Topic: The Misunderstanding

Mara Mallory

Date: 2013-04-22 07:58 EST
Dreven City; Autumn 1258

Summer had come and gone, flown by all too slowly for the peace of mind of two young people in the crowded streets of Dreven unable to slip away without being seen. As summer turned to autumn with Moonshare's first days, the rich returned to the city, and the young to their studies. For Duncan, this was strict and regimented, rules laid down long before he was born as to the way a male of his station should be taught. And for Mara ....it opened up a whole new world. Her days were longer, filled with lessons on everything from etiquette to entertaining skills, and even - much to her initial disgust - the beginning of her training in what would make her sought after, if she learned well. These lessons were the work of a single afternoon each tenday, and though she resisted at first, Elise had finally convinced her to learn from a master of the trade.

This particular afternoon had been all kinds of shocking, but rather a lot of fun, too, ended with the leave-taking of the lucky young dock worker who had been paid to be her practice dummy. As he bowed at her door, he winked, and Mara blushed, giggling as she remembered just what she'd learned today, shaking her head at his wider grin, unaware that not everyone in the street below was as ignorant of her silly reaction as she might have hoped.

Despite their inability to be alone and unseen at their secret place, summer had its own charms. Tireless lessons were at a standstill, and the young were afforded a little respite. Ever restless, Duncan had spent much of his summer riding, exploring the countryside, cavorting with his friends, sneaking visits with Mara when he could here and there. Most of those visits happened at night, when the rest of Dreven was sleeping, when there were no eyes to watch their every movement.

He'd grown tanned over the summer, his hair lightening a little, but just as curly and unruly as ever, unless he took the time to fuss with it, which was rare unless it was insisted upon. He had been spending more and more time in the company of his friends, who were making plans for their own futures. They hoped to one day become Rangers, and they had opened Duncan's mind to the idea of one day leaving Dreven far behind to travel far and wide, further spurring a strong sense of adventure. Of course, once his father learned of this nonsense, he made sure to squash the boy's dreams before they could take root.

He insisted the boy would carry on in his father's footsteps. He had, after all, not acquired the family fortune without the boy and his mother in mind. He accused him of being selfish and ungrateful, spoiled rotten to the core. There was only one way to make the boy forget such nonsense and that was to beat it out of him. For Duncan, it was only one more beating in a long line of abuse, but at least when his father was angry, he had his attention. He still thought it preferable to his indifference, but that would change with time.

His mother, in her serky-induced daze, rarely had any idea what was going on, and though she loved her son fiercely, she would not lift a hand or speak a word against her husband, preferring to pretend not to know what truly went on between father and son. Only the servants knew the truth, but they did not dare try to stop it or speak a word of it outside the house. To the outside world, the Mallorys were an ideal family. Only those who lived within those walls knew the truth, and one girl who could do nothing to end her friend's suffering, but be there when he needed her. Today was one of those days.

Unfortunately, for both Duncan and Mara, he was just arriving on horseback as Mara's visitor was departing. He was there to witness the flirtation, the wink and the giggle, the flirting and affection that should have belonged to him and no other. Jealousy flared hotly in his heart, more painful even than the lashes on his back. Jealousy, envy, betrayal. Oh, he knew what she was to become, but he never expected to have to witness it, to see her offering her favors to another man, no matter the reason. His face darkened, his jaw tightening, tears of anger stinging his eyes. No, he'd never let her see those. He was too proud for that.

The dock worker, a handsome lad of around twenty, pocketed his payment for the day and took his leave, whistling merrily to himself as he jogged down the steps and onto the busy street, passing by the fuming boy on horseback without even a glance. But Mara saw him. As soon as her eyes turned to the street, she saw her best friend - her love - and her entire demeanor changed. She brightened, lighting up from within, all flirtation and giggles and blushes forgotten in the pleasure of seeing Duncan. Despite Elise trying to pull her back into the apartment, she raised her hand to wave to him, stopping just short of calling his name as she fought her nursemaid to be allowed to move out onto the steps herself.

He caught sight of her and felt the sting of tears prickling his eyes. How could she look so happy to see him when she had been all giggles a moment before for someone else? Someone older than him, someone he deemed too old for her. How many suitors did she have anyway' Was she just toying with him, toying with his heart' Fickle girl. She had never loved him, like he thought she had. Just like the rest. She probably only cared for his fortune and nothing for him at all. Well, he wouldn't be one of her suitors. She would be his and only his, or not at all. He felt tears threatening, but would not give her the satisfaction of seeing them, turning his horse so sharply that the black snorted in disapproval. He wasted no time, kicking the black harder than necessary, and retreating through the city. It wasn't hard to guess where he'd end up, the only place where he could be truly alone with his own misery. The cottage that had been their refuge, their secret place, only a short time before.

He didn't see the way her smile faded at the anger on his face, or the way her steps faltered as he turned away from her, not even offering a nod in acknowledgement. As he rode away, so hard, so fast, her eyes fell to the young man who had just left her rooms, and her quick mind realized what Duncan had seen. What he had assumed. Her lips set in a thin line as anger of her own made itself known. How dare he assume she would do that to him' To herself"

Ignoring Elise's grasping hands, she picked up her skirts and ran down onto the street, following after her beloved friend as though she might catch him, seeing in the line of his shoulders as he rode away from her that he'd come looking for the honesty they'd always shared, that he'd come in pain. There was only one place he would go now, a place she'd never been without him. Well, she might not have a horse, but she definitely knew how to get one.

He rode hard and fast, pushing the black to exhaustion, hardly caring if the ride ended in disaster. Tears blurred his vision, his heart feeling as though it was breaking. Somewhere deep inside him he had known this would happen someday, that she would find another, that he would have to share her, but he had chosen not to believe it. He had chosen to believe that they'd have their dream, but maybe that was all it was. A stupid childish dream that could never be. Maybe the dream had only been his and not hers at all. He reached the cottage in record time, anger and pain blackening his heart.

He jumped off the horse before he brought it to a halt, with little regard for his own safety, though he was quickly becoming a master horseman, even at his young age. He pushed his way into the cottage, slamming the door behind him, smashing the first thing that came within reach, which just happened to be a lamp. Glass crashed to the floor, shattering into shards, crunching beneath his boots. He flung himself upon the bed, gripping the feather pillow tightly in his arms to muffle the sobs that choked his throat and made his chest ache. He cried first for Mara and her betrayal, and then for himself, the emotional pain almost harder to bear than that of the physical wounds caused by a father who loathed and despised his only son. The miles swept by beneath the hooves of a mare taken from the Mallory's own stables, bearing a courtesan in training far from the city, her eyes fixed on the glitter of Lake Silvermere ahead of her. Mara was steaming, as hurt and angry as she had ever been by the assumption she'd seen in Duncan's eyes, more so by the fact that he had not even deigned to acknowledge her, much less let her explain. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right that he should dictate to her how she should be when she had less choice than he did in how her life was going to be lived. And how dare he take one sight from the street and jump to the worst possible conclusion' Didn't he trust her at all?

Mara Mallory

Date: 2013-04-22 07:58 EST
The mare's hooves thumped on the gravel, barely allowed to slow to a halt before the teenaged girl was swinging down, cursing the loose hang of her dress and chemise, and storming up to the cottage door. She threw it open, and opened up her lungs with a warning that no matter what state he was in, she was flaming mad. "Duncan!"

He heard the thump of hooves as she approached, heard the door slam open, and her voice call his name, but he was too lost in his own pain to acknowledge her, burning with feverish hurt, both of body and soul. He didn't have to lift his head and turn to her to know who it was at the door. She had found him in his misery, only to rub more salt in the wounds. She'd see him crying, but he didn't care. He didn't want her there, didn't want her to see him this way or to pretend that she cared when he knew that she didn't. "Go away!" he told her, his voice muffled by the pillow, his throat raw from crying. "I don't want you here!"

It was a lie - the first lie he'd told her. He wanted her there more than ever. He wanted her to soothe him, to tell him she was sorry, that it was just a misunderstanding, that she loved him and only him, but he couldn't bear to say it. He couldn't bear to beg. He had taken the beating like a man, never crying out once, and all it had taken to reduce him to tears was one giggle from a girl offered to someone else.

"Oh, don't you?" she demanded, a little too angry to notice the thickness in his voice as she stamped into the cottage, following the sound in the growing darkness to find him. "You don't want me so much that the first thing you do when you see something you don't know the first thing about is turn and run away and don't even acknowledge me?" Her eyes found him in the gloom, and suddenly the anger was gone, left to simmer in the back of her mind at the sight of her brave, strong Duncan weeping like a child all alone. Her voice softened, the rustle of skirts growing louder as she hurried to the side of the bed, falling to her knees to reach out and touch his hand with her own. "Oh gods ....Duncan, what happened?"

"Nothing happened!" he lied, his voice still muffled, his face buried in the pillow, wet with his tears. "Don't touch me!" He warned, flinching at her touch and turning to his side, his back to her so she couldn't see the tears of anger and pain and humiliation on his face. But that was a mistake. It was his back that had suffered the most abuse, and though the family could afford a Vivomancer, that luxury had been denied him. A beating, after all, meant very little, if it was to be healed so quickly. His father would wait, let the boy suffer until the wounds festered, and then and only then would he allow a healer to be brought in, paid off with money earned through his dealings with the Triad, sworn to keep the family's shameful little secret on pain of death.

She flinched away as he warned her off, her breath catching in her throat at the first real rejection he'd ever given her, even when they had only been friends. Green eyes stung with hurt tears glanced away, returning only to find themselves focusing on the bloodstained cloth that covered his back. Her tears fell then - not for her own hurts, though her heart was aching at his anger and spite, but for the injury that spurred him on to behave like this. He might never have ridden away in the street, if he hadn't already been in pain. "Duncan ..." she whispered, sniffing softly to hold back the sound of her sadness for him. No one had ever raised a hand to her, but she had seen the worst excesses on her own friend's body more times than she cared to count.

There was a fresh rustle of skirts, the sound of footsteps, and for a moment, he was alone again. But not for long - she returned as quickly as she could, bearing a bowl of cool water from the pump. There was nothing here she dared use as rags but her own clothes, her fingers moving to tear strips from the hem of her overdress. "Duncan ....love, let me look at your back," she told him quietly, reaching out once again to delicately begin the task of peeling his shirt upward.

He was once again lost in his own misery. She'd gone quiet, and he thought for a time that she'd indeed left him to suffer alone. The thought of that only brought fresh tears, when he thought he'd had none left. But then he heard her again, calling his name through his heartache, the sound of cloth tearing, her asking to see his back, the source of his shame. He stifled a sob, hissing a breath and flinching when she touched him, but too hurt and too weary to argue with her. It had been a cruel beating, his back bruised, torn open and oozing blood. He thought he had become accustomed to the beatings, but somehow each one seemed harder to bear than the last, as if his father knew just how far he could push him as the boy grew older. There would come a day when he would fight back, but that day had not yet come. "I don't..." He gulped a breath, voice broken. "Don't want you to see..."

To her credit, she gave nothing away in the sound of her voice of the ravagement that had been meted out on him. "Shh, shhh," she murmured to her dearest friend, ignoring his wishes. "If I don't look, I can't make it better. Help me." Her hands moved to his shoulders as she eased the bloodied shirt over his head, pulling it down off his arms and throwing it aside. She'd clean it later, when he was resting, so that he could go home without shame in his appearance, at least. The embroidered satin she had torn off her dress took the water well, a murmured word warning him before she set to cleaning his back, as gentle as she could be over the bleeding wounds. "Sweetheart, why did he do it this time?"

He had little choice but to adhere to her wishes. He knew she wouldn't leave him be until he let her tend to him, as ashamed as he was of his situation. Why had he gone to her in the first place" Because she was the only one he trusted to keep his secret, or at least, that was what he'd thought until a little while ago. He pushed himself up so that he was sitting, biting his lip against the pain that simple movement caused. He kept his back to her, not wanting her to see his face, swollen and blotchy from crying. He dashed a hand across his face in a meager attempt to wipe away the evidence of his weakness. Even with that warning, he flinched and stiffened as she first touched the cool cloth to his back. He shook his head in reply, pausing a moment to steady his voice, though the tremor was evident. "I don't-I don't want to be what he wants me to be." It seemed hardly reason enough for a beating, but Eric Mallory hardly needed a reason. The boy was too handy a target for his rage and his cruelty.

Mara gritted her teeth, her bile rising in disgust for any father who could hurt his son so badly and in so many ways. "He's an arse who needs to be b*ggered hard until he begs for mercy, is what he is," she muttered, betraying the company she'd been keeping as a child before they'd met. She didn't often swear, but when she did, it was only because polite words just didn't express enough. She didn't speak again, focusing her attention on cleaning the blood away and smearing something cool and sweet-smelling over the open wounds to take the pain away. And when she was done, she leaned forward, touching her lips to his bare shoulder contritely. "I'm sorry you don't trust me, Mal," she whispered softly. "I wish you did."

"I'm not going home. I'm never going home," he told her stubbornly, through a haze of tears. If he truly was to blame for his sister's death, then hadn't he paid enough already? When would it stop" Would the beatings just continually get worse and worse, until he was dead, too' Hot tears trickled down his face, wishing he could run away with Tristan and Brendan and become a Ranger, but they weren't ready yet. It would be years before they'd leave Dreven, and he wasn't sure he'd live that long if he continued to remain.

He quieted as she administered to him, the cooling salve making the pain bearable for now, cooling the fire in his back, if not the fever in his heart. He felt her lips touch his shoulder, still boyish and not yet broadened, tanned from the summer sun, smooth and unblemished. His throat constricted at her words and fresh tears sprung anew. He wanted to trust her, but after what he'd just seen, he wasn't sure if he could. Still, she'd thought enough of him to follow, and she'd cared enough for him to try and ease his pain. "Who was he?" he asked, his voice strained and soft. "Do you love him?"

It was just as well his back was turned to her. He didn't see the hurt pile up behind her eyes as her hand stilled, falling away to the ripped cover of her dress where it still concealed the thin chemise beneath. She looked down, anger still simmering but not powerful enough to rise to the surface at the unspoken accusation. "I don't even know his name," she said softly, picking at her own fingernails. "Of course I don't love him, I love you."

She refrained from calling him the name that tripped to the tip of her tongue, choosing not to start another argument intentionally. A low sigh escaped her. "He comes once a tenday, for one afternoon. Less than three hours. And he's the one who gets paid for it. They make me ....they make me touch him, so I'll learn how to make a man happy. It's excruciatingly embarrassing, Mal, for me as much as for him. But Elise says I have to know how to do it, and the only way I'll know I'm doing it right is if I have someone to practice on, and ....well, you won't let me even try to learn how to make you happy like that."

Mara Mallory

Date: 2013-04-22 08:00 EST
Her explanation did little to soothe the tumult of conflicted feelings raging inside him. His heart soared with joy to hear her speak of love, quickly replaced by a swell of anger, followed by despair in knowing she was as stuck in a life she didn't want as he was, and finally guilt at knowing he had wrongly accused her. Still, she had been laughing in the other man's presence, and unless she was very good at pretending, she had seemed to be enjoying his attention. "Do you like it?" he asked, needing to know. There was a reason he wouldn't let her touch him in such a way, and she knew what that reason was. To him, she was and always would be a lady. She was worth waiting for, worth all the pain and the anguish and the heartache, if only she truly loved him as she said she did. He turned to face her then, forgetting the tears that stained his face, his head aching from crying.

He just had to ask her that, didn't he" Mara winced, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer, no matter how honest she was with him. "I ....I didn't like it, at first," she said awkwardly, delving into the rest as quickly as she dared. "It's not that I like touching him, or anyone, but ....I like what I can do with my touch. I get a response, every time, I'm not ignored or treated like I don't exist. A man can't ignore me if I know how to do this. You won't be able to ignore me if I'm good enough at it that you'll let me try!"

"I can't bear to see you with someone else, Mara. I can't." He bowed his head as his eyes filled with tears again. How would she feel in his place, he wondered, if his mother decided to arrange a courtship or even a betrothal" What would she say to that' It felt like his heart was breaking again. So, she didn't love the man. So what? She liked what she could do to him. Duncan didn't want her touching anyone but him. "When have I ever ignored you?" he asked, hurt by the implied accusation that he had. He lifted his gaze to her, fresh tears filling his eyes and streaming down his face. "I love you."

"You know what I'm going to be," she reminded him, her own aching livid in her eyes as she met his gaze, shaking her head that she couldn't make him understand. "What I have to be, just to survive. I don't like it anymore than you do, but I don't have a choice. And if you love me, why don't you trust me" I told you, I promised you ....and you think I can just forget that promise, that I would lie to you." Her tears matched his. "How do I prove that I love you? It isn't something I can write down or shout from a rooftop, because that would get both of us into trouble." She surged up onto her feet, turning away as a sob shook her. "How can you be so stubborn and unforgiving, without even knowing what you're looking at?"

She was trapped, he realized, just as he was trapped. For now, but not forever. Someday, he would be a man, and if he stayed, he would have power and wealth, just as his father had. He would be able to decide what to do with his life, and he would be able to give her the means of escape. Someday....but someday was never soon enough when you were sixteen. He would have gotten to his feet, to turn her toward him, to kiss her tears away, but it hurt too much to move even that little bit, and he couldn't bear her accusations or her tears. It was time she knew what he had planned, not just some vague promise of deliverance. "If you truly love me, then promise you'll be my wife. I'll suffer watching you with other men for now, knowing your heart belongs to me and only me. When we're old enough, I'll marry you. I'll make you my wife, and you won't have to pretend anymore."

The offer was more of a shock than she might have thought. The someday she had been expecting was less ambitious, less fractious ....but she couldn't help feeling a surge of moving happiness that he was so willing to risk so much, just to keep her. She turned back to him, green eyes wide with amazement. "But Duncan ....everyone will turn against you," she warned him uncertainly, moving to kneel on the bed beside him once again. "They'd all look down on you because you married a whore." But she hadn't said no.

He followed her with his eyes as she turned to face him and knelt down beside him once again, reaching for her hands, needing her to know he meant was he said and to believe and trust in him. He inwardly cringed at the label she gave herself, hoping somehow he could make good on his promise before it got that far. He would save her from that life, one way or another, if she'd let him. "No, they won't," he disagreed. "Not those who matter. And I don't give a bloody damn about those who don't." It wasn't like him to swear, unless he was feeling very strongly about something. "They'd only see that I married the most beautiful woman in Dreven, and they'd all know that she belongs to me."

Her hands folded into his, gripping tight as they looked at one another. They'd all know that she belongs to me. "So why don't you believe that now?" she asked him very quietly. "I love you, Duncan, so very much. If you'll have me, if you can, marry me whenever you want, but it won't matter unless you believe me when I tell you how I feel." Her hands slipped from his, color lighting up her face as she undid the laces at her open bodice. "Unless you believe me that no one's touched me but you ..." The bodice came open, overdress falling away as she raised trembling hands to her shoulders, drawing her chemise down to her waist, baring the pert swell of pink-tipped breasts for him with a nervous gasp. "....that no one's seen this but you," she stuttered quietly, not quite so confident now as she had been before.

His gaze traveled downward, drawn to her bodice as she undid the laces and for the very first time ever, allowed him to see the beauty that had always been hidden from view. His eyes widened in surprise and wonder. It wasn't so much that he'd never seen a woman's exposed breasts before, but that he had never seen her this way before. In that single space of breath, everything seemed to have changed, even more so than it had when they'd shared their first kiss earlier that very spring. She was no longer a mere friend, close or otherwise. Not a sister, but not yet a lover either. She was, for all intents and purposes, his intended. His beloved. At sixteen, nearly seventeen years of age, he believed there could never be another. A trembling hand tentatively reached out to touch her with a brief graze of fingertips that traced the swelling curve of one breast.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, barely aware that he'd said it out loud, that odd coiling heat in his middle that he could do nothing to control, that sweet agony that was both pleasure and pain. No one's touched me but you. No one's seen this but you. A first kiss, a first embrace, and now this. He felt tears prickling at his eyes again, even as he tried to hold them back, and his gaze found hers again. This was his reward, it seemed, for all the pain and upset of the day. This was worth a thousand beatings. He would walk through fire for her; he would risk death to keep her safe, if necessary. He loved her that much.

She would do the same for him, ten times over, unknowing that in the years to come she would do exactly that. In the here and now of first love, first lust, first longing, Mara couldn't imagine any other man seeing her like this, touching her the way Duncan dared to in the midst of his distress and shock. "I don't want anyone but you, Duncan," she whispered, her voice trembling in the grip of the spike of crackling heat that sparked from his fingers against her skin. Shyly, acutely aware that she'd stripped herself half naked just to make a point and at a loss as to where to go from there, she raised her hands to his face, fingers curling to cradle his cheeks as she leaned into him, brushing soft lips to his. "I've never even kissed anyone but you, Duncan," she promised him, though they both knew that could not last. "Please don't be angry with me."

"I want to take you away from here," he said in a soft, wavering voice that sounded on the brink of tears. He'd never let her see his tears before, always hiding that weakness from her, from everyone, but today was different. Between the harsh words from his father, the beating, and then the shock of seeing her flourish her affections upon someone else, it had been too much for a mere boy of fifteen to bear. His kiss was salty with tears as she pressed her lips against his. His heart had melted the moment she'd touched him, the anger fading away, only heartache and longing left in its place. He could never be angry with her for long, not even when he had good reason to be. She held his heart in her hands, and she didn't even know it. He felt trapped, just as she felt trapped, longing to take her away from this place, to live their own lives, to make their own choices. There had to be a way, if only he could figure out how.

It would take time to arrange such a flight, perhaps more time than they had. He would have to finish his studies, gain his manhood before it would be safe to even consider leaving. Two children on the run would be a prime target for any unscrupulous characters; a man and his mistress, not so much. "It's only a year," Mara murmured softly, her shyness raising her shoulders as her hands fell away, awkwardly reaching to cover herself once again as she blushed. "I'll come with you when you go. But only if you're smart about it, Mal."

Mara Mallory

Date: 2013-04-22 08:01 EST
A year. It seemed like forever to a boy of sixteen, but she was right. If he focused on his studies, did everything his father demanded of him, played the game as best he could, they might be able to pull it off. It wouldn't be easy, but it was only a year, even less if it was only until he reached seventeen years. Eighteen would be even better. He'd be considered a man by then, a responsible adult. He had no intentions of going to university and never had. It would take careful planning, but it could be done. Money wasn't everything, after all, and once he reached sixteen, he'd be able to access the money that his mother had put away in his name to provide a start for his future, or so he thought. Deep in thought for a moment, mulling over all the possibilities, his eyes lifted once again to hers, his heart leaping with hope. "You would come with me?" he echoed, hardly able to believe his own ears. She was agreeing to his plan, so long as he waited until the time was right, so long as he was smart about it.

"I'd risk a lot to keep you happy and healthy," his very young woman of a friend told him, shifting about to lay on her side on the bed, patting the sheets to invite him down and rest with her. "I'd do anything to keep you safe. Anything." The sweet fourteen-year-old offered him her smile in the gathering darkness, her fingers playing through his. "Of course I'll come with you."

As touched as he was by her sentiment, this wasn't about him. At least, he didn't think so. It was about her. About keeping her happy and healthy and safe. He frowned a little as he accepted the unspoken invitation and lay down beside her. Countless days and sometimes nights had been spent in each other's company, just lying close, talking quietly, sharing their hopes and dreams for the future. Lying beneath the stars and watching them appear one by one, making childish wishes they hoped would someday come true, wishes that always seemed to involve the other. It seemed that in the course of a few short cycles, all those childish wishes had become something more, no longer mere dreams, but plans for a very real future, plans for a life together. He settled himself beside her, his fingers tangling with hers, the ache in his back easier to bear now that she was with him, now that he knew she was truly his. "I'll make you happy, Mara. I promise. Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

Her free hand gently trailed her fingertips, cool and soft, over the faint puffiness that lingered in his face, evidence of the tears he'd shed before she had found him again. "I just want to be free," she told him, a quiet confession that she'd never put into words before, assuming he knew without being told. "And if that's with you, then I couldn't ask for more. Even if you are a stubborn old goat sometimes." Humor flickered in her gaze, daring him to take offense as her smile deepened. No matter what happened, how womanly or sophisticated she was taught to be, some part of Mara was always going to be a cheeky child at heart.

He understood how she felt more than she might guess, both of them trapped in lives they didn't want, expected to follow the path laid out by the generation before them. He actually chuckled a little at her remark, his mood lightening, his sense of humor returning, thanks to her. "I'm sorry," he said, apologizing at last - a rare event. "I was being a horse's *ss." He had no way of knowing, but he would often be accused of that very same thing over the years.

"A barn shrike's droppings," she suggested as an alternative, her smile flickering to a grin as she let her fingers play into the tousled curl of his hair, deeply and confusingly pleased that he let her touch him like this. She shifted close, brushing the tip of her nose to his as she kissed him gently. "Go to sleep, Mal. We can go back together, in the morning."

Whatever magic she had worked on him had helped. Though his back ached, it no longer felt like it was on fire, and he couldn't deny he felt weary, worn out, drained. Despite everything, he felt strangely content. She was there with him, and she was all that he needed, even at the tender age of sixteen. He found her touch soothing, comforting, calming, and he let his eyelids drift closed, the sound of her voice and the warmth of her presence lulling him to sleep. Tomorrow was another day. He'd worry about it when it got here. For now, he was happy and content knowing in another short year, she'd be his.

((A little bit more to fill in the blanks. And there's more coming! Huge thanks, as always, to the splendilicious player of Duncan!))