Fantasy - Wildfire - [CLOSED]

[peritwinkle]

Before Kyel had so easily let himself in, Kaira had managed to don a sleeping robe to cover her nudity, now shivering in front of the vanity as she struggled to make sense out of her almost dry locks. Her cheeks were still rosy from the heat of the bath, but her feet and fingertips were cold and more than eager to slip into a warmer attire. She could only hope that whatever Lord Skovgaard had picked for her was a touch more modest than Elisif’s personal choices considering the dreadful weather outside. Still, a part of her wished for that indecency; she longed to see the look on Adrielle’s face when she stepped into the dining hall, her chest exposed and her collarbones glimmering in the intimate candlelight.

The door creaked open and Kaira saw Kyel’s reflection in the mirror as he went to place a box on the edge of the bed. She turned around and watched his fingers work to undo the red leather binding to reveal a dark piece of fabric that, when lifted from its folded state, draped to the ground in a dark waterfall of embroidered silk and sparkling red details. Kaira’s eyes widened and her neck tensed at the sight of it, especially next to the man offering it. The matching theme had been deliberate. The corners of her lips curled up and she removed herself from the seat, taking a few slow steps towards the bed.

“Quite regal,” the Volur murmured softly as she felt the edge of the sleeve between her fingers. Her eyes lifted up to him in both surprise and thirst. “I don’t suppose the twinning pattern was a coincidence.”

She wanted him to say it. She wanted him to tell her that she was his, and that he wanted every soul in Ironstone to know. Perhaps he had been late on purpose, as well, in preparation for a grand entrance, with everyone’s eyes on the two of them. Another devilish smirk crossed her lips and she dropped the sleeve, moving her hand up to his jaw, then let her nails slightly scratch down his neck as her breath clashed with his, before daintily adjusting his collar. Then, she undid the belt tied around her waist and slipped out of her silk robe, letting it ripple over her hips and sink into the ground.

“Shall we see if it fits?” Kaira offered, before removing the dress from his hold. Then, she slipped into it easily and turned around, lifting it slowly over her behind. She reached back and took one of his hands, placing it on her hip, close to the opening of the bodice. “Will you do the honours, Lord Skovgaard?” Nothing he hadn’t seen or done before, and yet she knew this once the desire burnt more fervently, knowing time was not on their side that evening. And frankly, she wished for him to starve, as well. Starve of her, every second of the feast that he could not tear that dress off of her. She wanted his mind not on the guests or the music or the food, but on how he would have her when the night ended.

Once he was done, she turned around again and pressed one hand to his chest, then another to the side of his cheek. Her nails dug into his skin and she reached to bring his chin down, gripping his jaw so he would look at her. “I don’t want you dancing with Adrielle tonight,” she whispered menacingly against his lips, her eyes dark. “I don’t want you too exhausted… So you can save me the last dance back here.”

 

[peritwinkle]

Music reverberated through the walls of Ironstone into a faint echo, and for the first time, Kaira found that her guts fluttered with emotion. By Kyel’s side, she should not fear a thing, yet in that setting, dressed as she was, she knew every single pair of eyes would be on the two of them: she knew Elisif would look at them with pride, while Nikolai and Adrielle would be a touch more reserved in their demeanor. Perhaps a nod of approval from Islea, although a part of her doubted that the Greenwall council was too content with their closeness. The Lord of the North had no business courting the most resented creature in all of Valera, and yet there he stood, only moments after he had had her, with a look on his face that went against a thousand years of Northern beliefs.

“After you,” Kaira murmured into his ear as she wrapped her arm around his. Her neck was tensed and her chest was heaving - he could likely tell she was nervous, and for a good reason. The matching look of their attire was not easy to overlook, even in the dim lighting of the evening. Particularly then, in fact, when candlelight danced on the fabric, highlighting the glistening crimson and silver. Perhaps a sick part of her did enjoy the danger.

 

[pointmango]

Around the corner and down the hall music filled the ironstone walls. Fingers pulled at fiddles and other strings, while lips were around horns and woodwinds. Before him stood a young and strong woman with pink lips and glistening fair skin. He knew the servants would stop to listen tonight, perhaps even to watch. After you. Kyel wished to press her against the wall and take her lips again. But their presence was already amiss, and so he patted her hand on his forearm and began leading her around the corner and down the hall. “Hold your head high,” he spoke in a whisper as they approached the main doors of the grand hall.

*

It was the grandeur of the moment. Lord Pelletier watched as Lord Skovgaard and Kaira Grimward arrived late, together and in the clothing they were wearing. Jon smirked lightly to himself, knowing the next day Kyel would have an earful from every advisor on his council. Kaira’s dress was exquisite, her position beside Skovgaard, and her position in the war told a story, Jon thought a celebration that the North would never look back from. Kyel held her up like she was the world, any common man could see it. And yet Jon was envious, for at times Lord Skovgaard was a cloud of rain to his own spectacular sunshine. And he had never seen her smile around Lord Skovgaard, Jon felt it was him who sent rays speckling through the stained glass that was Kaira Grimward.

The small orchestra’s music lifted the crowd upon their entrance. Both figures struck regal in the Ironstone air, which was fascinating considering the hate for Kaira’s kind in the North. Still Lord Skovgaard led her through the crowd and Jon watched as he ignored a lesson his grandmother taught him as a young boy. There is one thing a woman always wants at any sort of celebration or ceremony. A dance. And once the pair were at their place by the main table at the front of the hall, the feast continued, no speeches made yet. Jon made his movements forward, and the ritual of him extending his hand to her at the beginning of festivities was continued. “A dance Miss Grimward?” He asked with lofted brows.

*

As Lord Pelletier approached Kyel gracefully let go of Kaira’s arm. He stepped away to give the pair a moment of privacy, he could not capture Kaira for the whole night. He would have her for one last dance, and then the entirety of the night after. He could wait. His eyes only glazed over the pair once, while his thoughts entered as he moved to greet Elisif. Jon could light up Kaira in a way Kyel was still trying to figure out. Jon never had an ounce of trouble, it was maddening truly.

He recalled as a young boy one of his nannies telling him it was never appropriate to state if he preferred his mother or his father. In that very moment, Kyel didn’t even need to blink to make up an answer within his own head. He would never state who he preferred. But in the very unlikely need to decide on the point, he would have run into his mothers arm’s in a heartbeat. He wondered if Kaira would run to Kyel or Jon in a time of sadness. Kyel could protect her and hold her, and profess love and assurance of at least that. But Jon could make her smile, and with Jon…. well Kyel was aware of the lack of complexities the pair would have. Jon was courting other women though, and that was that. Why did every man in her presence feel like competition? Somewhere along the way, men became his enemy when it came to Kaira. He pressed a hand to the side of his neck a moment, helping to crack it as his jaw tightened. The orchestra grew louder and he could heard the noises deep and clear. He closed his eyes for a moment as one of the fiddles took up a solo. He felt like his ribs were shattering, there was so much he felt in all of this. So much he wished to say and explain to Kaira, and so much he still couldn’t articulate.