Doom Upon All The World

Chapter 8: Nicolynn

     She can't remember the last time she felt this good. The amount of air in her lungs is small but glorious. She barely ate at dinner and her stomach roils in her abdomen but she revels in it. Her hands shake but she staunches it by gripping the fabric beneath her fingers. Her body shudders and struggles but she loves it.

His lips are soft on hers, his hands gentle and generous. And as she lies naked before him, she has no fear of his judgement, of words or looks that may hurt her. She is aware that the act in itself may hurt her. But with him, even that she does not fear. She knows him, knows that when the time comes, he will be just as soft and gentle and caring as always.

His lips meet the nook of her neck and she puts her hands in his black curls, holding him there, beckoning him, take more, MORE.

He whispers against her skin her name as she trails her hands down, wanting to feel more of him, all of him, beneath her fingertips. His bare, chiseled chest presses against her bare breasts and she arcs into it. As if sensing her desire, he sits up, unlacing his trousers and flinging them elsewhere, allowing Nicolynn to take him in. She blanches at his size then goes red with embarrassment.

He leans back down, kissing her chin and then her cheeks, her nose, and forehead, before nuzzling her soft pink lips. He is positioned between her legs and she can feel how he hovers just outside the soaking apex of her quivering thighs. His chest brushes up against her breasts again, scraping against her erect nipples. She gives a moan and closes her eyes. "Anthony," She cries into his mouth, loving the feeling of his lips on her. And then, without warning or words, yet without malice or pain, he thrusts himself inside her and magic pools in her core.

Nicolynn shoots up in her bed.

She is completely covered in sweat, shaken and out of breath. Her heart races to remember itself, trying to get back to a steady beat. She ignores the molten pool between her legs and puts her head in her hands. "Are you alright?" She starts as she sees the figure lying next to her. She looks him up and down, worried, real, or a dream? She asks herself. She sees the distance between them, wonders how much of her 'dream' was spoken in her sleep.

She shakes her head and he doesn't hesitate to move closer to her, taking her shaking form in his arms. "What is it, Lynn?" Anthony asks as he holds her. She shakes her head again. She'd completely forgotten that he slept in here with her, upon her request. He hadn't even argued a reason not to. He simply slipped his shirt off over his head and laid down beside her. It didn't take long at all for her to get used to having him around again. His usual warmth and kindness is all still there and she revels in it.

"You know you can tell me anything." He whispers into her hair. She sighs but gives in. "I had a dream." She tells him, her eyes staying on the threading of the cotton sheets. He leans back a bit to look her in her eyes. "About you." She adds with only a little resolve left in her. She can just barely keep herself from looking at him.

"Me?" He sounds surprised.

"And what, pray tell, was I doing in this dream?" Anthony asks, sounding smug for only a moment. Then she looks up at him and his grin fades as he realizes what it is she means. He tries to collect himself, looking somewhat shocked and perturbed. "I-uh, I was not aware that you felt that way, still." He adds the last word, testing the waters, reminding her of how it was before.

Before he even thought to leave.

They were nearly seventeen, a prime age for orphans. When they should have been seeking work, they instead spent long nights by the fire, kissing and touching and holding one another. They spent each morning waking up to the smiling face of each other. They wasted the day away on chess, wine, and books. They had been close, emotionally and physically. And they had been very close to being each other's firsts. But even in that, they felt they could not go that far. She had never taken another man since they decided to leave their friendship at that. Anthony, she could not guess what he's been up to since he left. She surmises that he's had plenty of offers from beautiful young ladies, all looking to get a piece of that lovely young nobleman.

Nicolynn blushes further at his statement and shirks his arms from around her. She scoots to the end of the bed and lets her feet hang off of it. But he gives chase. He gets up, moves around the bed in those trousers that hang too low on his hips, and comes to sit beside her. "Please do not run from me like that, Lynn. You know that I accept you, no matter what. And I accept you with these feelings." He takes her hand and smooths his finger over her knuckles. He tilts her chin up.

"You'd be a fool to think I don't feel the same still as well."

His voice is hushed as he says the words. Her eyes narrow and her brow furrows but she understands his words. Then he's changing the subject, "But those feelings, they're not what scare you." She lowers her gaze again. "You're afraid of what you might do if you let yourself feel. You're afraid you'll lose control." He surmises. He hits the nail on the head and she looks at him with tear filled eyes. "I know the magic is gaining on you, Lynn. I know that you're caving under its weight. I can see how it crushes you, I can see how you carry it like a stone in you pocket all day, leaning to one side, swaying to one side." He is the one that has tears in his eyes now. He can't help it.

"How did you find out?" She begs as tears stroll down her cheeks.

"Octavia. But that doesn't matter, Lynn. What matters is that you're going to get through this. We are going to get through this together. And when this day is over, you and Adelaide are coming back with me to Val Royeaux. Mythalus can even come along if he likes." He gets on his knees in front of her then, forcing her to look at him.

"I promise you, Nicolynn, that I will not let this power consume you. I promise that everyday I am with you, I will not leave your side, I will not allow you to be overcome, and will carry half the weight of any burden you bear, for the rest of our lives." He pulls a small dagger from the belt that lies on the floor and slices his hand open. He does the same to hers and presses them together. A blood bond, but not the kind her parents had. An oath, not a spell. More powerful than any magic. An oath existing out of love and respect, rather than energy.

She began to sob into him then. He did not hesitate to cradle her in his arms. And when she finally fell asleep. He bandaged their hands and laid back down in the bed with her. "I have loved you. And I always will. No force in this world, not even your magic, could stop me." He whispers into her hair.