Blue and white tiled floors. Marble, inlaid...
     A chapel, with the carvings of a fated queen's guards...
     A quick moving river beneath limestone arches...
     Fireplaces, each one with a fire, making limestone walls go golden...
      Parquet floorings that creak with the echoes of mistresses...
     And rooms that fold into other rooms, like those little Russian figures. Open one, there is another, opent that one and there is a smaller one inside...
     I can see why you did this, my Eduard. And for me. For me?
     I say I need so little. It is, in a way, true -- though it is also true that I like the 'better things' in life, as they say. But it is enough that I have one castle. A castle with meaning: Yours. Chenonceau? It is a confection. Lovely, truly. But like a cake with the finest frosting, it is a moment in the mouth, Eduard, and then it dissolves.
     Fleurlil is like... you. There is substance. Meaning. History that is yours...
     Ours...
     And as I come into our apartments, appointed with antique furniture not ours, but maybe we would keep it, stepping into the warmth of the apartment from the coolness of the hallways, my fingers surround yours. Clasping. And I turn.
     In my eyes... my eyes that have become strange with my new strange life, green and gold like citrine or peridot... there is love. Affection, without a doubt. And I place my hand to your cheek, I bring your mouth to my mouth, and I thank you. But when I lean back, surely you see it in my smile, how it deepens.
     This is not our place, Eduard...
     This is not our life...
     "You are... incroyable," Valan murmurs, "... I do not tell you this enough. But..." Gold-green eyes drift around the sumptiously appointed room, "...to have done all this... I... really do not know what to say, ami." Valan takes and keeps your hand. "It is... truly beautiful." But. "You know," and he eyes you seriously, "...that ... I do not... need this kind of thing." And his smile widens, and his eyes are glassy bright with moisture, red at the edges. He has not yet learned how to cry. "We already have our castle, ami. I do not need another one..." Valan is surprised by the level of emotion rising, you can see this in the flush that follows at its heels. As if embarrassed. But you know he does not get embarrassed. "I do not want you to ... think that I am ungrateful. Or, that I do not appreciate all you have done... to do this. You must have ... sacrificed so much, Eduard..." And his eyes are burning. Though no liquid falls, his face shows it.

     He's a little surprised, having only spoken lately of how lovely the place is. But Edward turns to see you, brow quivering. "I thought you liked it?" he whispers, recalling your expression outside. "What's wrong with it?" he asks, glancing around the room. Fingers hold yours, but one touches the color at your cheek.
     "Hey, come over here," he murmurs, moving towards the bed. "Sit for a moment and look around. I mean, I know you didn't ask for this, but I want you to have something," he confesses, not really enjoying the admission. "Just...in case."
     "Ah, did you see this?" he motions to one of the paintings. "Reine Anne. It's been here since she was..."

     It's sort of like, what do they call it, an anxiety attack? Something like this. I need a paper bag to breathe in. I think I'm going to hyperventilate...
     But then, I don't really need to breathe. And at the moment, I forget. I forget about a dozen lessons. And then I sit on the bed, breathing a sudden exhale.
      "I do like it. It is really beautiful. The gardens and grounds, the chateau, this room..." he looks up, first at you and then around the room again. Mon Dieu, such a place. He could rant out his worries, but he holds still, hanging onto your hand.
     Breathe, Valan... theoretically, at least...
     Valan takes a breath, looking to the painting of the woman, Queen Anne. This was her room, probably. "It is a sweet place," he admits, and he looks to you. "I guess... I am just overwhelmed. It is such a... big gift, Eduard..." His accent plays on your name so sweetly, so softly. "I...do not know how I will afford it... if something were to happen. I would not want to lose Fleurlil. What of it, if something happened to you?"

     "Of what, Fleurlil?" Edward asks, pushing off his shoes. He thinks a moment, not having ruminated on the concept before. "It's good to be overwhelmed by gifts," he smiles. "It's alright," I can afford it. "Fleurlil...I guess...if something happened, you...get that too. And, what is mine becomes yours. Sell Dannerly, if you need, ami..."
     Arms go around you suddenly as Edward twists on the bed. "I want you not to worry, Valan. It is yours and I want you to enjoy it. Not to be worried about things," Edward smiles. He kisses your cheek, then your ear. "Joyeux Noel," he whispers, lips at your shoulder.

     The upkeep. Lord, if anything ever happened to you... I would have to turn to a life of crime, ami, just to keep up with the maintenance. And you can afford it... perhaps... but now you will have to work, ami, and that will separate us. And endanger you. I do not want that...
     "I do not want to talk anymore of what I will do when you are not with me. It is morbid," Valan smiles suddenly, that winsome, summer smile. That cavalier look, so lassiez-faire -- the one you fell in love with. Valan looks to you, some part of you. Your dark eyes, and then your mouth, then your neck. "Joyeux Noel," he whispers at your neck and shoulder.
     How can I be at your neck and shoulder, ami, and not melt? How can I be in your arms and not dissolve? So the knot in my gut slowly unwinds. "I will not be worried, then," Valan says. "If it is not going to strain you... and therefore strain us...then... then I will put that aside, ami, and simply love it. You are amazing, you know. Giving me castles as presents. Now... what shall I ever be able to give you in return, ami?" he teases. "All I can offer, lover, is myself. All of me. And me... on my knees. Do you think that is how Reine Anne thanked her king? By... crowning him, ami?"
     He's such a devil...

     "I doubt she did much for her King," Edward grumps, though he grins quickly afterwards. "But you're better than she is," he remarks. With shoes off, Edward lies back and encourages you to do the same by grabbing at your waist.
     He didn't mean to be morbid, but Edward trails off, staring at the wood ceiling. "You know...it can happen, ami. Something. One night, I...do not come back..."

     "Yes." He knows. He admits knowing it. He admits fearing it. Valan lies back, eyes moving from you to the ceiling. "I know it could happen. I worry about it sometimes. But... I also trust in your strength. It would be... either great misfortune or ... some great evil ... for it to outwit or out-fight you. I know this too. So... I guess it is no different than if we were both mortal, ami."
     Feet hanging off the edge of the bed, Valan turns to lie upon his side, to face you. He props himself up on an elbow. "I do not know what I would do with myself if you were not here with me. It won't matter that I'll have two castles. I will not care. You would not be there. It may as well be a dirt shack for all that it would matter to me then."
     I don't want to talk about this...
     You feel him resisting. He looks from your sable eyes to some space between you. "You have... done so much to ensure that I have a good life, whether you are here to share it or not." Valan looks to you, touched most obviously, that emotion lifting in him again. "And your dearest friends have become my friends, too. I really have grown to like William, and I have liked Ian since I met him. And Davydd. I do not lack for ... safety or allies now. I just... do not ever want to have to use them, ami..."

     "I'd rather you not have to, ami," Edward whispers, eyes leaving the ceiling to its own devices. His grin grows, and hand reaches up to your hair. "Beautiful Valan," he says softly, roughened fingers slipping to your cheek.
     "Time to change topics, I think," Edward murmurs. "Care to go find Will and Ian, or we could walk through the forest? Actually, I have not been here in such a long time..."

     Yes, time to change topics. It is not something he likes to think about. Or is prepared to think about. Or can handle thinking about without getting emotional. And when emotional, prone to do thinks young Brujah usually do when emotional. And he, French to boot...
     "We should find them," Valan says after a few moments of quiet. Of putting emotion in its place. "Beautiful Valan," he says smoothly, grandly of himself, smiling to you as he starts to sit up, "...wants to drink to his fortune, say hello to ...what are they? My roommates?" Ian and William. "And then walk in the forest with his lover. And you know, Eduard," he leans in, brushing his lips along yours, a teasing kiss, barely landing, "..I love you."
     And I could use a cigarette...
     And a cup of coffee...
     "When were you here last?" Valan asks curiously, sitting up, starting to rise from the creaky bed. He grins to hear it complain and bounces on it purposely, rhythmically. "Ah, oui... we will have to christen our room too,..."

      "The War, I think," he says, remaining on his back as he watches you bounce. "The second," he laughs, just in case you needed more information. He puts hands under his head, sending biceps into tension. "Maybe we should do this the other way around. Christen the room and then..." go out for a while. Edward's eyes wander upwards, as if he's giving the idea serious thought.
     "But then again, if we stay here now, we'll never leave this room tonight," he surmises.
     "Preference, beautiful ami?"

     It is a wonder we ever do anything but fuck, with the way you look and the way you are and the way you make me want you. I am more wanton with every night. But even so, I rise. My mouth curling with the start of a smile. "Tempting, but the night is long. We will have hours in here even after we return. Come, Eduard, let's go say hello at least. Then, we will come back here and I will get on my knees to thank you."
     He doesn't hold out his hand, but his entire body invites you. Tall and lean, he is. Lean, but strong. His clothing accentuates the balance of his form between grace and strength. Impeccable. As always. He could wear a potato sack and turn it into style.
     "A little wine or brandy and then we will come back here." So Valan has decided.

     Edward's eyes brighten and brows arch. "Ah, so he does have self-restraint," he teases, coming upright. "Alright. We shall be excellent...." what are we, "...guests...and say hello to our hosts." Gentleman at that.
     "And then, we come back and fuck our brains out. Oh. With brandy." That part did sound good. He'll keep that idea tacked on.

     Are we guests? A golden eyebrow quirks up and the smile spreads smoothly. "Do you think he has any of that plum brandy with him? That William, he is always good for drinks that send you into outer space," so he has learned. He laughs, though, at your teasing, blushing a little, but grinning all the while. It is so true, ami!
     "I may not have so much restraint," Valan murmurs. "We have not made it out yet. And who is to say that I won't slip my hand down your pants on the way. You know I cannot help myself. But... ami... I shall try."
     Valan leans in, teeth capturing your lower lip, and he pulls it, sucking and tugging at it. And then parting with a smile. "I cannot help it," he murmurs. "When I wake up and see that you are beside me, I immediately want to put my ankles behind my ears." A theatrical sigh is given to the room, and to the portrait of the Queen. What can I do?
     "So... William and Ian are going to be staying here, too? He has nice horses," from what he saw outside. "Maybe we can ride them tomorrow night..." he moves toward the door, slowly, half-turning to make sure you're coming behind him.

     Edward nods and is, indeed, following. "Brilliant," he notes, grabbing his jacket on the way out. Arms lift above his head and the leather's put back on. He'd forgotten about the horses. "They do have nice horses. They've brought them already?" A surprise and shake of his head. "They work fast." Edward was doing well to bring a warm jacket.
     And isn't that the difference between us and them?
     Edward chuckles, pulling out a cigarette as his lighter flickers up.

Posted by rowan at June 18, 2003 06:57 PM