Topic: Blood Dance

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-28 17:12 EST
A feast was not an easy thing to throw together on short notice, but somehow, Meara and Gregor had managed to do just that. It was to be a private affair attended primarily by those closest to Liam - his family and friends, his generals and advisers and their families, as well as the twenty-eight clansmen who had recently joined them as allies. A small clearing had been chosen for the celebration, lit by torches and filled with row upon row of wooden tables and benches. One table stood out from the others, decorated with an array of candles and flowers that set the small space aglow with warm, golden light. Two chairs stood at the center of the table, more ornate than the others, and seated there side-by-side were the bride and groom. Beside the groom, sat his mother and step-father, and on the other side of Shaye were Conall and Liayna.

The smell of roast pig permeated the place, setting mouths to water, but before the feasting could begin, Liam had decided to officially present his new bride and explain the significance of this event to those gathered. They, in turn, could pass word on to the rest of the camp, so that all knew what had taken place there that day and why.

The night was warm, and he had removed the cloak and gloves that he had worn while exchanging vows with his bride. His sword, too, had been removed, deemed an unnecessary encumbrance at this gathering of his closest friends and advisers. Instead, he wore only a dagger at his waist, more out of habit than anything else. Once everyone had found their seats, Liam moved to his feet to stand before them, a hush falling over the crowd to hear what he had to say. There had been rumors circulating the encampment ever since Shaye had been escorted inside. There were those who thought their leader mad, while others assumed Shaye was a captive who would be executed for her crimes. Confusion ensued, but for those who knew Liam's heart and knew the truth behind Shaye's capture. This was Liam's chance to set it all to rights, if those who trusted him as their leader would only but listen.

"My friends," Liam started as he stood before them, looking from one to the other as he took the assembly in as a whole. "I know some of you might be wondering what has taken place here today, why you have been gathered here for this feast. I know many of you have questions you would like answered, and so, before we share in this celebration, I would like to take a moment to explain." He turned his gaze to the woman who sat beside him before turning back to the congregation. "Most of you know that many years ago, I was a recruit in the Queen's Legions with aspirations at becoming one of the Royal Guard. What you may not know is that while I was there, I met someone with whom I fell in love and who changed my life forever. That someone sits beside me today and who I now present to you as my wife and my chosen life-mate." Liam looked once more at Shaye and offered her a hand to rise to her feet beside him.

As Liam spoke, Shaye sat, stiff-backed, aware of the curious and sometimes hostile eyes that looked at her. It didn't help that the untrusting Conall was on her other side, hemming her in. But more than that, she was on edge, her senses humming. Someone here was a danger, someone meant to do harm. Her instincts had been honed through years of battle; she knew when a man had decided that death was the only outcome he could accept. Her gaze darted back and forth, seeking out that hostile presence, only to be interrupted as Liam extended his hand to her. Realizing she had to play the role he had assigned to her, if only for one night, she took that hand and rose to her feet, a pale-haired lady by the side of the leader the rebels knew and respected.

"Some of you may know her as the First Blade. I know her as Shaye Dervla, the girl to whom I lost my heart and to whom I owe my life. She has been ever in my heart and mind since our parting many years ago, when she sacrificed her own freedom so that I could escape the hands of the traitorous false queen. It is because of her that I stand before you today, and it is because of her that the rebellion lives. She, like us, has suffered at the hands of Velasca's tyranny.

"She, like us, feels no love for the Usurper. I have struggled these many years to free us from Velasca's rule, and to free this woman from her servitude. It should be noted that Shaye Dervla came here of her own choice and her own free will. She laid down her arms and surrendered herself to us, putting herself at risk and trusting in the oath I made to her many years ago, to love and protect her for all the days of my life. Together, we made this oath, as well as an oath to serve the True Queen of Arctra, and it is to that end that she has come here today. We are close to victory, my friends. Very close.

"We have welcomed the Wild Ones among us as friends and allies to join in our cause," he said, extending an arm to indicate the group who sat together among the others gathered there. "By Thalan and the moon, I swear we will capture the Sword of Arlan and Velasca's hold over the First Blade will be broken. We will retake Phalion and restore the true line of queens. We will free Loscar and seek justice for all those wronged by the Usurper and her allies. It is time we reclaim what is ours under the Nine Gods and the Goddess of the Wild Ones. And we are able to do this because the First Blade has returned to us. Because Velasca has erred in her judgment, and we will take advantage of her mistake. I humbly ask you, not as your leader, but as a man, to join me in welcoming Shaye Dervla home to her family and friends and to the arms of the one man who has always loved her and never given up on her."

He turned to face his beloved and reached to take both her hands in his. "I pledge you my heart and my soul, to love and to cherish you all the days of my life, just as I did when I was a boy. We will have our victory together."

Stirring words, and words that had the effect Liam had hoped for. He was known to be a fair and just man, and though his generals might not sit comfortably with the knowledge that he had just married the one woman in the realm who physically could not disobey an order from the Usurper, so long as she held the Sword of Arlan, they were sensible enough not to cling to that discomfort. Liam promised them that the time was come, and that was enough. As voices rose in a cheer, however, something went terribly wrong.

Shaye was aware of it first, a movement in the guards that stood behind Liam's chair. Torchlight fell upon the face of the man who stepped forward, and she felt a flare of fury, a stab of fear. She knew that face - he was one of Velasca's personal guards, dismissed from service publicly only a few months before. He was also a known assassin, and there could be only one reason he was there. As Liam took her hands, she pulled him abruptly forward, sending him sprawling onto the table in front of him, revealing the knife the assassin held raised to stab. That blade found purchase on her arm as she lifted her hands to protect Liam's back, blood blooming to stain the silk she wore as she pushed the attacker away. Her hand fumbled for the knife at Liam's belt as the assassin lunged once again ....and stopped abruptly, a stone knife buried in his throat. As the man fell, bubbling his way to an unpleasant death, Shaye's eyes turned, incredulous, to the nomad woman who sat on the other side of Conall.

Liayna met her eyes with calm assurance, inclining her head to the astonished First Blade as, around them, the rebel guard pushed forward, too late to stop an attacker already dead.

Chaos and confusion broke out, if only for a moment, as a member of Liam's own personal guard attempted to kill the man he had sworn to protect. Screams and gasps erupted from the gathering as horrified guests witnessed what was taking place right before their eyes. Some of them sprung to their feet, hands on blades to defend their leader, but all of them too late. Even Conall, who was sitting beside Shaye was too slow to stop the unexpected attack, though he had followed Liayna to his feet, sword drawn at the ready. But no one was as startled as the rebel leader who found himself shoved roughly aside by the woman he had just presented to the gathering as one to be trusted and respected.

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-28 17:13 EST
Meara screamed in horror, fearing she was about to lose her son the way she'd lost his father. Fortunately, it was over quickly, and it soon became apparent that Shaye had once again put herself at risk for the sake of her beloved.

Liam straightened, taking in Shaye's bloodied arm, a stone dagger buried in the throat of a man he thought he could trust, the look of shock and anger on the faces of his companions. Was there no one he could trust' He reached for Shaye's arm, fingers searching the wound to see if an artery had been severed. "Are you mad, woman' You could have been killed!"

"And you would have been!" Shaye snapped back at him, acutely aware of the dull throb in her arm as he searched the wound. It was bleeding too much, an ugly, jagged gash that had split her flesh to the bone in one place, proof that if that knife had gone into Liam's back, he would have died. "What kind of idiot takes a disgraced member of the Usurper's personal guard as his own personal guard?"

"This idiot, apparently!" he shot back, lips pressed tightly together in barely-repressed rage. She was not the source of his anger, but only the recipient of it. "How was I to know what he intended?"

"Enough!" Meara broke in, regaining her composure now that she knew her son was safe and his assailant was dead. She already had a cloth in hand and had stepped in to press it tightly against Shaye's wound, knowing it would need far more than simple stitching. "We need to seal the wound," she said, though that much was obvious. "Conall!" she called, without looking away from Shaye's arm. "See to it that the blade was not poisoned."

A ring of guards had closed in around the small group, keeping the others away. Conall was stooped over the body of the fallen man, making sure he was dead and examining the blade that had been meant for Liam, relieved Liayna had been quick enough to end his life before he could do any real harm.

"You should have been -" Shaye was cut off as Meara stepped in, hissing in pain as the older woman pressed that cloth to her ugly wound. Behind Meara, Gregor Makos was kicking the rest of Liam's guard into line, the body of the assassin dragged away from the two chairs to allow Liam and Shaye to sit once again.

Two seats away, Liayna was watching curiously ....and so was everyone else who had been invited to this feast, witnesses not only to Liam's announcement, but to the saving of his life by the First Blade, and the killing of the assassin by the nomad woman. And now they were witness to an argument between the newly created husband and wife, too.

"What?" Liam whispered between gritted teeth. "More careful" What do I need to be careful for when you are more than willing to put your life at risk for mine?" he asked Shaye, dripping sarcasm. He had a point, but the point was lost in all the confusion. It was a small miracle they had not argued until now, both of them stupidly stubborn and over-protective of the other.

"I said enough!" Meara demanded with a sharp look at her son. "There is no point in arguing over what is already done. Especially today." She turned her attention back to the wound, carefully lifting the blood-soaked rag away to examine it. "Conall!" she called again. "The blade!"

"There is no poison, my lady," Conall replied quickly, letting Gregor take charge of the guards and the dead assassin. He looked over at Liayna, frowning worriedly, though he was thankful she had been quick enough to stop the man before he could do any more damage. There would be time later to sort out how the man had managed to infiltrate their ranks. He silently seemed to ask her without speaking, with only his eyes, if there was something the Goddess could do to help Shaye.

Liayna met the eyes of her eniro, and she knew what he was asking her. Gracefully, she rose to her feet, trusting him to retrieve her knife while she moved to crouch beside Shaye and the Lady Meara. Ignoring the fact that the First Blade was glaring at her new husband over his mother's head, the nomad laid her hand over the blood-soaked cloth with a reassuring smile for Meara, and murmured something in the old speech, a soft request that the Goddess do for this Arctran just once what She had done for her sworn many times over.

Shaye jerked her arm suddenly, the sensation of flesh knitting clean over exposed bone one she was utterly unfamiliar with. "What the hell ...?"

Conall watched relieved while Liayna asked for the Goddess' healing, just as she had once done for him. Seeing the look on Shaye's face, he couldn't help but smile, knowing she was as astonished as he had once been. "Hell has nothing to do with it," he pointed out quietly. "It is the Goddess' doing," he added, moving away to find and retrieve Liayna's bloodied blade, muttering a private prayer of thanks to the Goddess.

Liam's expression matched Shaye's, his anger subsiding as it was replaced by astonished wonder. Conall had told him of the healing power of the Goddess, but he had not expected to see it for himself anytime soon. "What is happening?" he asked, craning his neck to see past the women.

Without saying a word, Liayna gently lifted Meara's hand, and the cloth she held, revealing nothing beneath but smooth skin smeared with blood. She smirked faintly, looking up at the disbelieving faces. "The Goddess answers Her children's call," she said quietly. "She may never do it again. Blood was spilled at my hand for your life, Shaye Dervla. There is no debt owed, but the one your husband owes you for his life."

Shaye stared at the nomad woman, not quite sure she believed her own eyes. "They call you witches and sorcerers in Loscar," she said just as quietly. "But no witch would have saved my life, and no sorcerer can ask a god for healing. Thank you, Liayna na'Kari. I hope to spill blood at your side someday."

Liayna smiled warmly, rising onto her feet. "Perhaps someday you will," she said, finally moving back to her seat as Gregor returned to his, leaning over to help his own wife up and into her chair.

The sergeant-at-arms could feel the tension in the air - thankfully, he was the one man there who could cut it with just words. "Well, I knew you were a terrible speech maker, Liam, but I don't think anyone needs to kill you to make you stop," he commented, loud enough for the gathering to hear, and a ripple of laughter went through them, men and women returning to their own seats. "That pig's going to be blackened before I get any!"

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-28 17:13 EST
Liam grunted a reply at Liayna's remark regarding the debt he owed Shaye. "Wouldn't be the first time," he half-muttered, not pleased with Shaye for putting her own life in danger once again for his sake, but not wanting to argue about it either. Not today. He huffed a little at Gregor's remark, but did not argue, all his concern for the moment going to Shaye. He pushed back her sleeve to touch her arm with gentle fingers, knowing that only a moment before that gash in her flesh had exposed muscle and bone. "It would seem I owe you both a debt of gratitude," he said, regarding the two women, before turning his gaze to Shaye. "Do you think you can find it in your heart to love an idiot?"

Shaye's brow slowly rose as she met Liam's gaze, not entirely sure what he hoped to achieve by asking a question he already knew the answer to. "I loved the idiot a long time before I loved the commander," she told him with a teasing smirk, rubbing the drying blood from her arm. "It's nice to know that some things never change." She raised her hand to his cheek, kissing him tenderly.

At Conall's side, Liayna brushed her cheek against her eniro's shoulder. "You could have asked aloud," she murmured to him. "The Goddess answered your prayer, not mine."

Conall had quietly returned to his seat and just as quietly returned Liayna's blade, wiped clean of the assassin's blood. "It was you who said the words," he whispered back, hoping to have a word with Shaye later. He owed her a big apology. "Thank you, aera," he said as he leaned his head close to hers and touched a kiss to her cheek. He was not only thanking her for finishing the assassin and for the healing, but for everything she had done for him and those he cared for since her arrival.

Beside them, Liam and Shaye had gone quiet as the tension between them eased away at the kiss. With any luck, they would put that passion to good use later that evening when they were at last alone.

Meara, too, had returned to her seat, shaken but relieved at what could have been a disaster. She smiled at her husband, though the smile was a little tense. "It is just like you to think of your stomach at a time like this."

"It's supposed to be a feast, isn't it?" Gregor pointed out. It wasn't that he was callous or heartless, but no one at this table could be seen to be shaken by what had just happened. He gently curled Meara's hand about her cup, encouraging her to take a drink to steady her nerves, and raised his voice. "Serve! The newly weds need something to give them a little stamina for the night!"

Now that the threat of disaster had passed and those gathered saw that everything was well in hand, the tension seemed to subside and people remembered Liam's speech and the reason they had been invited for this celebration. Toasts were made in honor of the bride and groom, while a feast of food and drink was served and shared by all. Even those who were not present would enjoy an extra helping tonight. The Gods had been good to them, and Liam wanted to make sure everyone was part of the festivities, even if they were not present for the celebration. Musicians were called on to play, and eventually the bride and groom were called on to dance.

"Oh, no," Shaye shook her head, laughing as she waved her hands to try and stave off the call to dance. "The only dance I know happens with a sword in my hand, that's not happening tonight!"

"Ha!" Liam laughed, as he, too, wanted nothing to do with dancing and making a fool of himself in front of those he would soon be leading into battle. "You can dance with my sword later, wife!" he bellowed, a little too loudly, but then he might have had one too many pints of ale.

"Wife?" Shaye's brows were high in challenge as she eyed her slightly tipsy husband with a smirk. "Tell you what - you dance, and I'll decide if I want to sharpen your sword later on if you're any good at it."

"Oh, I am better than good. Ask anyone!" Liam countered, immediately regretting his words. Not exactly anyone. His romantic entanglements outside of Shaye were far fewer than she might think.

Conall smirked at the boast from his friend and leaned toward Shaye to set her straight on that regard. "Don't let him fool you. He hasn't sharpened his sword in years."

"Ha!" Liam interjected again, overhearing his friend contest his claim. "My own brother betraying me to my wife. Is nothing sacred between friends?" he complained, though there was the hint of a smirk on his whiskered face.

Conall rolled his eyes. "You're drunk. I'll wager you can't dance a jig without falling on your face!" If Liayna had once accused Liam of not knowing how to live, it seemed all that had changed. With Shaye by his side, he seemed renewed with life and vigor.

"If you won't dance, we'll have to bed you," Gregor interjected with a raucous laugh of his own above the chatter and laughter of men and woman thoroughly enjoying themselves for the first time in months. Now there was a threat - the bedding ceremony was something usually only the highborn went in for, but no one was going to put it past Liam's generals not to whisk him and his wife off to his tent and strip them before pushing them into bed together.

"Is that a challenge, General?" Liam countered with a pointed look at his step-father and former tutor.

Meara laughed as she watched the interaction between those at the table, happy that their family was complete once again. But it was Conall who replied for the group. "Not a challenge. A promise. Do you even remember what to do with a woman?"

"What does that have to do with dancing?" Liam retorted, swaying a little as he moved to his feet.

"That's not a woman, that's the First Blade!" Gregor roared with laughter, and even Shaye laughed at that, stubbornly refusing to get up and dance. She'd rather be stripped naked by half a dozen drunks than dance in front of them, and it showed.

From Conall's other side, the lilting voice of Liayna joined the teasing. "Even the sharpest sword needs a sheath."

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-28 17:15 EST
Snickers broke out from among the group at the quiet one's teasing remark, and Liam laughed uproariously at the unexpected comment. "Oh, and my sword is very sharp!" he said, waggling his teasingly at Shaye before reaching for her hands to pull her to her feet. "Come, wife, and prove to these peasants that we can do more together than just argue!"

Conall smirked, calling in challenge. "Dull! Dull as a hoe!"

"Oh gods," Shaye audibly groaned as she was yanked up off her backside and into Liam's arms. She loved him, yes, but he was drunker than she'd ever thought she'd see him.

"Sway the moon magic, Lady Shae," Liayna suggested. "Sober your husband with your hips!"

"With my what?" Shaye laughed as she queried that, but she truly had no idea what Liayna was talking about.

"Sway your hips, love," Liam instructed, taking hold of Shaye's hips and pushing them to and fro, from side to side. "Only it is better with my sword sheathed inside you!" Even Meara was laughing now, never having seen her son so out of control as this.

"Show her how it's done, Ladyboy!" Conall called from the sidelines, taking up Shaye's nickname for his friend.

"Ladyman," Liam countered, sticking his tongue out at his friend before tugging Shaye away from the table so that they had room enough to dance without falling on anyone.

"Can't be a man until you've claimed a wife," Gregor pointed out with a snort of laughter, subsiding before his own wife could tell him off for encouraging the teasing.

As Shaye lurched after Liam, tugged along with him whether she wanted to go or not, Liayna leaned close to Conall. "You do realize, eniro, that tomorrow you will have to face your brother's new wife, knowing you encouraged him to make a fool of himself and her both tonight, yes?"

Conall smirked, knowing something that neither Liayna nor Shaye yet knew. "You have never seen him dance."

And as if to prove Conall's point, Liam - the leader of the rebel army, the man whose head was wanted on a silver platter by the Usurper Queen - had set his hands on his hips, his feet moving in time to the fiddles and drums that were setting the pace.

Shaye backed away as Liam began to dance, sighing in defeat. She knew the steps - every child in Arctra knew the most basic of steps - but she hadn't danced them in years. Casting one last look toward Meara, she found her only hope of getting out of this tucked warm under her own husband's arm, and gave up. "Oh, bloody hell," she muttered, moving to Liam's side to catch hold of his hand and join him. At least no one could see her fudging the steps under the hang of her gown.

Liam grinned over at his wife, as she matched him step for step, a little clumsy from the ale, but in high spirits.

By Conall's side, Liayna snorted. "And this is what you call dancing, eniro""

Conall chuckled, taking hold of her arm and winding it through his own, uncaring who noticed this public display of affection for the woman who had become his own chosen mate. "Did you think they would strip naked and dance beneath the twins moons, aera?" he asked, remembering a night not so long ago when she had done just that for him, choosing him over any other man.

She laughed, resting her cheek against his shoulder for a moment. "Is that such a terrible dance for a wedded woman to attempt?" she teased him in return, once more hinting at what had actually taken place that night without saying it outright. He had not asked, and she would not say until he did.

In front of them, bride and groom made their slightly clumsy way across the cleared ground between the tables, both of them laughing at each other's less than graceful progress.

"Do you think they would miss us if we left to have a celebration of our own?" Conall whispered back at her. Though he had not yet said the words that spoke of his feelings, every time he thought of her, his heart burned with yearning and he was starting to recognize that there was a word yet unspoken for what he was feeling.

"Yes," was Liayna's laughing answer. "You should stay to see him and his bride to their bed. She may need your help to get him to their sleeping place." At the end of the table, Gregor was thumping his hand beside his cup in time to the music, but it was a fair bet that the bedding would take place soon. Whether Liam allowed his generals to strip his wife was another thing entirely, however.

Almost as if on cue, down went the rebel commander onto the ground as one high kick seemed a little too much for his slightly intoxicated balance, and his feet went out from under him.

And down went his wife with him in a tumble of red silk, landing in his lap with scarlet cheeks and a loud laugh as they tumbled onto the ground. Gregor Makos rose to his feet with a chuckle, raising his arms for quiet, which was given, eventually. "Right, you lot," he declared, having never gathered the courtesy to speak to anyone with more politeness than he'd spoken to recruits and soldiers. "Time to bed them before his sword melts!"

Conall laughed as Liam went down hard, seemingly proving Liayna's point. "I have never seen him like this," he said as he moved to his feet, hoping to have enough sway with the men to convince them to leave the wedding tent before things got out of hand. As for Liam, he was laughing uproariously, despite his wounded pride and a sore behind, sober enough to snag Shaye around the waist and steal a toe-curling kiss that hinted at more to come.

As men rose from their seats to converge on the couple, Shaye laughed at her husband's excess, gently tugging on his beard. "You're going to have one hell of a headache in the morning," she teased him, allowing the helpful hands that reached down to bring her up onto her feet. And she went further up, still - lifted up into the air over their heads with a cheer as Liam was hoisted high as well.

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-28 17:16 EST
"You're going to have one hell of something else!" he teased back, too drunk to think of anything better. "Hey, now....what?s this"!" he exclaimed as they were both hoisted over the heads of their friends and family. "I demand you put me down immediately!" he commanded, though he was really in no condition to do much about it, other than look more than a little put out.

Conall touched a kiss to Liayna's cheek before joining the ranks of the others in escorting the newlyweds to their bridal bed.

With Gregor Makos leading the way, Liam and Shaye were paraded through the camp to where his tent had been re-struck in the hours since the wedding itself - away from the main cluster of tents, within a wooded copse, to give them some semblance of privacy for their marriage bed. Tonight, the nomads would stand guard over them - the safest ears to overhear a man and woman together for the first time as husband and wife. As they reached the tent, the pair were set onto their feet in the center of the group, hands already reaching to remove the belts that wrapped both waists. Shaye instantly stiffened, a warning in her eyes that went unheeded by most. But only an idiot ignores that look in the First Blade's eyes.

Thankfully, that was where Conall stepped in, allowing the ribaldry to only go so far. He cast a glance at Gregor, hoping he was in agreement. Whether it was a tradition or not, Liam was still their leader and Shaye was the First Blade. Both deserved a certain amount of respect and consideration when it came to their pride and honor, not to mention their privacy. "That's enough. Let's leave them to it. There's more ale to be had and more dancing to be done," he said, stepping in front of Shaye, almost as if to challenge anyone who dared go too far.

Of course, Conall was a little more circumspect than Gregor was. Where Conall defended Shaye with his own body, Gregor simply seized the first man who laid hands on Liam and spun him about, planting a boot in his rear to send him off in the wrong direction. "You heard the second, lads, hands off," he ordered, bristling fiercely. "You've women of your own to entertain tonight. Best get to it before the drink runs dry." With some grumbles, but mostly laughter, the rowdy company took their leave easily enough, abandoning Liam and Shaye to Gregor and Conall.

A gentle hand touched Conall's back. "Thank you," Shaye murmured to him, even as her eyes turned to Liam with amused resignation. "Ah, well," she sighed cheerfully. "I could do with a good night's sleep, anyway."

Conall inclined his head in silent reply. Perhaps there was hope for them to become friends yet. As far as he was concerned, she had proven herself and he no longer doubted that she loved Liam as much as he did, albeit differently. "I trust he is in good hands, lady," he said as he backed away. "Rest well. The nomads will make sure you are not disturbed."

Thankfully, most of the retinue was gone before Liam could toss a half-drunken fist their way, unsure how he felt about being whisked away to his tent in such a fashion.

Shaye laughed at Liam's flailing, catching him by the shoulders and turning him toward their tent. "Come on, rua," she told him. "Time for bed. Good night, sergeant, Conall."

Conall slapped a hand against Makos' back as the two men turned to leave, finally affording the newlyweds some small semblance of privacy, for at least one night. They had women of their own to tend to and Conall was hoping for a private word with the general as they made their way back.

Liam stumbled as he was spun toward the tent, thankfully remaining on his feet. "Time for bed but not for sleep!" he exclaimed with a grin.

Chuckling, Shaye guided him into the tent, pausing to draw the heavy canvas and leather flaps closed, shutting out the night and the camp beyond. "Let's see if you can survive getting out of those heavy garments first, shall we, rua?" she suggested warmly, moving to finish the work of undoing his belt and removing it from his waist.

"Are you going to dance with my sword now, lea"" Liam asked, waggling his brows at her, swaying a little in place as she undid his belt. "Just like old times, isn't it, Shaye' Remember our secret place" Do you think it still stands?" Drunk though he might be, he was becoming sentimental now that they were at last alone.

She laughed softly, steadying him as she let the belt drop with a thunk onto the fur that covered the canvas floor of the tent. "I remember," she promised him. "I remember everything when it comes to you. It's all that's kept me going, knowing that somewhere out in the world, you were still alive." Clever fingers worked at the fastening on his ornate tunic as she spoke, almost nose to nose with him in the warm gloom that enveloped them. "It doesn't matter if that secret place is still standing. Because it's in our memory."

"You do not find me a disappointment, do you, lea?" he asked, the ale breaking down the walls he held around his heart and that guarded his pride. Though now a man and quite possibly the most powerful man in all of Arctra, inside he was still very much the insecure boy who had fallen in love with a wild child of a girl. "You..." he started, pushing back a sleeve of her dress to bare a smooth shoulder, his eyes admiring the view, his body stirring to life beneath his clothing, despite the ale. "You are more lovely than I remembered. I do not know how I have survived without you all these years."

Though she'd already told herself he would be asleep within moments of lying on the bed, Shaye couldn't help the reaction she felt to the gentle way he drew that fold of silk away from her shoulder, the brush of his sword-callused fingers over her skin as his own tunic fell open at her touch. She bit her lip for a moment, raising her eyes to his. "You'll never disappoint me, rua," she promised him softly, aware of the flush that was spreading over her pale skin under his admiring gaze. "I love you." She gently drew his tunic open, easing it down from his shoulders, determined to at least get him comfortable.

Shaye OConnor

Date: 2014-04-28 17:17 EST
"I have long awaited and dreamed of this day, lea," he told her as he shrugged the tunic away from his shoulders, letting it fall where it would. He had never needed to wear it before this night and wasn't sure if he ever would again. His sword-callused fingers tugged at the laces that held her dress closed, eager to see the prize that awaited him beneath the layers of embroidered silk.

The laces on the dress came free easily, despite his alcohol-induced clumsiness, setting a fresh flush over Shaye's skin as the silk slipped down from her shoulders, the neckline parting on its way,the fabric caught in place by the silver belt that still encircled her waist. The sleeves bunched at her elbows as she caught his face between her hands, drawing him down into a kiss that muddled even her senses. "You are not dreaming, Liam," she promised him in a soft whisper. "Neither am I."

"No, not dreaming," he murmured leaning in to touch his lips to hers, eager and willing even if his body betrayed him. "So lovely," he murmured against her lips, kissing her again and again, his lips warm and tasting faintly of ale. His fingers skimmed her back, eyes closing, remembering their youth - so many encounters that had come so close to this and yet had not quite come to fruition. He was close enough to feel the warm softness of her skin so close to his. She was a match for him in every way and always had been. She was his Shaye. His, at last.

Kisses traded back and forth between them, and Shaye lost a little of her nerves in the heat of him against her. Enough to slip her arms free of the confining silk, to bare herself to the waist for him as her arms curled about his neck, deepening those kisses as she breathed him in. Words had never been her strong suit, but actions could speak louder. It had been sixteen years since they had come even close to a moment like this; if he was willing and able, then she was not going to be a shy wallflower simply through nerves.

His kisses grew deeper, more demanding, more needful, growling with desire as he felt her flesh warm against his. He drew her down to the bed that had replaced the simple cot that had served him so long. He wasn't sure how Meara and Gregor had managed it all in just a day, nor did he care. Like them, he had long awaited this day and been prepared for it, at least mentally. Physically though, his mind muddled with too much ale, his inebriated state got the best of him and as soon as he hit the pillows, the room spinning around him, he passed out cold.

Drawn down atop him, Shaye was just beginning to warm to what might be, when the man beneath her went limp. Raising her head, she stared down at her husband, noting the closed eyes and open mouth, the regular, deep breaths. A slightly helpless laugh escaped her lips as she sat up, drawing her dress back about herself. "Oh, rua," she murmured through her smile, stroking his hair back from his face. "You really haven't changed." Laughing, she set about removing his boots from his feet, on getting herself ready for bed. And, truth be told, this was all she truly wanted - to lie at his side and sleep in his arms, as they had done almost every night when they were young.

Tucked close beneath the blanket, Shaye kissed her husband's bearded cheek one last time before she settled to sleep, her last sight that of his ring resting about her finger. In the eyes of the Nine, she was his now, and he was hers. And she'd be damned if she was going to let anyone tear them apart again.

((Well, at least they're married now. Here's hoping Liam survives the hangover!))