Princess of Flames

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                She was absolutely lovely. Her waves of fiery hair cascaded down her back in tangles, her strong laughter making it shake. She was not ordinary, not in the slightest. And he loved every bit of it.

Women of the 14th century appropriately pinned their hair up, not a strand escaping. Their bodices and corsets strung so tight it would be a miracle if one could even take a breath. But, not her.

She was wild, unpredictable and delightfully beautiful. Her soul itself was a flame, a firecracker, bent on pure chaos. Her laughter, loud and as strong as a man's, made the ladies of the time whisper cruel words while her back was turned, not that she would ever notice over the roar of the parties, her parties. She loved music, the theatre, poetry, and anything art. She was intelligent, most unlike the women of the time who left the sort of thing to the men. She could sit up all night, arguing over the best operas, or even writing for hours in a journal of her ideas for plays, books, and the like, even though as a woman, she would never get any farther than jotting it down into her journal. She wore her corsets very loose, if she even bothered to wear one at all. Even without, her dresses clung to her wide hips, but altogether slender form, in a way her male companion could just not help to notice and to sometimes stare.

This rather unusual, fiery woman grabbed at his hand with her nimble fingers, leading him away from the roar of the crowd of yet another party. She pressed her lips to his, a touch that felt so surreal even after the thousandth time. She ran her fingers through his long hair, twisting it around in her fingers, teasing him and herself. She laughed her contagious laugh against his mouth, a laugh of happiness, for she was in love. A fiery love that burned passionately in her heart day and night. He was cold to the touch, but her heated skin burned against his. He roughly picked her up in his arms, sending sparks throughout her body as he laid them both in the window seat. Her body was aflame and his touch was frozen. The forbiddeness of the two made the affair all the more intriguing, for fire and ice had fallen in love. The smell of smoke tickled her nostrils. She pulled away to see that the drapery was on fire for what was possibly the third time that week. He laughed against her lips as he grabbed the fiery drapes with one hand, extinguishing it with his frozen touch.

A rustling noise came from afar. Someone had noticed their absence from the party.

"Julien," his bride-to-be said, drifting his attention to the upcoming person.

"To be continued," he smiled devilishly, reaching for one last kiss, and then vanishing into a trickling powder of snow.

-Princess of Flames, coming soon- 

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