(Dream) The Fourth soothes my restless mind
Color. There are several hues of red, orange, and yellow dancing around a particularly familiar female mage. The flames dance around her arms, her hands, entwining her entire body into something that could resemble fire itself. The flames leap across to light a wicker effigy, which promptly bursts into a dazzling flame. Cheers erupt from a crowd now bathed in firelight and Arthas appears beside her shortly after.
"Spectacular Jaina," he whispers, bending close so she is able to hear over the calls of the audience.
"You asked me to give them a show," she shoots back breathless, though more from the excitement than from actual exhaustion. A grin sits ever-present in her expression.
"Indeed I did. But that was almost too good a show. They're going to demand that you light the wicker man every year now I'm afraid."
This time, she turned to look at him with the same smile. "Would that be a problem?"
The Prince struggled to maintain his composure, breath catching in his throat as he looked her over. Jaina had always been attractive to him since they had first met but now that they were here, the firelight catching the soft glint reflecting from the circlet in her hair onto his shining armor, he couldn't help but see her in a whole new light.
"No...no, it wouldn't be a problem at all."
The scene fades to a corridor, long and made of stone block no doubt ages old. The Prince leads the lady by the hand, ducking low in the dimly lit passage. The sounds of the festival fade and change, becoming utter silence at points and small chatter at others. The passage extends to something wider and the two quickly jump passed several doors and windows, attempting to avoid sight. Quite suddenly, Arthas stops short and pushes the mage back to the wall as a few cooks wander passed the door they were about to walk in front of. He pushes a finger to the startled woman's lips, fighting to keep his excitement contained should he accidentally give them away. They are forced to remain like this for several minutes until the cooks finally surface to the upper levels of the palace. Arthas and Jaina, too, soon found themselves in the upper levels and more specifically the chambers of Prince Arthas himself.
The door was closed swiftly, though silently, to prevent anyone from discovering them. Arthas leans back against the door and pulls Jaina to him, lips meeting her's in a passionate and deep kiss. The room was dark, bathed still in the firelight from the burning wicker man outside the palace walls. It was not the Prince, but Jaina who pulled back and began to lead him to his own canopied bed, only a few feet away from the window. For a moment, they simply stood clasping one another's hands tightly. Arthas feared he may break her slender fingers, but could not bring himself to loosen his grip. "Jaina..." he whispered.
"Arthas," came her voice, as soft as a desperate whine. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed him again, leaving him dizzy in wanting. Only her next words made him pause. "I...are we ready for this?"
He had to stop from blurting an answer too quickly. So many had come to him in request (no doubt due to his position amongst other things) and he had turned them all down. None of them were Jaina. None of them could ever hope to be her.
"I am if you are," he replied hoarsely, unable to hold himself back any longer. As he pressed his lips to her again, he made another vow.
I will kiss it away -- I will make everything you could ever worry about go away forever.
He pulled her to his bed, naked hands now tangled amongst the cascade of golden locks that belonged to the Admiral's Daughter. For the night they permitted themselves to be lost in each other, their passion fading with the dying firelight of the simmering wicker man. He ran his hands across the curves of her body in the darkened atmosphere, carefully committed to memory even as the light fades away.
The light returns when the firelight is replaced by moonlight shining through the window. The villagers had now stopped throwing sticks into the wicker man, ridding themselves of all their burdens. Arthas had not done so because there was nothing he wished to be rid of. He leaned across to kiss her and Jaina awoke to curl closer to him beneath the sheets.
"No one can seem to deny you anything," she muttered, "least of all me."
A cold wind -- it appeared to be his imagination, for Jaina did not move in response -- suddenly swept over him. Something in the air flickers, dead air from lack of insulation, perhaps...he didn't know. The Prince clutched her close. "Don't deny me, Jaina. Don't ever deny me. Please."
Her response caused him to relax, her own hands brushing through his hair and her eyes glittering in the cool moonlight. "I never would, Arthas. Never."
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Arthas awakens with a soft smile rarely seen, though it fades very lightly when he turns his head to glance outside. He doesn't even acknowledge the dreamberry.
[OOC Disclaimer: Quotes taken from Arthas: Rise of the Lich King]