N Has Fallen

XXXII - Handsel

XXXII - Handsel

Handsel
han·sel
/ˈhan(t)səl/
noun
a gift made as a token of good wishes or luck especially at the beginning of a new year

🍁

Melted ice drips slowly, fire leisurely crackling on the hearth as he pulls her closer to him, her dewy face bathed in the morning light. They've spent the whole night speaking, talking and listening. They spent their entire week at her parent's home and he hadn't had the chance to hold her properly and so when they got back that night from her parent's home to the cabin he held her, whispered sweet promises to her as if he hadn't seen her for a week. Languidly, she opened her eyes. They slept in front of the fireplace, the floor was covered with thick rug, the distance from the fireplace was perfect to keep her warm but the warmest of them all held her, kissed her head, smiled at her and with a velvet voice spoke, his breath caressing her ears, "Good morning love."

"Good morning." Her lips split into a smile earning her a pure look of affection from him. "I've had the best dream." She traced his nose and run her fingers through his silver strands.

Closing his eyes, liking what she did, he asked, "What is it?"

"I'm not going to tell you." He opened his eyes and was about to say something when she continued, "Yet."

He raised his brows in question but he didn't ask her anymore, instead he pulled her closer. Her head cradled in his arm while his other arm wrapped around her waist. "Are you cold?"

"No." She scooted closer as if there was any space left between them.

Silence filled them. The crackling of the fire was slowly dying and it was almost therapeutic to listen to. The drips of the ice outside, the gentle hums of the birds and the sweet scent of the maple trees, it was a lovely morning and even lovelier with them holding each other.

"What do you want to do today?" He asked after a little while.

"I want to paint something. Can you teach me?" She looked up at him, his eyes were closed and his smile was one of pure content.

Opening his eyes, he answered her. "Of course love."

Her eyes lit up. Her smile was so wide he can't help but smile with her. "Okay, let's get up." Before he could even say a word, she got up excitedly.

"Look who's excited." He chuckled when she playfully pulled his arm, he rose to his feet and he let her drag him away.

"Come on. We have to eat first."

He was smiling like an idiot all the way to kitchen and the beam on his face never stopped even during they ate and after they finish doing their morning routines. This was how he would want to prepare his day every single day of his life.

"Wow. I never knew you have these materials." She exclaimed a little later when he took her to his storage room. There were dozens of paints and there were even more paint brushes, all types, for all different strokes. There were also canvases she saw that was piled up beside the wall. "It's so beautiful." She commented, her fingers running through the unfinished portrait he made. It was a painting of two people on a winter night, the snow was falling and there was a single lamp that illuminates the two people, their faces dejected and the light emphasized how crest fallen they looked. The painting felt melancholic.

"It's not yet finished love."

She turned around and faced him. "Teach me."

He can't help but be amused by how serious she sounded. "Alright. Come here." He tapped the high stool infront of him. He held her by her shoulder when she came closer and pressed down, setting her on the stool.