Dawn Mångata
May. 8th, 2018 04:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
volurofthehearthPrequel Piece - Dusk Mångata
At first I didn't know where I was. In a cloud of unfamiliar bedding and a twisting shape printed on the panel above me. I stared at it, letting my memories resurface with my consciousness.
He'd kissed me... Oh. Yes. He'd kissed me. Then I had kissed him and together we had kissed a lot more after that. No more than kissing, though, not yet. A little part of me was disappointed, but another was cruelly proud of having overwhelmed him like that. Instead we had gone to his room, to his bed, and talked a little, read a lot. We must have fallen asleep.
The warm orange glow of lamplight must have been what woke me. I turned over, pulling the duvet into a comfortable bundle to rest my head on.
Viatorus was at his desk, fretting over the words he was writing. Isidor said it was normal for him to keep strange hours, but to me this was romantic. He'd changed into his pyjamas while I was asleep. The heat clearly didn't deter him from wearing long sleeves. Or maybe embarrassment kept him from wearing any less. At least they were silk. Even if it did make him look like he'd put on his best outfit just to impress me. What a funny thought. One that drew a large smile across my face.
"What are you writing?"
He turned to face me with wide eyes and stared like a rabbit in the headlights. Slowly his eyes were drawn back to the paper on the desk and he twisted his lips. "A… letter."
I let my head fall to one side and snuggled into the softness against my cheek. "A letter to who?"
My eyelids were heavy, but between my lazy blinks I watched him struggle with an internal debate. "You."
"Oh." That was unexpected. My heart tried to skip a beat, but the lull of sleep slowed it. "Well. What does it say?"
His silent struggle resumed and he shifted restlessly in his seat like a plant caught between a twisting breeze. Eventually he took a deep, slow breath and exchanged pen for paper. He glanced over the top of it at me so I widened my smile for him.
"Dear Runa," he began. It was hard not to smile at the formality of it. "I… I feel I must apologise. You have been nothing but good, kind a-and patient with me where I have been distant and cold. I know this…" His eyes flickered up to me and then back to the page. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Th-This… unusual arrangement must be as difficult for you as it is for me. You deserve the same kindness that you have given me since we met." For a moment his face relaxed and then suddenly he frowned at the paper. "I… I want you to know that I have noticed how good you have been to me, a-a-and that I do appreciate it. All of it. Everything. Th-The food, the tea, the herbs, the runes, the mirrors… all of it. You have made such great efforts for my sake."
My eyes were welling up, but I think my smile hid that. It wasn't sadness. It was the ache of my heart's victory clap. To know that he actually wanted all the things I'd done, that he truly liked them and he wasn't just being polite… It's all I could have wanted.
"Now that I have realised how my actions might have affected you, I… I want to make amends. I…" He stopped and sighed, fingers rubbing the paper between them. "I want you to know that I wasn't distant because I don't like you. I do like you. I…" His voice started to get quiet. "I… think that you're very pretty, and colourful. I… I-I… I like the… the way you smile so much. I think you make everyone happy with your smile." With a rumble, he cleared his throat and stuttered on. "I-I just didn't know what to do. O-Or how to act. I… I didn't want to disappoint you, but… but I realise now that in being afraid of doing something wrong, I didn't do anything, and that wasn't good either. So I… I want to change that. I want to try to be a better… a better fiancé… so that I can be a better husband. If you want that."
A deep, shaky breath punctuated the end of his message to me. In a quick movement, he set the paper down on the desk again and then smoothed out his trousers.
"That's a lovely letter." My voice broke halfway through my sentence so I had to clear my own throat. His eyes crept up to meet mine so I tugged my smile wider. "I'd like to get better with you."
"You don't need to," he replied quickly. Then he stumbled, scrubbing his face and then waving his hands. "I mean. You're perfect. You don't need to get better."
It was getting harder to keep the happy tears from escaping down my rising cheeks. "That's really sweet of you to say."
Viatorus looked at me with worry and, I think, affection. "I... I just want to make you happy. But I don't know how."
"I am happy," I assured him softly. "But... I want to know you're happy too. I... I'd like to see you smile more. I'd like to see you dance more. I'd like us to talk more. I don't want you to be nervous around me."
He didn't answer immediately, but he watched me, balancing on a breath. At least he wasn't looking away anymore. "Ok," he said then. "I'll try." His expression became a little guilty. "I don't know how good I'll be, but I will try."
I laughed quietly. "You're good at everything you do." His chest rose as he inhaled to protest my compliment, but I was too fast. "And I'll help you. We'll help each other. That's what a husband and wife do."
Wide eyes blinked at me only to soften when they looked away. "Do you want to? I mean... after everything..." The thick, worried eyebrows and rumpled pout of his lips made him look very British when he turned to me again. "Do you want to marry me?"
I don't think he would have believed me, but at that moment, more than ever, I meant it when I said, "I think you'll make a wonderful husband."
____ ※ ____
At first I didn't know where I was. In a cloud of unfamiliar bedding and a twisting shape printed on the panel above me. I stared at it, letting my memories resurface with my consciousness.
He'd kissed me... Oh. Yes. He'd kissed me. Then I had kissed him and together we had kissed a lot more after that. No more than kissing, though, not yet. A little part of me was disappointed, but another was cruelly proud of having overwhelmed him like that. Instead we had gone to his room, to his bed, and talked a little, read a lot. We must have fallen asleep.
The warm orange glow of lamplight must have been what woke me. I turned over, pulling the duvet into a comfortable bundle to rest my head on.
Viatorus was at his desk, fretting over the words he was writing. Isidor said it was normal for him to keep strange hours, but to me this was romantic. He'd changed into his pyjamas while I was asleep. The heat clearly didn't deter him from wearing long sleeves. Or maybe embarrassment kept him from wearing any less. At least they were silk. Even if it did make him look like he'd put on his best outfit just to impress me. What a funny thought. One that drew a large smile across my face.
"What are you writing?"
He turned to face me with wide eyes and stared like a rabbit in the headlights. Slowly his eyes were drawn back to the paper on the desk and he twisted his lips. "A… letter."
I let my head fall to one side and snuggled into the softness against my cheek. "A letter to who?"
My eyelids were heavy, but between my lazy blinks I watched him struggle with an internal debate. "You."
"Oh." That was unexpected. My heart tried to skip a beat, but the lull of sleep slowed it. "Well. What does it say?"
His silent struggle resumed and he shifted restlessly in his seat like a plant caught between a twisting breeze. Eventually he took a deep, slow breath and exchanged pen for paper. He glanced over the top of it at me so I widened my smile for him.
"Dear Runa," he began. It was hard not to smile at the formality of it. "I… I feel I must apologise. You have been nothing but good, kind a-and patient with me where I have been distant and cold. I know this…" His eyes flickered up to me and then back to the page. Clearing his throat, he continued, "Th-This… unusual arrangement must be as difficult for you as it is for me. You deserve the same kindness that you have given me since we met." For a moment his face relaxed and then suddenly he frowned at the paper. "I… I want you to know that I have noticed how good you have been to me, a-a-and that I do appreciate it. All of it. Everything. Th-The food, the tea, the herbs, the runes, the mirrors… all of it. You have made such great efforts for my sake."
My eyes were welling up, but I think my smile hid that. It wasn't sadness. It was the ache of my heart's victory clap. To know that he actually wanted all the things I'd done, that he truly liked them and he wasn't just being polite… It's all I could have wanted.
"Now that I have realised how my actions might have affected you, I… I want to make amends. I…" He stopped and sighed, fingers rubbing the paper between them. "I want you to know that I wasn't distant because I don't like you. I do like you. I…" His voice started to get quiet. "I… think that you're very pretty, and colourful. I… I-I… I like the… the way you smile so much. I think you make everyone happy with your smile." With a rumble, he cleared his throat and stuttered on. "I-I just didn't know what to do. O-Or how to act. I… I didn't want to disappoint you, but… but I realise now that in being afraid of doing something wrong, I didn't do anything, and that wasn't good either. So I… I want to change that. I want to try to be a better… a better fiancé… so that I can be a better husband. If you want that."
A deep, shaky breath punctuated the end of his message to me. In a quick movement, he set the paper down on the desk again and then smoothed out his trousers.
"That's a lovely letter." My voice broke halfway through my sentence so I had to clear my own throat. His eyes crept up to meet mine so I tugged my smile wider. "I'd like to get better with you."
"You don't need to," he replied quickly. Then he stumbled, scrubbing his face and then waving his hands. "I mean. You're perfect. You don't need to get better."
It was getting harder to keep the happy tears from escaping down my rising cheeks. "That's really sweet of you to say."
Viatorus looked at me with worry and, I think, affection. "I... I just want to make you happy. But I don't know how."
"I am happy," I assured him softly. "But... I want to know you're happy too. I... I'd like to see you smile more. I'd like to see you dance more. I'd like us to talk more. I don't want you to be nervous around me."
He didn't answer immediately, but he watched me, balancing on a breath. At least he wasn't looking away anymore. "Ok," he said then. "I'll try." His expression became a little guilty. "I don't know how good I'll be, but I will try."
I laughed quietly. "You're good at everything you do." His chest rose as he inhaled to protest my compliment, but I was too fast. "And I'll help you. We'll help each other. That's what a husband and wife do."
Wide eyes blinked at me only to soften when they looked away. "Do you want to? I mean... after everything..." The thick, worried eyebrows and rumpled pout of his lips made him look very British when he turned to me again. "Do you want to marry me?"
I don't think he would have believed me, but at that moment, more than ever, I meant it when I said, "I think you'll make a wonderful husband."
