Gaeleth wasn't sure what had awoken him since he heard not a sound before he opened his eyes. He froze in true terror at the sight of the Midgardian on the far side of the bed, his sunflower with a knife to her throat. Those cold blue eyes reminded him of a Dokkalfr, but he knew instantly he wasn't. His sunflower's face was red, from frustration and embarrassment, he sensed, rather than fear.
"This is simple," the Midgardian said as Gaeleth judged his hold on the knife as experienced rather than amateur, "Cease your campaign against us, or I will cut her throat."
Gaeleth's eyes gentled. "You won't do that."
"You don't know the first thing about me—"
"I know you grew up in a hostile environment that caused you to make hostile decisions. But there is no evil in your heart, child."
Momentary hesitation shifted in those gorgeously cold eyes of his, like pieces of ice from his homeland.
"If you think to manipulate me, you are mistaken. I have done unspeakable things in the service of my planet, and I won't shy away from this."
"You wouldn't murder an innocent, young one. As most predators, you kill to survive, not for pleasure."
"That is exactly why I would do it now. Give the order to stop the armada, or I will take the precious thing in your life."
Gaeleth sat up. "I can't do that," he said quietly. "Your people and your allies stand against us taking our place in Asgard, something that has little to nothing to do with you."
"You would come after us next until you had all the realms under your boot—"
"Have you never wondered why Hel began this war? Why it means so much to the queen of the dead to stop us from taking Asgard?"
"She wants to survive, like the rest of us. Your people think you're gods—"
"That is correct. We are the closest this galaxy will ever know. We should have been in Asgard long ago, but Odin and his cohorts took it from us. We are descended from the Vanir, the old gods, while the Aesir cared only for their wars and bloodshed."
"And now you want all of us to worship you—"
"A true god does not require worship, child. Our place in Asgard would not affect you in the least. Neither the Vanir nor the Aesir have been seen on Midgard for what, ten millennia? And the Vanir always considered Midgard a friend, at times an ally. The matters of gods have never involved mortals. Ragnarok took place in the higher realms. Midgard was not even aware a war took place. We have no desire to disrupt the balance between our realms, young one."
Those eyes watched him for a moment before he took the knife away, but his sunflower took the opportunity, turning to grab his wrist. With the blade so close to her throat, and her sudden movement, the sharp edge penetrated her skin. The Midgardian dropped the knife, taking a step back, staring as his sunflower dropped to her knees, holding her partially opened throat. Gaeleth jumped from bed, running to her side, lowering her to the floor as she stared up at him.
"Why did you struggle, sunflower?"
"He would have hurt you..." she trailed off, her eyelids drooping. The Midgardian stared down at them, Gaeleth commending him for not turning and running, as he laid a hand to her open neck. He shut his eyes as he sang a song of healing. Her head rolled to the side as she lost consciousness. William stared in nothing so much as awe as the Ljosalfr sang a song he never thought possible as a glow shone over him and his wounded lover. The atmosphere in the room changed, and some part of him changed with it. His vision filled with a murky white light, a glowing fog that fell over everything. HIs breath caught at the beauty that seemed entirely of another world, the white glow the clearest over the tall, dark-skinned female. It vanished all at once and William felt transported back to the realm of the living as the admiral took the elf and put her on the bed, sitting down beside her, brushing her hair from her eyes.
"My sunflower was always a fighter, in her quiet way," he said softly, William unable to be unaffected at the nickname, since it fit her height perfectly. The admiral turned toward him, his perfect, pale, softly glowing features tired. "You can go the same way you came, I trust." William's eyes sharpened on him. "Your people need not know of your unsuccessful attempt here." He looked back down at her and William just stood there, wondering how he could care about his saving face when he'd almost killed his "sunflower." "Thank you for your concern, but she will be alright."
William's gaze intensified on the back of his white head, since no one alive had been able to read him that well. He turned and decided to take him up on his offer before he rescinded it.
Nephinaya woke with a burning sensation on the side of her neck where it met the soft flesh of her throat. Her liege sat beside her, a concerned look in his sage eyes. Her expression softened as she put a hand to her healing wound.
"You healed me."
"It wasn't a fatal wound, but you would have lost a lot of blood." She recognized the dimly chastising look in his eyes. "You shouldn't have moved so suddenly. He was taking the knife away..."
She sat up, nodding. "Thus giving me a window."
His gaze turned fond. "Your drow genetics, I suppose."
"You let him go."
He gave her a hesitant look. "Are you angry with me for that?"
Her gaze gentled. "What right have I to be mad at you?"
He looked away from her and she saw the first sign of frustration on his elegant features.
"In how many ways do I have to say you are not a servant to me, and you never have been?"
Her eyes softened. "Finally, I test his patience."
He gave her a mixed look she found cute. "Was that a goal?"
She grunted a laugh before wincing, holding her neck. "I wish I had been conscious to hear your song."
His eyes softened easily. "I think the Midgardian just about passed out himself."
She smiled. She sat up, sliding her legs over the side of the bed, seeing the concern in his eyes. "Won't you be punished for letting him go?"
He gave her a fond look and she almost laughed again at his utter lack of fear.
"What happens on the Kvasir stays on the Kvasir."
She grunted a laugh. "You never cease to surprise me, sire."
He took her hand. "Do you think you could call me Gaeleth now?"
Her heart warmed with the request. "When we're alone?" Resignation nearly choked the fondness in his eyes. "I understand."
"I could not put that restriction on you, my dear. Who has more right to call me by my first name than you? You are not a soldier, after all, but my sunflower."
Her gaze remained steady on him as her chest filled with pressure at the beauty of this Ljosalfar admiral who had chosen to dote on her, rather than all the gorgeous light elves at his disposal. He raised her hand to his lips and tears sprang to her eyes.
"I do not think I am capable of being angry with you about anything, my liege."
He came closer and put a gentle arm around her as though her whole body had been damaged rather than just a part of her neck. She leaned against him, having to scoot down a little since they matched one another's height.
"Gaeleth," he gently pressed and she smiled. "We never got to eat. Are you hungry now?"
"For food?" He poked her in the side and she gave a brief laugh.
"No naughtiness while you're recovering."
She smiled. "Try and stop me." She leaned back to find his fond, chiding eyes on her. She smiled at him and his eyes softened, raising a hand to touch her face.
"I am glad you weren't injured more."
"You just would have healed me, right?"
"Yes, but it would have caused you more pain."
"Pain is life."
He gave an exhausted sound that almost made her laugh out loud.
"Gods spare us from a drow," he whispered and she grunted in amusement. His eyes danced when he looked at her and she leaned forward for a little kiss. He leaned back at the last moment.
"Such a tease, my naracan," she whispered and his eyes gave her an impish smile she loved.
"I'm determined to be good."
Her heart filled with warmth that she tempted him not to be. "I love your sweet passion."
"I know," he said with a chiding look and she smiled. He looked away from her and for some reason it made her feel like a queen.
"Has no one wanted you like me?"
He returned his fond gaze to her. "Those that expressed interest were more conservative about it."
"And did you ever share yourself with them?" she asked softly, no longer attempting to hide her feelings from her eyes. His gaze warmed.
"I am not the easiest fish to catch." She laughed before she groaned, holding her neck and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Why do you cause yourself discomfort?"
She rested her head against his shoulder, smiling. "Your sense of humor always catches me by surprise."
He smiled. "I am being completely serious. We Ljosalfar are not a sexual people—"
"Lies," she interrupted and he laughed.
"Not normally."
She grunted. "What's so special about me?"
"You are very exotic."
She bit her lip as she tried not to laugh. "I am ugly compared to your people."
"You are unique," he corrected, warming her. "Not to mention your height."
"It always gave me more attention than I wanted."
His hand touched her hip. "Maybe the attention was meant to fall on you," he said softly.
"Must you always say the sweetest things?"
"I only say what I think."
"And you think I am beautiful?" she asked before she could stop herself.
"Oh, yes," he said without hesitation, her heart filling with the simple words.
"Have you always felt that way?"
"Always," he said softly, once again making her feel like a queen.
"Beautiful enough to have your children?"
He leaned back and she looked at him with a serious, direct gaze. His eyes held many expressions, all at once.
"That is truly your desire?"
"You know it is. Don't you?"
He touched her face. "Yes," he said quietly, and she couldn't find it in herself to be embarrassed. "I am so old now—"
She smiled. "I call them your twilight children."
An impish smile filled his eyes. "Been thinking about this awhile?"
"I tried not to..."
"Why?"
She looked down. "I was afraid you would be angry with me for thinking so highly of myself."
"My sunflower, have you known me for such a short time? Do you not know all you need do is speak, and I would do whatever I could to make you happy?"
"Yes, but you are the naracan as well—"
He lifted her chin to look into his eyes. "I have never tried to lord my position over you. Have I?"
"No, but..."
"I am not like many of my people, Nephinaya. I do not judge based on a person's race. I judge their actions. You have been my loyal, beloved friend since you were six years old. I am not your lord, or your liege, or your sire. I let you call me those things because I thought they were an expression of your love for me. Do you fear me, child?"
She gave him a hesitant look and he took his hand from her face, looking at her with injury in his beautiful eyes that struck her heart.
"You are the naracan—"
"What does that mean?" he asked in a frustrated voice, the closest he'd come to raising his voice with her. He rose to his feet, facing away from her, and she looked at his back sympathetically.
"I am drow—"
He turned to give her a look like his eyes. "That doesn't mean anything—"
"Not for someone in your position, no. You are the lord of this ship, lord of the Ljosalfar armies. My experiences are different from yours, sweetheart. I come from a marginalized, judged race, and you are..." She gave him an appreciative look.
"Your lord?"
"You are you."
"What does that mean—"
"It means you are the closest to the Vanir this era knows, and everyone can see it."
He gave her an intensified gaze before it gentled. "Is that really how you see me?"
She smiled at him. "And how everyone else sees you as well. Don't you notice the hush over the room when you walk onto the operations deck? When people stop speaking when you walk in the room? How the citadel would give you the moon should you require it? You are like our Kvasir born to lead and guide us. Your people would part the ocean just to please you. We come from different worlds, dearest, so different. Yes, I revere you, I admire and have a healthy respect for you. I know you are kind and generous, but I never want to push you to the place where you cease to be. Your people have ingrained into me how beneath you I am, and that is not easy to cast aside. I do not feel worthy of you, to birth your children, but I will do so because I have never been to keep myself from pleasing you."
He walked to her and went on a knee in front of her, Nephinaya looking down at him fondly as he touched her leg.
"I would never turn on you, sunflower. Even if you should hurt me, which I can't imagine you capable of, but if you did, I would never treat you like my disobedient slave. You are my equal, I don't care what anyone else says. My people have gotten caught up in their greatness, they do not need to lord their status over other races. It hurts me to know they have treated you like this, when you have been by my side since you were six years old. You haven't even taken any lovers, though over the years I wish you would have."
She gave a laugh, her eyes wet with tears. "How could I? I spend all my time with you. How could another possibly compare to you?" His eyes softened. "Plus, I have had few options. None of your people would touch me."
He bent his head and kissed her knee and her hands touched his pure white hair at his crown. He moved between her legs before embracing her, pressing his lips to her shoulder. He rested his cheek where his mouth had been while her fingers ran through his soft hair.
"I will give you children, my sunflower, if that is what you desire."
Her chest tightened at the way he framed the sentence. "I wish to do this for you," she said in a soft voice. He said nothing else as his arms tightened around her, telling her what words could not. She shut her eyes as she kissed his head.
"They will be very exotic children," he murmured against her and she smiled.
"Hopefully they look like you, or they will have a hard time of it."
"I would love if they had your beautiful skin, especially a little girl."
Her heart filled with so much love for this elf, it hurt a little. They said nothing more, only held each other, and the moment was perfect for her.