Request Ficlet for Aradiria
Well, I hope this does the trick for aradiria -- I can't bring myself to write really negative stuff about Will. It would seem too AU, as the W/E romance is so central to the plot of the movie.
~ Seconds ~
The morning after, Elizabeth awoke to birdsong, his warmth and scent close around her, and a feeling of tenuous, but very real, well-being. She did not move, merely lay breathing, and thinking.
How different it had been than she’d imagined. She had thought him cold. That, in marrying him, she would never be warm again.
No more the beloved odors of smoke and sweat, no more straining, desperate blacksmith’s hands and cries in the night. Will had been her dream of love from childhood, and if their reality had been somewhat less than dreamlike, it had also been, ultimately, dearer to her heart than she had ever hoped.
She hadn’t thought to marry again. But her father had advised her to do so, and, to her surprise, James had still wanted her, even at second hand. He’d not put it that way, of course. Always the gentleman, was James. There were no stolen kisses, no impulsive declarations. It appeared to her that he still held her in mild affection, in spite of all they’d been through. She was still “a fine woman”.
She had wondered how she could go through with it. But the days passed, the day arrived, and she had. Her hand freezing as he’d placed the ring on it. No unseemly piratical guests at the breakfast. Then the long, almost silent carriage ride, through the rain and green, along mud-slick roads. They hadn’t reached the inn until nine o’clock, and it had still been pouring rain. But they’d dashed from the carriage into golden, welcoming light, and as they were greeted by the innkeeper and his lady, Elizabeth began to warm again with their care and under James’ half-smile. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult, after all.
There had been some awkwardness at supper. Small-talk seemed as inappropriate as the bare truth.
“I’ll give you a few minutes, shall I?” he said, finally. She thought there was a tremor in the calm voice…but perhaps she was mistaken.
“Yes,” she replied.
He returned, wigless and covered only in a rich dressing gown. She was similarly attired, her hair brushed, and she was standing on the hearthrug, looking into the fire. She had looked up as he came to her. How young he looks, she remembered thinking.
She had tried to smile, to put them both at ease, but the smile had faded and she had swallowed hard as he came close and looked down at her.
“It’s all right,” he said, softly. To assure her, or himself?
And then his eyes, as he’d tugged the sash of her dressing gown loose; the slight crease between his brows as he looked at her, and touched her that first time.
She hadn’t been breathing, and when she finally did, his name came to her lips in a little gasp. “James!”
His eyes held hers, as his hands slid ‘round her waist.
She had maintained outward calm for a while, until finally, kneeling, he’d set his lips to the tender skin at the crease between her leg and hip.
It occurred to her that the innkeeper and his wife had shown remarkable forethought in providing them with such a luxuriant hearthrug.
~~~
He placed a kiss on her nose, and she opened her eyes.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice gentle.
She felt herself blushing, like a young girl, but said, slowly, “I was thinking of our vows, yesterday. With my body I thee worship.”
“Ah. And did you think I would not?”
She whispered, “I don’t know what I thought.”
He kissed her, before his voice came, soft against her lips, “Then you must let me show you, again, what to think.”
~.~
~ Seconds ~
The morning after, Elizabeth awoke to birdsong, his warmth and scent close around her, and a feeling of tenuous, but very real, well-being. She did not move, merely lay breathing, and thinking.
How different it had been than she’d imagined. She had thought him cold. That, in marrying him, she would never be warm again.
No more the beloved odors of smoke and sweat, no more straining, desperate blacksmith’s hands and cries in the night. Will had been her dream of love from childhood, and if their reality had been somewhat less than dreamlike, it had also been, ultimately, dearer to her heart than she had ever hoped.
She hadn’t thought to marry again. But her father had advised her to do so, and, to her surprise, James had still wanted her, even at second hand. He’d not put it that way, of course. Always the gentleman, was James. There were no stolen kisses, no impulsive declarations. It appeared to her that he still held her in mild affection, in spite of all they’d been through. She was still “a fine woman”.
She had wondered how she could go through with it. But the days passed, the day arrived, and she had. Her hand freezing as he’d placed the ring on it. No unseemly piratical guests at the breakfast. Then the long, almost silent carriage ride, through the rain and green, along mud-slick roads. They hadn’t reached the inn until nine o’clock, and it had still been pouring rain. But they’d dashed from the carriage into golden, welcoming light, and as they were greeted by the innkeeper and his lady, Elizabeth began to warm again with their care and under James’ half-smile. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so difficult, after all.
There had been some awkwardness at supper. Small-talk seemed as inappropriate as the bare truth.
“I’ll give you a few minutes, shall I?” he said, finally. She thought there was a tremor in the calm voice…but perhaps she was mistaken.
“Yes,” she replied.
He returned, wigless and covered only in a rich dressing gown. She was similarly attired, her hair brushed, and she was standing on the hearthrug, looking into the fire. She had looked up as he came to her. How young he looks, she remembered thinking.
She had tried to smile, to put them both at ease, but the smile had faded and she had swallowed hard as he came close and looked down at her.
“It’s all right,” he said, softly. To assure her, or himself?
And then his eyes, as he’d tugged the sash of her dressing gown loose; the slight crease between his brows as he looked at her, and touched her that first time.
She hadn’t been breathing, and when she finally did, his name came to her lips in a little gasp. “James!”
His eyes held hers, as his hands slid ‘round her waist.
She had maintained outward calm for a while, until finally, kneeling, he’d set his lips to the tender skin at the crease between her leg and hip.
It occurred to her that the innkeeper and his wife had shown remarkable forethought in providing them with such a luxuriant hearthrug.
~~~
He placed a kiss on her nose, and she opened her eyes.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice gentle.
She felt herself blushing, like a young girl, but said, slowly, “I was thinking of our vows, yesterday. With my body I thee worship.”
“Ah. And did you think I would not?”
She whispered, “I don’t know what I thought.”
He kissed her, before his voice came, soft against her lips, “Then you must let me show you, again, what to think.”
~.~