in my life » the arcana imagines

5- Valerius

"Are they gone yet?" I whispered softly, placing both hands against the wooden door, decorated lavishly with elegant tapestry, my ear pressed against it, awaiting the faint reply I knew I'd receive.

"Yes, a few minutes back," came the drawn out words, slightly muffled by the wood.

Taking that as an invitation to enter, I slipped in the rusty key he'd trusted me with, and slowly padded my way into the dimly lit room.

Valerius was lounging across his embroidered sofa, clad in only a gold silk robe that dangled off his shoulder, one hand beckoning me closer languidly, while the other was---as per usual---clasped around a wine glass, its contents drained.

A soft glow from the minimal lighting in the overhead chandelier bathed him in warm orange hues, as calming and soothing as the relaxed expression on his sharp features.

My footsteps were muted as I slowly made my way to him, the carpeted floorboards absorbing the sound as I approached his lazy figure.

Slipping out of my intricately woven sandals, I tried my best to crawl on top of the velvet couch without tearing the new chiffon dress he'd gifted me just last week, leaving it on my bed as yet another expression of his affection.

Setting down his silver glass, he eyed me with fondness as his hands flew up to catch me as I fell on top of him, letting out a short throaty chuckle as I cupped his face in my hands.

"The dress looks divine on you," he swiftly complimented, "Has chiffon always looked so good?"

"Flatterer," I mumbled, falling forwards to press a few chaste kisses to his lips, enjoying the feeling of his long fingers massaging the knots in the small of my back, while his other hand pulled me closer by the shoulder.

Warm skin brushed against each other before we pulled away, his wine-stained lips looking gloriously swollen. The arch of his eyebrow was purely sinful, inviting and yet teasing.

I liked it when he looked like this. Stress-free, relaxed, and perfectly bare. Sadly, it wasn't often that I did get to see him in this position---which brought us to our current predicament.

Resting my head on his exposed chest, I looked off to the side, watching the shadows dance in the fireplace, as though telling a story before bedtime. His heart beat against my ear and his soft caresses to my hair nearly caused me to slur my next words.

"Why can't we be like this all the time?"

He paused his ministrations, and though he didn't turn his face to look at me, his body stiffened up underneath me. His ombre hair swept past my side as he tried to give a confused look.

"You know what I mean," I sighed in mild frustration, "Why can't all the courtiers see that their beloved Consul is courting someone?" I asked, absentmindedly tracing loving letters against his warm forearm, "Why must we stay behind locked doors?"

He scoffed a little, impatient though his arms pulled me even tighter, "We've had this conversation before, and I've already told you they'd take it for lack of professionalism."

Rolling my eyes, I took to glaring at the fireplace instead of his pale albeit sparkling eyes, "Because of course, you've always been one to care about others' opinions of you."

"Now, don't take that tone with me---"

I propped myself up on my elbows, uncaring as to whether or not the dress was even covering anything up anymore.

"Valerius, I barely get to spend any time with you on our own," I whispered urgently, begging him to see sense, "I have to sneak around like some mistress, and it's not like the palace really cared about affairs either."

"You're not my mistress," his eyes went wide with offense as he rested his palms against my cheeks, taking it more of a personal insult to himself than to me, "I've told you before, I do love you---more than anything, in fact---but since the Countess fell into this stupor, everything's landed on my lap," he shook his head, "They wouldn't take me seriously if they thought I was busy romancing."

Silence ensued as I refused to question him further.

How long would this limbo carry on for? How long would we last before the secrecy caused us to crumble under its weight? How much time remains before the secret unceremoniously comes out and turns him into a bigger fool than he fears becoming?

I chose to stay quiet. I listened only to his breathing, highlighted only by the crackling of the now-diminshed fire. He was an intelligent man, and knew better than to take my silence for acceptance; he was well aware that I was only giving him yet another chance to prove that this relationship could carry on this way.

We stayed in this peace and quiet, tormented with only our ever present loud thoughts for perhaps an hour. However long it was, his hands left searing hot emotions bubbling against my entire skin, though nothing particularly passionate was instigated. My arms limply circled his neck, if not for warmth then for mere proximity.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled finally, as I had begun to grow more sluggish, and very soon my eyes had begun to flutter shut of their own accord, causing me to nearly miss the next words he uttered so softly it physically pained me, "I don't want you to suffer from the onslaught. I do love you. Honest."

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