Dear Ms Lady Demigod: Twelve Days To Doom

6 0 The Power Imbalance

"Nataniel," Sylvester looked up at me as we sat across the dining table. I looked back at him, he drank his wine as he kissed my mother's glass while looking at me with his gentle, light blue eyes. He passed the glass to me and commanded me, "Drink," 

I looked over my book and looked at the drying foliage between us. White, withered flowers in the silver vase, decorated like a virginal bride. His thin, veiny wrists holding the neck of the glass, the red wine flowing in the glass. Slowly, I moved my pale hands towards the glass. We were both looking into each other's eyes as I gently held the glass and he let it go, brushing his warm fingers against my cold and rough nails. 

He rested his face over his hands as he looked at me kiss the glass and take a sip. I kept it down and he reached his hand out, "Give it to me," 
I passed it back to him. He held it between his fingers and looked down at the letter he had been writing that morning, "Nataniel, I must leave soon. My wife must be waiting for me,"

"Wife? What's that?"
He took a sip from the glass and pressed it down, "Do you know what a marriage is?"
"I do not," I told him and he folded his letter, passing it into an envelope he made, "It's an exchange of vows. And my partner whom I made those vows with is my wife, and I, her husband,"

A marriage.

"What vows did you make?" 
"To love,"
So, marriage was the materiality of love?
"It inspires awe within me. I wish I could make a marriage,"

He simply looked at me and got up, "If I ever die, deliver this to my wife. It has my address,"
I held it between my fingertips and pressed it deep into my pockets, bowing to him, "I promise,"

After breakfast, he put on his coat and wore his boots. His kind was weak to the cold, so they must wear articles to protect them from cold death. Those were warm creatures. I took an axe and brought a tree down in a single strike. He was in awe and he touched my arms, "Such virile strength! Yet such tender arms! What must you be?" 

"You can't do this?" I asked.
"Me? Never! I never engaged myself in physical labour, reading is my strong suit,"
And so it was. He stood and watched me press my leg on the trunk and smash the axe on its thick structure. I brought the axe down one after the another, breaking the bark, tearing it open, bringing it down with my strength until it laid passive, subjugated and low. 

I removed my shirt and kept it aside, lest it'd get dirty. For now, I did the dirty job to take a broom and clear away all the insects from the wood. Suddenly, he removed his shirt and came close to me to help me. He took another broom and began cleaning, "Ugh! Look at those slouchy and moist maggots! Disgusting,"
I looked at him, "You have never cleaned the bark of a tree?"
"As I said before," He jumped away from the army of insects getting piled up on the snow underneath him, "I loathe physical exertions,"

"Well, you don't have to complacently engage yourself within them,"
"I do not. However, I wouldn't want to engage you within hard labour," We stood half-naked under the sun, toling in labour. Cold sweat, yet something felt warm. I wonder if he felt that too, he was basking in sweat as he took our respective axes and tore the bark into pieces and stacked it into the fire chamber. I asked him to take a bath, I had boiled some water in the kitchen. I took some of it towards the living hall and kept it on top of the pyre that my mother used to stand on.

I now had to find stones for lighting a fire. I went out to grab some stones but when I returned, the fire was lit and Sylvester sat before it, with a thin, transparent white sheet wrapped around his body. His clothes lay on the floor and he had his hands close to the fire. He turned and looked at me, "Nataniel, come. Sit beside me," He commanded and I obeyed. 

I sat beside him and looked at the fire. The fire that burnt my mother and my brothers, and left me with this mortal god. He looked at me and touched my face, "You're so cold,"
"As I eternally shall be," I told him.

He looked at the fire, "I know not what you are," He whispered and I looked at him like a wilting flower, "Your cold skin makes me feel warm feelings,"
I reached out my hands towards him, I touched his lips. He held my hands and kissed my white fingers as they curled inwards. His lips, and his breath were so hot, it made me giddy, "Nataniel," He whispered my name so softly as if it were a secret; as if it were a spell to summon a demon, "Would you like it if I left?" He asked as his eyes looked into mine.

"Yes. You must. You have a wife," I told him.
"And you have no one. If I were to go, you would be alone and abandoned in this...Dead forest of cold desires,"
"And I'll accept it as my fate," I pulled my hands away from his mouth and he let me go, gently.

We never talked about it, but he never talked of his wife again either. I still had his letter in my pocket, and I was desirous to read it, but I knew I mustn't. I mustn't look. With winter at its peak, he spent most of his days inside the castle, reading or having conversations with me. I had built him a mantlepiece for him to be warm. We dined together, sharing goblets. He would feed me with his hands. 

I watched his shadow dance in the dark, wearing woollen socks. Eating pumpkins. He would command, and I would obey. It was almost as if he was the master and I was the slave.
"Dance with me," And I would wake up from sleep, and dance around the house, under the moonlight as he looked at me passionately. He was enchanted. But I would lie I would say I weren't. 

He read me books as I lay on his lap. We shared the same bed and he would hug me as we slept, even when I was cold as ice. And I would play my music for him and he would write his never-ending letters, sitting beside me. Nothing was too passionate. Nothing seemed to change day after day. My fairytale was calm, and serene and gave me solace from everything I had lost. His soul put mine at ease. His happiness was mine to share. I shared with him, a sense of brotherhood. Even if he be my master, and I be his slave, I would obey if he be my brother and love me like the ones I lost. Yes, love me.

Kiss me. Hug me. 
Spoil me like a god.
Hold me. Eat me.
Love me more.

I ardently desired him to look at me and see what I saw. 
See me in my naked form. See the winter monster in me.

Yet as spring came over, I plucked the tiny flowers growing on the vines over trees and I wondered what if, maybe, 

"Maybe this is marriage," I spoke to him as he stood just four steps away from me, adorning the same vines as me. He looked at me as if I were his god, "And if that be so, then, you must be my husband," He took four steps towards me, and wrapped his arms around my waist as I held the vines between my arms. He almost took my breath away. We looked at each other in divine radiance, 

"Yes, yes I am," He held my face, "I am yours," 
I looked into his eyes. So, now I was the master? Marriage must be ownership.
"Now tell me you are mine," He commanded.

His gaze was passionate, but I told myself I would not be moved, 
"I am no one's to own,"

He moved away from me, "Would you like it if I left?" He asked as his eyes looked into mine.
Of course, I wouldn't. So, I ask, "What would you like?"

"I'd like it if you would want me to stay with you...Forever,"

-To be continued 

Nataniel
Dear Ms Lady demigod