Private Tales Ash and Iron

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
The stars fell like the rain.

Maeve had seen star showers before but never this close and never so many in one go. They seemed to sparkle stardust across the rivers, the rose-coloured cherry trees, and the grass itself giving everything an ethereal, other look. She slowly settled into his lap, lounging there as if she had done it for a thousand years and not a short part of the day. Her fingers absently ran down the sunbursts she had left on his skin when she had given him a piece of her soul as she rested her cheek against his shoulder. When the show finally ended and darkness settled over the tiny island he had found for himself, she stifled a yawn.

"Can we go home?" she pressed a kiss to his throat and then let her nose graze his jaw. He had made her forget the pains of her torture for a short while but sitting still had made her stiff and now her body reminded her of the iron-made wounds in a not so polite manner.
 
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Peace. He could feel his soul breathe and centuries of loneliness were suddenly forgotten, as though it was another life entirely. There were very few times in his life when he'd been truly happy, and when he was the realisation was usually swiftly interrupted by thoughts of his father waiting in the wings to tear it all away from him. Right here, now, this was his. She was his, and here she was safe and so he allowed himself not to worry and just be at peace.

He couldn't stop looking at her. He'd seen thousands of showering stars and they were nothing in comparison to watching her resting against him like this, drawing idle circles on his skin, nor the sight of her growing tired in his arms.

"Home." he repeated, his voice a husky rumble as he felt her lips on his throat. "Mhm." he answered with a deep sigh, his dark eyes creasing with his smile. In one fluid motion he stood and then fell forward off the face of the cliff, cradling her in his arms as his wings opened to carry them in a slow glide over Endora to alight gently on the balcony of their bedroom.

The room seemed to be awaiting them. Soothing incense burned, dozens of candles of all heights flickered around the room, the quilts were folded down, night clothes lay on the bottom of the bed and a steaming mug of herbal tea sat ready for her.
 
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Flight still filled her with slight trepidation though amazement quickly pushed fear to the side now. In her mates arms she felt as safe as if she stood on the ground on her own two feet. Her mate. The thought still made her dizzy and butterflies fluttered in her stomach so badly she thought she might be sick with happiness. The night was pleasantly warm especially against his chest and no matter how hard she struggled to keep her eyes open to drink in the sights, she found herself nodding off more than once only to wake herself up with a slight jerk.

Maeve had never been so excited to see a bed though the accompanying candles and petals - she made a mental note to berate both sisters - had her thinking of the bed for reasons not to do with the sleep her body craved. With care she slid from his arms and fingered the silken camisole that had been left at the end of the bed with a smile. The colour looked almost as pale as her skin.

"Your people really care for you," every detail in the room screamed it.
 
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His brows rose in surprise at her words, and for a quiet moment he stood, rubbing at the back of his neck. It was an observation he'd made but never truly thought about. Where many served his father out of fear or for the craving of attention and power, they served Lorcán because they wanted to, because they'd been shown a kindness and respect.

"My father's people.." he corrected quietly, but offered her a small smile. "But, I am sure they are the happiest of them.." he huffed a laugh.

"My father's people do not always care about me. But here, they feel more my own kin.." Here he could be who he wanted to be, rather than who he was expected to be.

His wings stretched and folded into a shadow that seemed to seep into his back as he padded down the steps and to the side table where he poured a cup of wine. "If there's anything you need, you need only ask. Or." he added as he turned to gesture the large mahogany desk. On it was a large, open book, it's pages blank, and beside it was a silver quill made from one of his own feathers.

"You can write it, and you will have it." he smirked.
 
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Maeve didn't offer a retort when he corrected her though she did shake her head the smallest fraction. Maybe it was a difference she would learn between fae and mortal, but those who were going to inherit had as much ownership over the people as their parents. The heir was the future and it was in their interest to install confidence in the people they would be a fair and just ruler. Maybe that wasn't how the fae worked. She could certainly believe that from what she had seen from those that used her isle as their personal playground. Suppressing a shudder she begun to peel off her clothes, turning her back to him as she did so.

Even in the candlelight the iron-wrought scars were still vivid angry red lines against her pale skin, crossing over the fainter white marks of her time in the hands of elves. While she might have been young her body was a tapestry of a life of hardship crammed into the space of a few years.

She tugged on the nightdress before turning back to him and the book with a curious frown.

"I don't need anything,"
she announced proudly then bit the inside of her cheek. "Maybe some clothes, and I don't know what happened to my bow..." she sighed. Aren had sung her that bow. Even if she was given a better one, the sentimental value of that one would be lost.

"But I can work for what I need."
 
It was difficult to resist looking over his shoulder as she undressed, but the Prince's eyes darkened upon the scars of varying age scribbled across her porcelain skin. They didn't make her any less perfect, but they ignited a burning fury deep in his chest that he had to fight to contain. In good time, he'd ensure whomever had ever harmed her and were still alive to be found, would be. Starting with Mercutio.

Shadows rippled over his skin and he threw back the cup of wine before dragging his hand down his face, trying desperately to contain the rage that nothing other than blood would sate. It wasn't a side of him that he wanted her to see, and what she needed was rest.

His lips twitched as she answered, and he felt the sorrow she felt over her lost bow. His brow quirked when he realised her attachment to it, and that he himself held no material attachments. It was a curious thing to him, but he frowned as she said she'd work, his mouth opening to protest. He'd been about to say she didn't have to work anymore, but he caught himself before he could.

"You can do whatever you like here.. And clothes shouldn't be a problem." he smirked with a glance to a large, ornate armoire against the wall.
 
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Maeve found her eyes following his to the armoire and whilst her mate might have found it amusing, she most certainly did not. She grimaced. There had been so many dresses inside, so many things she had no idea how to wear or what occasion would warrant someone having to wear that. Not to mention the pieces which had made her turn as crimson as her hair. She would be having words with those sisters. Stern. Words. Clearing her throat awkwardly she eased herself back into the bed in which they'd slept earlier and she gave a content and happy sigh as some of the pain eased a little.

It almost made her able to ignore the rage she could still feel bubbling towards her though no doubt he kept the storm of it inside. She tugged back the covers in an invitation.

"Right now I want to sleep with you," she settled back down on the plump pillows and watched him through a half lidded gaze. It might have appeared she was on the brink of sleep but she had no intentions of settling until he had too.
 
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A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and he dipped his chin at her request. He shed his clothes to his shorts as he approached the bed, the dancing shadows sinking back into his skin, leaving only his tattoos and her marks on his flesh. He crawled under the offered quilt and snaked his arms around her, pulling her against him.

How in hell he was supposed to wrap his mind around everything he felt for her, he wasn't sure, but keeping it all at bay was exhausting. If he let it take control he'd have her locked in here. His. He'd murder anyone who caught so much as a glimpse at her. With all the light she'd brought him, he felt the darkness grow in its shadow in his need to keep her safe and keep her...his.

Lorcan's body shuddered and he let out a deep sigh, his hand combing her scarlet hair back from her face which he caressed with a thumb. He had to rest, he had to accept that she was here and that she wanted to stay, he had to keep his instincts at bay.

"Sleep, Princess." he smirked.
 
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Despite the well aimed jab backwards with her elbow Maeve's marks glowed with that inner warmth at his words. She settled back against him and pillowed her cheek on his braced arm before shutting her eyes, content and safe. Those two feelings went hand in hand with every second she spent with him though perhaps if she could feel the emotions he held back from her - that possessive rage that burned like a fury - she might feel a little different. For now, however, Mae was content to let those sweet things tug her back to the sleep that seemed to have been waiting for her the moment she had opened her eyes earlier.

Unlike before, Maeve slept soundly through what remained of the night and most of the next morning. Her body's slow healing took its toll by demanding she rested whilst it knitted bits of flesh back together again. The reward for such a deep and long sleep however was more of the wounds reduced to slim, puckered lines, and the burns around her wrists where she had been bound had faded from an angry purple to a mottled green.

When she woke she reached out for the warmth of the man beside her and lazily rolled back against his side, pressing kisses across his chest in a half-asleep caress.
 
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He let her presence soothe him. Let her scent fill his senses and the sound of her soft breaths lull him to a very rare deep and peaceful sleep.

The feeling of her lips against his chest roused him from sleep with a soft groan, his lips curling into a sleepy grin before he could force his eyes to open. When they did, they took her in, still half lidded and creased with his smile.

"Good morning.." he rumbled grittily and stretched, his fingers threading into her hair and then tracing gently over her newly formed scars..

"Do they still hurt?.." he asked in a sigh, his eyes still blinking against the soft morning light.
 
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Maeve considered lying and then discarded the thought just as quickly. Instead of answering right away though she continued her trail of kisses up his chest and throat to his lips. In a mirror of his own actions she raised a hand to thread her fingers through his silken hair and marvelled at how it seemed darker in the morning sun than it had at night. Eventually, she lowered her eyes back to his.

"Yes," she softened the word with another slow kiss and her hand slid from his hair to his cheek to cup it tenderly. Her thumb stroked across the stubble on his jaw. "But not as much as yesterday," had it been that little time between her escape and now? So much had happened it felt a month had passed. She stroked away the tightness around his eyes as if she hoped she could physically smooth away the anger and the pain her injuries caused him.

"Each day will be better, though" she mused, "I do hope my body hurries up. I'm not sure how many days your kitchen can take me emptying it of all its contents," what she had eaten yesterday would have filled her for a week before but now her stomach howled at her in rage.
 
A lazy smile tugged at his lips as she peppered him in kisses, a low growl rumbling at the back of his throat as he accepted each one with no small amount of pleasure, his eyes rolling to a close. "Mh.." he mumbled against her lips, his hand resting on top of hers, holding it against his cheek and pulling away only to press a kiss to her palm and her wrist.

"Your body is changing a little more every day.." he sighed with a small smile. "My kitchens can handle it." he assured.

As though someone had been listening to her, or her stomach, a tray had appeared on the bottom of the bed, laden with pastries, sweetbreads, fruits, meats, cheeses, juices and teas. Lorcán laughed under his breath as he turned to it, noticing the scarlet rose petals and shaking his head.

"Apparently.. The sisters think I need a little help in being romantic.." he mused.
 
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The sudden weighted feel at the bottom of the bed drew her eyes down to the tray and her stomach growled at the sight. Reluctantly peeling herself off her mate - her mate - she scooted down the bed to collect the tray and bring it back to the pile of pillows at the top. Daintily she took the rose and brought it to her nose to smell. Sweet and fragrant it seemed even the fauna was somehow... richer in the fae's world. Mae smiled and twirled it casually between her fingers then gave him a coy smile.

"They're not wrong," she teased before setting aside the flower and diving into the food.

"Can they - hear - us?" Maeve asked around mouthfuls of food, casting into doubt whether she had been raised in a palace at all. Her eyes flickered around the room as if she might find some hidden door or spyhole through which the sisters could hear.
 
Lorcán's mouth fell open with a look of indignation, his hand settling on his chest. "That stings, Princess." he winced, but his lips twisted into a grin as he watched her eat. He'd never really had much need to be romantic. He'd never had much need to put much effort into attracting females to his side. With her, he wanted to be, but he was still learning how not to frighten her off.

"If my wards are down, yes, but I've always been partial to my privacy." he smirked and stretched out with a groan.

"I'd like to host an evening in your honour. If you'd allow me... I'm sure the people would very much like to meet you.."
 
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Maeve choked on the blackberry she had just popped in her mouth. It took a lot of chest thumping and no small quantity of tea before she was able to breathe again though her face was still tinged with a dark purple hue. When she looked up at him her eyes watered from the ordeal despite trying to regain her composure.

"Why?" she gasped and then winced, quickly taking another long gulp of the fruit wine that had come with the food. "I mean... Why would they want to meet me?" she wasn't a stranger to court events. She hadn't particularly enjoyed them all as a human but she had gone to them and behaved with the due grace and dignity that had been expected of her, so it wasn't the idea of the event itself that bothered her. Truly, she just didn't understand why anybody might want to meet her.
 
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Lorcán was promptly there, a shadowy hand on her back, his brow furrowed as she studied her as though she might break at any moment and his body tense at the thought.

"Are you--" he'd been about to ask, but her question caught him off guard and his brow quirked. The hand on her back rubbed in soothing circles before travelling up to her shoulders to knead gently.

"Why wouldn't they want to meet you?.." he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. "You.. are my mate. You're important to me and so, important to them. This island is ours, and you're.. Well you're essentially its Queen." his lips twitched as he suppressed an automatic smirk at the thought.

"I am sure they will wish to welcome you home. But, if such an event would make you uncomfortable...?" he shrugged and leaned to press a trail of kisses along her shoulder, brushing her curtain of crimson hair aside to continue to trail to her neck.
 
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Maeve tried to compare it to the only thing she knew which were the arranged marriages that happened between the different clan leaders but it still fell short. They were dry and shrouded in ceremony and very few people actually got to meet the spouse. The festivities were a chance to show the new in-laws just how rich and powerful they were, not to meet their new family or get to know them. So though his words made logical sense she still couldn't quite wrap her head around the thought anyone would want to meet her on this island. They probably had far more important things to do.

"It doesn't..." Maeve trailed off as his lips pressed to her skin causing her eyes to close and her body to tremble. Gooseflesh broke out across her skin and her fingers fisted in the duvet laid over her lap. Any thoughts she might have had had disappeared into the aether and were replaced only with him. A soft noise, part whimper, part growl, came from the back of her throat and she tugged him closer, tilting her head to expose more of her throat.
 
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Lorcán's heart surged at that sound, at the way she bared her porcelain neck to him and pulled him in with demand. It was proving difficult to be careful around her, to contain himself and take things at a slow pace when he wanted so badly to have her. His mind reeled, his skin heated and his chest heaved as his breaths grew heavy with desire.

He took the invitation ardently, his tongue rolling over the skin that he kissed and tugged at with his teeth until he reached her ear and let out a shuddered breath with her name laced into it, his hand fisting in her hair.
 
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If Maeve's eyes had been open she would have seen the brilliant starlight that was beginning to swirl about the room as her heart begun to race. But as it happened her eyes were squeezed tight; it felt as though any other senses she added to the moment might be overwhelming. His touch, the breathy ruggedness to his voice, it was all she could handle. Her hands slid down his barred skin, thumbs and fingers gently following the contours of muscles or old scars. One hand settled upon his hip whilst the other wrapped around his torso to press against his back, pulling him closer.

She had said what she had needed to say last night. The worries, her fears. Now? Now there was no barrier with those things aired.

Her hand slid from his back once more to his cheek, gently urging him up to meet her lips in a kiss that left no question of what she wanted.
 
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He inhaled with a gasp at her touch, and he felt his head swim as she pulled him in. He closed his eyes and leaned into her, and as she pressed her molten lips to his, his mind erupted in a harmonious symphony of light. The very world melted away, down to the last detail of the room they were in. All Lorcán knew in this moment was her.

He revelled in every sensation as they tangled together, committing each detail to memory. The warm softness of her skin, unlike anything he'd ever felt. The touch of her pillowy lips, inhumanly soft even by comparison to the rest of her; the sensation of her body pressing against his; the feeling her supple curves under his gliding palms, the smooth musculature, the occasional scar...each individual sense was enough to individually overwhelm him, but together seemed to paint a beautiful, perfect portrait.

There was nothing in all of Arethil that would have stopped him from seizing this moment, other than her. It was no secret how much he'd craved her, but he'd made her more nervous than any female who'd ever come before her and he'd restrained his scalding desires until she was ready, fully aware that she might never want him in that way. The thought was as torturous as his self restraint, but he promised not to stand in the way of her choices and he stood by it.

"Are you sure?.." he asked in a breath, his dark eyes opening on her emerald pools in which he instantly drowned. It seemed to physically pain him to hold back any longer and he swallowed with a deep frown. If this was impulsive, she might regret it, and that he could not handle.
 
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Maeve wasn't sure if it was her developing senses as her body changed by the second into the immortal one she would have for the rest of her life, or whether it was simply him but during that kiss it felt as though every nerve was on fire. The feel of his hands as they glided over her curves was intoxicating. The thin silk that kept his hands from every inch of bare flesh only made her crave him more and made her more sensitive to his touch as his fingers slid lower to glide down her bare legs. Their kiss turned to the edge of bruising and every time they parted for a second of breath her gasp was laced with her pleasure. And through it all, all that pleasure, all that primal need, burned an almost painful aching love she didn't think she would ever be able to express. Even with the thousands of years he had now given her.

When he pulled back she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, her brows creasing into a quizzical frown until he asked the question that nearly unravelled her entirely.

"I said all I needed to say last night," she murmured and softened her hold on him to be more tender. A smile creased her cheeks and she stroked her long fingers across his jaw whilst she lost herself in the dark shadows of his eyes. Every day they seemed a different shade of blue. Staring into them always made her want to attempt to paint in the way he had once on a cabin wall. "I love you, Lorcán. Every," she gave his lips a quick taste. "Piece of you," another, longer, taste. "And I want to be with you in every way a woman who loves a man can be."
 
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His unruly dark locks flopped over his eyes as he looked down at her, looking as breathless as he might after a long spar with his brothers. This was a far more difficult challenge, and it showed. Yet the smile that shone up at him was soothing and he leaned into the fingers that trailed over the stubble of his jaw, staring back at her as though searching for certainty.

I love you, Lorcán.

His expression paused, and he remained stunned as he returned her kisses. It was not something that Lorcán was accustomed to hearing and to hear it from the lips of his mate was like an explosion in his chest. When he remembered how to breathe he let out a breath of a laugh, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled widely at her. His walls crumbled like sand, the emotions he'd been keeping at bay spilling out, the love he'd been holding onto for fear of allowing it to influence her, he poured into his next kiss with a growl.

"I love you." he answered, his eyes wandering over her face, taking it in, trying to wrap his head around whatever luck had befallen him. He had found his mate. She wanted him. She loved him.. "I love you. So fucking much.." he added, his kisses flowing from her lips down onto her neck, claiming each inch of soft, porcelain skin that they met just as his fingers squeezed at her supple flesh and slipped under the hem of her silken gown.

He would take his time. He had waited centuries and had never really known whether he would ever find what he had now. His mind was clear, and this wouldn't be a careless fumble. He wanted to explore her, to please her, to let her experience all of those little sensations that her new body could offer. Their nerves were finely attuned, their minds and bodies linked in a way that he didn't fully understand.
 
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* * *​

For three days the two of them explored and learnt one another in a way only mates could. At times it was a purely physical thing and other times it was talking for hours into the early morning about dreams, hopes, or random snippets of their lives they wanted to share with one another. Food appeared when they needed it but other than that the fae within the palace seemed to make themselves scarce whilst the mating bond settled into place for them both. It also gave Maeve time to heal from her ordeal both mentally and physically; though new bruises from Lorcán's passionate grip had produced new purple spots on her still delicate skin. When he had worried and tried to back off, Maeve had simply given him some of his own.

It was an delicate and odd calm that had settled over them now though there was the sense one touch could tumble them both into that erotic tangle again. As such Maeve took care to keep her nightgown from riding up too much when she bent over to pluck a strawberry from the latest tray of goods.

"I'm going to get fat eating like this and not going outside," she laughed and leaned against the doorway which led out onto their personal balcony. The sky heralded the rise of the sun by turning it a pretty pink and lilac. Wispy clouds trailed overhead casting muted shadows over the ground below. Endora looked beautiful in any light, but this was her favourite.
 
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Lorcán's fingers laced together behind his head, propped up by pillows to watch her in silence as she stood gazing out at Endora, the sun kissing her skin and igniting her hair like living flame. A deep sigh tumbled once again from his chest, just as it did every time he grasped his reality and tried to fathom how suddenly his life had changed. So this was contentment...

His cheeks dimpled at the grin that grew at her words. "I'll be certain to keep you physically active enough whilst we're indoors, as well as out." he rumbled, the strain of a stretch in his voice. He slipped from bed, tugging the sheets with him and knotting them around his waist as he wandered across the cool floor to his mate. He curled an arm around her waist and pressed a soft kiss to the crook of her neck before resting his chin atop her head to follow her gaze across the island.

"The second most beautiful thing I have seen this morning.." he whispered oh-so-charmingly. Even with the smell of her hair alone, it was everything not to drag her back into their bed. Now that she'd accepted him fully, that he knew she wanted him, his urges were even more difficult to control.

"Where would you like to go?.." he asked, his thumb absently caressing her stomach as he held her against him.
 
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It was instinctive to lean back into the warm muscle of his torso and settle into the protective curve of his arms. Home was there. He could take her anywhere and she would feel it the moment he put his arms around her like this. Maeve closed her eyes and savoured a feeling she hadn't felt for nearly three years now.

"Mmm..." Anywhere. To see the world and all it had to offer was a thirst now she had left the isles that had been her home. This place. Endora. Well, it would just be their first stop.

"I'd like to see the city," she opened her eyes and then turned in his grip to look up at him. They'd seen it on their flight a few days ago as a series of sparkling lights but hadn't drawn any closer. But the memory was the first one that rose to the forefront of her mind when she thought about exploring. The small fishing town Lorcan had found her in was the biggest town she had ever seen, but the one in Endora had looked almost five times that size already and her mate said it was only growing more. She wanted to feel what it was like to be around that many people. "Maybe get some of my own... things?" little bits and pieces kept seeming to appear whenever she opened a new draw but whilst it was a lovely gesture they weren't things she had chosen.

First on her list was another bow. She felt naked without one.
 
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