There was a soft touch grazing my cheek, gently coaxing me to the surface of my deep slumber. Where am I? I was about to open my eyes when I feel it again, this time tracing over the freckles on my cheek.
My hair was swept back, baring the delicate curve where my neck meets my neck, the skin there suddenly, achingly exposed. I struggled to stay still as a cool breath of air kissed along my skin, each shiver trailing down my spine.
Even without looking I could feel the heat in his gaze, hot and possessive, burning my skin as he drinks me in like I was his final, long-awaited prize in a game he had already won.
"I know you're awake," he pointed out, whilst stroking my hair. "Are you feeling much better now?"
There was no use in pretending now, so I fluttered my eyes open and find him sitting on the edge of the bed, concern clear in his expression. It is then that I am reminded of all the things that had happened before I passed out. The prison, the rescue, the dragon, his brother, the healers, him.
"Better," I replied, surprised that the coarseness in my throat is gone. My voice sounds as clear as the river streams.
"Good," he said, his hand now rubbing lazy circles on my shoulder. "Tilda is the best healer in the land."
The mention of her name pulled me back to the dream. It had felt too real. If it was truly a memory, then I'd have to talk to Tilda. I needed to know.
"You were out for a few hours," he said, distracting me from my thoughts.
I pulled myself up and leaned against the soft headboard.
"Are you feeling well enough to join me for dinner?" he asked, his hand conveniently falling to my lap.
There is something about him that I couldn't fully trust, yet. He's keeping something from me, my instinct tells me that much. But I can't seem to concentrate with him constantly touching me like that. Like a real lover.
"Where, though?"
"I've prepared something for the both of us," he said it with a mischievous glint in his eyes, the corner of his lips curling into a smile, revealing that irresistible dimple.
With the top buttons of his white shirt undone, his dark hair slightly tousled, and his heated gaze on me, my chest can't help but feel tightened with a rush of heat from how handsome he looks right now.
"Okay, then." I murmured, just in time with my stomach letting out a loud grumble.
He chuckled, and the sound sent a flutter through me, tugging a smile to my lips.
He snakes his hand around my back, while the other beneath my legs.
My hands immediately goes around his neck as he lifted me bridal-style off the bed.
"What are you doing?" I asked under my breath.
"I'm taking you to dinner." he replied curtly.
I was about to tell him to put me down, that I can walk myself but he had already carried us through the doors leading to the terrace.
My eyes widened, drawn immediately to the breathtaking view. I hadn't noticed it properly when we first arrived, but now I realized just how high up we were.
With the way the moon looming above us, so large and clear, casting its silver light across the night sky and stars, scattering around it like glittering dust. The cold winds blow past us as he carried me to the table, practically ushering us to our seats.
He places me on the chair facing the view, draping a large navy coat around my shoulders with golden patterns, beautifully-weaved around the collar.
I glance up just as he takes the seat across from me. The moonlight and the flickering candlelight carving shadows across his face. He represents the kind of mystery people warn you about too late. Or maybe it's just me.
Ever since I opened my eyes in this castle, everything has felt uncannily familiar and yet, completely strange. Like I'm walking through someone else's life.
"It's beautiful," I told him, eyeing the food laid out between us, my mouth already watering. "Thank you, for everything."
He nods, "It's the least I could do."
He cuts up some pieces of chicken and places it on the empty plate right in front of me. "Tilda tells me you have to eat some more. You're getting too thin."
"You don't have to do this," I said as he added more food to my plate. "I can do it myself."
"I asked the cook to make all your favorites," he replied.
"You need to eat too."
"I will, don't worry," he said, placing the last of the vegetables onto my plate. It was already full, piled high with everything he'd chosen for me. He's certainly used to getting his way, it seems, with the way he's running things so far.
So I take a bite, then another and another. It's just like having that first taste of water after so long. I can't seem to stop devouring each and every delicacies on my plate. Before long, I've already found myself taking some more.
He smiles, uncorking the red wine and pouring some into our glasses.
"How do you like the food?" he asked, smirking.
"Delicious," I murmured, pausing my chewing to take a sip of the red vintage.
I suppose one unexpected benefit of losing one's memories is getting to experience everything as if it's the very first time.
"I'm glad you like it," he replied.
"How did you find me?" I asked curiously, picking up my utensils again to continue on eating because despite everything I've consumed, I'm still hungry.
"A seer," he revealed, "but she betrayed me in the end. Wouldn't tell me where you were until the very end."
"Why?"
"I have many enemies."
"I heard your voice calling out my name." I confessed, taking another sip of my wine, relishing on the effects of the alcohol making my words flow more smoothly out of my lips, "That's the only thing I remember."
"Did I say anything else?"
"You only asked me where I was. Other than that, no."
"I find it odd that you've lost your memories," he speculated as he cut a piece of meat. "It's like whoever did this to you is trying to cover up their tracks."
"Could it be the seer?"
"No, not likely. I don't think she knew."
I nod. Only..."What happened to the seer?"
"I killed her." he said it so casually that for a moment, I thought I misheard. But I hadn't. The realization make my stomach twist. Someone had died because of me.
"She betrayed me," he repeated his earlier words, unfazed by my silence. "She knew where you were all this time. I had to torture it out of her."
"Vesper..."
"Did I say something wrong?" he asked, his voice low.
"No," I shake my head, stabbing the piece of meat and slipping it into my mouth.
The air between us suddenly shifts, making me feel uncomfortable as I try to focus on my food. I don't like the idea of someone dying because of me. But then again, if she only had told him where I was in the beginning...
"I can tell that her death had bothered you."
"I don't want anyone to die because of me."
His expression softened at that but I can't be sure. Whether it was out of pity or out of love. Maybe the former.
"It's a reasonable punishment for traitors, Iris," he explained, placing a slice of chocolate cake on my plate, "she did this to herself. You had nothing to do with it."
"I know, but I can't help but be bothered by this."
"What's done is done."
I nod in silence, swallowing my frustration deep inside me. I hate how weak I feel. I hate that I have to rely on his mercy just to uncover the truth. Every sliver of what happened, why they took me, and who I was before it all.
He must've sensed it when I pulled his coat tighter around my body. His familiar scent of pines wrapping comfortably around my body, over my nightgown.
"You can trust me, Iris." he said, his voice soft as if he is whispering a secret only meant for me. "You're my wife, you'll always be under my protection. You have my word on that. Whoever hurt you will pay for it."
"What happened? The day I disappear." I asked once I take the last bite out of my chocolate cake.
"I was away, celebrating with my men after a successful battle." he explained, leaning back to his seat and taking a sip out of his wine. The color is starting to remind me of blood. "We had just conquered a kingdom not far from here, until I received news that you had gone missing."
I was about to ask him to continue until he did so himself. Leaning forward, he places his empty glass on the table to pour some more from the bottle. He had barely eaten and it's starting to worry me.
"I flew home with Vala, only to find out that my brother was the one who had let you out. He was the one who encouraged you to leave me while you can," he revealed.
"Alistair?"
"Yes," he curtly replied, his gaze darkening.
The name hung in the air like a prisoner waiting to be hanged. His jaw clenched as he stared past me, into somewhere far and ugly. The silent between us is starting to thicken.
"It's not his fault." I argued, weakly.
His eyebrows shot up like I'd just said something so ridiculous. It made me want to cower from embarrassment from saying something so incredulous to him, but I forced myself to stand my ground.
"He's your brother," I bit out, each words biting cold.
He sneered, though his eyes stayed locked on mine, hollow.
"If he was truly my brother," he said, each word sharp as a blade, "he wouldn't have put you in danger, knowing how much you mean to me."
"He apologized."
"If you think that's sincere, then you've truly lost your touch." he replied without even looking up, cutting his meat and bringing it into his lips.
My eyes narrowed at his words, a pang of hurt spreading in my chest, fueling the fire that's already simmering within my blood. I can't believe what I've just heard.
"Did you just patronize me?"
He drops his utensils with practiced ease, fitting for a gentleman of his station. He levels my glare, though his was filled with nothing but exasperation. I clenched the knife in my hand, trying to curb the urge to throw the steak knife into his perfectly-sculpted nose.
"If you're going to throw it, you might as well," he challenged, tipping his head towards the knife I'm clutching, "who knows when you'll have the chance again?"
"How are we even married?" I asked, my voice sharp with frustration. "It's barely a day and we've already fought over a small single, fucking thing."
"Easy," he said, his sarcasm dropping from every word. "I proposed, you accepted, then we made it official in the temple, right in front of the priest."
"You know what, I'm done for the night." I told him, pushing back my chair, its legs scraping against the floor louder than I intended.
I didn't bother looking at him as I drape his coat onto the back of the chair before making my way back inside, all while trying not to visibly shiver from the cold.
"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded.
"To bed." I shot back.
"Our bed, you mean?"
I stop dead in my tracks, but before I could truly react to that, he was already somehow standing right in front of me, blocking my path. My eyes widened with realization. I shouldn't have been surprised. How could I not expected this? Maybe I truly have lost my touch.
"Did you really think we'd sleep in separate beds? Separate rooms?" he asked, his voice low and amused, like the idea itself was absurd.
He stepped closer, the warmth of his body brushing against mine before I could think to move.
Then, without breaking eye contact, he draped his coat around my shoulders. The fabric was still warm from his body. His fingers lingered as he fastened at the top two buttons, grazing my collarbone with deliberate slowness.
"We're married, Iris," he murmured, his breath brushing my skin. "In my family, it's unheard of for a husband and wife to sleep in separate beds. Let alone separate rooms."
I feel the air shifting around us, charged with something I can't quite name. Maybe it's the way he looks under the moonlight, hauntingly beautiful, like one of those dark princes from fairytales. The kind that would steal the girl away in the dead of night. Dangerous, and yet impossibly enticing.
"I don't even remember you," I hissed, feeling the shivers running down my spine despite his coat shielding me from the crisp night air.
"This could be a lie, for all I know," I added.
Our eyes meet and for a moment, the world seemed to shrink. The faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. I wasn't sure if he had taken my words seriously, or if he's just challenging me to go further.
"Do you think I care?" he taunted, closing every bit of space between us.
He seized my chin, his grip tight and unyielding as he pulled me closer to him. Our bodies touch, I could feel it through all the layers. "It doesn't change the fact that you're still my wife."
With his head pressed against mine, my hands clutching at his wrists, his eyes closed as if my touch is causing him pain.
Our lips were only inches apart, and I could feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. I couldn't speak, couldn't think with him being so close. He had emptied me out of my thoughts and replaced it with him. Only him.
"I'm scared," I confessed, my voice barely audible but it's the most honest words I've uttered.
He opens his eyes, gazing down at me with surprise and...something I wouldn't dare to name. But I have a feeling that I've been the receiving end of that look many times. Still, it never lost its affect on me.
"I will never willingly hurt you, Iris," he declared it as if it was the most natural thing to say, "I would rather die before I do."
Unable to bear the tension any longer, I close what's left of the distance between us and press my lips to his.
It was soft and hesitant at first, as if he couldn't believe what just happened. But then he exhales sharply through his nose, wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close like he's drowning, and I'm the only air he has ever known. Our lips, moving against each other with a hunger that steals my breath away.
Every thought, every defense I've ever built, he destroyed it all with the weight of his kiss. The way his fingers tangle in my hair, gripping the back of my head and tilting my face to take more out of me, as if what we already shared isn't enough. As if we're not close enough, not lost enough in each other.