Chapter 5: Married Life - What of Dreams

Cyrion took a moment to adjust to his surroundings as he woke. He hadn’t slept in this bed since he was a child. It was an odd feeling, to revisit his childhood days, but he was filled with the mellow satisfaction that perhaps life was finally making a turn for the better. Not since Solyn died had he felt this hopeful. The rough patch may finally be over. Grateful that his new daughter was the change that they both needed, Cyrion decided he should visit the Chantry and offer thanks to the Maker before he went to work today. A prayer tied to the vhenadahl was essential for this gift of peace.

The floor was warm from the oven below, and he heard the familiar sounds of cooking. Cyrion tied a braid to keep his hair out of his eyes and dressed for work in the dim predawn light offered by the tiny windows. By the time he came down, his son was placing their breakfast on the table with Nesiara’s left on a warming stone. Raviathan turned when he heard the creak of the ladder and smiled. Keeping his voice low so as not to disturb the sleeping elf above, Raviathan said, “She’s wonderful father. She’s beautiful, and easy to talk to, and so smart. I can’t believe she made that ornament.”

Cyrion’s eyes crinkled, and the smile lines in his face deepened in a way that Raviathan hadn’t seen in two years. “It does my heart good to see you two. I hoped that once you saw her things would work out.”

Raviathan closed the distance and hugged him. “Thank you. I’m sorry I was difficult yesterday morning.”

“Son,” Cyrion said, “I only want your happiness. For years now I haven’t seen you smile. I know this was quick, but I thought you needed a change.” He stroked his son’s hair and felt Raviathan’s arms tighten in response. There was so much of Adaia in him. They both had that infectious enthusiasm that drew other people to them. When they entered a room, he could feel it even when his back was turned. Adaia had understood the effect she had on others, had been trained for it, and used it to their advantage when she needed to. Cyrion was sure Raviathan was unaware that he had the same effect. “I know you’re young, but I think it’s time we both started looking to the future again.”

Raviathan kissed his father’s cheek and whispered, “Thank you.”

They sat at the table, both of them keeping their heads bowed, though there was a joyous peace to their meal that hadn’t been there a day ago. Cyrion’s egg was scrambled, and it seemed his son had remembered they had salt and pepper for the first time in two years. Their porridge had raisins, cream, and honey mixed in. Cyrion smiled. Today there would be a prayer to the vhenadahl and a candle lit for the Maker. Hopefully grandchildren wouldn’t be far off.

Cyrion left the ramshackle apartment building and wondered if they should look for a new place to live. It had been close to ideal when his son was young and in need of a place to train. Better would have been a place with a basement that would have muffled sound, but basements often flooded, were expensive, and difficult to come by. Still, they made it work by thickening the walls and having good shutters. He hoped his son wouldn’t pass on his training to his children. Adaia had been insistent, and, in his youth, he couldn’t see the harm in it.

While Adaia’s training of their son had been optional, even something of an indulgence, his son’s training with Solyn had been vital. Those had been hard years to get through and ones he was more than glad to put behind him. Thank the Maker that Raviathan had made it, but it still gave Cyrion the occasional nightmare. Thoughts of finding a different apartment stopped as he considered his future grandchildren. He had lived in that apartment since he was born. It was home and a good one at that. He was getting too far ahead of things when he thought about expanding their home to make room for grandchildren.

His thoughts were interrupted when Valendrian spied him. It was early yet, and Cyrion could afford to spend a few minutes with his hahren without being late for work. Valendrian’s baritone rang with clear confidence in the empty street. Raviathan could have the same command to his voice if he chose, but he remained soft spoken rather than authoritative. Maybe one day his son would step into the role that was natural to him, Cyrion thought as the two men met and exchanged greetings.

Feeling no need to delay, Valendrian asked, “And how goes the new couple?”

The smile on Cyrion’s face was all that needed to be said, but he answered, “Well. Very well. I do not expect to wait long for grandchildren.”

For the sake of his friend, Valendrian smiled back, trying to hide his relief, but Cyrion caught it. Many of the adults and elders would be heaving the same sigh of relief, though they would try to hide it as they had hidden their misgivings all these years. The banishment of a child, any child, was painful for the community, and Raviathan would have been an exceptionally difficult case. Everyone knew what happened to the lost children.

No one else was around this early, so Cyrion added quietly, “I know he’s been difficult. Thank you for being patient all these years.”

“Well. Solyn was very respected. Many here were willing to overlook things for her sake. And for his.” There were other reasons, but neither was willing to speak of them in the open no matter how vacant the streets were. Seeing Cyrion’s discomfort, Valendrian added, “I never once thought he was a bad boy. Just ... just having a hard time adjusting to things. Now that he has a wife to help settle him down, I think things are going to go well for the lad.”

“I ... I hope so,” Cyrion said with a sorrow that never left him, even in moments of joy.

Valendrian said, his voice filled with compassion, “I’ve watched that boy grow from a babe. Nearly every child here follows his lead. When they’re in trouble, they turn to him as much as they turn to me. Give a few years, and I think he’ll make the alienage proud.” When Cyrion looked up with a spark of hope in his eyes, Valendrian said, “I’ve had my eye on him for some time now.”

The elder elf felt his chest tighten at those words. “I had thought, well, hoped, but I wasn’t sure.”

“There’s a reason everyone in the alienage knows him, my friend. Now, tell me about our newest member. She seems to be a delightful girl.”

At that Cyrion brightened, and he extolled the virtues of his new daughter.

Raviathan crept up the ladder with one hand, a plate of food nestled in the other. He set the plate on the chest next to his bride. With her hair spread out on the pillow, she was even more beautiful in the dawning sunlight. He watched her for a moment, her mouth parted slightly in sleep, and wondered at the changes that could happen in so short a time. All the major events that had happened in his life had been abrupt and violent. Of the four major turning points, three involved death. For the first time a major change was for the better. His wife with her artist’s hands had already lifted the gloom from his home. Raviathan leaned down and kissed her temple then her jaw. She stirred and stretched. “Wake up my darling wife.”

At that she smiled. “You wake up too early.”

“I have breakfast here for you.”

Nesiara blinked and looked over at the chest. “In bed? You want me to eat in bed? You’re weird.”

Raviathan chuckled and slowly peeled back the blankets. “I want to see my beautiful wife, but I don’t think she’ll consent to having breakfast downstairs naked.” When her breasts were exposed he leaned down to fondle one with his mouth.

Nesiara groaned and arched her back to press further into his mouth. Her fingers reached up to run through his hair. “Do that, dear husband, and my breakfast will go cold.”

Reluctantly Raviathan left, his eyes on her dark pink and wet nipple. “Then you better hurry and eat. I won’t wait for long.”

Nesiara sat up and wrapped the blankets over one shoulder to keep warm, but she left one breast exposed for her husband’s pleasure. She took her plate and ate. “So. What are the plans for today?”

“Well,” Raviathan said with his gaze locked on her chest. “I’m going to be late for Alarith’s. I’ve already decided that he should expect a newly married man to be late. I’m going to watch you eat, then I’m going to watch your naked body do all sorts of interesting things that make husbands late for work.” He paused watching Nesiara’s nipple stiffen. “I think I’m going to be very late.”

“You should be in bed with me.”

Deciding she was right, Raviathan undressed. Nesiara watched him as intently as he had watched her. Catching her gaze, Raviathan finished pulling off his clothes. He lay in bed next to her, over the blankets so she could see him. She had stopped eating, her eyes roving over the length of him. “You’re going to get cold.”

Raviathan worked the blankets until he was under them then curled up next to his wife. “My darling wife is already so protective of me.”

Nesiara put aside her half eaten breakfast to cuddle with him. They kissed and touched, and she felt him harden in her hand. “Rav, is this alright?” He let out a little ‘mmm’ of pleasure, his low voice purring near her ear. She closed her eyes at the sound ready to have ten of his babies. “I ... uh, I mean.” His hand, cold against the inside of her thigh, pushed her apart so he was between her legs. “You don’t mind, I mean, you don’t think less of me?”

“Less of you?” He paused, lifting his head from her neck to look at her. She could feel him there, hard between her legs. He was moving back and forth slowly, a promise of what was to come. She still couldn’t get over the feel of all that bare skin caressing her or that they didn’t have to hide or hurry. “What are you talking about?”

“You don’t think I’m too easy, do you? This, I mean, I’m not being wrong, am I?”

He was gentle when he kissed her. “I can’t believe you’re seriously worried about that.” He moved inside her, and her head went back in a groan. Maker he felt good. Like he was made just for her. “Ness,” he nibbled at her ear, “I think you’re so beautiful. For the rest of my life, I’m going to remember last night, how you looked in the moonlight. I love it that you enjoy this. I love that you want to take pleasure from me. Please Ness. Don’t ever be embarrassed.”

Nesiara groaned deep in her throat. She took his hand and placed it over her breast. His thumb rubbed her nipple, irritating it in the most wonderful way. This was her husband she kept telling herself, amazed with the idea. This is the rest of my life. I’m going to cook his meals and care for his children. She saw herself at the stove, stirring soup in a steaming pot, a toddler playing on the floor and a second baby in a small crib near the window. Another little pot had carrots that she was cooking for the baby’s meal. Her husband would come through the door, and though she could feel his presence, she wouldn’t turn around. She would smile as he came up to her, tired from work, and hugged her from behind. Only after he kissed her did would he go to the baby, lifting the little bundle out and cradling his child in his arms. Their first born would be there, pulling on his pants for attention, so he would sit by the window with a baby in his arms and his toddler playing on his lap. The baby had his skin and fine whips of blonde hair.

The image evaporated when her body tightened. This time he didn’t hold his hand over her mouth when she cried out. When he finished, he shifted to the side pulling her with him. His eyes were heavy lidded, and he lightly brushed back the hair in her face. “You look sleepy,” she said.

“I love being here with you.” He kissed her forehead and entwined their legs. “Do I make you happy Ness?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

“No.”

“Wrong,” she said and gently bit him.

“Maybe?”

“So insecure,” she said and bit him again.

“Then yes?”

“Still can’t get it right.” She moved to lie on top of him, his hands going about her waist then lower to squeeze her rear. “You fill me with absolute joy.”

They spent the next two hours in fluctuating states of arousal and fulfillment. They dozed at times or told stories between lazy, open touches. “You promised you would play for me.”

“I will.” He shifted then so one leg was pressed up between hers, and his head lay on her shoulder. “Right now I’m admiring your marvelous breasts.”

“They are, aren’t they.”

Raviathan grinned in dreamy contentment. He cupped one breast, his fingers exploring the velvety soft skin of her areola. “You know Ness, I really can’t believe you made that ornament.”

“Why not?”

Raviathan snuggled in, holding her close with his lips caressing the nape of her neck as he spoke. “It doesn’t look like something that belongs in this world. It’s like you took lights from the Fade and bound them together with a memory of dance. When I look at it, I keep expecting to wake up.”

“A memory of dance? What an odd way to phrase that.”

“That’s how the Fade works,” Raviathan said and kissed her collar bone.

“How do you know about the Fade?” she asked skeptically. “All it is, is dreams. I don’t even remember mine most of the time.”

“What was the last dream you remember?”

“Um...” Nesiara shifted on her back as she searched her memory. “I sort of remember being in my house, but we lived inside a large tree. I was in my house, the one back in Highever, and it was inside a tree though there’s no way it would fit in real life.”

“What kind of tree?”

“Willow I think. I was annoyed because our stove kept breaking, and I wanted my mother to make cookies.”

“I’ll make you cookies,” Raviathan said as he shifted so he lay half on top of her. “All sorts of yummy cookies, just for you.”

Nesiara giggled when he kept kissing her neck. “Oh Maker, we’re never getting out of this bed, are we.”

“Never. We’re just going to have to live on Fade dreams.” His fingers caressed her lower abdomen, up and down just below her bellybutton, and a wanton pulse responded in her. It was amazing all the different ways he had of making her desire grow. To her surprise, he sat up and then pulled her to sit in his lap, her legs on either side. With her help, he wrapped the blankets loosely around them. “Your back is covered?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’ve never ... I don’t know what to do.”

Their faces were inches apart so he could kiss her easily. His kisses were tender and sweet, his arms around her back holding her securely, and Nesiara let go of the worry that she didn’t know how to please him. “We’re going to make love slow,” he said, his voice soft and close. He started rocking his hips in slow, easy movements.

Nesiara put her arms around his neck, again that feeling that this was her future. “We are making love, aren’t we?”

“Don’t you feel that way?”

It looked like she would break his heart if she said no. That openness to her was drawing her in. All the jaded feelings that she, like all elves, lived with didn’t belong here with them in their little cocoon. She felt like a flower opening. “I do husband.” She rose up to nibble his ear.

“Keep doing that my sweet Ness,” Raviathan whispered. His hands caressed down her back, over the curve of her rear, and explored the backs and insides of her thighs.

He pulled his ear away to kiss her. She wished she were a better artist so she could create something as beautiful as his eyes when he looked at her.

This position was a little more awkward, and she couldn’t move more than small flexing motions, but she loved that he was so close. “Rav, are you ever going to get tired of me?”

“The sun will fall into the sea first my sweet Ness.” He held one of her breasts up so he could work it with his mouth.

Nesiara let her head dip back with a moan. “I’m going to have to check to see if that tongue is made of gold.”

He looked back up at her with a self satisfied smile, but as she watched, awe replaced the expression. “Oh Ness.” Maker, he had pretty eyes. The black lashes and dark skin contrasted with their whites and colors making them look like jewels.

She saw it on his face then and looked over at the window. The sun hit her ornament refracting bright, compact rainbows and blinding shards of pure, white light. Blues, lavenders, and pinks shaded her skin. She smiled at her husband’s reverence then blew a hard breath at the ornament. All the colors and light started shifting about the room in a merry jig. Nesiara turned back to him expecting to see the joy he had last night when he saw his gift. “Rav? What’s wrong?”

A tear ran down his face, and he touched the shifting colors on her skin. Nesiara thought she could drown in his eyes. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful in my life.” They moved together, bodies and mouths united.

Nesiara got one bite of cold breakfast before Raviathan pulled her back to the bed. Their blankets were a jumbled mess. She laughed at his hunger. “Rav, you are so bad.”

“Bad?”

She could feel him soft in the cleft of her butt. She pressed her pelvis back against him and smiled when she heard the expected pleased murmur. “You haven’t gone to work. You haven’t played for me. You haven’t told me how you know about the Fade. Bad husband.”

“I thought my natural charm made up for that. Alright then.” He lay back, and Nesiara rearranged their blankets so her feet wouldn’t stick out and get cold. She lay back, half on top of him, and his arm went around her shoulders. “Remember that library I told you about last night? That’s how I learned. The Fade is linked to our world, and when we sleep or die, our souls go there, but it isn’t like another world. It’s best to think about the Fade as lying right underneath everything that exists here. If our world is solid and material, the Fade is emotional and ever changing. You know how an object can have sentimental value? It might not be worth anything really, but it’s valuable to you? When that happens, you and the Fade are interacting.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. An object in the Fade isn’t physical. It’s emotional. The emotions you put into it, like a favorite toy or flower, give it substance in the Fade. The way you think of a pot as being real, spirits of the Fade think of a memory as being real. The spirits of the Fade don’t understand our world. For them it feels like they’re wandering through a frozen wasteland.”

“I thought only demons came through the Fade. It use to make me and my sister scared when an old auntie would tell us stories. After she told us those stories, we were afraid to go to sleep.” She smiled in memory. “My parents were so confused by their hysterical daughters. My grandmother calmed us down and told us only mages could bring demons into the world.”

“That mean old auntie.” Raviathan squeezed her close. “Don’t you worry Ness. Your grandmother was right. The connection mages have to the Fade is much different.”

“I’m surprised you know all this,” Nesiara said.

“I thought it was interesting. Anyway, when you dream, it isn’t so much about what you dream as the significance of what those things mean in general and to you in particular. Some symbols are more powerful than others because of the collective souls who have attached meaning to a symbol. As an artist, I think you understand how that works. If you see a chrysanthemum in the Fade, it’s linked to death in one way or another because it’s the last blooming flower before winter. Harvest time to the Satinalia Annum is a time for remembrance of those gone, and the chrysanthemum is a reminder of their life. Think of every person who has ever mourned and remembered their loved ones on the Satinalia Annum, and you’ll understand why that flower is such a powerful symbol and why the Fade is thinned on that day. It’s the collective emotions of every elf and human over thousands of years that went into shaping that symbol.”

“Wow,” Nesiara said. “When you say it like that, it seems so weighty.” Nesiara shifted and could hear the steady thumping of his heart under her ear. Her grandmother had warned her to be careful with the symbols she used. It had been mostly words thus far. Nesiara studied the crystals she had made for their marriage: lilac for love at first sight, lavender for enchantment and enduring passion, pale pink for gratitude and grace, blue for trust and depth, indigo for insight, purple for rare wisdom, silver to support and connect them all, and crystal to light their lives.

When her sister had made an ornament of greens and blues for her husband, their grandmother had warned that it would be too sedate. When Anesa offered to add red or orange to liven the energy, their grandmother forbade it. The clashing colors would cause a disastrous marriage. Harmonious colors for a harmonious marriage. Nesiara had thought of her grandmother and her wisdom when she chose romantic colors that focused on a deeper relationship. Her husband was turning out to be something of a mystic. A very sexy mystic.

“The willow tree in your dream has a particular meaning independent of you,” Raviathan continued, “but there’s another reason why it was in your dream. I’m guessing you think of your home as a creative place.”

“That’s where I learned from my mother and grandmother. Sometimes we worked at the shop because there were tools there, like a small forge, but most of the time we worked at home.”

“So,” said Raviathan, “the willow tree. What does it mean to you?”

“The wood is very flexible. It was useful for certain kinds of crafts, like wood weaving.”