She saw him again a few times over the next few weeks. Enough to notice that his face brightened whenever he saw her. He made no presumption though and they did little more than exchange greetings.

Then it happened that there was a family occasion that she needed to attend. Some gathering of merchants at her Father’s house. And she needed an escort.

It would be improper for her to take one of her friends as she was far too old for that sort of thing. The thought of attending by herself for all of her Father’s lecherous business colleagues to lick their lips when she passed, or their wives trying to match her up with their sons and get access to her Father’s wealth… well… the thought made her sick.

She took the problem to her little cabal and they ran through the list of male acquaintances that they had access to as to who might be a suitable escort and it turned out there were none. Annalise shot them all down. Most would be lecherous and consider her in their debt meaning they would expect access to her body at some point in the future, only to be named by them.

Then she remembered Samuel and how safe she had felt in his presence. She and her friends had listened carefully to the rumour mill. Samuel had not claimed that he had kissed her or done anything else with her that was improper. He did remonstrate with a couple of people when they suggested her negative reputation and she decided that she would rely on his friendship.

It did not take her long to find him. And after another short play for the benefit of the men around him she pulled him away so that they could still be seen by everyone and yet could talk privately. A careful balance that needed to be struck on a regular basis for a woman in her position.

He agreed with some nervousness after first trying to dissuade her. Arguing that he was not used to that kind of circle and that he might embarrass her and therefore her Father who he referred to as a man of some esteem. She overrode his objections, noticing that he was talked around with reason and genuine appeals to his friendship rather than fluttering eyelashes and pouting.

He arrived early and she introduced him to her Father who raised an eyebrow at her as he shook Samuel’s hand but didn’t say anything. Her Mother accepted the learned gallantry from Samuel but was far too busy organising the household to spend too much time with him. Her Father and he talked a bit about his schooling but then the other guests arrived.

Samuel did not leave her side that night. He was dressed shabbily to be sure, but you couldn’t tell from his manners or his posture. The weaknesses in them were hidden in the crowd. He danced well, if stiffly, and that sense of security returned as they danced. His hands did not wander and his eyes looked around for danger to their dancing partnership.

He won her father's affections when he ignored a couple of japes from men who were trying to pick a fight with her Father, and skewered a blowhard with a witticism that Annalise had not spotted, causing the room to laugh at the fool.

Other than that, he guarded her drink, made sure she ate and when she became hot, he ensured that she got the proper amount of fresh air. He made her laugh by offering his outsider’s commentary on what she was happening and even pointed out some things that she missed.

He stayed by her side all night and towards the end further endeared himself to her parents by rolling up his sleeves and helping out with the clearing up.

But the time came as it had to. A servant brought his hat, cloak and weapons which is the universal signal that it is time to go. He nodded and offered his farewells to her parents. She noticed that he took a deep sniff near her mother which struck her as a little odd but she would only remember that later.

He left and she watched him go with her parents. As she turned to retire for the night, she found her parents looking at each other in that annoying way they did sometimes when they communicated without speaking.

Her Father nodded at his wife before turning to his daughter.

“Invite that young man to dinner,” he instructed his daughter, before turning towards his study for a stiff drink.

“I like him,” her mother told her as they parted for the night.

Samuel looked faintly terrified when she told him that her parents expected him for dinner. He took a deep breath and looked at her seriously for a moment. He looked… afraid.

“Do you want me to decline the invitation?” He asked nervously.

“Whatever for?” she wondered, utterly missing the implications.

He nodded, the fear vanishing his eyes.

The date was set and he arrived for dinner. She decided that she would treat him with a gown. A proper gown to reward him for the party that he had made bearable by his presence and for indulging her parent’s foibles. She had her hair done, put makeup on and wore some proper jewellery.

When he arrived, five minutes early, he arrived with a bow and several bundles which he handed to a servant as his cloak, hat and weapons were removed before he took the bundle back. As he approached, he took one bundle that crinkled as he handed it to her, revealing it to be a bunch of flowers.

It was an odd assortment of flowers, she didn’t recognise a couple of them, but then the smell hit her and she felt herself laugh with delight, opening her eyes in time to see his face switch from concern to pleasure and a certain amount of smugness.

After a suitable greeting, he moved past her to her mother, where another bunch of flowers was handed over. Her mother echoed what Annalise was sure were her own movements when she looked at the arrangement, smiled suspiciously before taking a sniff and laughing in delight.

“How did you figure this?” her mother asked.

“Figure what?” Her Father wondered.

“This set of flowers gives off the same scent as my favourite perfume,” Annalise’s mother laughed again. “You must give me the combination young man.”

“Oh?” Samuel smiled. “But then I would not have an excuse to give you any more flowers Madame.”

Her Father laughed while Annalise looked at her flowers suspiciously again and took a deep breath. The scent was familiar and she stared at Samuel suspiciously.

For her Father, he handed him a bottle of wine. Her Father raised his eyebrows before handing the wine off to a servant and led them all into the dining room.

Samuel was a hit.

He made her Father laugh with various tales of student life and when he was feeling a little bolder, he also told, with significant embellishment elevating her actions and portraying himself as the figure of comedy, the story of how he first came to invite her for a walk in the park.

Her mother spent the night with a smile on her face, laughing in all the right moments, cheering in all the right spaces but other than that, she was thoughtful. In a lull in the conversation Annalise’s mother leant forwards.

“So explain to me something, how did you know what combination to make of the flowers.”

Samuel carefully put his glass down.

“At the risk of giving away the magic trick,” he explained. “I bribed your maid to find out what your favourite perfume was.”

Annalise’s mother laughed while her Father looked thoughtful, not bad thoughtful but even so. Even more interesting given that Annalise was pretty confident that Samuel was lying. Her mother’s maid was incorruptible.

“From there,” Samuel explained. “I am an alchemist. You are known to support local industry so from there it was clear that you would have preferred local plants. After that, it was experimentation.”

The mother laughed in delight again.

The meal came to a conclusion and her Father took Samuel off to the study to speak as men do. Annalise and her mother waited until the two men were out of the dining room before charging after them so they could listen at the door. They were in there for a short while before Annalise’s mother nodded in satisfaction.

“Your Father likes him,” was her verdict before she left.

Annalise herself waited a while before she also found something else to do. Sometime later her Father emerged with Samuel looking none the worse for wear. Her Father was not a violent man but he had made his irritation known towards insulting marriage offers before now.

And why had she thought that this would come up?

But the four of them had met in the hall. Her Father looked at her with an appraising look for a long moment before he turned back to Samuel and nodded.

“Annalise,” her Father’s voice was a little rough from years of shouting at wagon trains. “You may escort this young gentleman to the gate. Good evening sir,”

The two men shook hands.

Samuel then bowed over her mother’s hand again before offering his arm to Annalise who took it.

She was disconcerted by the wink her mother gave her.

“My Father likes you,” she told him when they went out the door.

“Oh good,” he muttered in the tones of a man who had just returned from hell. “I was unsure myself. I thought he was going to shoot me.”

“He might yet,” she teased.

“If he does, would you implore him to aim for the head?”

“That would depend on how angry you make him,”

It didn’t take them long to reach the gate of her family’s town house.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” he told her formally.

She had to ask.

“You didn’t bribe the maid did you?” she accused.

His eyes narrowed as they searched his face for a moment.

“No,” he admitted. “No… A good alchemist has a good nose and I was able to guess fairly easily.”

“The same with mine?”

He took a deep breath, looked at his feet for a moment before he looked up at her. “I will admit that I have thought of little more than your scent for some time now.”

She laughed.

“As lines go, that was a little creepy,” she made her tone gentle. “But sweet.”

“I will take ‘sweet’.”

“But the wine? Forgive me but you don’t strike me as a man that knows a lot about wine.”

“Ah, well… Your mother’s maid is famous for her discretion. Your Father’s chef however… if he thinks it’s funny and so long as it’s obviously not meant to sabotage your family… He was willing to advise me as to the right bottle of wine after I bought him an ale.”

She laughed.

“Why didn’t you say all of that? Father would have been impressed by your talents” She wondered.

“He looked nervous, giving her a sudden image of what he looked like as a six year old boy.

“I didn’t want to show off,” he said, still looking nervous.

‘Holy shit’ she realised ‘I’m gonna kiss him.’

She lunged forwards without thinking and kissed him, pulling back before anything else could happen and before she could overthink.

“I will see you tomorrow,” she said, his face looking confused, shocked, horrified and joyous all at the same time.

She fled, turning back at the door to find him staring at her with his mouth open. He seemed to collect himself, bowing and clapping his hat on his head.

The Doorman suppressed a smile at her glare as she walked back in to find her Mother waiting for her.

“I like him too,” her mother declared before leaving. She had not had time to check what her mother had meant by that.

She saw him again the following day, but they were both busy and had other places to be. The following day they met for lunch. The day after that, he met her from class and he offered to escort her back to her rooms.

THEY HELD HANDS WHILE THE DID THAT.

Even her friends had started to cotton on and had begun to tease her. This was intolerable.

Then he told her that his mother was upset that he hadn’t brought her over for dinner.

Of course she went, being told that it would be ham with bread, gravy and some vegetables. She asked what kind of wine his mother liked and he laughed at her, leaving her feeling stupid.

“She prefers cider,” he told her.

She was just about to get angry at him when he said something else.

“Just bring yourself. Your charm and beauty is more than enough for me and it will be more than enough for her as well.”

Damn him, how could she stay angry with him when he was so damn smug.

The meal was excellent. She was astonished by how tasty it was. His mother was a still good looking woman in her late forties meaning that she had Samuel while she was young. She was funny and was another person that proved the old saying of “Education does not automatically mean intelligence”. She told stories about her Samuel’s father and when she had had some cider, a substance that scoured the back of Annalise’s throat and left her feeling dizzy but of which both Samuel and his mother could consume vast quantities without adverse effects, she started to tell some embarrassing stories about Samuel’s younger days.

Much to Annalise’s delight and Samuel’s embarrassment.

He escorted her home and it occured to her from his body language and behaviour, that he wasn’t going to kiss her.

“Are you going to kiss me goodnight?” she demanded. As they got to the grounds of the university.

“What?” his carefully learned poise and manners shattered and she wondered if she saw the real him revealed. “Why? Errr? Did you want? Errrr… I didn’t intend… Oh Gods…”

She laughed at him, enjoying the blush that spread across his face. It was rare to see him so flustered and she enjoyed it whenever she could.

So she stopped him, moving into his path and placing her hand on his chest. If this was going to happen, it needed to be now before the open ground in front of her rooms and they would be seen by everyone.

“Are you going to kiss me goodnight?” she demanded, trying not to give away her intention.

He gave a deep, juddering breath as he looked back up at her.

Holy flame, he was a virgin.

“I would only do so,” he said carefully, just a trace of a stammer, “if such a thing were welcome.”

She nodded, trying not to show approval. Too many men and boys presumed after a dinner.

“It would be welcome,” she told him firmly, lowering her arm waiting for him to lunge for her.

And then he didn’t.

“Right then,” he said. “...Well I…”

He didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands.

So she showed him, grabbing his face and pulling him in. At first he was still, clearly too terrified to move but she persisted and she felt him relax into the sensation and what was happening. The feeling of having him relax into her arms and mouth was… a little intoxicating.

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her and she followed. Their mouths opened slowly and then….

She lost herself as well.

She came to a few moments later as he pulled apart for air,

“I umm…”

She smiled at him. She had to be careful, if she teased him now she would break him and she knew it. She stroked his cheek.

“Good night,” she told him.

“Errr… Good night,” he replied.

She left him there, noting that he didn’t try and talk his way up to her room. The realisation that he was a virgin had told her much but even so, the feeling that he had not presumed to be invited to her room to take things further was…

Interesting. That and the feeling of him surrendering to her and to that kiss was… well, that feeling kept her warm that night.

The following day she realised that she was going to take his virginity, if he wanted to give it to her of course. She was going to make his first time a time that he was going to remember.

The thing couldn’t last of course, they were set for different paths in life, him to be a Witcher, her to be a merchant, but for this night?

She used all the tricks that her mother had ever taught her and all the tricks that her previous love life had given her.

The first things were practical. The decision of venue as they headed into summer suggested an outdoor meeting. Either room was out of the question because of her fellow boarders and his. Her family house or his was out of the question. But insects and the possibility of weather, meant that she found a small tent-like pavilion. She found a location near an old stone monument that was supposed to be the location of the founding tree.

Not that she believed that stuff but it meant that they would be out of the way but still with plenty of fresh air.

After that, she counted her days of bleeding and set a time for a week after the next bleed. But she didn’t take anything for granted. She had her mother’s aide buy a preventative for him and a preventative for her. A long standing arrangement that had been set up by her mother when Annalise was first showing interest in the male of the species.

Her Mother had told her that if a preventative was needed then a preventative would be acquired, no questions asked. Including for Annalise’s friends.

The last thing Her mother wanted for Annalise was for her to be dealing with risky, back alley alchemists that would take the spoiled rich girl for everything she had.

Annalise really loved her parents.

The measure was important and she had long taught her friends to use the service if necessary. Also telling them that if the boy wasn’t willing to take the potion, then she should not be willing to offer him her body. So if she was going to teach this boy about how to be a lover, she should teach him how to take care of the practicalities as well.

From there, she worked backwards. She plotted a walk in the gardens ending with a picnic in the tent. The food would be put there by an accomplice, probably her mother’s maid who seemed to approve of Samuel although she never said so. Before that there was an open air play being put on by some of their fellow students that was being directed by one of her little coterie. It would doubtlessly be awful, but not due to the lack of talent in the words of the director.

She arranged tickets and that there would be snacks already paid for.

The play would also give her something to invite him to, so that it all looked inconspicuous and he wouldn’t be suspicious. She had found in the past that spontanaity was something that attracted the male. Planning to lose his virginity in advance would possibly give him performance anxiety.

With the idea that they could meet beforehand for a drink on the commons with friends to loosen him up and bolster his courage when the time came.

Of course he said yes. She merely had to suggest that he was doing her a favour and he could not agree fast enough.

In the meantime, she ensured his continued interest in her with clandestine kisses and time spent together. He charmed her friends, making them all laugh and he didn’t seem too offended when she didn’t want to meet his friends. He told her that they were more his peers, rather than his friends and that they only stayed near him so that they could get his help with their alchemy work.

It occured to her that he was extremely lonely and she found her heart melting for him.

All of the kisses, gentle touches, strokes and glances from beneath eye lashes while stroking her hair got him nice and flustered.

And if she was honest, she didn’t have to put that much effort into the flirting and sometimes, she caught herself doing it involuntarily.

So here she was, lying in a small pavilion, just enough room for the two of them to stretch out and as she lay there next to him, still feeling his warmth against her body and skin as she looked down at him. She was realising two things. The first was the horrifying realisation that she found his little snorts and snores adorable, something that he would be mortified to learn.

But the second was how well it had gone. Far better than she had dreamed if she was honest.

He had turned up with two bunches of flowers. The first was for her and she had long since given up on trying to understand how he knew exactly what kind of scents she would adore. They were all different but all of them crept up her nostrils and left her feeling certain that he had done this just for her.

Her Father had even suggested that he could have a job as a perfumer if he decided that the whole Witcher thing was not going to work out for him.

The other bunch was for her friend that was directing the play. He had met her once before but this time she saw his charm, and the effect that his flower arrangements could have, working on someone else.

It was everything she could have dreamed.

She had spent a, not small, amount of time arranging her hair and her dress for the occasion. She wanted a wrap so that one or other of them could disrobe her without too much difficulty. And she wanted a hairstyle that looked as though it was complex but that could be pulled apart quickly and easily, while also being rearranged after the activity that she intended to take part in, was over. The style was called a “Working Empress” although no-one knew why.

She had worn simple makeup so that she didn’t smear everywhere and jewellery that would be easy to find if it was discarded quickly in the throes of passion.

She had examined herself that morning and decided that she looked good.

The weather was threatening to turn towards the storm and she hoped and prayed that it would hold off until the play was over for her friend and after she had hopefully had her way with her paramour.

She also spent a bit of time that morning preparing for the possibility that he might say no, or that he was not ready for what she wanted to give him.

She needed to be alright with that and it took a while for her to decide that she would be disappointed, but that she would be able to hide her feelings so as not to hurt him.

They met, he charmed her friend, and her, all over again. They took a small walk after the customary arrangement for her flowers to be put somewhere safe. They spoke about small things. He told her about how much his mother liked her and had informed him that she was too good for him which made Annalise snort. They talked about her studies, his studies and the gossip of both sets of friends.

He asked her if she wanted to join him for something to eat after the play was done. After a brief moment of panic at the thought that he had arranged something and that she would cost him time, money or influence, he had not presumed to make any plans, he was just hoping to spend time with her.

She told him that she had arranged something. He smiled in gratitude and then just trusted that she had done so. Something that had annoyed her in other men that she had known was that she had told them she had done something and then they would check details, suggesting that they didn’t trust her to do… anything.

Again, she had that worryingly lovely sense of safety in his company.

The play itself was better than it had any right to be. Something that she put entirely at the feet of her friend. The feeling was that the added pressure of performing had given the cast that extra kick that was required. There were still some weaknesses but her friend had to play politics when it came to a couple of casting choices.

They watched, cheered and applauded. Waited to congratulate her friend who was in tears with the release of the stress and the pressure that their first performance, even if it was a student performance, had gone well. Annalise packed her off into the arms of her own lover before collecting Samuel and leading him off into the evening.

The storm clouds had still been gathering but she was unafraid. She leaned into him and he draped his arm and cloak around her, giving her the feeling of a warm bubble against the dark and the cold.

They wandered for a while as she felt the tension build within her and she wondered if he felt the same tension before she could finally contain herself no longer.

She steered him towards the pavilion just as the first raindrops fell. He was suitably impressed at what he saw as she lit the candles and the lamps. They were moving past the need for constant conversation and she liked that.

They sat together and ate. Not hugely and he didn’t notice, or pretended not to notice, when she watered his wine quite heavily and made him drink it.

When they were done eating he helped her tidy things away and they lay next to each other, occasionally kissing, but mostly staring out into the growing gloom, listening to the sound of rain on the canvas above them. She desperately wanted to kiss him some more. But he needed to make this decision properly, not when his blood was already up. She was desperately afraid that he would rush into something and regret it later when time had passed.

Instead, she lay in his arms, wrapped in his cloak and enjoyed the feeling of the tension rising.

After some time, she decided that she could cope with it no more. She pulled away and sat up, turning to face him. For a moment, he looked confused and concerned that he had done something to upset her. He hadn’t, indeed, she would have been quite content if his hands had wandered a bit.

She looked at him for a long moment, searching his face.

And her careful speech that she had worked on for a while that morning vanished.

“Do you want me?” she asked.

His face was the very picture of astonishment.

“I uhhh. I don’t… I mean… who wouldn’t want… I don’t.”

She laughed, hoping that the noise wasn’t cruel and put her finger to his lips.

“It’s alright,” she said softly. “I promise that it’s alright.” She paused waiting for him to calm himself. “Do you want me?” She asked again, hoping that the simplicity helped her. “Take your time to consider,”

He took several deep breaths and looked away, his face reddening.

“Of course I do,” he admitted. “You are the most…” he ran out of words and she wished that she could have heard what he had meant to say. “I just… I’ve never…” He took another deep breath. “I’ve never…. Been with… I’ve never been with a woman… like that… before.”

“Shhhh.” She said again, smiling as softly as she dared. She wanted to hug him and hold him against whatever frightened him. “I said it’s alright and I meant it. I know. I know you haven’t.”

She carefully did not tell him that if she had been blind, deaf and dumb she would have known that he was inexperienced with the physical side of love. She also didn’t say how astonished she was that some girl hadn’t snared this… actually quite… good man.

“I know you haven’t. It’s ok, there’s nothing wrong with that,” she told him. “The only thing that would have been wrong would have been if you had pretended to something that you were not. Now…”

She looked down and took his hand carefully and gently before looking back up at him.

“I want you,” she told him. “Here and now. I want you. It doesn’t matter that you’re a virgin, I will guide you through it if you’ll let me. If you don’t want to? If you are not ready or if you would rather do this somewhere else or at another time, I completely understand. This is not a one time offer, but I cannot promise that it will be available for ever. I want you and if you want me?” she smiled, doing her best to hide her excitement.

She already knew what his answer was.

“If you want me then… I want you.” She stammered a little.

He smiled at her, his eyes darting around her face with amazement.

“Then yet, of course I do,” he laughed.

She hugged him tight. Nothing sexual but she was surprised by how nervous she had been.

“First, some ground rules.” She pulled away from him, reaching for the small grey satchel. “A preventative for both of us.” She handed him one bottle and took the other. “If I ever hear of you making some woman pregnant who doesn’t want to be pregnant then I will have your balls.”

He laughed and took the bottle without hesitation, unstoppering it and taking a professional, automatic looking sniff.

“I mean it,” she told him.

“I know,” he sniffed the bottle again with some curiosity rather than fear before downing the bottle without pause. Again, doing better than some men that she had pushed a similar bottle on.

She drank her own bottle with enough time to see him making a face.

“I would add some mint into the mixture,” he suggested. “Also maybe some honey.”

She smiled at the thought.

“I have thought of that, but if a boy is willing to put himself through that,” she gestured at the bottle. “Then he is worth my time. Does it bother you that I’ve been with other men?”

“No,” he was examining the stopper of his potion bottle and the residue of the potion on the cork. “Why would it?”

She smiled again. His off-handed answer was oddly more reassuring than if he had taken steps to prove his sincerity.

She reached forward and took the bottle and the stopper off him, recorking the bottle and enjoying the sheepish embarrassment on his face.

“The second rule is this,” she told him. “If either of us say ‘stop’ for any reason at all. We stop. Instantly and without thought. Don’t be embarrassed if something is happening that you don’t like or makes you uncomfortable then…”

He took her hand back.

“I understand,” he told her.

“Good,” she said. “That’s that then.”

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

Then she kissed him quickly before she lost her nerve.

(warning: here be some relatively mild lemons)

At first, she let the wave of passion and the breach of the tension carry her through the opening moments. Again, she enjoyed the moment when he relaxed into her. She lay like that with him, making no move to go any further as they lay on their sides, stroking the “safe bits.”

Then it was time to move on.

She made him sit up as she took his boots off, and his belt, doublet and tunic, leaving him in his shirt sleeves and trews. She did the same, just leaving her in the wrapped dress. That dispensed of the boring bit.

There was a firepot if they got cold and although the day was getting darker, there was still plenty of light for them to see. She felt no need for the fire though as Samuel’s terror and erotic wonder were enough to keep her warm.

She kissed him again, stoking the fire within him. She had to tell him that it was alright a few times to keep him from rushing.

“Nothing beautiful was ever made quickly,” she told him. “You can explore my body in a moment.”

He smiled at the thought.

There was still some baby fat about him but his fencing classes were building some nice muscle mass. He was really gentle and again, the fact that he listened to her and didn’t try to force the issue, letting her be in control was exciting. He started to pant a little and she eased off, pulling his trousers down to see what she had to work with.

Not bad. There had been a small sense of nervousness as the child in her still believed the old wive’s tale of the peasant horse manhood. Nor was he so small that she would have to pretend. He was pleasing to look at, big enough with a bend in the middle that she looked forward to experiencing.

He was embarrassed. Of course he was, they always were and she returned to kissing him for a while to banish that embarrassment.

He nearly jumped a mile when she grasped hold of him.

“Look at me,” she told him and his eyes fluttered open.

“Is that nice?” she asked, feeling mischievous.

He made an incoherent positive noise.

“Then this is going to blow your mind.”

She bent and began to use her mouth.

He shouted in joy and as she looked up she saw that he had taken hold of the blankets that they lay on, looking as though he was holding on for dear life.

He didn’t last long. How could he? She swallowed as best she could and quickly wiped her mouth, hoping he didn’t notice.

He did not hesitate to kiss her. Some men did after she did that to them.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

Ok, that was new.

“What for?”

“I hoped…” There were tears in his voice and if his eyes were open, she rather suspected there would be tears there too. “I wanted to last longer.”

“Hey hey,” she kissed him hard and held him tight for a moment. “It’s ok. Look at me.”

He opened his eyes.

“You’re a virgin. There was no way you were going to last long, especially when you didn’t know this was going to happen and have not taken steps. Did you know this was going to happen?”

He shook his head.

“There you are then.” She smiled. “Besides. You are a virgin. That will not be the only time you are ready tonight, you have more than one shot in your pistol. But we can wait until you are ready.”

He nodded and she held him for a while, stroking and kissing him gently.

His mood changed abruptly.

“Right,” he said with a steely hint of determination. “Your turn.”

There was more muscle in there than she had thought as he turned her on her back and kissed her soundly. The passion in him made her gasp and whimper.

Then he kissed her jaw, then her neck as he headed down. She felt his hands at the ties of her dress.

“May I?” He asked.

She just nodded. He undid the ties although one of the knots defeated him and she giggled as he swore at the ties. He kissed her soundly in revenge as he unwrapped her as though he was opening some treasure box. He gaped long enough that she felt self-conscious despite having been seen naked by boys before.

Then he continued his journey down and she realised what he was about.

“Wait,” she told him. “Wait, you don’t have to… you won’t like it… It’s an acquired taste and…” her breathing became frantic. “Oh you don’t…”

And then she turned incoherent.

It turns out that he did know what he was doing. He was not perfect. His technique was clumsy but he seemed to be able to take meaning from her various noises and he soon found what she liked. His clumsiness was also offset by his enthusiasm and his obvious enjoyment of his self-imposed task. And again, the sudden shift from nervousness to confidence was oh so very hot.

He drove her to her peak once and just when she was about to tell him to stop, he pulled back and used a finger and whatever she had wanted to say vanished into a moan.

When she came back down she found him pulling her into his arms. She was amazed at how vulnerable she felt as the last tremors fell away.

It felt like he too had taken a moment to surreptitiously wipe his face on something.

“I thought you were a virgin,” she complained, only a little petulantly.

“I am,” he chuckled.

“I’m not sure I believe you. Who taught you how to do that?” she wondered, still a little breathlessly.

He laughed again.

“I read a book,” he told her. “The library has a section on the matter if you know where to look and you don’t have too much shame in asking the librarian about it. There are several works on technique although I did find some of the illustrations in it… improbable.”

She laughed, enjoying his answering laugh.

“You look forward to trying them out though right?”

“I will admit that there is some truth in that,” he told her, stroking her hair. She would normally find the gesture painfully trite but here it felt suitable. “But if this did happen, I had no expectation of course, but if it did? I didn’t want to disappoint.”

“You have not,”

She hissed him again, turning him onto his back. She had felt him becoming ready again. She lay atop him and kissed him before pulling his shirt off and shrugging her own dress off to one side.

“Are you ready?” She asked.

He looked terrified again, but he nodded.

She leaned forwards and reached between them, placing him at her entrance.

“Tell me if it hurts,” she half whispered, half moaned in his ear before she sank onto him.

She had been right, the bend in the middle did… interesting things.

She pulled back, sitting upright so that she could see him and so that he could see her. At first he gazed at her in amazement in an expression that looked a little close to worship. He reached towards her tentatively as she moved and she laughed, taking his hands and placing them on her, encouraging his touch. He would not last long but she wanted him to remember this moment. She made it stretch and then…

He moved and she moaned.

Then he moved again as she realised he was rising to meet her. In the future, if any of her friends told her that this was the lazy man’s position then she would tell them that ‘he’, whoever he was, wasn’t doing it right.

Then he moved again and his hand reached between them. His face was scrunched up with concentration and she felt his thumb reaching for her and if she just leaned a little bit to the left then…

She was pretty sure that she screamed when her body sang. She never enjoyed stifling herself. It seemed like a falsehood.

It had not lasted long enough and it left her wanting more, but at the same time, it seemed like it was enough and she was well pleased.

She lay atop him while they both came back down to the ground, holding each other. She found a towel, passed him one and they cleaned themselves up before sharing some water. The necessary chores after lovemaking.

Then she lay in his arms for a while, feeling quite content with her satisfying and enjoyable night’s work.

Then he snored.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I know it’s the cliche and the stereotype rolled into one, of the men going to sleep immediately afterwards. I always ridiculed this before saying it’s the height of rudeness. And it is, but I’m struggling to keep my eyes open. Do you want to talk or…”

“Or you can sleep,” she told him gently. “The night is young and you’ve worked hard. There can be… I hope there will be more later.” She listened to her own words with astonishment. She had always been really upset when a man fell asleep afterwards. But right there and then, the thought occured that it would be quite nice for the two of them to snooze like this for a while. No-one would disturb them. They were suitably out of the way and most people in this part of the world would see the pavilion and know exactly what was going on before turning around and finding another route.

(End of lemons)

But of course, then she couldn’t sleep. She just lay there on an elbow looking down at him.

She had experienced better love making before. There had been a boxer that she had known that had made her body sing over and over again until she was delirious and babbling. There was an older man who could last longer than all of her other lovers combined that had left her exhausted and panting for more. A beautiful fencer who had loved himself more than her but who was so very… inventive.

This boy was clumsy, naive, not particularly good looking but…

There was something there. Something different and she didn’t know what it was. She needed to know. She had to. She went over it and over it and over it as she tried to figure out the answer to the riddle. Why was this boy so much to her? Why had that bout of love making been so… why had it made her feel so much?

This boy was nothing special. He was not particularly handsome, he was not particularly strong or graceful. He was kind to be sure but that was not particularly unique. He was not… Why did this feel different?

Not only that, but in what way did it feel different? What was this new and alien, terrifying and exciting feeling?

“Love,” said a voice. “The answer you’re looking for is love.”

Startled, Annalise turned towards sitting up, seizing a blanket to cover her nakedness. Panic rose in her chest as she reached for a dagger. Any decent person would know what a small tent sitting next to the tree stone would mean and would know to leave it alone. So the only person that would approach would be a thief or worse.

She saw a figure, standing over the entrance of the tent, wrapped in darkness, tall and terrible with a golden staff in her hand.

Annalise opened her mouth to scream, or to call on Samuel, she wasn’t entirely sure which it was.

“Do not be afraid,” the same voice said as the figure gave a strange gesture. “I am not here to hurt you. Indeed, I would welcome the chance to speak to you for a moment.”

A strange sense of calm settled over Annalise. She was no longer afraid, the urge to cover her nakedness seemed foolish in the face of this person and she let the blanket fall.

“It is cold however, clothe yourself simply and you can return to your lover when we are through. I shall await you next to the stone.”

The figure departed. Now that she could think a bit more calmly, Annalise realised that it was a woman’s voice that she had heard. It sounded young, but there was a weight to it that made the voice sound ancient. She pulled her dress towards herself and wrapped herself in it, putting her boots on and she left the tent, noticing that Samuel’s snoring had deepend signalling that he had gone into a deeper sleep.

“He will be safe,” the voice called again and Annalise believed it.

It honestly never occured to her that she should stay in the tent.

She found the figure sitting on the ground having built a small fire. There were things moving in the undergrowth but Annalise was not afraid. Later she would wonder about that.

The light illuminated the stranger’s face. Young, maybe her own age, around twenty one years of age, but it also had the look of someone that if the figure had told her that she was five years older… or younger, she would not be surprised.

She was startling in her beauty but there was a strange quality to her face. Her mouth and jaw was maybe just a little bit larger than the fit of her face which gave the strange woman an otherworldly feel. She was beautiful without being attractive.

This was countered by the fact that she had pulled her long dark hair over her shoulder and was braiding it with exactly the same kind of focused, absent concentration that Annalise knew that she wore when performing the same task.

The strange woman smiled and gestured to the open space opposite her.

Annalise saw nothing wrong with sitting down.

The strange woman finished her task and clasped her hands in her lap as she regarded Annalise.

“Forgive me,” the woman said. “I didn't mean to interrupt you, nor did I intend to read your mind but you were just thinking so loud.”

Annalise wondered if she should laugh.

“Who are you?” She asked.

The woman turned her head to one side with the same expression of the dog that her mother used to love, when it was given an instruction that it did not understand.

“Fascinating,” the woman said, “that you should start with that question. I no longer remember my true name. It was given to me many years ago and anyway, it would not be pronounceable with this mouth and I certainly hardly ever used it. I have been given many names in the years since but in this instance?”

She stopped and looked at the sky before she began to smile sadly. She covered her mouth for a moment before the smile and the hand subsided.

“Yes, it is fitting,” she seemed to decide. “My favourite name was always Ariadne. You may call me that at this time.”

Later again, Annalise would kick herself for not realising what that name meant. She should have been much more afraid than she was.

“You were asking a question though,” Ariadne continued gently. “And for reasons that I do not understand, I am not ready for what I am going to do. Therefore I shall take this time to answer your question and provide some guidance if I may.”

Annalise said nothing. She found that she was in awe of this woman.

“The answer you are looking for is ‘love’. That man loves you, even if he does not realise it himself yet. And you trying to call him a boy to minimise him in your own eyes is being unfair. He is more of a man than many of the other boys that you have lain with. He loves you.”

Annalise felt her own eyes widen in horror.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Ariadne continued, watching Annalise’s face. “He probably doesn’t know it yet and I will admit to being surprised that you have not seen it. He is happier than when you first met him. He smiles more, laughs more… He looks for you in the daytime and when he sees you, it is like he glows. Your friends have even tried to tell you those things but you did not listen.”

The rebuke was there and Annalise knew that it was fair.

“And,” Ariadne drew Annalise’s gaze back to herself. “If you are being honest with yourself, you will realise that you love him more than a little too. You guard it better and you are afraid of the feeling because you can feel it growing in the depths of your own heart, but you fear it because it has hurt you before and therefore you deny it, flee from it and build walls between yourself and that feeling.”

“How do you know this?” Annalise asked carefully.

Ariadne laughed again, covering her mouth as she did so.

“It is not a new story.”

Annalise looked back at the tent to where she had left the boy… the man sleeping as the awful truth that this…

Ariadne suggested starting to register.

“Someone once told me,” Ariadne went on. “That the difference between sex and Making Love is that when you are having sex with someone, you do so for your own pleasure, but when you are Making Love with someone, you do so for their pleasure. I always found the description somewhat simplistic for my taste but it rings true here. He knew what might happen, even as he had no expectation that it would and if you had not pushed the issue, then he would never have asked for an invitation to your bed. But he studied and asked questions about how he would set about giving a woman pleasure, and he employed those tactics on you.

“You felt the difference. That was love. He came here tonight without expectation because you suggested that you needed him. That was love, he accompanied you to your family’s party and he treated you with respect when others sought to ridicule him, and you. He ensured that his gifts were thoughtful when he could not afford expenses. He treated your parents with respect so that it would reflect well on you. All of that was love.”

She decided that she could accept that.

“You? You wanted him to be happy. You concocted a grand scheme to make sure that the loss of his virginity would be a night to remember. Not some stolen thing that he would regret in later years. You made this a day, and a night that he would remember for his entire life. You wanted that for him. Not out of selfish desire for your own pleasure, you wanted that for him. You were slower to the emotion as you have been hurt before and it has taken you longer to get there. But your arrival is not in any doubt.”

“So what do I do?”

Ariadne regarded her and Annalise felt that those dark eyes stare into her soul. Again, she wanted to make herself look small. To protect her chest and hide. Her Father had once taken her to a zoo where the last known Griyphon’s were being kept in an effort to breed them to prevent their extinction. As she stood near the cages one of the gryphons had looked at her. It was only a small thing but Annalise remembered looking at this thing and knowing that it was a predator, that she was prey and that if the predator wanted to eat her then there was nothing she could do to stop it. If it wasn’t for the hardened, steel inlaid cages, then that monster would eat her.

The feeling was the same.

“You have three options as best as I can tell,” Ariadne told her. “The first is that you reject this feeling utterly. Cast it away from yourself and do not look back. It will be painful to cut it out of yourself and it will be hard.”

Ariadne seemed to consider, again with that almost dog-like head tilt.

“I would urge you to be kind with him though.”

That gaze retired to Annalise’s face.

“Arrange for a friend, someone good enough for him to be there to catch him and help him through this. Because someone will take advantage of his broken heart and for what you have done for him, and to him, you owe him that at least. But make sure that it is someone of quality that you can be comfortable with losing as a friend and coming to hate.”

“Why?”

“Because you love him too. There will always be a ghost of that feeling in you and every time you see the happy couple, you will think to yourself “That could have been me” and their happiness will rankle and turn to poison in your own heart. But if you do not do this, and some spiteful, hateful wretch steals his heart after you break it and she ruins him as a man, turning him into something lesser than he is now. Then your own rage and hate will be colossal.”

“But what do I owe him?”

“Come now, you are being naive. In making his loss of virginity so special. In being so perfect in his eyes…? Every lover that he has from now until the day he dies, he will compare with you and they will be found wanting. Every woman that he ever knows will be compared with you.” Ariadne pointed at her. “You did that to him.”

“That seems unfair.” Annalise protested.

“Nevertheless. Love cuts both ways and is painful as often as it is wonderful. For he has done the same to you. This is the first time someone has Made Love to you. You know this because if it was not, you would have recognised what has happened. If you let him go, and if you decide on this course of action you must give him the closure that he will need, for both your sakes. But if you let him go, every lover, be it man or woman, that you have in the future will be compared to this man. Every bout of lovemaking… or sex… will be compared to tonight. He did that to you as well. The difference between what you did to him and what he did to you, is that tonight, you set out to seduce him.”

Annalise turned back to the tent and tried to imagine a life without the boy… the man that was sleeping inside it.

“What are my other options?” She turned back.

“The second option is that you hurl yourself into the feeling and hold nothing of yourself back. Love him, spend time with him, give him everything of yourself and expect nothing in return. It will be terrifying because you always run the risk that in doing so, you will frighten him and he will flee. You claim him as your own, warn off your friends and rivals because, I dare say, as he grows and becomes stronger, more confident and more at ease in his own skin, you will have rivals. The benefit there is that if you claim him and make it clear with him that he is claimed… This one? I think this one will stay loyal.”

“How do I know that he will give me all of that in return?”

“You do not. Arguably, this is the most risky choice. You will be exposing yourself to him utterly and you have already had a taste of just how much that would hurt. But what you felt when your former…”

Ariadne smirked.

“... paramour left you will be nothing to what you would feel if this thing breaks.”

Annalise nodded.

“And the third option?”

“Take your time with it. Get used to the feeling. Spend your time with it, enjoy the sensation of falling in love. Explore each other, explore your feelings, learn to trust each other and enjoy that process as well. This has its own pitfalls however. It requires a lot more communication and understanding between the two of you. There will be times when you are working at cross-purposes and you may upset each other without meaning to. It will take time, love and understanding. There will be more questions regarding commitments, time spent together, sexual actions… that kind of thing. Enjoy the process but the process can be risky.”

Annalise nodded.

“What would you do in my place?”

Ariadne laughed again, hiding her mouth.

“I am not in your place.” She told the younger woman. “I am not human. I have lived for more years than I can remember. When I was first released, I told my rescuers that I was nine-hundred years old, but in truth, I have no idea how old I am. The passage of time was never important to me and I never counted. I wonder if it is the knowledge that you will die that makes humans want to cut time up into days, weeks, months and years. You give time names and try to categorise it as though naming it will mean that you are less afraid of it.

“After all, to know about something is to reduce the fear.

“So to me… If I was in your place and feeling what you are feeling now, I would take the man. I would claim him and we would enjoy what small time we would have together. Because even if he lived to old age for a human, to me, it would be but the space of a heartbeat that I would have had with him. Every moment, every beat of his heart would be precious and I would weep for the passage of that time as it moved so quickly from us. And every year of his life that I wasted in not being with him would be… just that… wasted.

“But I am not you. I am not human and I have no frame of reference for what you are feeling. You must make your own choice there. Nor will I tell you what I think you should do. All three options have their possibilities and their risks. You must make the choice accordingly.”

Annalise lapsed into silence, fully aware of this ancient being opposite her, regarding her with those unblinking eyes.

“Did you ever love a man?” She asked. “One of your own kind maybe?”

Ariadne laughed. This time she didn’t hide her mouth intime and Annalise saw fangs. She was surprised that she was not as afraid as she should be.

“Oh yes. I loved a man. Forgive me for laughing. I only ever knew one of my own race that I might have mated with and he was… infuriating. I have had a number of lovers over the years, both male and female. Elves, Dwarves, Dragons, Vampires and humans. The most surprisingly skilled lovers are the dwarves. I sometimes think it’s a shame that only dwarves find dwarves attractive as if any other race tried them out then they might learn a thing or two. The most talented tongue I ever knew was a Halfling and the best kisser was an Elf who literally studied it as an art form. Where other people studied music, carving, painting or some other artistry, she studied kissing and I will not lie to you, it was amongst the most quietly erotic moments of my life.”

Annalise found herself laughing as she became aware that this thing… this woman was trying to put her at her ease.

“But yes, I loved a man. I knew him for the tiniest fraction of my life but he changed it profoundly. He was but a child when I first met him. Maybe a year or so younger than you, your young man’s age I think. It is the way of my people that we…. I loved him almost immediately. Even as he lay dying before me, and I healed him he fought back with humour and I wondered if he would be open to a tryst.”

Ariadne smiled at a memory.

“What happened to him?”

“He died.” Ariadne said simply.

And Annalise’s heart broke.

Ariadne stood.

“You will ask me if it is worth it and that I cannot answer for. You must make your own choice on that, but I would give anything, anything at all to hear his laugh and see the light in his eyes.”

It was that she said it so simply that was the worst thing.

Annalise watched from her seated position as Ariadne stood up and stretched before moving towards the stone where she lifted her arms in a position of prayer, still holding her staff.

Then she seemed to dissolve into a thousand, a million, more even, tiny crawling things that seemed to bury themselves into the ground.

It was so abrupt. Just a simple thing and it all seemed to happen so quickly. Long before Annalise had time to say anything, even if she could find something to say.

The strange barrier that had been holding back the flood of her emotions seemed to vanish and Annalise sobbed with the sadness of it. She crawled back into the tent to find Samuel waking from his slumber at the sounds of her sobbing and she crawled into his arms as she howled her grief for the unknown man that Ariadne had lost and the pain that she had seen in the creature’s eyes.

Samuel held her for what seemed like hours and still the grief did not subside.

If anything, it seemed to get worse and Samuel panicked. He could have done better at dealing with the hysterically grieving woman that he had in his arms, but he could have done a lot worse as well given the treatment for what was still considered hysteria in that time and place.

Instead, he took her home to her parent’s house.

As both he, Annalise, and her parents would later admit, he could have done better, but he could have done a LOT worse. But his own panic was on him and he wanted to make sure that she was going to be safe and well.

So he dressed her as best as he could, dressed himself as best as he could before he picked her up and carried her through the streets as she just held onto him, burying her face in his chest and sobbing.

So it is easy to imagine the assumptions made by her parents when a clearly terrified boy, turned up with a hysterical daughter, both of them in a state of undress that gave no doubt as to what they had been doing.

So her Father cannot be blamed for assuming the worst.

He backhanded Samuel across the face and sent the boy sprawling. A number of years of relatively peaceful life had not robbed muscles that were used to hauling goods and unruly horse teams around on the road, of their strength.

“Bring me my sword and pistols,” he called to his servants before turning to the boy.

“Well boy, we welcomed you into our home and now I will give you the choice in how you are about to die for laying your hands on my daughter.”

Annalise’s mother watched the confrontation from where she was frantically checking her daughter for signs of injury. She was astonished as Annalise reared up from her prone position as fury replaced whatever it was that was rendering her helpless.

“Father,” Annalise snarled, causing both parents to stop and blink in surprise as their normally respectful and loving daughter showed that she had teeth.

The tableau froze for a long moment as Annalise continued to sob, tears streaming down her face but leaving the mask of fury still very much there.

“Apologise,” Annalise growled.

“No need,” Samuel climbed to his feet from where he had fallen. “There is no need to apologise for a Father’s concern. I am just as concerned although I suppose I could have handled this better.”

Samuel checked the blood that was dripping from his mouth.

The strange formality settled over the hallway.

Her Father nodded and held out his hand which Samuel took gladly.

Samuel looked back at Annalise who was now resting in her mother’s arms, clearly exhausted and just as clearly, still sobbing her lungs out. Annalise looked back at Samuel and for a moment everything else seemed to fall away to both of them.

“Father,” Annalise sobbed as she lifted a finger and pointed at Samuel. “That one.”

Her Father looked between the two of them for a moment before catching his wife’s gaze. His wife nodded and he cleared his throat, turning back to Samuel.

“Samuel?”

“Yes sir?”

“I suggest that it is time that you return to your own rooms in order to rest. You have done well to bring our daughter home and we will care for her. You may call upon us tomorrow when we hope that we may have some answers ready for all of us as to what has transpired.”

“Yes sir,”

“Do not look so worried Samuel, the blame is clearly not yours if our daughter is so vehement in her defence of you. I would suggest that you spend the night, but other factors… I am sure you understand.”

“I do sir,” Samuel lied but no-one called him out on it.

“But call early enough and we will ensure there is some breakfast still ready for you. And if you do intend to spend the night pacing outside my door, the least you could do is go home, bathe and come back in fresh clothing.”

The tone was light and Samuel caught the joke, smiling in turn. He had indeed intended just to wait outside the house.

“Then I shall see you tomorrow sir,” he said before bowing towards the lady of the house. “Madam,” he said. He caught Annalise’s gaze and he bowed again, saying nothing before turning to leave.

“And Samuel?”

“Yes sir?”

“We will talk more about this in the morning, but in the meantime.” Her Father took a deep breath. “You have my permission to court my daughter. Although you should know,” he turned back to Annalise, “both of you should know,” he turned back, “that you do not have my permission to wed as you both need to live and grow up a bit before that occurs. But for now…”

He grinned, leered and winked at Samuel who fled in joyful horror.

Annalise really loved her parents.

But she never did tell either of her parents what had happened that night. In the end, after a doctor was summoned and she was examined, thus giving away the fact that she had obviously been sexually active, everyone kind of assumed that she had a case of hysteria after a particularly ardent bout of lovemaking. The doctor was Annalise’s mother’s doctor and therefore could be trusted with this information.

Her mother never believed this proclamation saying that her daughter had always been a sensible girl, not given to hysteria or anything remotely resembling it.

The Doctor nodded and added nothing else.

Annalise only told Samuel what had happened some time later. The following morning he told her that if she wanted to talk about it, he would listen. She didn’t tell him then.

They loved each other over the next couple of years. There was a little bit of a scandal given that one of the most eligible young women, heiress to a considerable fortune, was romantically involved with the son of a peasant woman. But given that neither they, nor her parents seemed to care about the scandal, it soon dried up. The romance ended tearfully when she left to go to the Imperial school of economics to further her education. They both agreed to the break given that a couple of years later, he would be departing on the path. They promised to keep in touch and that they would remain friends. There was even a half-hearted insistence that maybe in a few years time when they were both more free from obligation then maybe something could happen.

But the years that they would spend apart would be unavoidable and both were far too sensible and aware of biology to admit that the distance between them would be anything less than prohibitive. He needed to be able to live in the moment so that he could survive and she needed to be able to concentrate on what she was doing rather than worrying about whether some monster had eaten the man she loved.

There were many tears.

They met again eight long years later when she returned to Angraal for her Father’s funeral. A rival had accused him of something and the duel had been fought. Her Father had been the victor but an injury that he sustained in the duel became infected and he did not survive. Samuel attended, wanting to pay his respects. He had lost an arm and a leg on the path and he was much thinner than she remembered. He had become famous in his own way although there would be no songs sung about him, any one of the other Witchers at the school seemed to fall over themselves to try and take care of him and make sure that he suffered no ills. Woe-betide any that insulted him.

He had returned to the school to aid the professors in teaching Alchemy. Then he had taught Alchemy and then he had been made a Professor himself. As well as becoming a perfumer on the side, something she would learn that her Father had set him up for, he had also invented several potions to combat various diseases. Money that he had reinvested into the school, providing scholarships for those less fortunate.

They agreed to go and get a quiet drink together after the funeral which turned into dinner which turned into breakfast the following morning. They were both forced to admit that although both of them had had other lovers in the time since they had parted, including a brief dalliance for him with a partner of the same gender that he had thought he loved, neither of them had found someone who… fit… quite as well as the other.

For the two weeks that she was at home they rarely parted and when she returned to her duties, she found that she missed him. It did not take much arguing for her to reseat herself back at Angral to take the reins of her Father’s, now her, trading company and shortly afterwards, after a dinner with her mother and some time spent at her Father’s grave side, he proposed.

She told him the story of what had happened that night and just why she was so afraid. He nodded as the old echoes of that grief ripped through her again.

They were married later that year in a ceremony that was surprisingly simple given her wealth and while everyone would regularly tell him that he was a lucky man, she would retort that she considered herself a lucky woman.

They had four children.

But by that point, it was easy to know who it was that Annalise had met that night.

It took the Mistress of Magic’s apprentices a number of years to order the journals that she had left them. But very quickly, they were able to figure out who she had been and what she had been doing.

The books were a journal of her existence. It was written in the form of an extended scientific study on the subject of love and romance when it came time to interact with humans. Her principle of study was, of course, Lord Frederick Coulthard, the first Duke of the Pontar region. The diary noted her past history up until that point including her work on the vampiric Eugenics project in how there was an attempt by the Elder Vampires to breed humans for their flavour.

And later her own “free-range” project where she tried to guide the humans towards a better life by giving them the freedom to do so.

She noted the rebellion against her and then the freedom that she had been given when she was released. Her life with Lord Frederick, a name that up until that point had all but been forgotten, was carefully catalogued and noted over the four hundred or so years that they had lived together as well as his descent into madness given that the human memory was not designed to take so much. Her diaries continued after his death with astonishingly truthful frankness up until the point.

Over time, the journals were published. Not always in chronological order as some of the volumes were rather technical and dry in nature where others were easy to read and perfectly fit for public consumption. There was comedy found in those works. Horrific acts of violence and the writer was not shy of portraying herself as a villain, hero or victim. She told the reader what she had been thinking at the time and the process that she had gone to that led to those decisions, but also she told them what her modern sensibilities thought of those old decisions and where she might have gone from there.

She spoke frankly about sex on several occasions and some of those journals became manuals for love-making. Others became guides to romance. Some spoke of love in scientific terms, describing the chemicals found in humans that were released after lovemaking or when the person saw their partner and lover. Others spoke of the abstract and the way she had observed love with the perspective of an outsider.

Most told her story from the first person. Explaining what it felt like for her, an ancient being to fall in love with this small person that was plainly terrified of her and the great joy and sense of personal fulfilment that she felt in loving that small, young creature.

And the great sense of soul-shredding grief that she had felt when he died.

Every volume was printed. Plays were adapted from the material found in those books. Poetry inspired by some of those writings. Old figures of history were examined in a new light. The tale of Sleeping Beauty and her cat were dragged out into the daylight once again. Paintings, poems, plays, music, all were inspired by these diary’s. There was a whole new area of scientific research that was opened up by some of the things that Ariadne had written. In the end, it was these volumes that changed the world. It was a common topic of debate as to whether or not Ariadne would know, or if any of the people that she wrote about would care… or what they would think if they knew that their names were being discussed, literal centuries later.

The chief apprentice that had now inherited the title of Mistress of Magic, who had learned from the diaries and her own research, that she was a distant descendant of Lord Frederick and Lady Ariadne and who had to work hard to get around the claims of nepotism… Nevertheless she insisted on only two things. The first was that although future editions could be edited, there must always be the original versions of the journals in print, kept and recorded as such. She thought it was very important that her distant ancestor be remembered for who she was, rather than who the romantics would paint her to be.

She also insisted that Ariadne, the Mistress of Magic’s last written words be printed in each volume as a kind of afterword.

They had found those words written on her desk as a kind of open letter to whoever was going to read it. Unlike the rest of the script, it had been written quickly and a little raggedly, as though the writer was struggling with some intense emotion:

So here we are at the end of things.

After my love died and I experienced the horror of grief I finished my research. I tried to find someone else that I could compare the love that I had found with Freddie to see if I could replicate the results, as I would in any other scientific endeavour, but I found that I could not. Lovers? To sate the physical needs of my body? Those I could find with ease but Lover? As in, the person that my entire being longs for, to see at the end of the day and the first thing in the morning, to share things with, to laugh with, to weep with, to share pain, joy, laughter, fear and suffering… I could never find that again.

I no longer wanted to look.

I still don’t.

So from there I deemed my duty done and looked for the rest of my kind in order to deliver my report only to find that the vast majority of them have vanished. The cave of the Elder is deserted and I am left wondering if they went with the Elves or used the same means. I do not know. You can still find lesser of our species if you know where to look and the odd Elder is still around… again if you know what you are looking for. People like me who found something worth living for in this world and who were not at home when the other’s departed.

But they do not suit my purposes. Many would refuse to end me which is what I secretly desire even if Freddie would be furious with me if I took that ending.

But my own honour would not let this lie. I came to Aretuza and offered to teach in return for the space to work. I have enjoyed teaching and passing on something of what I have learned, especially to those who I know bear our blood, his and mine, although I would never tell them that or allow them to trade off our familial bond. But all of my apprentices, young and old, my daughter by blood or by education, they should know that I am very proud of them all.

I leave these books as my report. So should the Elder or his followers ever return, I can say that I have fulfilled my oath and it is time for me to move on and say farewell.

Was it worth it? There is no simple answer to that. There are days when I weep for the fact that I can no longer feel him lying next to me, or feel him through the bond that we shared. But then I will remember some joke that he made, some action that he took and I will, once again, be glad that I knew him. A human would say that the pain of his passing is the price we pay for living and if that is true, I feel that I have paid my debt in full.

All that I know for sure is that I loved him in a way that consumed me in the most blissful fire that I can describe.

I am older than I ever imagined possible and he was younger to me than one of those insects that skim the river to be eaten by leaping fish is to the average human, yet I loved him and I hope that he loved me.

For he was beautiful to my eyes. For all of his wants, and fears and flaws I loved him for his kindness, his sense of duty and his endless sense of curiosity.

And his wickedly talented tongue and fingers of course.

But I miss him. It still hurts. I can still see the light leaving his eyes in that far away cabin and it still tears at my heart.

I loved him. Never doubt that. He was a good, dear man and I gave him everything that I could. He deserved better than me, but I was the one he chose and I feel privileged to have loved and been loved by so wonderful a person.

I can no longer live with this loss though.

I go now from this place to say farewell to the world. I intend to sink beneath the ground in the way of my people and I intend to sleep.

I will sleep until my broken heart is mended or until the world ends, whichever comes sooner.

.

I wonder… Will I dream of him?

I hope so.

Farewell.