Ease The Dawn

Part 2, Chapter 9

The sounds of etching on paper tricked his mind into feeling as if he had lived that very moment before. There was something in the way those scratches on her smooth paper warmed his senses, tugging at something deep in his stomach. Perhaps, his body without the influence of his mind was recalling a time in his life when he was most content. Without a city to govern with the backdrop of retaliation, no religion or struggles for power, no toils to be heard, only the comforting, addictive experience of being alone with his Aethelswith.

It left him to wonder if their love, at the beginning, was what kept them together now or would it be their love at the end that would define their lives. That is what he chose to believe regardless of their current trials. Their strength to endure each other's impediments is what set them apart as if they had walked this same soil but in another life, side by side, in another time. Only the Gods held the wisdom to explain the truth but when it came to their destinies being tied, he knew in his bones he was right.

Studying her now, with her eyes down, the thin wisps of black in her drawing beginning to take shape, he watched the way her tongue slid out of her mouth, running back and forth over her lip. A sign of her most poised concentration as her hands created the image already complete in her imagination. She, herself, was a work of art. Perfectly carved. Each feature of her face exquisitely created. If he had sat down with Frigg herself and explained every detail he desired in the appearance of his one-day true love, Aethelswith was truly the result.

Something in the way her body held still, her mind utterly focussed on her drawing that made him want to throw his cup of ale onto the sketch of the vase of flowers. Spoil it all and draw her attention back to him. Attention he was so desperately craving. She was a cruel little thing, he thought, as his eyes roamed over her body.

If it had been his decision their union would have been blessed upon arriving home from England. So, on slow afternoons like the current one, they could be spending their time on more meaningful endeavors. The one he had on his mind, at the moment, involved her sitting on his face. Yes, that would be nice, he sighed with a groan, his eyes tracing the line of her silhouette, savouring how each time she leaned forward, he could spy down the front of her dress.

Do not start, he silently scolded himself, sidelining the thought, knowing the slip up the previous week when he succumbed to her tricks only undermined him. He may be mightier than most warriors, possess transcendent qualities, Gods-like even, but he was still a man with a very lonely prick with a beautiful queen with a beautiful cunt. GODS, he thought to himself, grumbling under his breath, adjusting his cock straining in his leathers. As his woman, he knew she understood the two urges that drove him, fucking and killing and the latter, these days, was providing him no thrill at all.

Clearing his throat, he watched her, waiting for her to glance up. Grunting through his nose when she didn't.

"If you were wondering... I am still suffering," he cleared his throat again, "touching you that once provided no relief."

"None?" she asked, her lips pressed together, her soft blue eyes staying fixed on the striations forming the feathers of a bird's wing.

Dropping his head to one side, his eyes bore into her, feeling impatient. She had a lot of nerve to answer with levity, following such a sincere admission. Looking over to the crackling fire, he snapped his gaze back, glaring in a way that would make a blind man uncomfortable. Sulking down further into his chair, he lowered his chin still observing her.

"This is worse than before.... Before...you know. I should know better but I am a loving, passionate person, after all, so it is your fault Aethelswith. You would think that I would be used to you disappointing me by now. But here we are."