One Direction Preferences

Christmas Ball

London 1800 (continuation of forbidden love)

Niall: He carried your words with him always. ‘Heart and soul, I am yours!” you had told him, your voice and eyes fierce with your declaration. Gods truth, it was the only way he survived. The hall was lit tonight with candelabras, a large Christmas tree in the center of the ball room. Garlands were wrapped like ivy down the banister, the gold marble of the floor making the room cozy in it’s amber glow. His boots clicked down the steps, his blue eyes scanning the room. He had to see you, he needed to dance with you, feel your body against his. It had been too long since he had you alone, close to a month without your touch. He was like a starving man, desperate for just the slightest crumb of bread and drop of water. Just to see you look at him, he would be satisfied. The air in the room was heavy, just as it always was when you were in it. And that’s when he saw you. In a gown the color of crushed cranberries, you were gliding around the room. “Angel,” he breathed. Your feet couldn’t have been touching the floor and Niall was sure wings were sprouted from your back, graceful and pure, just like you. He made his way across the ballroom just as the waltz ended. His hand caught yours and he spun you into his arms as the orchestra struck up again. “Niall,” you gasped, eyes dilating. He grinned, his strong arms leading you around the room. “I had to see you, hold you. Love, my love,” he crooned in your ear. You shivered, your fingers curling into his dress jacket. “Niall, please,” he knew. He understood the longing in your voice, the need to kiss him overwhelming. He swept you away from the crowd, if anyone noticed your departure, they said nothing. The corridor was dark as he led you, his hand wrapped around yours. When he was sure that no one followed, he pressed you back into the wall, his mouth on yours. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his mouth and hands everywhere. You clung to him, heart beating out of your chest. “I can’t breathe without you, can’t sleep. I feel like half of my heart is missing,” his voice was desperate and he clung to you, eyes fierce. “Come away with me please. I can bear it no longer. Come with me,” he pleaded. You looked at him, knowing that in all your life you would never love anyone the way you loved him. Forgoing your rank, title and place you pressed your mouth to his. “Yes,” you whispered, “Yes.”

Zayn: He waited for you by the river, his boots pacing back and forth, crunching over the snow. It was still falling, dusting his jacket and breeches airily. Tonight was the annual Christmas ball at your estate and he knew that the odds of you getting away were tough. He looked to the stars, and oh, his poet heart soared. Nothing could shine like your eyes, he smiled. “No star as bright as my lovers eyes,” he sighed, feeling the inspiration to write creep up. “Oh, do they not?” He turned, stunned by your voice. You were a vision in gold, the moon light painting your skin silver. The dress hugged you perfectly, your slim waist on display. Your hair was down, something Zayn never saw. He vaguely thought of chocolate, warm and silky between his fingers. “No, I’m afraid they don’t.” Standing in the snow like that, Zayn swore that he would never love another soul. He swore in that moment, that for all eternity, you would be the keeper of his heart. When your eyes met his, he knew that you owned him. Whatever you asked of him, he would do. “Then tell me, what is this lover like?” You smiled, stepping around him, your dress leaving a veil in the snow. “She is my moon, and my sun. She keeps me grounded to the earth,” he said desperately, utterly bewitched by you. “And her eyes? You said they are brighter than the stars?” He shook his head, reaching for your hand. “Nothing could shine as bright as they do, especially when she turns to me. Heaven could not have painted a finer angel,” he kissed your fingers and he saw you blush, your eye lashes capturing the soft white flakes. “And do you love her?” You asked quietly, coming to stand before him. Zayn felt his chest was about to explode, so consumed was he with his love for you. “More than anything. I would do anything for her, be anything for her. She has my whole heart,” he said, bringing you into his arms. “I have loved her since I first saw her and I am sick with it. The only cure,” he said letting his fingers brush your lips, “is her kiss and I have been sick with wanting.” You smiled, your mouth moving closer to his. Granting his wish, his prayer, his every dream, you pressed your mouth to his, knowing that you were not the only one sick with love. You loved him too, far more than you ever thought possible.