The water was cool and calming against his hands. He had no idea how he had gotten into this position. Sitting in his chair by the hearth, his wife using the water she had gathered to towel clean his hands. Her gentle touch ma.s.saging his calloused fingers and bruised palms. Damar was in a daze and she could see it.Melania kept her eyes on her work, her nerves jittery as she used this task to calm herself. He many not have recognized her when he saw her but she had him. For five years she had knelt at the altar of Lady Death"s altar and prayed it was not his time. Little did she know the raven on the altar had always been listening. Now Damar sat before her, his strong hands in hers as she finished wiping away the grime of the trail. Slowly he lowered to the floor at his feet. Her dress pooled around her knees.
He seemed to stare at her in wonder, his eyes the only representation of how he felt. She unloaded his boots deftly, sliding them off of his feet, the abused skin now resting on the soft cloth of her dress and pillows of her thighs. He moved to pull them off of her but she began washing them as well. There were no words between them as she did these small acts of intimacy. He wanted to break the silence and gently clears his throat, but it sounded more gruff than he intended.
"I am glad to see you are well." He told her a touch uncertainty. The words sounded weird even from his point of view, but it was true. He was glad to see her appearing unharmed.
"As am I, My Lord. My father chose and trained me well for your family. Please don"t worry about me." She replied, her voice soft and guarded. "I am pleased you are home safely. There had been word of your injury." She replied carefully guiding them off the subject of the imperial home. He could see her discomfort in her words. Had she not chosen to marry him? This was the first time that thought had crossed his mind.
"I see. Yes, I was wounded, but I am well enough." He replied a bit distracted by his own thoughts. She carefully set his feet on the ground and rose to her feet. He stood as well, out of respect but it placed their bodies close. His chest an inch of her face, and her lips within inches of his own as he looked slightly downward at his bride. So small, fragile. How had he not broken her before. It looked like he could without much in the way of effort.
Her breathing quickened looking down, she had not expected to be this close. He was cold and disciplined like a warrior, and yet he set her heart thundering like his war horse into battle. She dare not step back, she was his wife. If he chose to have her, she would obey no matter the cost.
Despite his own reaction to her, he felt her tension. His arms wrapped around her gently, pulling her into a rather stiff embrace. Damar treated her kindly; but he needed this right now. Her nearness, to hold her nothing more but nothing less.
Sweeping his wife into his arms, he considered the bed. However, noticing her tension he sat in his chair and held her close, letting her rest on his lap. She seemed to realize what he needed as her slid behind his neck, pulling his head to rest on her shoulder. Her hand tenderly stroked through his hair, chasing away the nightmares of the battlefield field he knew awaited him. She began to hum, a delicate sound that soothed every nerve in his body.
This was the woman he married… he was shocked and relieved to find her willing to comfort the pain away. Yet… he knew this was wrong… he would have to be a soldier even now. He had to protect her and block them out. She may not have wanted to be his. His Melania may have been forced to his hand, but she would never feel the pain of betrayal again. She was his. His to love and his to protect from a distance if need be. She didn"t deserve to be punished with a man she never wanted, but she could live her life as she wished. All he wanted was her like this, all he asked was she lend herself when the blood and death was all he could feel.
He would respect her, but little did he know the emotions behind her caress and voice. The care and concern was real. Forced to his hand, but happy in his arms. She couldn"t show it… her husband wasn"t one to respect a woman for weakness. She would be the perfect wife, keep the home in order, bare his children, be the perfect mother. All she asked was for him to chase the loneliness away... one embrace at a time. She would be his quiet soldier… and he would be her guardian angel.