White Fire: the Romance

Jaise, the eldest, spoke first. "Papa found a man in the woods, looks like he was set on by bandits! He's bleeding!" Cara needed no further prompting. She rushed inside her cottage to gather the tools she did not truly need, but used anyway, because the villagers expected her to need them. She hurried back out, and followed the boys back to their father's house, a small hovel on the outskirts of the village, luckily closer to her home than not.

The boys' father, Malaigm naForaisbhala, had brought his find indoors, he and his wife doing their best to clean and bandage the wounds as they awaited Cara's arrival. She greeted them quickly and set to work right away. She could tell the man was in bad shape. She checked his pulse and found it weak, his skin cooling already. "I need boiled water, and a few clean rags if you can spare them," She said, more to get the hovering couple away than out of true need. Cara quickly mixed a poultice, imbuing it with her white magic. She turned to her patient, smoothed it over the wounds in his chest and shoulder. She glanced at his face, and froze.

How could he show up in her life again, after more than five years? What sort of joke were the Seven having? It was him, Lavada. He was dying. She pushed the shock out of her mind and focused on saving his life.

As it turned out, he was lucky to have her there. His wounds were severe, without magic he would surely have died. With the skills of a lesser sorceress, he might have died anyway, or at least have had severe scars, perhaps never walked again. She managed to mend him completely, his golden skin scarless as she imagined he had been before the attack. The naForaisbhalas admired her work while she cleaned up.

"Truly you are a wonder, My Lady, I never imagined you could fix him up so perfectly." The woman exclaimed, ogling Lavada as she dressed him in some of her husband's old clothes.

"His face looks familiar, perhaps I've seen him in Gara-casale?" The man mused. Cara glanced at them as she packed up her things and cleaned up the mess she'd made.

"I suppose it is possible. His name is Lavada Eoceda Maca-nuada." She said casually, seeing no reason to keep his identity secret.

The woman gasped, and both were quiet long moments. "You mean, this young man is the Taniste?"

It was Cara's turn to be surprised. "He's...what?"

They looked at each other. "He's Taniste. Oh, Lady Elystríon! You've done more than saved a man this day, you've saved the world! Imagine, loosing two Taniste to disfigurement before they even ascend the diarchy!" the woman gushed breathlessly.

"How did you know his name, but not know he was Taniste?" Her husband asked, being the quicker one of the pair.

"He studied at the college where I learned my trade," Cara responded distantly. He was Taniste, even more out of her reach than he had been before. "I'll have to watch him for a few days, make sure the job is thoroughly done. Will you help me cart him to my cottage?"

The couple readily agreed, probably feeling that their sorceress' cottage was far more suitable to house the blood heir of the diarchy than their small hovel. In less time than it took for all for Foraisbhala to learn the identity of their mysterious wounded man, and decide to stop in to see if they could 'help', Lavada was comfortably installed in Cara's own large, four poster bed.

She learned, listening to the gossips as she went about her work, that there was a lot of romance surrounding her golden prince. He had defied his father's wishes, and set out unescorted on his Quest to seek his divinely-chosen mate. He had been spotted since, criss-crossing Aelith, not only searching the households of the Dur-era, or even the Era, but also meaner homes. It was said that many maids had tried to sway him, but he was too focused, too pure and faithful, to be deceived or tempted. So he had spent the last three years.

Several of the village girls rushed home after peeking on him, to put on their best clothes and glamour, hoping to be the one to finally catch his eye. Several of the older villagers speculated that if anyone in the village were to catch the Taniste's eye, it would be Lady Elystríon- and wouldn't that be perfect? They had known each other as students. Cara had to shoo them away with threats of changing them to frogs to get some peace.

Lavada did not wake until late evening. Cara had a thin broth with minced vegetables and a soft bread ready for him, and had left the bedroom door open so she could hear him. She heard him stir, heard muttered curses, and knew he was going to be a difficult patient. She grabbed his dinner and hurried into the room.

"Don't you dare get up," she scolded.

He was quiet, surprised to see her as she had been to see him, she imagined. "Tlexepa?" He whispered. "I must be dead."

She looked at him sideways. "No, you're not dead, Taniste, though you nearly were."

He swallowed. "I can't be Taniste anymore, if I'm not dead." He closed his eyes and lay back. Cara noticed he looked both relieved and regretful.

"No, you are still Taniste," she whispered, setting his soup and bread on the bedside table. She tapped his arm to get his attention. He looked at her, perplexed. She gestured for him to sit up, then she propped pillows behind him. "I do not want to seem vain...but I am still possibly the most talented sorceress in Aelith today...you are whole, Your Highness. Check yourself if you must.."

He was silent for a while as she took up bowl and spoon. He insisted on feeding himself, and she let him. After a while, he spoke softly, "Thank you, Tlexepa." neither spoke after that; there was simply too much between them.

When it came time to retire, he insisted she take the bed. She refused, said she'd make a pallet on the floor- he was still not well, and needed comfort more than she. Still he insisted, and would not take the bed even if she also would not take it. Finally, exasperated, she told him to sleep in the bed, and she would too. It was more than big enough for two, and she was probably safer with such a 'pure and faithful' man in her bed than sleeping alone. He gave her a hard look, but said nothing. They both lay down, backs to each other. After a while, Cara turned over and stared at his broad back, letting old longings wash over her.

She woke well before him, and set about her normal routine. They managed to get a silent breakfast out of the way before the villagers began showing up to help and to show their respects. Cara debated it, then decided to just leave him in the care of some of the more reliable old women. She went deep into the woods to spend time in her other shape, and think. She returned in time to relieve the old women so they could return home and finish their own chores, and once again with threats of a lifetime as a frog chased away the younger ones. Only then did she check in on her patient.

"There you are," he said as she came in, eyes shining.

"You look better," she observed. "How do you feel? Have you been outside today?"

"They would hardly let me. Those fussy old women would hardly let me be alone even to-" he stopped. She nodded, knowing what he meant. He was sitting at the table, so at least they had let him up to walk a little. Cara set to preparing dinner, ignoring his staring. "They call you a different name here. They think very highly of you."

"I only do what I can for them." Cara replied modestly.

"They say you work miracles. They said you worked one on me, and I'm inclined to believe it."

She met his eyes, held his gaze a long time, then said softly, "I only did what I could." He nodded and sipped at his cup of water. She turned back to her work.

"They told me a few other things about you, too." He said airily. Cara winced, wondering if they'd sung her praises as a sorceress, or as a potential bride, or both?

"I'm sorry, I had matters I had to attend to, or I wouldn't have left you with them." She glanced over her shoulder at him, then began mincing the carrots and potatoes.

"It's fine, Tlexepa. They are good hearted folks, and your nurses kept the eager young ladies at bay." He paused. "I was informed that you and I were childhood friends. Though they were curious how we could be so close and you not know I had become Taniste."

She looked over at him, chagrined even more. He looked amused, one brow cocked as he waited for her answer. "I did not say we were friends, merely that we had attended the same college. These rural types love to embellish and romanticize a story." she said slowly after some thought.

"Well, I merely told them we had not spoken in several years." He shrugged.

Cara nodded and went back to her preparations. "I never thought you to be the romantic type."

"What do you mean?" He sounded guarded, as if expecting another of her verbal attacks.

Cara stopped, tried to gather the proper words for once. "I mean, I do not know the true details of course...but, you have been on your Quest for three years? Why?"

He was silent long enough for her to assume she had offended him despite her best efforts. "There is supposed to be a sign from the Seven to help me find my partner, according to tradition."

"How did your father find your mother?" She asked softly.

"He told me he just looked at the marriageable young women among the Dur-era, and picked the one he felt he could live and work with the easiest." He sounded slightly disgusted, and perhaps guilty.

"He...wanted you to do the same?" Cara began to tremble, remembering the last time she'd seen Lavada- three years ago, or a little more. His long Quest was her fault, she began to fear. He was waiting for a sign from the Seven that would never come, because of her.

"Yes he did, but it wasn't right. One Taniste is chosen by blood, the other by the Seven themselves. It isn't just an empty tradition, it is essential for balance to prevail." He sounded certain of himself, beyond any question or doubt.

Cara stood before him, looked into his determined, piercing eyes. "What if it was right, for your parents, at least? I doubt the Seven are going to send you a sign like a pillar of light to tell you who to choose. It has to be dependent on your own heart and mind-"

"Exactly, Tlexepa. I know what I'm doing on my Quest." He sighed. "I did not expect this from you."

"Expect what?" she asked, genuinely perplexed.

"That you would argue with me about my method. Don't you want to be the one?" He muttered.

Cara was astounded. "No! I am not among the throngs of silly girls who share that foolish hope, and I never will be. I was just curious." She glared at him, then turned to finish dinner. Both were silent the rest of the evening. They retired for bed without a word- and when she was sure he was soundly asleep, Cara stared at his profile and wept silent tears of longing until she, too fell asleep.

In only three more days he was well enough to leave if he wanted to, but he still lingered. By then only the hopeful young women still came to Cara's home each day to 'help' the Taniste. He seemed to enjoy their attention, much to Cara's frustration. By this time, they had managed to fight at least twice each day, but yet she found herself wanting him more than ever. Worse, he seemed aware of her desire and frustration, and teased her subtly.

Cara stood at the west-facing window in the main room of the cottage, watching the sun slip below the horizon. She felt the prince move in behind her, close enough she could feel his warmth, almost smell the sweetness of his breath. He stood there, still as she was and irritatingly close, until she could barely stand it. She shifted her gaze from the sunset outside to the reflections in the glass, opened her mouth to demand he back off...but her objection died on her lips. His gaze was not on the sunset, or their reflections, or the window at all- instead, eyes cast downward, he seemed to be staring at her shoulder- or perhaps down her shirt. Quickly she checked, but her neckline was high enough he surely wasn't getting to see much.

Just then, he lightly stroked her hair, and brushed it to one side- the opposite of where he was gazing so intently. "Tlexepa," he breathed softly, meeting her eyes as she turned her head to look at him. His piercing eyes were almost painful to look at, but she held her ground. "Don't you ever get lonely?"

"What?" She snapped testily. Loneliness was the very core of her being...not that she wanted him to have the satisfaction of knowing.

He moved closer, until she felt his body against hers, and she felt sure he would kiss her. "I asked if you are lonely, Tlexepa," A moment's pause, he placed his hands lightly on her hips, "Because, if you are, I would be happy to keep you company. All night, any night." Cara caught her breath as he bumped her with a thrust of his hips. She blushed, and he burst out laughing. She considered slapping him, but instead just pushed him away and fled into the cool night.

One week was more than enough torture. Cara had never shared her bed with a man before, though she had wanted to; and since she was younger and began having such dreams, she'd fantasized about one man, the golden haired one who had awakened such fire inside her. The golden haired one who had slept beside her chastely for a week.

She lay beside him, gazing at him longingly as he slept, as she had since he'd arrived. Without a thought she inched closer and stroked his soft silken mane. She didn't remember falling asleep, but in the barest light of dawn she woke...her head on his chest, her fingers still twined in his hair. Blushing, she rose quickly, dressed and fled from the room.

The next night she retired well after Lavada, giving him plenty time to be deeply asleep before she went to bed. His arm was flung over her side, causing her to hesitate. Then, slowly she climbed into the bed, rested her head lightly on his arm. She kept her eyes on his face and reached up, stroked his silken hair. He was even more beautiful when sleeping, but perhaps this was simply because she knew his barbed tongue would not harm her. She traced her finger along the line of his jaw, feeling the barest stubble growing there, then over his chest, barely tracing his skin, barely brushing the slight patch of downy curls in the center of his chest. She carefully laid her hand over his heart, feeling its slow rhythm. Suddenly he turned on his side, towards her. Cara tried to move away, but he flung his arm over her, and she was afraid if she moved he'd wake. She could smell his breath, his musky male scent; his lips were so close, she wanted very much to kiss him...but she did not. She lay still, and just enjoyed the feel of him almost holding her.

The next night she grew bolder. She stroked his strong arms, his muscular chest, his rippled stomach, traced the hair there to the line of his underpants. He arched his hips as she did, a small sigh escaping his lips. Quickly she pulled her hand away and pretended to sleep, not daring to crack an eyelid until several long moments had passed without him stirring. After a while, she rolled onto her back, watching him, and touched herself how she longed for him to touch her until she climaxed quietly, and fell into sated sleep.

The next night she grew curious, and loosed the string of his underpants to peek at him. He was limp and unimpressive, but the potential she imagined set a fire inside her. She stroked his stomach and chest, kissed his shoulder lightly, and began stroking herself between her legs. Her eyes were closed, she didn't see him turn his attention on her.

He seized her by the wrist of the hand she stroked his chest with, pushed her onto her back and kissed her mouth fiercely. She squeaked and struggled to be free of him, eyes wide, cheeks aflame. "This furtive little night-time game of yours is driving me mad," he whispered against her lips. It was dark, but she could make out his eyes, glittering with lust in the moonlight. He caught her other hand- the guilty hand- as she flailed and pushed against him. "What have you been doing in the dark while you've been caressing me, invading my dreams?" She could see his slow grin, and much to her shame, horror, and fascination, he sniffed her fingers, then sucked them into his mouth. "Sweet, so sweet, my Tlexepa," he whispered, and kissed her again.

She kissed him back, tentatively. He moved above her, pushed his knees between her thighs, pulled his loosened trousers down, and lay between her legs. She could feel his hard member pressing against her nethers, blushed as she thought he likely felt her heat and moisture. He moved, grinding his hips against her, then before she knew it was happening, he was inside her. He filled her completely, a glorious ecstasy. She gasped and stared at him, flexed her interior muscles experimentally. He groaned with pleasure and pushed against her, settling on his elbows above her. She slipped her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist, as he began thrusting slowly into her. She clung to him, rocking with his motion, lost herself in the passion as pleasure built and broke inside her. He collapsed on top of her, panting, his penis quivering inside her, filling her with his seed. Cara stared at him, amazed and sleepy. She kissed him and held him tightly, then fell asleep.

She could not have slept for long when she woke feeling him nibbling her neck, caressing her breast. She stretched, turned toward him, kissed his lips softly. She tried to examine his face, but it was still dark, she couldn't see much. "Lavada," she said breathily, and stroked his hair.

"Yes?" He pulled her close, held her tightly. Cara lay her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. He waited quietly, then pressed on. "What were you saying?"

"I only said your name." She replied shyly. She was suddenly afraid to voice her true thoughts.

He leaned close and whispered in her ear, "Sithecara," then kissed and nibbled along the edge of her ear, making her shiver with delight. She could not recall him ever calling her by her full name before. She kissed and caressed him, pulled him close to her. He slid his hand down her body, pulled her leg up around his waist and pushed into her. She moaned softly and wrapped herself around him. They made love again and again, sometimes barely resting between, before both fell into a deep, satisfied sleep. Before she drifted off Cara thought to herself, now the real torture begins.

The morning after, she could hardly believe it, but there she was, naked and twined with him, her body sore in ways she never knew it could be. He had his hand on her stomach, his head on her shoulder. She kissed his forehead and closed her eyes, smelling his hair and reminiscing about the night before. She wondered if he had really been so 'pure' during his Quest, and felt a pang of jealousy and shame to think she was just another girl to warm his bed while he looked for his soul mate. Then she felt a stab of heartache like an arrow through her chest to think that he would leave, and marry some other woman, who the Seven had 'chosen' for him. She sighed heavily. No, it would be some other woman he thought the Seven had chosen, because she had pretended to be a divine messenger, and why? So she would not have to tell him the truth.

He roused, moved to kiss her, then stopped. "What is the matter, Tlexepa?" he asked softly, wiped away her tears.

She blinked. "Nothing, it's nothing." she tried to smile, focused on his mouth, not his eyes.

"No one cries over nothing, Tlexepa." He held her chin and made her look into his probing blue eyes. "Do you regret last night?"

She blinked again. "No, not that...not exactly."

He quirked a brow, leaned back on one arm as if to give her space. "Not exactly? Then what, exactly?"