Love Has No Grave

Sulva glanced up at her from his just cleared plate, curious.

"How is it that you've not come back with the mind of a babe? You know how to talk and that there are people other than myself or the warlock in the world, and you acted as soundly as you would have in life previously. This must be a remnant of your full personality."

"I... do not know, of course. I'm inclined to agree, though. You have pointed out that some of my behavior reminded you of me. We should confer with the warlock."

Elia laid down her fork dejectedly and leaned her chin into her hand.

"It would not matter if he finds the cure."

"Perhaps it will aid him in his study."

"Perhaps."

Sulva worked his jaw and decided to do something else. He rose and gathered their dishes, intent on doing the washing. Elia was roused by his movement and made to protest, but he had already collected their plates and cutlery. He dumped Elia's full plate back into the pot and then deposited the dirty wares into the wash basin. He got to work and Elia watched from atop her hands at the table.

"Thank you."

"Would I have washed up before?"

She considered her memory and giggled.

"No, you wouldn't have. You'd be off to bed right away, needing every minute of sleep to keep you up in the saddle the next day. I'd come and ride you regardless, after I'd finished the cleaning."

Sulva's eyes bulged and his mouth hung agape. Elia laughed at his scandalized expression and he turned his focus back to the basin.

"Maybe that's why we didn't conceive, your seed was asleep as you were."

Sulva grimaced, enjoying the jest but recognizing it was at his expense. He set the last dish aside to dry and rejoined Elia at the table. His thoughts drifted back to their impassioned yet doomed encounter and his features grew serious. He picked up Elia's hand and held it between his own, looking her cautiously in the eye.

"Elia, was our lovemaking... good? Did it bring you pleasure? Or was it like earlier?"

Elia had dreaded the return to this subject. She sighed and squeezed Sulva's hand, rising from the table to lead him to the bedroom. They sat on what Sulva was unaware of their respective sides and he waited patiently for her to speak.

"The love we made was not always good. It was seldom as painful as on the table but just as unfulfilling. I loved you too much to weigh it highly, you worked too hard to be burdened by that and when we meant to have a child, I didn't care, all I wanted was to have your baby."

"I never noticed before, the tension in your body, your cries of pain?"

Elia shook her head.

"I'm... so sorry, Elia."

She brought up a hand to caress his cheek.

"It was another you. And like I said, I couldn't hold it against you, you were out night and day to provide for us, for the baby."

"That can't be an excuse. You said I didn't even clean up after myself."

"It's not that high of a price to pay, I waited for your return everyday anyway."

Sulva turned his eyes away, ashamed.

"It seems like you did a lot of waiting, for little in return."

Elia was struck, but the blow was aimed solely at himself. Her lips met in a sharp line, unsure of what to say. Sulva seemed disconsolate, lashing the report of himself in his own mind as well as with his tongue.

"Be it however it may, Sulva, you mustn't fret over it now. Not yet. We must still escape this town with our lives and your memories, if possible. If you want to change your ways, endeavor to do so once we're safe."

"You're asking me to make you wait even longer."

"I've made my peace with it long ago, my love. I can bear it another day or two."

He glanced at her, unconvinced.

"Forgive me, that is the span of my entire life reborn. The prospect of greater time is lost to me."

"I know what you mean. I lived without you for a week."

He frowned.

"Another thing you had to wait for."

Her lips smacked in their sudden separation but Sulva appeased her with a raised hand.

"I will wait with you, now. We'll get through this together."

Elia lowered her head onto his shoulder and let out a sigh of relief.

"That's more like you, even if it took you dying to pay attention to your wife."

++++++++++++++

They had fallen asleep together, their first night in their bed since Sulva had died. For the first time since then, Elia had peaceful dreams, of newborns and sunshine over a courtyard. Sulva saw things Elia had told him; galloping on a horse, eating his dinner and slipping away to bed, Elia's pained face astride his half awake body. He was glad for the pounding at the front door that woke him easily and Elia with a start.

Their eyes met, alarmed, and together they crept to the doorway of their bedroom.

"Go away, Leon! You aren't welcome here!"

Sulva looked at her, surprised. Elia shrugged, focused on the door.

"It's Valjon! Hurry, let me in!"

The voice was unmistakably the warlock's though his tone was uncharacteristically graceless. Elia conferred with Sulva with an expectant face and he nodded assuredly. She rushed to the door and opened it carefully, just wide enough for Valjon to pass through.

"Thank you! There is no time to waste, I fear. You were right to suspect Leon, he waits in the dark out back."

Almost on cue, a violent yank on the knob of the back door shook the frame furiously. The three crouched down as one. They heard curses and snarls and a flight around the house to try the front door. The hapless trio could only cover their mouths and wait for the obsessive footman to return to his perch, infuriated by his failure to catch whatever had occurred followed by the shout from within the home.

"A stroke of fortune that you let me in when you did. I can't say if he saw me before I saw him. Why is he out there? Has he caught onto Sulva's return?"

Elia shook her head and led the way back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

"No, he thinks himself a suitor, convinced more than anyone of Sulva's death, certainly."

"Ah, I see. That gives us room to maneuver but the attention is wholly undesirable."

"That's an understatement, Valjon. Have you come with the cure?"

Valjon shook his head, ruefully.

"I have not, unfortunately. I bear only additional knowledge, fruit of my research, to accelerate the endeavor to restore Sulva's mind. With this undue scrutiny, it is just as well. You must slip away as soon as possible, lest the guard's rage boils over and he does not allow doors to stop him."

The couple leaned in, intent on the warlock's every word.

"What have you learned?"

"Our theory seems to be well founded; exposure to stimuli familiar to the previous consciousness is instrumental in recovering memories."

Valjon glanced at the bed under them, a sly look crossing his face. He reigned in his amusement, and eyed them seriously.

"Intense emotion triggered by contact with those who know how to bring it out of them best is the prescribed method. Am I too forward to presume you to have already attempted this method?"

Valjon noticed the tragic play of emotions that seeped through the cracks of the feigned looks of neutrality that the pair tried to don. The warlock did not fail to uphold his own disguise of evenness. He had long mastered masking his emotions, finding a dour magician attracted poor business.

"I hope it is not an issue. Your equipment functions correctly, Sulva?"

"Yes, it does, thanks to your magic."

"It is nothing. I implore you to put it to use, for both of yours sake. I cannot assure you I'll be able to return before Leon decides to act. If you can restore your memory yourselves, and escape, whether I am able to discover a potion or not will be irrelevant and you will be safe."

"Of course, Valjon, but is there anything else we can do? I wanted to ask you how Sulva retains general knowledge of the world. He knows how to speak, that we're in a house, general things, but nothing of himself, of course."

"My understanding of the inner workings of the brain is limited but what I do know supports my hypothesis. Sulva's brain has grown in a way particular to him. The pathways of his mind are carved as they are, death cannot alter that. Thus, we need only get the juices flowing down the channels again to coax his mind into relearning himself. In theory, this will happen naturally eventually, but we need Sulva back now, don't we?"

Elia appraised her husband shyly in the warlock's presence.

"We do. I am grateful for your knowledge, Valjon."

"Think nothing of it, my dear. Is there anything else I can aid you with before I depart?"

"Is there any way you can help us do away with Leon?"

Valjon frowned, uncomfortable with denying his aid.

"When it comes to the guard I am even less helpful. I'm as prohibited to show myself as Sulva is, for I will be executed as surely as you will, if you're caught."

Elia sought out his hand, and Sulva the other, in a show of their appreciation.

"No matter what happens, we won't implicate you. Enough of your magical material is lying around here for me to claim myself a witch of my own making."

"I appreciate that, my dear, but I fear it would be in vain. Better to purge any suspected of black magic. I wish you both the best of luck. If we don't see each other again, know that I regret nothing of this adventure."

His smile warmed Elia's bleak countenance and the three shared an embrace before orchestrating his escape. They waited on opposite ends of the house, and at once, opened and slammed the doors, forcing Leon to pick one to pounce upon. The ploy worked, and Valjon was able to slip out the back, while the footman's hurried step could be heard traipsing through the foliage toward the front. He made no attempt to breach the door this time, recognizing he was duped too late. Sulva and Elia heard him scamper away, they could only hope he didn't catch up to Valjon.

The couple eyed each other shyly, the warlock's prescription at the forefront of their minds.

"I guess waiting is off the table."

Elia sighed heavily and decided to laugh. Maybe he was right. She was feeling unfulfilled, the remains of her decapitated arousal sticky between her thighs. Some vindictive part of her relished the thought of making love while the man who pined so furiously for her charms was camped out in the bushes with his own spoiled arousal. She smiled a mean smile and tugged at her husband's cheek.

"Let's be at our best for this. I would feel more comfortable having washed up first, perhaps you should as well. Musk, and all that."

Sulva flashed the most natural smile Elia could recall crossing his post deceased face.

"You're right, I would as well. How should we do this?"

Elia rose and checked the basin. She shrugged, indifferent to the quality of its contents and gathered two rags for them.

"It'll have to do. Shan't be a thorough cleaning but only a couple areas are pertinent at the moment. How about we introduce some ceremony, since this is essentially a ritual already?"

Sulva arched an eyebrow and took the proffered washcloth.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll wash in here, and you in the bedroom. The groom can't see the bride before the wedding ceremony, and he waits for her at the altar, after all. The bed will serve as our altar, my dress my body, your ring your member, to slip into me, gently, with meaning."

Sulva's eyes widened minutely, recognition of the gravity of what was to come solidifying his features.

"Shall I be nude as well?"

"The groom picks out his own finery. That's your prerogative, husband."

He nodded resolutely, rising as well. He moved close to Elia and seemed to contemplate kissing her. She only watched him, adverse to affecting what he chose to do.

He brought his lips to her cheek, lingering there for so long, Elia shut her eyes to enjoy the comforting presence of his lips pursed lightly upon her skin.

"I couldn't wait. I'll see you soon, wife."

He parted from her and shut the bedroom door behind him. Elia stood in the middle of the floor, halted for the moment by the warmth spreading from her cheek. She brushed the spot with her fingertips, and returned to the present, desire welling up in her once again, the wellspring purified and clear to bubble with anticipation in her gut. She drew a deep, cleansing breath and expounded it cathartically.

She loosened the ties of the back of her dress and pushed it off her shoulders, dancing out of it to let it spill onto the floor. She stretched and looked down upon her body. She had always been proud of her form, and felt support in her perceptions of her womanly charms by Sulva's shameless, roving eyes when they spent time together. She adored her shoulders, high and unbent like a queen's; they upheld a different sort of curve to her body that mirrored the flare of her hips nicely.

Her breasts stood out just as proudly, proof of her youth, she surmised. Sulva would say they were as beautiful as her face, and he was glad he could have one exclusive to himself if he couldn't the other. Her hands smoothed down her flanks to rest on her belly, testing the soft feminine layer that covered a flat stomach. She liked how it felt, the grab it yielded to her hands before returning to place. She shimmied and poured her palms over her hips, appreciative of the challenge they posed to traversal. This was testament to her ability to bear a child, she hoped. Sulva had been certain of it, finding the flare no easier to tame with his own hand. She bent forward and pushed her hands down her thighs, no other word coming to her mind but 'fertility' as she probed the thick trunks of flesh. The ripple and reverberation of the fatty underside at her touch pleased her. She looked back, and raised her hands to caress her backside, luxuriating in the firm yet plentiful handfuls that filled her grasp. She cupped each cheek and scooped her hands upward, setting the springy masses into a jiggle that made her feel seductive.

In the bedroom, Sulva's exploration of his own body proved much less fulfilling.

He pulled his shirt over his head, and he pondered whether he would remove his shirt in a similar fashion when he was whole, or if he would lift it over his head by the neck. The lean chest that supported his stooped shoulders gave him no clue as to what kind of man he was, the calloused blade of his palm evoked no memories of a horse's reins gripped tight. He stepped out of his trousers and marveled in how hard his thighs were, how tight and muscled his rear end was. The fingers he sent to gather information on the texture of his body brought back only questions, not answers. Washing himself brought no solace, but reinforced his determination to please his wife.

Who was he? He didn't even know what his face looked like. Could he wield this foreign body to bring pleasure to the woman so consistently disappointed by it? Or was this his chance? Could he succeed where his predecessor had failed?

All the questions quieted upon the creaking opening of the door, and the demure entry of Elia.

She stepped daintily, like an angel crossing a cloud. She crossed the room and waited before him, her hands clasped together above her neat spread of pubic hair. She bowed her head to him, in pursuance of ceremony based upon feeling and respect. Sulva could not help but feast his eyes over her, her curves, her breasts, her done up hair. She waited patiently, allowing him to orient himself with her as a husband should.

Sulva absorbed all he could and kneeled before her, meeting her own eyes and completing the initiation of the ritual. He took her hand, and pressed his lips to the top, leaving them there until he lifted them with a quiet squelch. Elia smiled down at him, appreciative of the sweet gesture. He continued laying kisses over each of her knuckles, and moved on to the other hand, and she approved. When he finished, he looked up at her, bidding her to guide him.

She held out her hands, and he took them, rising before her with nary a creak in his joints that had underscored his every move only a day before. Elia led him to the bed, parting to climb onto her side and he onto his. They didn't say anything, only watched each other breath and settle, allowing the excitement pounding within both of their chests to simmer and cool.

Elia beckoned him near, and began leading him through preparing her body for him, for her.

"Here," she said, and he started at her ears, cherishing the lobes and trailing kisses down her jawline to slope up the other side.

"Here," she commanded, tapping her lips, and he closed the space with kisses alternating from cheek to cheek until he arrived at her lips. He tested her lips, massaging hers with his before shifting his angle and pressing against her. She reciprocated and the two kissed like a prince and a princess until they both felt like they were hovering above their bodies in each other's spectral arms. Her mouth parted, an invitation to his tongue. He accepted gracefully, and traced the outline of her lips with his tongue before slithering over her teeth. She crushed her body against his and breathed out a heavy moan from under Sulva's mouth. Her tongue joined his in surveying his mouth, each covering every spot of the other's mouth before uniting to tangle between their lips. The sound of their mouths and lips and tongues battling filled their ears while their heavy breathing filled their starving lungs with air.

Elia bit Sulva's lip and curled it into her mouth, drawing away to break the kiss. She released him and directed him lower.

"Down," she said, and Sulva kissed down her chin and began leaving sucking, biting kisses across her neck. Elia bit her lip and pushed her neck into his teeth, like a thrall offering herself to a vampire. He reached her clavicle and laved over the bone, triggering debaucherous squeals and shrieks from Elia.

"Over," she whispered, and Sulva's lips traveled over her shoulders and down her upper arms. He adored the subtle muscle of her bicep and made love to them with his mouth. Elia's eyes rolled shut and she felt heavenly under his pampering.

"There," she breathed when she had had enough, and Sulva's tongue traced circles around the round of each breast, causing sharp cries to escape Elia's throat. She laid back and basked in the tongue and lips that bathed her sensitive flesh. Cautiously, he nibbled at the mouthfuls of squishy fat he sucked gently into his mouth. Elia's restlessness under his treatment urged him to hone in on her nipples, erect and shiny as gemstones in the darkness. He latched onto one after wetting his tongue over the circle of crinkled tissue, swirling his tongue around the tip just as gently as he had scraped his teeth against her breast. Elia arched her back into his mouth, moaning the most sensuous music Sulva had ever heard in his short second life. He sucked harder, pursing his lips around the nipple and undulating his tongue into the duct. Elia cursed and Sulva went further, catching the little nub between his teeth and rolling it with a minimum amount of pressure. Breath exploded out of Elia and tore through Sulva's hair like a powerful gust of wind. She detached herself from his mouth and nudged him toward her other nipple to receive similar treatment. She could hardly take the stimulation, her eyes shut tightly to withstand the attention of the man in her husband's body. She balled the sheets up in her fists and lifted her ass from the bed, casting out its call for attention prematurely.

"Lower," she urged, attempting to rein herself in and conduct Sulva down her torso. His hands preceded his mouth, caressing her breasts in farewell before tracing each of her ribs and settling into her slight rolls and the excess of her sides. They slid up from her hips, rubbing her belly and gripping her enticing love handles to hold her steady for his mouth. Feathery kisses floated down her chest and met each rib on their journey to her stomach. He laved his tongue over her skin every other kiss, ending evenly with a dip into her navel that made her squirm.