[PAST ] A Quiet Rendezvous

Eularia chuckled quietly. Do you? If I recall, you were adept at convincing me your ideas were mine. She teased, reaching to squeeze his hands in hers. Thank you. Will you send for me, if things seem dire? She had brought his hands to her mouth, pressing kisses to his knuckles.

If things seem... send for me. Promise? This kingdom... mmm, I have power but not enough that I'd be missed if I left for Ferelden. She stated, quietly, against his knuckles. I've lost a lot this last year.

The woman shifted in the chair, carefully releasing his hands. As her shoulders straightened, her composure slid into place, she leaned for one last hug.

Come see me, tonight? I'll prepare a guest room for us... Because she'd never sleep with another man in the royal chambers; too many memories of her husband there. She'd just feel guilty.

Magnus looked into her warm eyes and gave a gentle nod.  She had lost a lot.  Too much.  He would do everything in his power to prevent her from taking another blow...and as long as he had breath he wouldn't let her children be hurt.  That isn't something she'd be able to get over.  

[color=#7CD98A]"If the time comes, I'll send for you.  But gods help anyone who comes between you and keeping them safe."[/color]  When he smiled, you could almost see where wrinkles would form...though he hadn't allowed such things.  He was timeless.  The only person who had ever come close to making him consider growing old sat next to him, her body radiating life and sending pulses of electricity away from each place they touched.  He'd once imagined a different life spent with her, but that dream had slipped away.  

But they were still meant to be.  Fate may have torn them apart years ago, but here they were in each other's embrace.  She needed him.  And, truth be told, he had always needed her.  

He closed his eyes as she hugged him.  His heart rate didn't change when she told him to come see her, but it certainly seemed to swell with joy.  It was exhilarating - the chance to be with her again after so long.  He'd loved exactly two women over the years, and she had been the first.  His love for her had endured.  

[color=#7CD98A]"I'll be there."[/color]  His voice was low, his lips near her ears as the pair embraced.  His arms held her.  It was the sort of hug that envelops you in comfort and acceptance and safety, the kind that leaves you feeling like you could almost float away.  It was the kind of hug that people lose themselves in.  

And then it was over and she slipped away.

His smile would have been charming if he let himself be his age; and she couldn't help but miss the absence of wrinkles. But then, she looked decades younger than her husband—time had stopped, for her, when she'd been married off to a man that prided beauty and power over treating his wife like a human.

But time would have stopped anyway. Like Magnus, there had been one person that could convince her to grow old with them. And he hadn't even had to convince her. When their affair had rekindled, she'd ended the sustained blood magic that left her youthful.

His hug was comforting; safe. Like she could sit there for a thousand years, and no harm would come to her. He wasn't the first person to give her such a hug, but it was nice when it felt like she was facing the brutality of the world alone. His voice was low, breath hot against her ear, and she smiled before she slipped away.

The guest room was prepared by one of her maids. Cleaned, dusted, new sheets and bed set. Eularia lit the room with candles, and waited in the window-seat. Whether she expected him to climb in through the window (honestly, how scandalous) or present himself to her servants and be taken to her, was unclear.

She had dressed down for the night, wearing a simple night-slip, barefooted, hair down from the tight bun she typically wore it in. This was almost like a transaction, than her nights with her husband. It was a distinct difference that she needed. The wild passion could come later; but it could not be how this night started. Not right now, while she had people searching every country for him. Not while she still held out hope.

Magnus stood outside the door with his eyes closed for just a moment.  His left thumb absentmindedly touched the crease in his hand where a wedding band would sit, though there was nothing there.  He took a breath and waited for the moment to feel right.  

The palace guards were trained well...one movement at the wrong time would attract attention he would prefer not to have.  He'd been in the castle unannounced before - a few friends in key positions could make something like that fairly easy.  But this time he'd forgone using many of his connections in an effort to maintain discretion.  The only one who knew he was here was a friend...a real one.  

When the moment came, he turned the knob and slipped into the room.  

There were candles lit around the room, and silver moonlight poured in from the large window silhouetting Eularia as if she were some angelic vision.  Her wild hair framed her face beautifully, and her night-slip seemed to have a faint ethereal glow.   She had been staring out the window when he first entered, looking toward some far-off memory that was invisible to his eyes.  Everything about the scene was breathtaking.  It was the sort of perfection that could never be reproduced or captured. 

Looking at her, like this, made his heart swell in his chest.  He inhaled, realizing he had forgotten to breathe for just a second.

[color=#7CD98A]"I hope you don't mind me entering without all the pomp and circumstance."  [/color]

For as long as was possible, he would protect her privacy.  He had never been one to reveal secrets...and he certainly wasn't going to start with something as personal as this.

Eularia heard the door, and her gaze drifted from the window to him, lips pulling into a smile. Her wedding band was gone from her hand, her engagement ring as well. Locked away safely in the royal chambers. This room was void of anything that'd remind her of her husband; tonight was not about him. Tonight was about... her. And she desperately needed it to be about her, for just a minute.

You, pomp and circumstance? Never. She laughed, moving from the window seat, to him. One arm slipped around him to lock the door. No interruptions, tonight. She murmured, reaching up to brush her thumb across his mouth.

Supple and sweet. She leaned onto her toes to steal a kiss, breaking it to whisper in his ear, Show me how you've missed me. There was a plea to the way her hands had settled against his chest, fingers searching the fabric of his shirt. Make me forget. Even if it's just for tonight.

Electricity seemed to race through his body as they kissed.  Her warm breath caressed his ear, pleading for the moment that the world beyond them ceased to exist.  

He kissed her. It wasn't urgent, but the passion behind it could have set alight the tapestries. It was the sort of kiss that existed separate from everything, including time itself.  It was the kind that consumed the here and now, and promised nothing about the past or future. 

His hands wrapped around the small of her back, pulling her body into his.  She could feel the muscles beneath his shirt, firm and tight against her.  His arms were incredibly strong, their size concealed by well-tailored clothing.  

His hands trailed down to her buttocks, lifting her so that her legs were free to wrap around his waist.  She could feel how much he wanted her. 

As the angle between the two changed, he continued kissing her, moving from her lips down to her neck and the top of her chest left exposed by the thin sheath of fabric she wore.  His right hand trailed down the outside of her thigh, sliding back up without the layer of silky protection covering her flesh.  Goosebumps erupted on his arms as his hands touched her thighs, the dancer's muscles hard beneath soft skin.  

He carried her to the bed, both hands slipped under the bottom of her slip so they could explore with hungry desire.  As he set her down, his mouth returned to hers while his arms tugged out of his jacket before returning to her body, pulling the bottom hem toward her head.  

There may have been words he wanted to say...but they no longer existed.  The only thing in the entire universe that mattered was this night of getting lost in each other.

Eularia still danced; and when she was not dancing she was honing those muscles through exercise. Lithe and able, as he lifted her she carefully wrapped her legs around his waist. No fear that he might drop her; no hands gripping for balance.

He was there, very certain in his want for her, and she leaned her head back. Gave him access to her neck, her chest, as he kissed from her mouth down. Fingers traced her thighs, and she shifted in his hold to stretch her legs for just a moment.

Magnus' mouth was back, hungry and hot. And Eularia raised her arms, as he pulled the slip up and over her. It slid off with ease, and she sat, on display in front of him.

So far, he had only lost his jacket. And this earned a huff from the woman in front of him, completely nude as the slip had been the only thing she'd worn. You're overdressed, she let a growl slip across the second word, as she reached lazily with one hand.

Confident in her abilities to undo his pants with just the one hand. She had once been a very inexperienced lover, learning on Magnus' body and her own. But those years were behind of her now.

With a fluid motion, he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head.  Crossing the ripples of muscles along his core, several scars gave testament to a life lived on the edge of danger. 

But then he was there again, his body leaning over hers as she worked to release him of his pants, his mouth hot on hers.  His arms reached about her back, pulling her toward him.  

The passion was urgent, pushing him forward.  In his younger years, it would have forced him into a veritable frenzy...but the time past had taught him that even desperate urgency should be savored.  Especially this.  Especially her.  

He felt the clasp of his pants release, the fabric falling to the floor.  Once again, only one layer of fabric separated them - one layer prevented them from joining their bodies in a way they hadn't in years.  

His hand slid down her back and crossed at her hipbone, finding the place where he longed to be.  The memories flooded back to him, the way her body writhed at certain touches.  But that was a long time ago, and he was experienced enough down to read her signals, to know how to react and find her new rhythm, to push her farther than he'd ever taken her before.  

He felt it - the need to light her body on fire, to erupt all of her senses in starbursts of intensity.  He needed to remind her of the white-hot love that they had shared, to remind her what it had been like not to be bound by duty or appearances.  He needed to remind her what it had been like to be unapologetically herself.  

He needed that as much as he needed air...

Because, after all these years, he still loved her more than anything.  More than himself.

Magnus would find that Eularia was reactive as ever. The night was spent memorizing his body, as he reacquainted himself with hers.

Sometime during their tryst, Magnus would find the tables turned and his partner claiming a dominate position. She'd learned a lot about what she liked with her husband; and a big part of that had been that she enjoyed switching roles.

In the morning, Eularia would awaken with the memory of his mouth against hers. He'd slipped out just before she'd fallen asleep. And as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she leaned back against the headboard, thinking about the things they'd done the night prior.

And before leaving the room for breakfast with her children, she showered, she dressed, and she sent him a note.

Inviting him again, that night.