes (and against all of House Gil’dae’s for that matter), she’d chosen to give her life to him. She was right that he would never judge her, never speak a vile word against her, and never doubt her. She was his counterpart, the other side of the same coin.

Leaning forward, the elfin lord’s lips connected against hers, his tongue gliding gently into her mouth as he kissed her deeply. It was the first time that they’d shared such a moment since Calairiel had become with child, but it was a long-anticipated and a necessary one.

“Dae’amin…”

He said softly, his moniker for her never meaning so much in all of their marriage. My shadow, as it would translate in Charismean, fully encapsulated all that she meant to him. She was and would forever be his other half. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Always…”

He agreed in a tone a hair above a whisper. Resting his head against hers, he sighed. His chest rose and fell beneath her, calmly and more steadily than ever before. But there was another thing on his mind, something that had been weighing upon his heart since the beginning of their relationship. And it was here in the shadows of Calairiel's room that his guilt came to light.

“I’m sorry that I have not been around, for you or the children…”

[Calairiel Mynendil Gil'dae]

She loved him….so much…and every time she thought she had reached a point where that love culminated, it grew more. The moment his eyes and lips searched out hers, the feel of his body against her…that love once again intensified.

Her arms firmly pulled him to her, mouth hungrily searching for his. It was a….different….feeling then most of the alone time he shared with her. Calairiel’s actions were more…intense….then normal. That wasn’t to say that he had married a boring girl….nothing could have been farther from the truth. He had stood by and watched her take down a Syl’ger with her bare hands. The woman he had married though was very complex and multifaceted. So many sides to her…and with their conversation and seemingly increased devotion to one another, it seemed as though Calairiel was allowing yet another side to surface for a moment.

One that Nimavel rarely got to see.

As their intimate kiss broke, her lips gently moved down to his neck while her hands softly caressed up into his long dark hair. There was something about the way she moved…confident, sensual….something very, very attractive. It was easy to see the Arwen of Gil’dae simply as a loving mother and wife those days as she spent a good portion of her time making sure the House and all those within had everything they needed. It was easy to forget that she was an accomplished sorceress and fighter….and indeed very powerful.

Power was something Nimavel responded to. So easy to forget the power she had within her.

For that moment though, she was allowing it to radiate through her, reminding her husband that sometimes…just something…things weren’t always as they appeared. She hadn’t changed…just lost herself for a brief, moment.

The kiss would wake him up though.

It had power, emotion, devotion….and a fair amount of passion….all wrapped into a single action. Her hands were firmly entrenched within his hair, gently pulling as the embrace deepened. Her tongue danced teasingly along his, allowing all those lonely nights to fuel the intense desire for her husband. It was something that wasn’t often mentioned…for Calairiel was more of an emotional creature then the Heru…but she -did- respond to power…was drawn to it…savored it….and Nimavel had a great deal of it.

Bringing her hands to rest upon his face, she kissed him yet again, finally finding the words to reply to his comment.

“ I would never change you, my love. You have business in other cities and I understand that….but this time…now…perhaps will never come again. It is possible with the way our race is that this child will be our first…and last. I don’t want you to miss anything….if that makes sense at all.”

She kept him close…refusing to allow him to roll away from her. She had him in her arms and it would take a great deal to get him -out- of them…

[Nimavel Mynendil]

Calairiel’s touch enflamed Nimavel’s senses, arousing within him bodily desires that the disciplined elf lord normally denied himself. He was a creature of stringent self-control, a master of both mind and body, and while a regal and handsome elf by all standards, he’d refused the beds of every woman who’d tempted him to succumb to the mortal sin of lust. His heart was for Calairiel alone, and only she was deserving of the Heru Mynendil’s affection.

With their lips locked together, Nimvael awarded Calairiel free reign of his body, her warm hands eliciting goose bumps along the surface of his cold flesh. Drawing her gently across his lap, he indulged in his defenseless position, one that only his wife was intimately familiar with. His calloused fingers, crawling slowly beneath her nightgown, explored once forbidden areas and removed the thin layer that separated their bodies from becoming one.

The Heru Mynendil was hard-pressed to remember their last sensual moment together, for it was a rare occurrence in both of their eventful lives. Now, however, it was as if eras of repressed passion and desire were finally leaking out, sublimating through their kiss, touch, and the nearness of their bodies. Nimavel’s hips aligned longingly with hers, and his lavender eyes locked desirously with his beloved’s own. It was a fleeting moment, but a glance that Calairiel would recognize all too well.

She knew her husband better than anyone.

Drawing the covers of their lavish bed aside for Calairiel to disappear beneath, he would join her shortly afterwards –her latest words dancing curiously on his mind as he lost himself in her arms. He knew that she would never ask him to change, but her words resounded with undeniable wisdom in his mind.

Unlike in the age of Prince Moonstone when times were auspicious, Silrosia was a shadow of its former self, no longer reigning at the pinnacle of society let alone worthily in the eyes of the Imperial Empire. They were a suspected nation, alleged to consist of both schemers and aristocrats alike. An entire Imperial Garrasion had been stationed in Elfhame to ensure the impossibility of another insurrection.

The days of war were steadily approaching. The elves would not sit idly and be ruled unjustly.

Calairiel was right. The time to be with his family might never arrive again. There was a new dawn on the horizon, one that he was slowly becoming a part of. Already the Conclave of Shadows was gaining both power and influence outside of Imperia in realms such as Daltina, Primus Gaudeo, Nexus Prime, and Port Alyxandrya. The ventures were dangerous, no doubt, and as the one spearheading all of these operations, was there not the risk that the world would eventually claim his life as well? Nimavel wondered.

Brushing his lips against Calairiel’s neck, the Heru Mynendil kissed a descending trail across her body, letting his actions speak more lucidly than his words ever could.

[Calairiel Mynendil Gil'dae]

There had been other intimate times with Nimavel…obviously as he was her husband and more to the point, she was pregnant. But there was something about -this- time…something different.

The relationship they had was one of mutual respect and love…but if they thought about it for any length of time, they would have realized that their frequent absences from each other had kept them from seeing each other in the truest sense. Despite the strong personalities each had, they more frequently saw the soft, romantic side of each other…trying to spend as much time as possible with each other before they parted again. In a sense, they had been holding back…allowing each other to only see certain aspects of their personality. Each was so used to keeping walls up that they hadn’t fully been able to let them down.

-This- time..they weren’t holding back. Whatever walls were left had crumbled into dust.

Everything about them…their hands, lips, bodies…radiated intense sensual power. Even Calairiel couldn’t believe the emotions and feelings running through her but she couldn’t help it…nor would she stop it. She wanted him with such amazing depth and fire that she was powerless against it.

It was true…they lived in dangerous times but that didn’t really bother her. There was always some danger and likely she and Nimavel would always contend with that. More importantly though, she wanted him to enjoy the time with her and the children…enjoy the strange and mysterious wonders of pregnancy with her and celebrate the fact that their first born was within her. She didn’t want him to worry about her…just enjoy the moment. The future would take care of itself and they were powerless to stop whatever destiny was laid out, but they -could- control the present.

She wasn’t going to let him go. Not that night…and it was going to be a -very- long night.