Fanfic:Recreation & Re-creation
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This fanfiction contains explicit content. Reader discretion is advised. |
Written by Caden Ives and Miahala Ives.
Note from the Authors: This fanfic pushes the PG-13 rating for adult themes and sensuality. You've been warned.
Shedding his practice gear and his clothes upon a footstool, Caden Ives had a mind to curse vehemently - even though it would hurt if he did.
He had spent the last hours of the day in the Sparring Arena, challenging himself and the Unbonded Gaidin that he had found available. Even though it was their duty to obey orders, had he chosen to order them to accost him all at once, he had spurred their ambitions by promising them gold for each strike they managed to land. There had been four of them, with him starting out in the middle - practice blade raised high. They had been armed with staves and practice blades akin to his own, and one of them had brought a flaming shield to the bout.
The wooden bathtub that had been tapped by servants raised a tendril of steam while Caden lowered himself into the water. Sinking down in scented oils, he felt intimately the bruises that decorated his thighs, sides and back. He even had a fat welt across his brawny arm that a quarterstaff had raised. His wheaten hair was tangled and fell in ribbons of sweat and grime, while his asymmetrical face kept pockets of dirt in the scar tissue.
It was not that he had, in the end, been beaten that put him in a foul mood. Nay, it was that he felt older, and it had dawned on him that he was not as fast as he had been when he was thirty or even forty winters old. The herons that decorated his collection of steel sabres felt like a mockery then, beyond the old fact of how he had felt undeserving when he first received them.
In the end, after sending his Brethren to the dirt a couple of times, he had begun to feel weighed down - that his stamina could not live up to the ambitions that the Oneness sprung. He had heard his own breathing as he struck again and again, and the Oneness had for the first time taken into account that he would not be able to continue much longer. It felt like breathing through a straw and his hands had begun to tremble. The strike along his arm had made him loose the Void, and the ire had set in to pick up the slack. Furious, he had denied himself the need to cease, and continued, sending the Gaidin with the quarterstaff face-first into the ground.
He had lacked the perception, and even though he fought vigilantly and with fury in his movements, it took the two remaining swordsmen a minute or two until he had was properly defeated.
Scowling where he sat in the bathtub, Caden calmed the boiling blood in his veins and leaned back - gingerly laying his arms along the rim of the tub - taking slow breaths. It is not the age, he told himself, flexing the fingers of his sword-hand, It is the lack of practice. With all the administration that the Yards demand, I have fallen behind in honing my swordsmanship.
Skill was something one had to keep fresh, else it grew stale and sour.
Reasoning was slowly giving the ire a match, and while he listened to the sounds outside the room - hearing Miahala and Haeden in the apartments outside - he came to realize that it was true. He lacked the two Officers a Master of Arms was entitled to - the Gaidin Captain and the Master of Training. Given how steep his demands and expectations were on the two that would eventually rise to the challenge, none had done so yet for years, and it was about time that he divided his duties. If nothing else, to reclaim the lost leverage I held in the art of the sword. Having been beaten, Caden Ives had learned a valuable lesson. It was time to regain his former sharpness. If not for my own sake, for Miahala's.
Outside, she was talking to someone - though he could barely hear the muffled sound of her voice. He had not taken out his defeat on her or their son, but he had not been the most loving husband and father either when he had come home to the apartments. He had more or less promptly entered the room they used for bathing and closed the door. Whomever Miahala was talking to, Caden sensed through the bond that there was naught amiss.
Hence, he dunked his head in the water and raked back his hair - beginning the slow process of rinsing himself from the touch of the Yards. It would take a fair amount of scrubbing, and his split knuckles and cramping muscles would not make it an enjoyable thing - regardless what miracles the warm water did to ease the pain.
It had not taken being a bondmate, or even a wife, to recognize the dark mood that hung around Caden as he had come into (and subsequently moved out of) the room. She had begun to ask, but then decided that it wasn't the ideal moment. Both mother and child looked at the door with a similar look, just a mature one versus a childish one, but both wondering what was wrong. Mia was not unaccustomed to dark moods coming home with her husband, but something was different this time. From the bond and by instinct, she could sense that something in this... went deeper.
The mind of a strategist is not one that only works that way on the battlefield. Looking at the door, Mia's mind started working. The care and love of a wife ignited it, seeking a way to ease the evening, since it was rather obviously needed.
Miahala found one of the ubiquitous Accepted that always seemed to be moving around the halls. She sent her to fetch Thea Sedai - who was almost always in the Tower, and would more than likely be unengaged for the evening, given the hour. The girl scurried off and Mia returned to the room. She collected Haeden on to her hip and smiled at him in the way mothers do, seemingly unaffected by the darker emotions on the other side of the bond and door. "How would you like to go spend some time with your big brother?" she asked.
He giggled. "Ryne big," he said, holding his arms up straight. Mia knew that Haeden was always very amused by his (much) older brother, as Ryne II stood roughly the same height as his father and thus was more than a full head taller than Mia. Haeden liked the view from up higher.
In due course, Thea arrived and was glad to do a favor for the mother of her bondmate. (Secretly, Mia had a suspicion of feelings deeper than Thea would confess, but she wasn't sure of her son in the matter. She avoided embarrassing either and none spoke of it.) With an appreciative thanks, and some of his things, Mia saw her son off for the night. It wasn't something she did often, but it was nice to have people she trusted well enough to do so with and her other children were glad to assist. They liked Haeden and spending time with him, even if the age differential was... bizarre, at best.
A few other things, as quickly and easily arranged, and Mia then turned to the door. The darkness of the mood had slowly began to lessen, at least.
Silently slipping inside, Mia walked up behind the tub and lowered herself to her knees. Cool hands slid down over his shoulders and she rested her chin on her arm, head next to his and purposely on the side with his good ear. She kissed his cheek, tasting the remainders of sweat that clung there despite the presence of warm water. "What troubles you, love?" she asked quietly.
With Mia a soothing presence, Caden was cleaning his fingernails while he leaned his head against hers. His green eye was distant - yet at the same time focused on the small task. "My purse," he rasped to her - answering in a backwards manner before beginning to explain his evening - or rather to fill in the blanks of what she had been feeling through the bond.
"Having little use for coin beyond the care of my equipment and weaponry, I am more than wealthy given my past Lordship and what gold the Tower bestows upon me for my services. I chose to spend a little now and then in order to motivate my sparring partners beyond the usual seriousness of duels. Able to afford it, I give them a gold for each strike they manage to land. I faced four Gaidin this evening, and though I am not troubled by the lightness of my purse afterwards, I am troubled more by what the lightness portends."
Turning his head a little so that he could see her, his jaws clenched by the pain of a strike across his back reminding itself. "I lost badly, and I found myself as poor a swordsman as the purse I left with. I did not make any mistakes, but I broke out of exertion - something that rarely happen a bonded Warder," he explained and lifted his calloused hand before himself. Not holding the Void, the minute tremble to his fingers made water drop from his hardened carpus. "See? The adrenaline has already thinned out in my veins, but the muscles are twitching in protest even as I lift my arm. I remember this feeling from when I was a Ji'alantin - when I was not fully acclimated to the training regime."
Dropping his hand underneath the surface of the water, he rested his forearms on his knees.
"I realized how old I am growing - that I am not as sharp as I was two decades ago, when I left for Arafel," he admitted first, leaning his head back against her, enjoying the feel of her embrace. He closed his green eye and pursed his lips. "Then again," he scraped, "I also realized how little I practice compared to before. The Yards do not run themselves, and the administrative duties eats away at the time I need to keep from getting dull."
The welt along his arm and the multiple bruises were throbbing, yet not as much as when he had begun his bath. There was a tint of red in the water from his split knuckles. At least one of the Gaidin had left for the Infirmary after the spar, and it was not without a sense of faint satisfaction to Caden that most of them were worse off than him - even though he had lost.
"The better you are in your chosen weapon, the more you have to practice in order to maintain that level of skill. When I should be practicing more than others, I have gradually deteriorated instead. I like to think that the numbers of winters I've seen is not the reason for this gruesome defeat, but that I have failed to keep up the routines I need."
Opening his eye again, he looked at the roof. "I need more Officers in the Yards, so that I can divide my duties between them. Else, I will eventually end up half the Warder you bonded." A very faint smile creased the unburned side of his face. "Still, I spent my coin well, for the lesson I have learned this eve was worth every copper."
While he was speaking, Miahala's hands began a very gentle kneading of the taught curve of muscle that formed the juncture of his shoulders and neck. Her deeper instincts were to embrace Saidar and Heal his injuries... but something else said that it was a matter of pride, for the moment, and would not be proper in relations to the emotional side of the day. As he leaned his head back against her, her arms slid forward to cross - mostly - the breadth of his chest.
"What is it they say?" she whispered with a compassionate smile that he would not be able to see, but would be able to sense. "Sometimes, to learn the lesson that needs learning and to see what is before us and that we are missing... all it takes is a swift kick in the..." She trailed off and let her warmth and fond amusement fill in the rest. A little humor never hurt after a rough moment, she found, but then it faded into something a little more serious. "I understand the burdens of administration, but in this, I worry more for you than for myself. I would not want your officership to harm your survival, should we end up in a dangerous situation... which is hardly an unlikely possibility.
"I know, too, that finding the right people for such places is not easy, but obviously the search should be stepped up so that your time is allotted more equitably to your duties, to Tower, to me, your son and yourself." She stifled a sigh of concern, half-burying her face against her arms and his neck.
Hearing her jesting comment, he had given a coarse grunt of affirmation that mingled well with the faint smile he had worn. Yet when she expressed her concern for him, his smile faded like hers had - leaving way for seriousness again.
"Leave a Warder to worry," he grated somberly and lifted his opposite hand from the water to touch her silken hair. The reaching motion made him blink as a sore rib reminded itself acutely, but he did not pause more than a moment. "The watch is mine, and I will ensure that I stand as ready as the two days we bonded. Don't misread me though, love, for I value your concern. Just leave it to me to make things right again. There is naught you can do in relation to this beyond taking up the sword yourself and best me in the mud of the Yards. What I welcome is your support, as I support you in all things in our life."
"You have it," she replied simply, easily. "You always will. You know that." A faint smile quirked her lips. "And if it is so needed, I'll deliver that swift kick..." And the Oaths made it so.
Not wishing to damp her beautiful fall of hair with bathing water, he only stroked his rough fingertips against the back of her neck before lowering his hand again. The water was gradually loosing its warmth, so Caden took a deep breath and leaned forward - regretting to end the soothing moment they had shared. He stood up in the bathtub, water cascading from his husky and scarred body. With the gracefulness bestowed upon men and women of great martial skill - despite muscles being sore and multiple points of his body sending waves of pain up his spine - he stepped out on the floor and pulled the long mane of hair over his shoulder. With practiced brutality, he squeezed the water out on the floor.
"Where is Haeden?" he asked Mia, changing the topic to a lighter one. He glanced at her with his good eye as he posed the question. "I cannot hear him." Naturally, he had suspicions about their son not being in the apartments anymore given that he had overheard a muffled conversation outside the door. He looked for the towel that the servants would have left behind.
In the absence of his shoulders, she folded her arms on the edge of the tub and rested her chin on them, her eyes following him as he moved. She smiled knowingly. "He's off to spend the night with his big brother," she replied. "I thought that we could use a night on our own." The smile quirked further with knowing amusement.
Giving her a lop-sided faint smile that would have come out as a rueful grin on another man's face, Caden walked to the cupboard that held the neatly folded towels. "Is that so, love?" he rasped as he began to towel himself down - pausing then and there where the bruises reminded themselves - yet not otherwise caring for what he was doing. "Pray tell, what would such a night entail?"
She turned around where she knelt, following him with her gaze and leaning back against the tub. Mia gave a casual shrug and answered simply, "Dinner alone here, husband and wife time, the extensive exercise of a stubborn Saldaean to get her husband to relax..." Her smirk told the rest of the story, though.
Pressing the towel against the scarred side of his face instead of rubbing it - since the flesh was so thin at places and caused more discomfort than it was worth drying it quickly - the faint smile lingered as he looked at her. He used to have found it a bitter-sweet notion that she would take such interest in his ruined and abused body, since it reminded him of what he had lost. Over time, that had faded into the profound realization that she was honest in her gazing, and took little notice of it beyond any other man comfortable in the presence of his wife.
"So you would chose to treat me so extravagantly after acting like a child when I returned here - like a shamefaced youth with his pride taken a beating?" he commented after she laid out her elusive plans, "You should be demanding an apology and box my ear instead."
"Hey, the night's still young and my plans aren't set in stone," she replied with a light, almost playful tone.
"I see," he rasped and chuckled, toweling out the still residing water in his wheaten hair, "So what should I wear for this rare evening?"
Ah yes, the subject of clothing for particular events. This was always a fun topic for the two of them. Pushing herself to her feet, she took a few steps towards him. "Whatever you wish," she replied. "Something comfortable might not be a bad idea, since I don't intend us to leave the room..." She hesitated, just long enough. "...for the night." Blue-green eyes flashed.
"My Lady's word is my demand, it shall be as you say," he retorted as he put the towel away and picked up a gauze for his injured hand. While wrapping it, his eye returned to Miahala. Despite the following words, there was nothing but rueful yet raw humor to them. "Are you going to make good on the... comment in your eye or will you leave a Freak to groom himself, even though its to no avail?"
She rolled her eyes. Her ivory features had been warmed by the wealth of emotions and this particular expression seemed to roll her many years and her Aes Sedai visage away from her face. She never liked it when he or anyone else called him that. The only time her mouth or mind put to it was in relation to the fears of others or sheer sarcasm. Mia would rather have it left out of their chambers, though... and he would undoubtedly know this, so she didn't bother to explain it in words.
Mia folded her arms over her chest. "You should know me well enough to know that all promises are followed through, my love," she replied lightly, "But I'll leave you be, for the time being, unless you'd like my help with that." She nodded towards the gauze.
"Aye," he rasped with the rueful tint to his green orb and held out the partially wrapped hand - which also held the bundle of gauze between the fingers, "my joints lack somewhat in dexterity after having sent grown men to the Yellows with broken noses and black eyes. The other hand still feels like it is holding a hilt too. At least I am not the only one having to receive treatment tonight."
The double-meaning was rather plain, even more so with the steady and playfully challenging look he gave her. "By the look of things," he added, and appraised her as only he was allowed, "I was the more fortunate one, even though I lost the bout."
Taking the gauze from his hand, she flashed him a smile. Her fingers moved swiftly and deftly to wrap the hand, showing that despite not being a Yellow, she had had far too much experience with this sort of thing. The mood had lightened considerably, for which she was glad. Mia said nothing but continually glanced up to meet his gaze. Words were not needed, for he would read her meaning well enough from his knowledge of her and from the bond.
The tension in the air was not an uncomfortable one - rather the opposite - and it was encompassed in the stare Caden gave his wife. "Thank you, I am much obliged. I reckon I will have to remember this if I were to be bereft of coin again - just in order to get something to look forward to in my misery."
"It need not take so much for you to have something to look forward to," she said with a smirk. "Shall we see to dinner though?"
"I'm indeed famished," he rasped - again with that gleam to his eye, "so I will make haste and not let us be kept waiting."
Departing the bathing room then, Mia walked out into the main chamber. She was just in time, as well, for there was a knock upon the door that was a tower servant delivering the meal that she had requested. (It had taken her some time in the Tower, as an Aes Sedai, to accustom to servants, but she'd realized that it was often impractical for her to run around on her own for these tasks, so she had forced herself.) "Thank you," she said with a light smile, directing the trays to be set on the small dining table that existed for the small family and then she saw him out. After that, she walked into the bedroom.
Meanwhile, Caden donned a plain black shirt - the fabric tingling his skin where the bruises were - over black breeches. The cotton shirt had once been of high quality and fashion, yet were a tad out-dated (from his time in Arafel), and thus a little bit tight over the arms and shoulders. Even though the garments had been finery, the silver embroidery at the hems and collar had been worn after several sessions of washing and scrubbing.
Since the shirt was not serviceable to close without endangering the seams in the back to tear, and to let his ribs expand freely as he breathed, he left it open. He was - in believing his Oath-bound wife's word - not going to leave the apartments after all. Letting his hair hang loose to dry, he cleaned up the water from the floor with the second towel before leaving the room.
Several moments later, Mia walked out of the bedroom and back into the fore-chamber in time to see Caden emerging into the room as well. She folded her arms and leaned against the door-frame. Having changed from her usual dress, she currently wore a shift-style dress that she never would wear out of this room - not because it was improper, on its own, but because it was not the style she wore. She kept her back covered with her chosen day-to-day dress, but this was a simple fitted dress with straps tied at the shoulder rather than sleeves and a dip in the back. Auburn hair hung loose over one shoulder and both curtain of free-flowing white fabric and hair waved gently as she moved.
"See?" she said, waving at the table - with the food laid out, a bottle of wine to attend and single lit candle, "Nothing fancy. It doesn't suit me and since I'm orchestrating this, I thought it best." Her eyes flashed again with familiar amusement.
Walking up to Miahala with his green eye wandering at its own discourse, Caden stopped to take her hand. "You certainly know how to lighten a man's spirits," he rasped and kissed it, "Yet you also lighten him of his heart as well. This kind of thievery is something I can tolerate though, since I have no longer the heart to object."
Mia's smile was a soft, warm one. "It is one thing that cannot be stolen unless one is willing to give it," she said. "Besides, I'd say it was more... a trade." She rose to the toes of her bare feet to kiss him briefly and then led them to the table.
Ingrained gentlemanship was something that directly contradicted Caden's appearance, yet also something he had learned when he was a page at the Stone of Tear. He had roots amongst the nobles, but the Yards and the Shadow had taken any hint of it from his person. He followed her to her chair and pulled it out for her - kissed her head before claiming his own seat.
Silently, she smiled her thanks and gave a nod.
"So," he rasped while picking up his napkin, looking over their plate, "Beyond a reprieve and this view," he said and gestured with his mismatched eyes to her person, "what are we having, my love?"
"Nothing too extravagant," Mia said. "A simple roast with the addition of a root vegetable mix." She quirked a smile. "The meat has been cooked in a particular way and with particular seasonings that I impressed upon our dear Kitchen Mistress some time ago. It's a recipe from my family that I asked her to use one night for some special occasion, despite her being fussy over my direction, she agreed and has been using it since when making the same meal."
Chuckling faintly as he put the napkin in his lap, Caden reached for the bottle of wine. "Have you gone to such lengths in order to indulge yourself in nostalgia, and to let me experience a part of your upbringing?" He shook his patch-work head a little, "I cannot fathom how you convinced the proud woman to use a recipe not her own. From my experience, she thinks herself to know best - running the Tower Kitchens like she was a queen."
She laughed lightly. "You should well know that I can be a very persuasive person," she said. "Though we should all be lucky that I could relate it in words and didn't have to do so by example. I can explain the recipe but not make it. Cooking is not a strong suit of mine. It's probably best I came to the Tower, as I likely would've made a poor housewife," she quipped.
"Not any more successful than I would be in playing the pretty and sweet husband that sings songs and rubs feet," he rasped - referring to an conversation they had in Arafel years back now - one held the night the two of them were bonded the second time, and turned their re-initiated working relationship into something more - deeper. "So let us call it a draw, on this comparison to a normal life. Ours is something else, even if we might mimic the semblance of an ordinary family." He poured the wine for them, beginning with her goblet.
"Pretty and sweet..." Mia said thoughtfully, lifting her wine glass and taking a sip. "I'd eat them alive. I told you that night I didn't want them." She smiled and with mirth, but the seriousness of her words and the memory they elicited was quite plain. She didn't want them. She wanted him, and to her credit and happiness, she had gotten him, as he had gotten her. "As for the next part though," she went on in a more teasing tone, "that's not entirely accurate..."
"Aye, aye, I confess," he rasped and poured for himself, "I have rubbed your feet, and quite successfully I might confess given your response to the treatment, but you would not find me singing to you. All the songs I know relate to the battlefield and the call to arms - none which I can give true justice."
Giving him a dry one-brow-raised look, she chuckled. "I think anything relating to battle and calls to arms you can do plenty justice to."
Realising that he was loosing this playful argument, Caden put the bottle down and raised his hands. "I am talking about my voice, and not the words uttered in the songs. Words have meaning, while the way I utter them would make a Gleeman break his harp or swallow his flute if caught unprepared."
"I don't know," she said thoughtfully, "I think seeing anyone manage to swallow a flute could be amusing," she quipped.
"The only - single - instrument that my rough fingers might play well upon, it would be the deadly instrument of your body," he rasped in a low voice, looking up into her eyes briefly while they ate, "I reckon it is because my hands are devoted to weapons - of all kinds. Then again, I'd say you excel even in this field of battle, when it comes to you and I."
"This one I may have to concede," she said warmly. (Dare it be said, her voice grew a touch husky with too much thought on this matter.) She lifted her glass and took another sip of wine, though her eyes remained on his as she did so. "Though we won't much be getting the chance to finish dinner if this conversation goes on too long." She gave a slow smile, looking a little like a cat who'd caught a bird and was rather pleased with themselves.
"It would be such a shame on behalf of your recipe," conceded the Freak across the table, and met her eyes with a smile in the corner of his unburned eye, "yet I know it would be more than worth it. I do have faith though, love, that I will take you for my dessert." Such a bold tone, and such added positive tension - a straight-forwardness of warriors in kind. Caden was looking right into Miahala's eyes - not at all shy. It was a promise, made for them both.
In the pause after the bold and suggestive words (though the conversations was merely escalating, truly) Caden lowered his gaze to the plate again with a small smile. "The roast is magnificent," he continued - as if he had not said anything out of the ordinary. "And the vegetables complements it quite graciously."
Truly, it pleased Mia to no end to bring this side out of Caden. For years he'd built up such walls and so had she. Every day, he rebuilt them for his time in the Yards. It didn't take much time at home, with Mia and Haeden, to bring them mostly down again, but there are degrees... and even so, any degree of such emotional relaxation was a point of gladness for her and she could not enjoy more the candid verbal sparring of a devoted husband and wife.
She ignored the comments regarding the food, since they both knew that the food was a means to an end - having energy and the silly necessity of it to remain living. "And so assured are you in the evening's end that you are so confident now," she teased lightly.
The faint smile remaining as he looked down upon the plate, Caden spoke without looking up. "I innocently remind you that this evening was your idea, and you certainly took your own good time eying me after I bathed," he said and glanced up briefly with warmth in his good eye, "I merely take advantage of both the evening and the fact that while you have had ample opportunity in feasting with your eyes already, and I am bereft of the view in kind. Let a man dream of the spoils, and explore the possibilities to acquire them."
"Please, nothing about this evening thus far has been innocent," she laughed lightly, glancing briefly at her plate to push some food around before eating a little more. These days she required less food than some and sustained just as well. "And so now the evening turns that I become spoils of war?" The look in her eyes as she glanced back up proved that she didn't mind the comparison, in truth, but this sort of spar was the only kind that required the combatants to take their weapons from the other at each and every turn - she had to find something to take hold of to maintain the effort.
"The spoils of love are far more lucrative than those of war," he answered, pausing to drink a mouthful of wine, "Especially when you are the prize, love." Had it turned into some kind of contest, then, to see whom gave in first, and remain able to spur each other on without endangering one's own composure? "Consider yourself besieged, woman; and understand that the only defense you have is that dress - merely thin textile for battlements."
Miahala's laugh this time was a throatier, warmer sound than it had been before. "Oh, love, you know I always have far more at hand than what is seen."
Chuckling, Caden put down his fork and looked up - the intensity of his stare as suggestive in its potency as it was usually eerie. "You might be able to keep me away if you would do that, aye," he said, if possibly letting even more show in his look upon her, "Yet as in all sieges, I spy on you, and I need no informants inside those shift-battlements to tell me you would not foreign to an agreement - considering the benefits in store for you."
"If the terms were amenable enough perhaps," she quipped lightly in return. "Yet this is hardly conducive to the consumption of our meal."
"Aye, aye," he answered and scraped another chuckle out of his damaged throat, "I will eat and be silent - for now."
"Indeed," she replied lightly and then let the silence descend for a while. They both knew that it would not last long, but the question would be: who broke first? They were both stubborn as not one oxen but the multitude of teams necessarily to move a large stone building... but after the escalation of this conversation, this was not a time when either would hold out for too long, and pride was really not a consideration. (This trait served their marriage well in times like these but worked against them in less pleasant occasions.)
After several moments, some more food and drink consumed, later Mia looked across the table with a seemingly idle gaze. "You know," she began, "I will confess that I did not quite reveal the entire truth earlier..." Not that any word was untrue, of course, since she was incapable of that, but that she hadn't quite revealed everything... which she was more than allowed to do and was, in fact, encouraged to do by Aes Sedai training, and wife training in those situations when she wanted to torment her husband. "But you'll have to leave your dinner now if you wish to know the rest."
Looking up, Caden chewed. "Truly?"
"Truly."
Looking at his plate in mock consideration whether it was worth giving up on the meal or not, Caden winked with his good eye at her after a second, and put his eating utensils down and rose from his chair.
Mia had that cat-like smile again as she pushed back and came out of her own seat. Her eyes remained on his and her gaze was unfaltering and fluid. She offered her hand to him and when he had taken it, she gave him a knowing gaze and then led him over to the couch, gently pushing him to sit down and setting herself to sit across his knees and wrap her arms loosely about his shoulders. "Do you know what I was thinking of earlier?" she asked lightly.
Seated, Caden let his calloused hands come to rest upon her thighs. He remained passive in this play - for now - and merely let his stare be the opposite. "Beyond what you have obviously been thinking about since you began planning this evening," he rasped, and shook his head, "No, I don't love."
Leaning down, she kissed his cheek. "I was thinking..." she began quietly, kissing his jaw. "...about a night some years ago..." His neck. "...in Saldaea." She rested her head against his, her mouth near his ear. "A warder who was a little too good at his job and managed to follow a very sneaky Aes Sedai off into the woods."
Closing his green eye, Caden drank in the feeling of her administrations - all but forgetting the injuries he had sustained earlier that very evening. The bruising of swordsman's pride and body was soothed in the heat of her lips - sending electrical sparks through his muscular neck. His mind was not completely numbed, and he understood which night she meant. A faint smile creased his unburned cheek as he listened to her words. "I have fond and profound memories of that night...."
She closed her eyes, smiling warmly at the memory and his words. "I was just thinking that it's been a while..."
Her lips by his ear, and his own eye closed as well, the words encompassed his whole being - leaving him bereft of their implication. "Since what, love?" he scraped faintly, his hands remaining still upon her thighs, even though he had to will them from moving.
As she pulled back, she opened her eyes - which were ablaze with emotion and thoughts unreadable - and smiled. "...since I danced for you."
Green eye open to meet her blue-green points of fire, Caden could not do else than chuckle and lean back in the couch - gazing at her in all her loveliness and glory. "I remind you that the Aes Sedai was not truly dancing for the Warder who followed as much as for herself, yet the effect of the expression became an impression on the Warder that lasted up to this day," he rasped, lifting one hand to her cheek - brushing back silken hair behind her ear with his smarting fingers, "to see such a thing once more would be a rare treat - and one I will have a hard time compensating you for."
He reached behind her neck and pulled her forward. "Yet even though I am not a dancer," he said and covered her lips with his own - tasting the residues of wine in her breath and the nectar of her lips for a couple of seconds. "I think I can make it up to you. In any case, you have already succeeded in lightening my mood - obviously."
"Obviously," she replied with a knowing and warm smile. "And this I do without seeking repayment or compensation. I give freely without," she kissed him, "expectation."
Never having been a shy child, her boldness - when she chose to employ it - had only increased with the years and there had been a good enough number of those to give her the feeling of confidence in anything she chose to do, and so she was unabashed in wishing to dance when she chose to, whether there was music or not, alone or especially for her husband. It was one of her chances for self expression that she forgot how much she enjoyed in her own right until she began.
Miahala gave Caden another kiss, for good measure, before gracefully rising up from his lap and turning her back towards him. She flashed a smile over her shoulder. And then...
Then she began to dance.
Auriferous candlelight glinted in her eye as she teasingly turned her head to him, the ends of auburn hair grazing the dress and her skin. Luring, blue-green orbs revealing the secrets of her intimate soul met his directly. Then, Caden watched how her hips began to undulate seductively, her fingers brushing through her hair as her arms reached to rise high above her head. Her eyes lifted towards the ceiling. Her knees bending slightly, she turned to - then away from him, but within his grasp. Her behind, the curves of her exotically scarred back, the outline of her spine - naked in his sight in thanks to her dress' dipping outline.
Scarred skin glistening as the dim light of the candle flickered about, her spine arched before him. She turned to face him anew - her hands reaching out as if to grab him to her. Caden could read her soul. He saw in the depth beyond her; a shining smile - radiant, alive. Her feet pivoted on the floor, her toes rising and falling, the balls of her feet spinning her as she turned her side to him. She danced for him, giving her everything, showing him everything. He watched with interest intent.
Dancing was the free flowing physical expression of her heart and spirit. Her mind never had much to do with it, although in this instance, there was a little thought to it, as these steps were ones that she had learned long, long ago - the Saldaean dance that was only ever to be whispered about: the sa'sara. It was slow at points and quick at others, and the steps often varied but a few things remained the same: the feeling for the one you danced it for, the swaying of the body in serpentine motions...
Although it was known as a sensual dance, and it was, it wasn't all about the rolling of the hips and the effort to elicit a response on the part of the watcher. It was a tradition and something that required skill, and something to be proud of. To dance any dance and this one in particular was as much for the dancer themselves as for the one seeing it. It was an effort on the part of the whole body, and on the spirit.
Music in her mind drove her. The dance had begun with her back to him. At moments, she closed her eyes and let the feeling of it roll through her as one arm snaked out slowly and then the other, shoulders creating slow circles that made her whole torso take on the feeling of movement, hair swaying to give and take views of skin before turning.
Mia's flat belly rolled, the drums of the bond made into silent music for them both. Her body snapped to the rhythm - nay, conjured it like music woven out of bodily expression. Sitting there, lips pursed, Caden watched her swirl in slow enticing circles before him - closer then leaving again. She escaped his reach, even though he had not lifted his hand - spirals wild yet measured across the floorboards. She turned to changing tempos, her naked expression of soul serving the air, as if becoming one with it - surrendering.
He closed his eyes momentarily. Oh, Light, Caden murmured beneath his breath, he needed her. He was going to have her. Thoughts flaying. How she pleased him, made him want her. He swallowed as her lower body rode the invisible waves - moving just like when she was making love to him. Heat flowed, passion rising, candlelight tingling. She was the embers for the volcanic eruptions of a rapid heart beat - skipping, quickening.
The dress shifting across her skin as she moved, he saw it accenting her curves while her body snaked - slowly again. His will embraced and withheld in respect of her expression, his mind rushing like the river across that reef - his breath nigh sporadic - he saw her arms extending forward again. The nature of the dance was challenging him to touch her - drawing, provoking, suggestive, propositioning, utterly undeniable.
Spreading roaring and searing winds across the frosty battlements of his heart - in carrying a fierce, fiery, concupiscent need into his soul, Caden drank in the light of her fom with his mismatched eyes. The candle on the nearby table both revealed flawless, exquisite flesh along with the contrasting tissue earned from the Blight. He wanted to take those hips that were undulating with a quickness to the pounding thrum of the bond - grab her with his calloused hands and...
Swallowing, emotions raised like wildfire, he met her eyes then - the connection as raw as a bared nerve.
This dance was one of exultation - the power to bring such ragged and raw emotion to the very surface of the heart and then bring the spirit of each together to dance, as intention and thoughts twined. In her mind's eye, she saw herself lean forward, curving her shoulder into the motion as her hand extended, touching his cheek and meeting the fire in his eyes and then pulling back - drawing out the heat and taking it for her own.
Leaning back her head dropped back for an instant in a reminder of other dances done before spinning away - but not just in a turn upon the balls of her feet, but in the spinning of hips.
Turning around again, with her back to him, she shimmied the whole of her body - it was a movement born of bending nothing more than the knees in rapid succession, but it sent energy and the watcher's attention from her legs and straight up, almost sending the feeling of it all through the ends of her very hair. As she did this, knowing Caden's eye to be trained closer to her hips and back, her hands slid over her chest and to her shoulders.
Mia covertly gave a quick snap of her wrists, tugging loose the ties on her dress and letting it slide free, dropping to the ground in a pool of fabric at her feet as she finished the dance and looked back over her shoulder at him. The bond could not read thoughts, only emotions, but often enough, thoughts could be read by husbands and wives...
...and suffice it to say that all of both were equally shared.
Swallowing to make his already damaged voice less raw, he was at a loss in the choice of springing to his feet and claim her right then and there upon the floor, or to steady himself for the view of her in the candlelight.
In the end, it turned out as a compromise. He stood up, but did not dare take a step towards her. "Come here," he rasped from the abyss of his throat and tore the damnable shirt back from his massive shoulders. He threw it upon the floor - the planes of his chest heaving in the dim light. Utterly serious, craving her beyond sensibility, he snapped his belt buckle and tore the leather strap out of his breeches - mismatched eyes not unlike those he wore on the battlefield. They were full of acute intent - stirred by the sa'sara's enchantment.
The difference, though, that made the blood boil in his remaining ear, was her and the way only she could make him loose composure. "Or would you tease me out of my wits before claiming your victory?" Oh, she had won - beyond any doubt. In the back of his enraptured mind, the notion came that perhaps the competition was not over yet. Instinct made him leap at the opportunity, since both interested in his body and mind coincided. He stepped up to her, closing the distance in no time at all - just like in a duel of blades. He did not give her the time to answer before he reached her.
A heated, amused smirk had slowly made its way upon her full lips as she had watched his reaction, the war inside for control and the rising to his feet. She had just turned around, ready to concede her part of the fight and step forward when the battle was ended even sooner and he was across the room. She folded, in the best of senses, melted in his presence and could not say a thing.
She was in his massive hands, and the heat she suffused was nigh sweltering. It was becoming impossible to concentrate. The gauze around his hand bled through. Unimportant. The nectar of Mia's lips was all that mattered - to hold her skin to his own, to make her live up in full to what she had been promising him with each word and movement that night. Her feet were off the ground, and he let her cling around his neck while he widened his stance. He buried his ruined face against her neck - dug his fingers into her flesh. Not wanting to set her down, he carried her to the table. "I win," he grated against her - crushed the top half of the wax candle in his lashing clutch and threw it away. "I have my dessert."
Mia gave a throaty laugh. "Take this well for one of the few times I'll say this..." she said, the feeling within and taking over her making even embracing Saidar pale in comparison. "But I surrender," she purred, taking his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his so that no more words might take place.
What then lay on the table he took, just as he was claimed in kind. Vegetables, wine and roast sauces forced them to take a bath together - much later.
