[ They were not meant to conquer their hells separately. They were meant to raze through them together, and to emerge as one on the other side, blood-spattered and golden and victorious. The gods could not condemn them, mere men could not subdue them, and there was no hell they could not conquer so long as they were side by side, always within reach. The hells he knew were made twice as brutal this way - when she was near, but not near enough for him to touch. Or when she was near enough to touch, but always slipping past, always wary of being glimpsed. Close enough to hear the catches in her breath, close enough to steal a hint of her perfume, close enough to recognize the dark flash in her eyes when he knew she was glancing at him, thinking.
That was hell, and being leagues apart, truly out of reach, that was hell, too. His dreams were hell, his darker certainties of what could befall them were hell. He had bred enough hells to be familiar now with all their shapes and sizes, and this place would not be a new one. They had suffered their hells apart and their hells together, and they have earned now a reprieve in paradise. This could be theirs.
She takes his hand and it is instinct that curls his fingers - defensive, possessive and territorial. It has never mattered less who sees them. They know no one in this place, none that he has yet seen, and his blood is so hungry for a fight that he almost wishes someone would confront them. Another push sends the wrapped food his way again, and he once again blocks it, intent on not feeding himself until he has seen her fed. She shouldn't be hoarding food, anyway; suppose some brawny fool took note and then approached her to take it? He drags his lingering gaze back up, leaning in as she does, baited by the warm lure of her breath, and then he breaks into a grin, giving her hand a ravenous squeeze. The future she offers is more appealing than any he has summoned for himself. ]
And the more allies, the more blood. [ And the more blood, the more vigorously she will have him take her, and in lieu of seizing that reality right this moment, he takes her mouth instead. Just for a moment more, just to lend to the kiss the suggestion of how hungrily he awaits their freedom, and then he draws back, even if his eyes don't. He has never been displeased by the sight of her in anything at all, from her most exquisite gowns to her simpler shifts, made for furtive trysts. They all flatter her, though there is something primally appetizing about her rather glorious body draped in a wench's garb, or a prisoner's. ]
You eat. I'll make allies. [ This was another of his natural abilities, wasn't it? Convincing men that it was their great honor to follow him? Winning their loyalty with little more than a roguish smile and his promises of valor and glory? She did not need to starve for this to happen. ] I'll bring you more food than you know what to do with, soon enough. But I do expect to be duly rewarded.
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That was hell, and being leagues apart, truly out of reach, that was hell, too. His dreams were hell, his darker certainties of what could befall them were hell. He had bred enough hells to be familiar now with all their shapes and sizes, and this place would not be a new one. They had suffered their hells apart and their hells together, and they have earned now a reprieve in paradise. This could be theirs.
She takes his hand and it is instinct that curls his fingers - defensive, possessive and territorial. It has never mattered less who sees them. They know no one in this place, none that he has yet seen, and his blood is so hungry for a fight that he almost wishes someone would confront them. Another push sends the wrapped food his way again, and he once again blocks it, intent on not feeding himself until he has seen her fed. She shouldn't be hoarding food, anyway; suppose some brawny fool took note and then approached her to take it? He drags his lingering gaze back up, leaning in as she does, baited by the warm lure of her breath, and then he breaks into a grin, giving her hand a ravenous squeeze. The future she offers is more appealing than any he has summoned for himself. ]
And the more allies, the more blood. [ And the more blood, the more vigorously she will have him take her, and in lieu of seizing that reality right this moment, he takes her mouth instead. Just for a moment more, just to lend to the kiss the suggestion of how hungrily he awaits their freedom, and then he draws back, even if his eyes don't. He has never been displeased by the sight of her in anything at all, from her most exquisite gowns to her simpler shifts, made for furtive trysts. They all flatter her, though there is something primally appetizing about her rather glorious body draped in a wench's garb, or a prisoner's. ]
You eat. I'll make allies. [ This was another of his natural abilities, wasn't it? Convincing men that it was their great honor to follow him? Winning their loyalty with little more than a roguish smile and his promises of valor and glory? She did not need to starve for this to happen. ] I'll bring you more food than you know what to do with, soon enough. But I do expect to be duly rewarded.