Summer Solace [COMPLETE]

[Joscelin Trevalion]

When poets sing of glorious deeds, they leave out the awful parts. Joscelin's tutor had always said so, and Joscelin knew it was true. He had heard the tales and had been witness to the reality. He could even recall the first time he'd done so as a man in his own right. He had understood it anew that day. In a poet's tale, a valiant few might stand against the many, and a cunning hero prevails.

That day though...It was no poet's tale.

The dead flesh, heavy and inert, and the blind, staring eyes. It came back with a rush through his being. It throttled him and clutched him at the core. He hated nights like these where the past had begun to haunt him and ghosts returned to whisper within his ears of the wrongs he had done. Joscelin had only ever wanted to do what would be well for his country though. It's what he had always meant to do. It was what his father and the sovereign of his beloved homeland had expected of him.

Their tool of diplomacy.

Yet, neither had ever considered the repercussions the tool may undergo.

There truly are things that man may do to one another that are sobering to the soul, and truth be told, Joscelin knew of such things with every ounce of his being. He knew how cruel a person could be, and knew of the bestial need to survive and live within a cold world. He had seen man within the lowest form struggling to survive and daring to do harm to others for only a few coppers so that they may eat and live. As for him...well, Joscelin had killed out of necessity to live, and he had killed out of command from his nation after assessing a situation time and again. Joscelin, though, had never been any lower within his life and hoped that he never would be albeit Joscelin had subjected himself to a barbaric lifestyle at one point -- bartering with them and fighting alongside them as his sovereign deemed fit.

Here within Camelot, though, was different.

He had no task beyond keeping a watchful eye over the court and watching the proceedings at an arm's length. That, and assuring no harm would befall any nobility or royalty within Camelot proper. It was the first time that Joscelin had been expected to assure the stability of a nation, and to stay his hand until the moment someone lifted their own. Idly Joscelin wondered whether or not that would ever come to pass though. Then realized that there were others like him within the world.

Others who were loyal to their nation and would do what they must.

Yet, tonight had been different and had been about himself. Joscelin longed to smother and drown within the flesh of a woman albeit Joscelin had no skirts to hide beneath...well, yet. Nonetheless, Joscelin settled for wine from the Cockerel within the slums of Camelot. Truth be told, Joscelin always preferred the seedier part of town. They always held the best company and were more than eager to dice and gamble amongst one another, or measure the lengths of their...well, egos. Joscelin liked to think himself a man of the people, or rather, that they understood him more.

Perhaps that was a stretch though when he had gotten blind, stinking drunk, and picked a fight.

"Apologize, cheater, and forfeit your earnings now!" the young ox-of-a-man uttered after growing frustrated over a stream of losses over dice; a game entirely of chance and not of Joscelin cheating, of course. He had dared to grasp Joscelin by the shirt and haul him to his feet. Joscelin hung there laughing though.

"For what?" Joscelin mused. "Tell me, have you a sister? I wouldn't mind giving her a tumble if she'd let me close my eyes," he had added. It was of a purpose to prickle the man who reared and drew a fist back for a strike. Yet, the door came open and the tavern fell inexplicably quiet. Joscelin's assailant turned his head, and lolling within the man's firm grip, Joscelin looked too.

It was Aemon, Joscelin's man who had been at his side for longer than he had known and his senior of fifteen years. He looked worn and worrisome. That, and wore a scowl. Joscelin, though, offered a bleary grin. "You see that? I want to be able to do that. Just show up and have everybody go dead quiet. Why can't I do that?" He asked of the young ox-of-a-man who scowled down at him. Then Joscelin saw the man's arm grow taut and the sinews swell within his arm.

Joscelin had been hit once before; in fact, Joscelin had been hit a few times. He wasn't very fond of the heavyhanded either nor of the starburst that tended to explode behind his eyes. That, and Joscelin certainly wasn't fond of a bloody mouth and loose teeth. Fortunately, Aemon was there and caught the oncoming fist and held the tip of a dagger at the man's chin. The man ceded and released Joscelin's shirt without reluctance; after all, who wanted to be hurt over such a thing...?

Then Aemon was shoving Joscelin behind him and backing them both out of the Cockerel.

"You should have stayed within the castle and gotten yourself drunk there," Aemon scolded him with ease when the two were ahorse and cutting their way back to the keep. "Mayhap," Joscelin didn't agree or disagree. He felt weary then. "It's different here, Joscelin. You're a grown man, Joscelin. There's no need to place yourself within harm's way. Isn't that why...well, you know..." Aemon says and Joscelin knew what Aemon meant by that. Joscelin's web of intrigue were more than able to glean information for him. Yet, tonight wasn't about that.

It was about sating the ghosts of his past.

"I didn't start the fight." Joscelin assured him and knuckled at one eye wearily.

"Is that so now...? I recall a time when you used to." Aemon replied and eyed him.

"Oh, I'm not denying that, but I didn't start this one," Joscelin laughed.

The truth was, was that Joscelin hadn't. Nonetheless, Joscelin cared very little about the fight, and truth be told, Joscelin felt unsuccessful and at a loss. He even felt a tadbit childish for the risk of sullying his name. Fortunately, Joscelin knew a thing or two about discretion, and had gone under the guise of another within the slums. Despite that, Joscelin knew that he shouldn't take such chances ever again. He needed to be sober and have a clear mind to keep an eye on the court of the ever growing Camelot. After all, so much has already happened from the duel between Arthur and Dante Grixis, to the Princess Sophia Lyonesse arriving and the warriors of Camelot being sent off to Hemlot to ward off an attack. All of which Joscelin wrote his sovereign of.

"Mayhap I should find myself a woman and settle down once and for all, Aemon." Joscelin mused suddenly. "Mm, perhaps one of royalty," Joscelin added and Aemon looked bewildered at the thought. "Perhaps you should set your sights lower," Aemon suggested almost playfully and shook his head. "Imagine that though, I thought I'd never see the day that you'd consider a settled life."

Joscelin had a reason for that though. Truth be told, Joscelin never thought he'd live this long.

The rest of the night seemed a blur, and truth be told, Joscelin didn't know how he had gotten to bed that night. It had been undoubtedly by Aemon's hand though. Either way, when Joscelin awoke that morning, he felt as if his head were split by an axe. It throbbed irritably and the light seemed far too bright for his eyes. Fortunately, Joscelin didn't need to retch whatsoever and only had to deal with the repercussions of a long night of drinking; a hangover.

Joscelin crawled out of bed and removed the roughspun clothing he had donned to play the part of an eccentric merchant. Afterward, Joscelin sought to wash his face at the nearby standing basin, but decided a true bath was in order. Fortunately, Aemon had saw to that the night before albeit the water was still and warm, Joscelin found the tub more than suitable and crawled within.

It was welcome and felt like bliss to be able to scrub himself raw and wash away the stink of wine, and the sweat from the night before. It renewed him albeit Joscelin still felt the faint thrum of an ache at the forefront of his mind and betwixt his eyes. It wasn't long until he had deemed that fresh air would do him some good and that the gardens should be the place he should find his respite. So, with that in mind, Joscelin withdrew from the tub to stand there bare and naked with rivulets of water trailing down his muscled and sunkissed flesh. Within moments he dried himself and sought his wardrobe where he donned his clothing.

He wore a rustic attire then. In fact, somewhat simple; a white shirt and laced breeches. The shirt, though, was sewn of the finest white cambric and the breeches were fawnskin which fit as soft and well as a glove. Then the boots he adorned settled nigh to his knees. Joscelin looked rather simplistic then and there, and if not for the signet ring that adorned his finger, one would have never known he was foreign nobility whatsoever. Nonetheless, dressed and groomed, Joscelin sought the gardens, but first made a detour toward the kitchens where he pilfered an apple.

It was outside where Joscelin felt soothed by the warm air and comforted by Camelot's summer as opposed to Trevalion's own winter cold. He sauntered along the cobblestone path to the center fountain where numerous statuary lingered as silent sentries. All the while Joscelin's eyes roamed here and there, flitting from one stone face to the other before bearing his teeth down upon his apple. It exploded within his mouth and his heightened senses, that were abused, were sated for the moment. Yet, little did Joscelin know who else he may meet there that faithful morning.

[Princess Sophia Lyonesse]

Something moist moving over her cheek startled Sophia awake. Pulled abruptly from a rather disturbing dream, she sat up and found herself looking into the liquid eyes of a grinning wolf. “Cedric!” she exclaimed, reaching out to pet him on the top of his head. “You scared me! I suppose you need to go out and Kerensa is still asleep? Is that why you woke me up?”

In her mind, she felt a small flicker of … something … that she could not quite understand. It only happened when she spoke to Cedric, as if he was trying to reach her mind and communicate in return. She had always had a way with animals, and she and her wolf had grown close in the past four months, but she did not believe he could speak to her … even if he did seem to understand nearly everything she told him.

Cedric was no longer a cute little fluffy cub. At six months old, he was large and muscular, with a thick rich cream-colored coat and intelligent golden eyes. The princess had had trouble training him at first but eventually he had learned to walk beside her without a leash, to be calm around humans, and to attack anyone who meant her harm. This was a far cry from his behavior when she had first come to Camelot and he was an energetic and curious cub who would leap on anyone he saw, believing them to be a friend. Oh, he was still energetic and curious, but he knew when to exercise those attributes … when they away from the city.

While he still ate raw meat from the kitchens, she would frequently take him out to the forest so he could hunt. Sophia would ride her horse and he would run beside her, eventually heading off on his own to seek his prey. On one of these occasions, she had been attacked by two bandits, As soon as her scream left her throat, Cedric was there, bounding across the leafy ground and chasing the miscreants away. The young princess rarely worried about her safety when he was around to protect her. The wolf was better than an entire contingent of guards.

The people of Camelot had become accustomed to his presence as well. Not all of them were comfortable around him, but he seemed to sense this, and stayed far from those who were nervous. He had also made a few friends … people who didn't mind him running up to him and begging for attention. All in all, he had made a place for himself in this land that was still foreign to Sophia, and no reports had been made against him, as far as she knew.

Throwing her shapely legs over the side of the bed, Sophia got up and dressed herself in a ice-blue silk gown with short puffy sleeves that exactly matched the color of her pale eyes. The gown was adorned with snow white lace at the scooped neckline, the edge of her sleeves, and the hem. White and pink ribbons wrapped around the sleeves and tied into a bow, the ends trailing down to her elbows. A white and pink was wrapped just under her breasts, crossed in back and tied just below her waist, the edges floating down to just above the dress' hem.

As Kerensa was still asleep, there was no one to arrange her hair. So she combed the tangles out and left it loose, adorning it only with the gold and diamond diadem her father had sent her for her recent birthday. As she walked out of the bedroom into her sitting room, it bounced against her hips. In the four months she had been here, her hair had grown quite a bit.

Her maidservant was asleep on a pallet on the floor, snoring softly. Kerensa rarely got up early anymore, not since she had insisted on sleeping in her mistress' chambers instead of in her own room in the servant's wing. The young princess did not complain, as her presence seemed to have stopped the strange occurrences that had been happening during the night.

About a week after her first outing with Prince Arthur, Sophia had awakened to find some of the trinkets she had bought at the market lying broken on the floor. After several nights of this, she had decided that Cedric must be responsible and had Kerensa take him to her room for the night. In the morning, a vase that had been filled with flowers had apparently shattered against the wall, glittering bits of glass mixed in with bright red petals scattered across the floor.

It was then that she had asked Kerensa to spend the night with her. The next morning, everything had been fine. Nothing had been broken. Her maidservant had been unusually sleepy, though, almost as if she had stayed up all night to keep watch. Kerensa had claimed she had not done this, but she did insist on sleeping in Sophia's quarters from then on. When asked why, she had only said that she wanted to make certain her mistress was safe.

This puzzled Sophia a bit, but she allowed it, for no objects seemed to mysteriously break when the maidservant was around. Kerensa was just so tired that she slept most of the morning, and only attended the princess in the afternoons and evenings. While Sophia had learned to dress herself, she was not good with her hair, and was considering whether she should hire another maid to attend her in the morning.

Yawning, for it was quite early, Sophia left her chambers, Cedric walking sedately by her side. They made an intriguing pair … the beautiful rosy-cheeked princess and the cream-colored wolf … and other early risers smiled at them as they made their way through the maze of corridors and out to the castle gardens.

Sophia loved the gardens. It was her favorite part of Camelot … well, except for the marketplace, where she loved to part with her money on an almost daily basis. The gardens were a place of quiet solitude for her, and the sweet aroma of flowers in bloom always calmed her when she was nervous, which was often, as she was not certain yet whether the little ruse she and Arthur had been playing was convincing either of their fathers that they were enchanted with each other … when they were definitely not. She liked Arthur. He was charming and fun to be around, but their was no romantic attraction between them at all.

Not that she would know what romantic attraction was if it walked up and slapped her in the face. Still, she did not believe it was anything close to what she felt for Arthur.

Cedric's low growl alerted her to the fact that she was not alone. Turning the corner into one of her favorite areas of the garden, she came upon a handsome man standing beside the bubbling fountain eating an apple. He was simply dressed, but his clothes were finely made and the way he held himself told Sophia he was probably a noble, although how high his standing she could not guess. Nor did she care.

Perhaps it was her natural curiosity that drew her to him, or perhaps there was another force at work. Whatever the reason, she wanted to speak to him, but as usual, the young princess was shy around members of the opposite sex.

It was Cedric who finally broke the ice. The wolf growled and advanced on the man, as if suspecting that he meant his mistress harm. Sophia caught his collar and pulled him back just as he reached the fountain. “I … I am sorry, sir,” she said to the man, a rose-colored blush flowering to life across her cheeks, “my wolf seems to have forgotten his manners. I am sorry to have bothered you.”

After pulling a gilded leash from the pouch at her waist, she hooked one end to Cedric's collar and the other to her bracelet, which had been fashioned especially for that purpose. Looking up at the handsome stranger, she smiled at him shyly. “I will leave you to your contemplations,” she said, and turned to go.

Even though she didn't really want to leave him at all.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

He hadn't expected to find anyone within the gardens. Although, to be fair, Joscelin should have known better. It wasn't as if he was back home within his holdings and that he could find a semblance of privacy amongst the statuary. Camelot, like any court and castle, was filled with the life of nobility, royalty and commonfolk that made up the servants, loyal guardsmen and thensome. So, Joscelin was not alone even when awake between that time where it was far too late to sleep and too early for anyone to be wandering the halls.

It shouldn't have really mattered, but...well, there were a number of reasons why it did.

Joscelin may be social but the splitting throb within his head didn't help. More often than not such a thing made Joscelin a tad bit irritable and left him with a want to be alone. That's not to say Joscelin often ended up this way though. He sought a semblance of moderation when he drank wine, but last night hadn't been about that. He had wanted to be blind and stinking drunk, and fortunately, had ended up that way rather quickly. Now he was suffering from that albeit taking such in stride and with little complaint. He took the responsibility. After all, no one had gotten him drunk other than himself. Nonetheless, the fresh air did help him somewhat.

It was welcome when compared to his bedchambers.

Joscelin had found his chambers to be rather stifling when he had awakened that morning. His clothing had felt heavy with the stink of sweat, wine and smoke, and his room had felt much the same way. It's why he had thrown open his windows before ducking out of his room for the gardens. Now, Joscelin savored the warm air and occasional breeze that tousled his half-handbreadth of sable tresses, and savored the scent of the bubbling water within the fountain that had been frozen once upon a time ago when he had met a woman by the name of Diana.

It's strange to know that so much time had passed. It had been Winter then and now Summer. Yet, Joscelin had barely enough time to contemplate that passage of time when a growl had sounded and flitted to his ears. Fortunately, Joscelin wasn't frightened so easily, but he had definitely been taken off guard then and there, and when his head lolled to find the source...well, Joscelin found himself awestruck as his mouth fell to gaping.

It was the Lady Sophia Lyonesse, the Princess of Gore accompanied by Cedric the wolf.

Joscelin had only seen her from afar before as he had the royalty of Camelot proper; biding his time until he would decide to draw nearer, of course. He was one of infinite patience and never sought to rush a thing, and truth be told, Joscelin constantly found himself rewarded for that by fate. This morning was no different, and as Joscelin was about to damn himself for drinking the night before, he found that if he hadn't then he might not have come across her at all.

It's the way fate tended to work, and honestly, was rather peculiar.

Nonetheless, Joscelin found himself watching her and found himself drawn like a moth to a flame. He wanted to reach out and touch a fingertip to the blush that blossomed upon her cheeks, and he wanted to run that same finger upon the arch of her lip and sift her long hair between his calloused and workworn digits. Despite her youth, there was no doubt to Joscelin that the Princess Sophia was a budding young woman beneath her gown with subtle curves, shapely legs and generous breasts. Idly Joscelin wondered whether or not her blush extended elsewhere upon her form and knew then that he had to keep himself checked lest he make a fool of himself.

...If he hadn't already.

He hadn't realized that his lips were glistening from the apple he had been eating; that same apple clutched within his hand. He found out soon enough, though, when he had begun to smile; a toothy smile that ended up with his teeth bearing down on his lower lip. It's then he tasted the remnants of his apple and he lifted the back of his hand hastily to his mouth. Joscelin shook his head at her. "No," he uttered suddenly. "No, no. You're fine. The both of you are fine," He adds.

It was then that Joscelin lolled his head until his chin touched upon his chest. That blue gaze of his flits to the cream wolf that had previously growled at him. Cedric was a protective wolf according to his ears within the walls. Although one didn't need to hear about that to know on sight. Joscelin lowered himself until he was nearly at eye level with the beast.

"Your wolf was only doing what he felt was right. Isn't that so?" He questions of the wolf with an arch of a brow. It's then Joscelin offers his freehand for the beast to catch his scent and show that he was of no harm. Joscelin continued to smile then until his head was lolling once more so that he may meet the young woman's gaze evenly. It was then that Joscelin drew back up to his full height which left him at an easy foot taller than Sophia. It was even more pronounced with how much closer he stood near her now. So close that could catch her scent on a wayward wind.

He offered his hand to her, and longed to feel her soft fingers lay across his palm.

"I am Joscelin Trevalion," he says and sweeps her a theatrical bow with a wide, playful smile on that generous mouth of his. "Just Joscelin, though," he adds and gnaws on his lower lip to suppress the grin that longed to alight upon his features.

[Princess Sophia Lyonesse]

"No, no. You're fine. The both of you are fine."

His voice.

It was deep and rich and enchanting. As a singer, Sophia appreciated alluring voices, and he most definitely had one. She believed could listen to him speak forever, even if he did nothing but read a boring book in a language she could not understand. Idly, she wondered if he sang. If so, his voice would probably mingle and entwine beautifully with her own.

As she did not want to go anyway … although she had no idea why ... the young princess turned back around. Her legs took her back over to the fountain almost of their own volition, Cedric trotting calmly at her heels. The cream-colored wolf growled again … at least until the man with the entrancing voice bent over and held out his hand to him. Sophia thought that was a rather brave gesture as he had no idea how Cedric would react, and her hand went instinctively to the wolf's collar in case she had to quickly pull him back.

Yet the growl died deep within Cedric's throat as he sniffed the man's hand. Surprisingly, he rubbed his big head against it, something he only did with those he did not think meant harm to his beloved mistress.

“He seems to like you,” she said as he stood back up. The petite princess was accustomed to looking up at people, and this man was quite tall. He was also extremely attractive. She found herself staring at his face, her gaze moving over his fine features, resting for a moment on his lips, before focusing on his intelligent blue eyes. He was so close she could feel the warmth of him enveloping her like the heat of the hot summer sun.

And suddenly, strange yet pleasurable emotions blossomed to life deep inside her, emotions that were new and exciting in their intensity, and she found that she could not look away. She just stared at him, a hot tingling blush starting at the roots of her hair and spreading all the way through her body.

What is happening to me? Why do I feel this way? The early morning heat must be affecting my mind. I should excuse myself and leave as quickly as possible. Cedric is wrong. This man is a danger to me … and it is a irresistible danger than I dare not give into.

When he held out his hand, Sophia just looked at it, afraid of what would happen if she touched him. She wanted to … oh, how she wanted to … but she knew she could not. Why, she did not know.

At the moment, she was not certain whether she knew anything at all.

"I am Joscelin Trevalion. Just Joscelin, though."

His deep theatrical bow made her laugh in delight and lessened the spell he seemed to have on her. Finally looking away from him, she bent down and removed the leash from Cedric's collar so he could take care of whatever business he had roused her out of bed to do. The wolf immediately disappeared into the artfully-sculpted hedges, apparently seeking privacy.

Raising her ice-blue eyes to his, she smiled at him, finally able to speak once more. “I am Sophia Lyonesse,” she said. She never introduced herself with her title unless it was a formal occasion. It sounded pretentious, and the young princess was not a pretentious person. It was also unnecessary as everyone at Camelot knew who she was now … unless they had recently arrived. She did not remember seeing this Joscelin before. If she had, she knew she would have remembered. In fact, he probably would have danced through her dreams.

“Just call me Sophia,” she continued, surprised at her own words. The only two people in the kingdom allowed to address her without her title were Prince Arthur and King Uther. Everyone of a lower status was required to call her “Lady Sophia.”

For some reason, though, she did not want formality to stand between them, and again, she had no reason why.

“So, Joscelin,” she said, realizing that her voice was trembling. “What brings you out to the gardens so early?”

[Joscelin Trevalion]

She wouldn't touch his hand.

It was somewhat of a disappointment and Joscelin's mind was left to wondering what her flesh felt like. Idly Joscelin wondered whether or not she was soft to the touch. He wondered whether she was warm too. Yet, Joscelin figured that she was; after all, no woman blushed as brightly as she did without being heated to the touch. Except Joscelin wanted to touch her himself.

He wanted to know through his own hands.

It did not matter though. The moment she laughed, Joscelin knew that all was well, and that she was not slighted by him. He offered a smile then and withdrew his hand before masking any semblance of disappointment. Then Cedric was released and the wolf seemed content to leave his mistress within Joscelin's presence. Truth be told, Joscelin was content with that as well.

He found himself looking back to her with her introduction.

Sophia, like Joscelin himself, had introduced herself without her proper title. The truth was, was that she didn't need to. Joscelin already knew who she was, but the fact that Sophia would offer herself to him without her title meant more to Joscelin than any other would understand. It meant that she would rub her elbows with another, or perhaps Joscelin himself was different. Mayhap he shouldn't allow his ego to swell too much over the notion though.

"Sophia," Joscelin breathed out with that lilt of his. That, and Joscelin smiled, too.

She uttered his name thereafter and Joscelin felt a thrum of excitement shoot throughout him. He caught the way she articulated every syllable and Joscelin felt himself warm at the sound. That, and Joscelin found himself wondering of even more. He wondered of how she'd sound breathless and panting; whimpering his name and begging more of him. He wondered how she would look, too, with her hair spread out upon her pillow and her entire form trembling beneath him.

Would she bite her lower lip or utter oaths aloud?

Would she mark him with her nails or...ah!

Joscelin found himself tossing his head at the number of thoughts.

Then there was her query.

It came to him and he found himself weighing whether or not to tell her the truth. Mayhap he should, but even then, not the entire truth. So, Joscelin found himself looking utterly thoughtful and even looking to the statuary within the fountain proper. The stone woman had been laden with snow the last time he had seen her. Now, though, she was clean and nigh gleaming within the warmth of sunlight. Joscelin pinched an eye shut and looked back to Sophia.

"Fresh air," he admits. "I...well, last night I stood out and about a bit, and mayhap had a bit too much to drink." He confesses and laughs to make light of the situation. There was a pause then; one where Joscelin found himself gnawing on his lower lip out of habit. "Truth be told, Sophia, I find myself rather fond of the gardens here. In fact, I come out here often to think. It reminds me of my estate back home. Although I find himself longing for home," Joscelin admits to her.

"I'm certain there are things that remind you of home here within Camelot too, no?" He asked of her. Idly Joscelin wondered whether or not there was anything. If not...well, mayhap Joscelin could be her comfort. It was an attractive thought. It's one that made him smile as he gestured to the fountain and to the wide stone slab that curved around the pool. It acted as a bench to settle upon, and one Joscelin offered to her.

"Will you keep me company, Sophia?" He asked of her then and lifted his brows at her.

It's then he took a bite of his apple without shame or worry of what she'd think of him. That, and Joscelin's eyes gleamed with amusement as his lips lifted from the red flesh of that fruit. His lips glistened as he lowered himself onto the edge of that fountain and his freehand...well, it touched upon the stone beside his as his eyes beckoned her.

"Please," Joscelin added.

[Princess Sophia Lyonesse]

Her name on his lips was like the most beautiful song she had ever heard … soft and sweet and oh, so compelling.

It was difficult to concentrate on his words when she was so aware of his presence, of the way his shirt fit perfectly over his broad chest, of the way his muscles rippled with the smallest of movements. Sophia wanted him even closer … so close that their bodies pressed together with no space in-between.

Involuntarily, she took a step back, her eyes widening slightly. The princess might be young and innocent, but she wasn't born yesterday. She knew what she was feeling, although she had never felt it so strongly before. The emotions raging through her were intensely exciting and intensely frightening.

Why do I feel this way? she wondered. What is it about this man that captivates me so?

She blinked as she realized he had asked her a question. He had been talking about drinking too much, and the how the castle gardens reminded him of home.

Blinking again, Sophia took another small step backwards. He was dangerous … so dangerous … and the danger was alluring and difficult to resist.

“The gardens remind me of home, as well,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “So does the castle, although the layout is quite different. I kept getting lost when I first arrived …. I still get lost sometimes. It is no larger than the castle I grew up in, but the corridors are like a maze to me. It is the same in Gore, but I have been traversing those halls since I was able to walk, and I know my castle as well as I know my own name.”

Sophia sighed. “Camelot is still foreign to me, and I often feel quite lonely here. I have never been away from home before. It was strange to be taken away from everything I have ever known, and to be thrust into a new environment where I didn't know a soul. But my father was determined that I go, and even a princess dares not disobey the orders of a king.”

She knew she sounded young and unsure of herself, but then she was young and unsure of herself.

And even more unsure of herself now that she had met him. The princess knew she should turn and run in the opposite direction. She also knew that she wasn't going to. He had a hold on her … a hold that she did not want to break.

"Will you keep me company, Sophia?"

His eyes.

The look he gave her was like a visual caress.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I would like that.”

Sophia studied his hand as he patted the space beside him. It was large and strong, with long fingers. What would it feel like if that hand ….?

No, you will not think of such things!

Yet such things were all she could think about.

Sophia sat beside him, a decorous distance away. She wanted to sit closer, to rest her against his shoulder and feel his fingers entwine with hers, but she did not dare.

No matter how much she wanted to.

“What is your home like, Joscelin?” She loved to say his name, loved the way it slid across her tongue. “Is it much different from Camelot?”

[Joscelin Trevalion]

Sophia was unafraid when opening up to him. It's something that Joscelin found welcome to say the very least. There were a lot of nobles, and even royalty, that would be wary of a stranger and choose what to say. Although that would be for good reason. Truth be told, Joscelin found the notion rather ironic when considering that if there was anyone Sophia shouldn't trust...well, that would be Joscelin albeit he meant her no harm nor anyone else here within the court of Camelot. Nonetheless, Joscelin found their moment together rather pleasant.

It's why Joscelin allowed her to continue on.

She spoke of the gardens and of how they reminded her of home. It was barely above a whisper, though, but fortunately Joscelin's ears were trained for the most softest of sounds within the bedchamber or elsewhere. She spoke of the castle then and of the layout of the halls and chambers. That it was different from the one in Gore. That she still got lost within the castle of Camelot despite having been here for a while now. She spoke of the difference of size and of how the corridors were like a maze to her. That it was somewhat the same back home. Although she had been traversing the halls since she had been able to walk and undoubtedly from childhood.

That she knew her castle as she knew her name.

It made Joscelin smile. Yet, there was a hint of understanding there...especially when she spoke of feeling lonely.

It's only when she settled down beside him that Joscelin spoke.

"I feel rather the same way, Sophia. It's not only you," he assures her. "Although I must say that I've grown used to the life at court...I still find myself longing for home." Joscelin pauses then and looks over to her. She sat there as a proper young woman should. Yet, Joscelin wanted her closer. He wanted to feel her hair between his fingers and her hand within his own. He wanted to catch her scent and savor her for himself.

It's then Joscelin sought to comfort her.

"It'll be well...with time, I mean. I've left home long enough to know." Joscelin admits and shakes his head. "You'll return and find yourself appreciating the smaller things in your life from the lay of the land to the way the cook prepares your favorite treat," Joscelin says and offers a slight smile. "Just know that being far from home doesn't mean all is lost. That there are a number of beautiful things to see," Joscelin murmurs and dares to lift his freehand and reach for her. He brushes his fingers along her hair mindfully. It felt so soft underneath his calloused and hard hand. He breathed out heavily and with satisfaction at the feel of her tresses.

"That there are a number of beautiful things one could have," Joscelin uttered.

There was a moment then between them as Joscelin watched her. She was so beautiful and lovely, and oh, so young. He wanted to touch her hand and lead her from here. He wanted to take her back to his chambers and make a woman out of her. He wanted to teach her and shed all of his inhibitions with her. He wanted her to be free, too, and to accept him. He wanted to feel her fingers hard on his back and her mouth on his own.

He wanted, wanted, wanted...

Then she asked him of his homeland and Joscelin found himself trembling faintly.

"Yes," he breathes out suddenly and smiles.

"It's beautiful," Joscelin says as his fingers brush over her hair once more and reluctantly pull away. His fingertips touch on his mouth then. He could catch her faint scent there. "The estate of Trevalion lays upriver of a nearby village and manor's settled within a green valley." Joscelin says. He could see his home already with his lady foster mother within her music room. That, and the number of men and women who tend to his holdings sauntering about and performing their tasks. It made him simle. "It's surrounded by low mountains," Joscelin adds.

The way Joscelin spoke of home...ah! It was more than obvious that he longed for his place of origin. That he wanted to be there once more. That, if given the chance, Joscelin would return now. He wanted to be there. Yet, Joscelin didn't utter any word of such wants. He didn't confess to such a thing. Not yet at least.

"There's a number of gardens in the valley and a small olive grove. The lower slopes are terraced, too, and there's chestnut orchards there. The province of Tulia...It's renown for their chestnuts," Joscelin says with a hint of pride within his blue eyes. "A bit further up, though, there's pasturage for the sheep which is our primary source of wealth, and a cluster of stone cots perched on the plateau for the shepherds who tend them." Joscelin says and dares to inch closer to her as he sets a hand down between them on the bench.

"Beyond that, there are wild mountains. Forests of spruce and oak grow there, and there are sudden meadows filled with flowers. There's a beautiful spring-fed lake there, too, round and perfect...which I had found one summer as a young man." Joscelin admits and grinned at her. "There are caves too," he adds. "Although Trevalion's small...It's large enough to contain lovely secrets," Joscelin admits and lolls his head to look onto her face.

"Last I was there...Trevalion was in fine fettle. The chestnuts were thriving, the high pastures were lush and green, the sheep grazed in placid good health, lambs gamboling at their side. Every surface and every item in the manor house had been dusted and polished and waxed to a fine gleam. The stables and the kennels and the mews were immaculate," Joscelin says and runs his tongue along his lower lip. There was a pause, but only for a moment.

"I think you'd love it there," he admits to her and meets her gaze evenly. It's then he looked down at his hand laying there flat upon the stone between them. "I miss my home," Joscelin admits but soonafter lolled his head to meet her eyes, "but I believe I've found something as lovely here." Joscelin watched her then.

He couldn't help but do so as he felt his pulse quicken.

"Mayhap you will see my homeland one day," he breathes out huskily.

[Princess Sophia Lyonesse]

As he spoke of what it would be like when she returned to Gore, Sophia closed her eyes and tried to imagine all the things she loved about her home. She could smell the flowers that were unique to her kingdom, and the savory aroma of her favorite foods. If she reached out, she felt that she could touch the silky violet linens that draped over the canopy of her elaborately carved bed, and if she stood up, she would feel the plushness of the beautifully embroidered rug that lay upon her floor.

And her father would be there when she arrived at the castle, waiting for her with open arms and a smile on his face … far different from the worried and grim-faced man who had bid her good-bye.

She smiled softly as she imagined him taking her into his arms and she could actually feel him stroke her hair … no, she wasn't imagining it … and her father's touch would not cause her to tremble with … something she had never felt before ...

Her eyes flew open and a breathless little “ohhh!” escaped her lips as she realized Joscelin had very softly touched her hair. Sophia felt as if she should move away from him, as if she should get up and run back the the safety of her quarters, but she found she could not move. Instead she just gazed at him as more strange emotions blossomed within her for the very first time.

She was afraid, and yet she was entranced.

Then he began speaking of his homeland, and, after his fingers brushed over her hair a second time, he removed his hand. For some reason she did not understand, Sophia felt bereft. She wanted him to touch her again, and not just her hair. She wanted to feel his lips on hers and his hands all over her …

What is he doing to me? Why do I feel like this? And why do I long for more?

Taking a deep breath, she concentrated on his description of his home. It did sound like a beautiful place, and she could picture the gardens, the olive groves, the chestnut orchards. She could see the fluffy sheep grazing in verdant green meadows, forests full of majestic trees, a lake …

Her mother.

Standing in the boat.

Kissing the top of her head.

Leaping into the water.

Sinking ...

Sinking ...

As the horror of that long ago day washed over her, her hand instinctively sought his where it lay between them. Yet as soon as she touched him, a silvery little thrill rippled down her spine, both startling her and enthralling her at the same time. The flash of memory disappeared as quickly as it had come, extinguished by the strange but exciting sensations rushing through her trembling form.

Sophia quickly pulled her hand away as if she had been burned, unconsciously cradling it over her heart with her other hand. She could feel her breathing quicken and her heart hammering within her chest. She wanted to touch him again.

But she dared not. Something was happening between them, something she both wanted and feared, something she could not let go any further.

Yet how could she resist?

He was still speaking, describing the last time he had been home. Sophia's ice blue eyes rested on his handsome face, watching his lips as they formed each word.

"I miss my home," he was saying. "but I believe I've found something as lovely here."

She met his eyes then, and again felt as if she were being caressed by his gaze. She felt so alive, so beautiful, so treasured. Could he be talking about … her?

"Mayhap you will see my homeland one day."

The princess continued to stare at him. “It sounds beautiful,” she said, surprised that she could speak at all. An unbidden image of the two of them walking hand in hand through the gardens he had told her about infiltrated her mind. “I … I would love for you to show it to me one day. And I would love you to visit Gore.”

Yet she knew that was impossible. Her father would be furious if she brought any man but Arthur to his kingdom. She had been sent to Camelot for the singular purpose of wooing the prince. And she did like Arthur. He was every bit as handsome as Joscelin and a lot of fun to be around. But she didn't want to marry him any more than he wanted to marry her.

Still gazing up at Joscelin, she wondered if he had a purpose for being here. “Why did you come to Camelot, Joscelin?” she asked him. “My father sent me here so that I could learn more of the world.” Not exactly true, but how could she tell him that she had been sent to the kingdom to marry its heir?

“I was not happy about it at first but now ...” Her gaze went to his lips ... wondering what it would be like if he kissed her ... and then back to his eyes.

"... But now I am pleased I am here.”

[Joscelin Trevalion]

Sophia Lyonesse listened to Joscelin, and that alone, warmed Joscelin to the very core. That's not to say any other had never given him the time of day though, but to find someone who genuinely would offer their ear and hear one out...ah! It was a rarity that Joscelin found hard to find. It made Sophia stand out even more than she had before. It made him want her more too and especially more so when her hand settled upon his own.

Her hand was so utterly soft and warm upon the back of his scarred hand.

It felt right.

Then his thoughts were elsewhere and Joscelin wanted to feel her hands quest upon his velvet flesh. He wanted to feel her hands caress and stroke over his hard muscles and the ridge of his abdomen. He wanted her to feel how his muscles rippled beneath his skin as he shifted and moved. He wanted her fingers to stroke down the line of his spine and caress upon his shoulders; touch him everywhere she pleased. He wanted to feel her hands linger between his thighs and longed to feel her soft touch bring him to a release.

Then her hand was gone and free from him. Yet, Joscelin could still feel her warmth.

He breathed out shakily and found himself shuddering.

The moment seemed to last an eternity until she finally spoke to him.

The thought of visiting Gore was an attractive one. It would leave the possibilities of relations between his land and her own open. Yet, Joscelin found himself greedy for that very moment. In fact, all Joscelin could think of was her and him within Gore, and Joscelin courting her.

It was a rarity for nobility to be accepted as a suitor for royalty. Yet, Joscelin dreamed of the possibility. It was rather silly of him though. Joscelin knew better, but he wanted a semblance of comfort himself. He wanted a small measure of peace for himself, too, and longed for a future for himself beyond the art of diplomacy and being a spymaster. After all, Joscelin was a lordling who had no relations with a woman, and the possibility of a wife wasn't so far off from him.

If not a wife though...Joscelin would settle for somewhat else. At least he thought so.

The thought of being Sophia's consort was an attractive one.

"I would love for you to show me Gore," Joscelin admits.

Would that ever happen...? Joscelin was far from certain of that. It was only then that realization dawned upon Joscelin that Sophia was truly far from home and for a reason. She was here to woo Prince Arthur, and meant to bind to him. Joscelin was not here to deter that. He was here to watch the proceedings of court take place and only intervene if someone meant harm to a member of Camelot's royalty. Yet, here was Joscelin with the lady Sophia Lyonesse.

...and longing to bed her with every ounce of his being.

Her query broke him out of his reverie though. It was one that was inevitable too; one that Joscelin should have expected. He lolled his head and listened to her own admission. It was one that was not wholly the truth though. Yet, Joscelin wondered why Sophia wouldn't admit the entirety of such. Mayhap...Mayhap she liked him somewhat? Ah, but that was a stretch.

Then she uttered somewhat else...something that made his heart skip.

Joscelin found himself meeting her gaze evenly. Yet, not for long for they trailed to his mouth. That generous mouth of his that undoubtedly belonged to the mother he did not know. He shuddered and felt wholly weak. In fact, he trembled so much so that she'd be able to catch the quiver with her own very eyes. He felt vulnerable as he shook faintly and lifted his hand to touch calloused fingertips along her cheek without shame.

"I've...I've come here as a representative of my nation," Joscelin admits slowly. He became utterly thoughtful then and was certain to choose his words lest he trip and make a fool of himself. "For the hope of relations with Camelot by way of trade agreements, passage through this land to others, and...and," Joscelin found himself tongue tied and his tongue feeling like leather. He cleared his throat and shook his head. He laughed and shook his head.

"I've lost my train of thought," Joscelin reluctantly admits and looks amused. He lolls his head and meets her gaze evenly. She was lovely. In fact, beautiful. Joscelin couldn't keep his eyes off of her nor could Joscelin keep his fingers from the soft flesh of her cheek. His hand drifted then and his fingertips smoothed down from her cheek to the arch of her neck.

"Beyond that," Joscelin begins shakily and shakes his head. "You and I are very alike, Sophia. I've come to learn more of the world as well. Yet, one cannot do that alone. They need companions...those one could trust," he murmurs and his form inched closer to her own. He had released the apple within his other hand. It was left upon the stone slab beside him. It lifted to her other cheek as he upturned her face. His hand faintly smelling of him and the apple he once held. It was subtle and welcome as his palm cupped her cheek and he stared down at her.

"Someone once told me that all knowledge is worth having," Joscelin murmurs suddenly. "It's only a matter of whether or not you're brave enough to take what you want." Then those lips of his curled toward a smile that was entirely Joscelin.

[Princess Sophia Lyonesse]

His nearness was intoxicating.

Sophia was acutely aware of every inch of him as he sat so close beside her … his breathing, his scent, the way his body trembled like her own. Was he feeling something similar to what she felt for him? And what was that, exactly? She was immensely attracted to him, that much was certain. But why him? Why now?

The princess had been mildly attracted to other men before, but it had only gone as far as thinking they were handsome and a bit of harmless flirtation. Never had she felt such a strong desire for someone as she felt for Joscelin. For the first time in her life, her most private of places tingled with need, and her body sang like a harp stroked by the fingers of an expert player.

Again, she felt that she should politely excuse herself and flee back to the safety of her chambers, but she knew instinctively that if she did, their paths would cross again. And she would still be drawn to him, she would still desire him, she would still want to feel his muscles rippling in pleasure beneath her gentle hands. She would still want him to …

Blinking a few times to clear her head, she concentrated on that fascinating voice she could listen to all day. So he had come to Camelot to seek an alliance. Sophia was familiar with this, as many lords of lesser nations had sought to do the same in Gore. Some of them had been so ambitious that they even spoke of an affiliation by marriage to her … all of which her father had promptly turned down. Urien had bigger plans for his only daughter.

She wondered now why Joscelin was seeking relations with Camelot and not with Gore? Or would he try to affiliate his land with both kingdoms, and maybe a few more as well? Camelot and Gore were not on the best of terms at the moment, but they were at least trying to get along by hoping for a union between herself and Arthur, although she believed that both kings had a hidden agenda and really wanted supreme rule of the other's kingdom. She had expected as much from Urien when he had been so adamant about sending her here. He wanted to put an end to Camelot's use of magic, for he felt it was responsible for the current problems in Gore. Uther probably wanted control of Gore as well, as it would expand his territories, increase his power, and abolish the threat of war.

And both kings were willing to use their only children to further their plans … which did not sit well with either herself or, it seemed to her, with Arthur.

Yet the thought of Joscelin at Gore was appealing. Would he be one of those ambitious lords who asked for her hand in marriage? Even if he did, she knew her father would refuse. To Urien, Joscelin was too low-born for his precious daughter, and nothing she could do or say would ever change that. Not that she wanted to marry him. Not now. She wanted to have time to grow, to explore, to discover who she was before she settled down and raised a family of her own. But in the future, when she was older …

Even then, her father would not find Joscelin suitable.

And maybe he did not wish a future with her. Perhaps all he wanted was to bed her and discard her. Sophia had heard many stories of such men from her maidservants at home. Yet somehow she sensed that Joscelin was not like that at all.

But what did she know?

Sophia knew nothing about love or desire or anything in between. She had never really thought of such things before. But now … now she wanted to know everything possible … and she wanted the intriguing man beside her to be the one that introduced her to the fine art of lovemaking.

The young princess watched his hand as he lifted it to her face and trailed his fingers down her cheek to her very sensitive neck. Delightful little thrills rippled through her body and it seemed as if her entire being burst into bloom, like a flower nourished lovingly by the sun.

If such a small touch can affect me so, then what would happen to me if he …?

He spoke then of the two of them being alike, of needing companions they could trust as they learned more about the world. But it was not the world that she wanted to know about, discover, explore … it was him.

Then he tilted her head up, and her breath caught in her throat as she looked up into his mesmerizing eyes. She was hot … oh so hot … and yet she was shivering.

"Someone once told me that all knowledge is worth having," he told her. “It's only a matter of whether or not you're brave enough to take what you want."

He was right. But she was afraid to reach out and grasp what she wanted … even though she longed to touch him so badly that her hands clutched at the silk of her skirt to keep from reaching out to him.

“Yes, we are a lot alike,” she said, “and for some reason I do not understand, I do trust you. There is so much I wish to experience, so much I wish to know.” One of her hands left her skirt and reached up towards his face, but she quickly pulled it back when she realized what she was doing. “Yet I am not certain if I am ready. You are more experienced in the ways of the world than I. How will I know when the time is right for me to take what I truly want?”

Especially when what I want is you., she added silently.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

The ache for a woman's touch and warmth made him tremble. Joscelin had never wanted another as he had then and there. Yet, Sophia was so utterly different from the common doxy and noble lass. Although, to be fair, that's not to say that Joscelin slept with any woman that crossed his path. Joscelin had his standards and knew there were women that could never fill the void within him; the ache there for something more. There was the release of sexual congress, yes, but never had Joscelin wanted a woman for more than only that.

The way she looked at him, confided in him and the ache within her own eyes...

...It made him want her more than ever.

It was then that her hand lifted toward his face as she spoke.

He felt every part of him quake and felt his mind flare with the wild notion of her hand every where at once. He wanted her to touch upon his windburnt cheek and feel the prickle of his stubble. He wanted to feel her fingertips walk step-by-aching-step down the arch of his neck and to the open collar of his shirt. He wanted to feel her hand upon his chest and wanted to hear her ask more of him. He wanted her to sate her curiosity with his flesh.

He wanted, wanted, wanted...Yet, she didn't touch him.

There was a semblance of disappointment that made him waver for a mere moment. Had she been too concerned for herself to seize what felt right? More than likely. Joscelin didn't exactly blame her though. She had an image to uphold and live up to. If she touched him and someone had seen her then there would be a stain upon her name. It was the reason why Joscelin should have lifted his hands free from her soft and heated flesh.

Yet, Joscelin didn't.

Instead, Joscelin continued to touch upon her neck with those hard and calloused fingertips. They were hands that were schooled within the art of stringed instruments, swordmanship and lovemaking. Hands that dealt harm, soothing notes and pleasure. They were hands that belonged to a man that was not quite what he seemed. The hands that belonged to a man that shouldn't allow himself to be drawn so close to royalty lest he derail the happenings of court.

He shouldn't be the reason for Gore and Camelot not finding a semblance of even ground.

...but Joscelin wanted as he never had before.

History tells of women who have shaped men...

It's something that Joscelin had never understood until now.

It was then that Joscelin's hand lowered onto her own. Those hard fingers of his laying upon her own digits and within moments lifted her hand to his mouth to bestow a kiss. It was with little shame and much grace as that soft mouth of his lay upon her slender fingers before pressing her hand flat upon his chest. She'd feel the thrum of his heart there beneath the fine cambric of his shirt. It's then that Joscelin simultaneously met her gaze squarely and his lips spread with a smile; so warm and welcoming.

"Your heart will tell you," Joscelin uttered and smiled.

All the while she'd feel the thrum of his heart as excitement made him tremble.

Sophia, though, felt so hot beneath his touch and seemed to nearly tremble as he did. He wanted to tangle his fingers with her own and will her to calm. Yet, there was a part of Joscelin that longed to kiss her upon her mouth and furthermore between her thighs; to beg her to tremble even more so, but to tremble for him. It made him ache and that arousal stirred within him. Joscelion kept himself checked though and mastered himself lest he find himself a slave to passion and to her.

[Princess Sophia Lyonesse]

Ahhh, that smile of his!

Something pleasurable but slightly uncomfortable sprang to life within the core of her being … yet another new feeling that she could not explain, much less understand. This morning was a time of discovery for Sophia. Never before had her body sang with such sweet sensations; never before had she ached for something that she had never even considered before this day.

In truth, she did not know what to make of it. And she did not want it to end.

Nothing mattered to her in that moment but him. Her face entrapped by his warm and gentle hands, she gazed up at him with wide ice-blue eyes, wondering what his answer to her question would be.

The young princess gasped in both surprise and wonder when he picked up her hand and kissed it. A white-hot tingle formed beneath his lips and rippled delightfully up her arm and through her trembling body. The feeling was so strong that it was almost painful in its intensity.

Why do I feel this way? she asked herself again. What is it about him that makes my spirit sing?

Some questions had no answers.

Her gaze went to his chest as he placed her small hand over his heart. It was beating strongly, rapidly, and in perfect rhythm to her own. She could feel the warmth of him beneath his shirt. Sophia wished that the shirt was not there, that she could touch his bare skin with her hand. She wanted to explore his body and find out what made him shiver, what made him moan, what made him cry out her name in sheer euphoria.

He filled her senses completely. It was as if the rest of the world fell away and there was nothing but him and her and the beating of their hearts. She didn't think that what she was doing could possibly be seen by either Uther's or Urien's spies, and she didn't consider the fact the Joscelin could be in danger if either king found out she fancied him. All she knew was what she felt, and what she felt was divine.

She raised her eyes to his and without thinking, she lifted the hand that was not captured in his own and, reaching upwards, stroked his cheek with a hesitant and featherlight touch, marveling at its rough texture … so different from her own pale smoothness. Sophia had never touched a man like this before, and even though her caress was innocent, the delectable sensations shimmering through her body were most definitely not.

Her fingertips went to his lips, brushing over them lightly and then moving to his neck and down his free arm until she reached his hand. Lifting it up, she placed it over her own heart, so that he could feel hers beat as she did his. His heat seemed to burn through the thin silk of her gown, and she could feel her heartbeat quicken. So many strange and wonderful feelings were exploding within her that she felt a bit faint. It was a good thing she was sitting down.

She did not notice that the hedges and plants around them were rustling softly, as if blown by a gentle breeze.

Yet the air was still.

Her expresssive blue eyes held his. “And what does my heart say to you?” she asked.

[Joscelin Trevalion]

He should stop touching her...Joscelin knew that he should lift her hand from his chest and come to his feet. He shouldn't allow himself to draw so near to her. After all, Joscelin knew that anyone could be watching. That Joscelin wasn't the only one with ears within the walls. That there would be others and that there could be others watching the both of them from Camelot and Gore. All of which would undoubtedly defend the interest of their nations. That, and Joscelin should be doing the same. Which meant that he should have drawn away from her.

Yet, Joscelin didn't.

Instead, Joscelin savored her hand upon his chest. He wanted to know what she felt for him and what she wanted. Despite the fact they had only met and hardly knew one another. He wanted to know her as a person and thensome. He wanted to see her on the morrow and the day after. He wanted to see her a week from now and a month from then. He wanted to have her and keep her for the years to come because she was such a lovely and wild flower.

She was different like him; foreign and exotic.

Then her eyes lifted to his and her hand thereafter. Joscelin felt his heart skip a beat and the whole of him had begun to tremble. He wanted, wanted and wanted, and Joscelin hoped, hoped and hoped. Then she touched him and Joscelin felt the entirety of himself shudder beneath her hand. He felt weak when he needed to be steadfast. He was thankful for the stone bench beneath him. Truth be told, Joscelin wasn't certain whether or not he could have stood with her hand upon his windburnt cheek.

He felt...well, Joscelin felt boyish, young and utterly carefree then.

He savored the feel of Sophia's questing fingers. He even lolled his head to nestle his cheek heatedly upon her palm. Yet, soon her fingertips were trailing and they brushed over his lips where she'd feel the rush of his breath. That, and the press of his mouth was soft and tender as Joscelin bestowed kisses upon her fingers. Then they trailed further and Joscelin lolled his head once more but this time to expose the flesh of his neck to her.

It was a rarity for Joscelin to feel so vulnerable. Yet, here Joscelin was offering himself to her and submitting to her touch without shame without gain. Then her hand was upon his own and she lifted such to her heart as he had for her. Joscelin's breath caught at the feel of her soft and supple body beneath his touch. He could feel the warmth of her through her clothing, and Joscelin could feel the thrum and beat of her heart. It's then that his fingers lay there splayed over her heart and his palm settled as if to say: this is where I belong.

Then she spoke and Joscelin found he had been staring at his hand. That the world around him had come to a standstill and that all those tales of love were true. That one could find such a thing within another no matter the age, ethnicity or calling. That mayhap all that Joscelin had undergone was but a test by nature and design to weather him for this one moment.

Joscelin became aware of a number of things then. The realization that there was much more that he wanted than he had ever realized. That her scent was utterly arousing and the fact of her heart thumping alongside his own made him ache. Then there was the fact that Joscelin could feel her bosom lift beneath his palm with each breath taken. That with one slip of the hand he could cup her breast and with his fingers he could knead her toward pleasure.

Yet, Joscelin didn't...Instead...Instead, Joscelin smiled and leaned toward her.

"It begs me to kiss you," Joscelin murmured huskily then. She would feel the rush of his breath upon her lips only moments before he claimed her mouth with his own. He had thrown caution to the wind then and with little shame at that. For once Joscelin took what he wanted and that was her lips; the taste of her mouth, and the feel of her soft lips caressed by his own. He lolled his head to deepen their kiss and his lips parted only to allow his tongue to loll tenderly against her pout.

All the while his hand lingered over her heart and the other held her own against his.

They were two hearts beating as one.

[Princess Sophia Lyonesse]

Sophia was caught completely in Joscelin's enticing spell and her own self-discovery. She shivered in delight as he kissed her fingers when she trailed them across his lips. His breath was warm and seemed to sear into her soul, as did the heat of his hand as she held it to her heart.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew what she was doing was wrong. She knew that the possibility of peace between Camelot and Gore rested partially on her, and that she was close to shattering that possibility by what she was doing now. And yet she did not move.

She could not move.

Even if she had wanted to.

Which she didn't.

The young princess had never expected this when she had come to the gardens to let her wolf take care of his needs. And yet from the moment she had seen Joscelin, something about him had called to her … and the call was too strong for her to resist. She desired him … there was no disputing that … but she felt something else as well, something that she was too young and inexperienced to understand.

It was as if with every beat of their synchronized hearts, a connection was growing between them, a bond that was both thrilling and dangerous. Sophia was more scared and uncertain now than she had been on the day she had arrived in Camelot. She was once again facing a new direction, only this direction was infinitely more dangerous, because it went against her father's plans for her … and one did not disobey a king, even if said king was one's father.

And yet …

And yet, despite the fact that they had no future together, she never wanted to be parted from him. She wanted to be with him always, to fall into bed with him each night and wake up every morning curled up in his embrace.

How can I feel like this for someone I have only just met? I know nothing about him at all. He could be a ...

And all thoughts fled as he captured her lips with his. Her eyes opened wide and she trembled in utter bliss while white hot thrills of desire coursed through her body. She felt as if she were in a most delicious dream, one from which she never wanted to awaken. Sophia had never been kissed before … not like this … and she found herself responding instinctively.

She did not notice that the bushes were now shaking more violently, nor that one of the smaller statues was wobbling on its pedestal. She did not notice that Cedric had returned and was sitting by the fountain, his head cocked to the side as he watched them. All she noticed was his intoxicating scent, his lips on hers, his hand against her heart, and hers against his. The young princess felt as if she were born anew, as if she were breathing for the very first time. She wanted more … so much more …

As he deepened the kiss and his tongue quested gently against her lips, Sophia became frightened and abruptly pushed away from him, her beautiful face filled with both longing and uncertainty.

I am not ready for this. Not now. Not yet, when I hardly know him.

The princess stood up and backed away. Cedric took his place by his mistress' side. “I … I have to go now,” she said, her breath coming in little gasps. “I hope I will see you again. But now I ...”

She had only taken a few steps when the leaves on the bushes and flowers burst from their branches and launched into the air in a flurry of color. Two small statues toppled from their pedestals and rolled into the grass. Terrified, Sophia screamed and threw herself into Joscelin's arms, burying her face against his chest. She might be afraid of him, but she was frightened of magic more.

And magic it must be, for, as she lifted her head, she saw that all the bushes and plants in this area of the garden were now as bare as they would be in the dead of winter. Not a leaf or petal remained on any of them. It was not just magic … it was destructive magic.

“Joscelin, please, take me away from here,” she begged. “I don't think the gardens are safe for us anymore.”

[Joscelin Trevalion]

Joscelin noticed very little beyond the scent and warmth that was entirely Sophia. In fact, Joscelin felt smothered and swaddled by her, and Joscelin wanted more. He wanted to drown underneath her touch and heat. He wanted to know her with his hands and with his mouth.

He wanted to feel her quake underneath him.

Yet, the moment Joscelin sought to quest for more, Sophia drew away suddenly and came to her feet. Joscelin was left there upon the bench that rounded the fountain, and all Joscelin could do was watch her and look to her with utter need and longing. Then there the was part of Joscelin that had begun to realize that what he had been doing was wrong. That Joscelin shouldn't have been touching her within such a way. In fact, Joscelin was certain that if his sovereign were to find such a thing out then Joscelin would be at the harsh end of a lashing.

Yet, why couldn't Joscelin take what he wanted for once...?

"Sophia, I..." Then the world around him seemed to tremble and Joscelin felt his heart tighten within his chest. There were a number of things that Joscelin had been witness to from his ventures throughout the world. Except, the number of them could have been answered through more logical approaches with the use of alchemy or even other such things. Yet, the moment when the world shook was far different from any of that.

The air filled with flowers and leaves, and even lingered for a moment scattered before them. The sound wasn't exactly deafening though. At least not the leaves. It was the statuary that had toppled over and only the floor with an audible thump that filled Joscelin's ears thereafter and made the floor beneath his feet tremble. Part of him had even thought that the fountain would upturn from underneath him. Yet, Joscelin had managed to keep his composure...well, somewhat.

He was truthfully shocked and somewhat frightened at the sight. After all, such a thing wasn't exactly natural the way each bush exploded and the flowers seemed to shoot through the air. Idly Joscelin wondered if such a thing had been due to an earthquake. Yet, Joscelin had known that earthquakes were unable to do such a thing. Yes, they may had been able to topple statuary, but to make the gardens explodes unto the air and nearly onto them was far different.

Then she was upon him.

Sophia had thrown herself into his arms and Joscelin held her firmly. She had screamed, too, and the note was taken by Joscelin without a hitch. He held her fast and mastered himself, and willed a semblance of strength within Sophia; after all, someone had to be strong within those moments. He stood there steadfast with one hand within her hair and holding her face mindfully to his chest whilst the other settled on her back with his arm enveloping her.

All the while Joscelin stared over her head at the gardens.

The world had fallen silent and there was nothing left upon the bushes, and every plant had been swept within the turbulent storm that had passed through. It reminded him of winter. It reminded him of the time he had met Diana here and the thought made him shudder at what had happened here; after all, it was something that Joscelin couldn't easily explain. At least not without the proper tools and approach which Joscelin had none of at that moment.

That, and he had Sophia to worry of.

She spoke and Joscelin looked down upon her. She seemed so frightened and Joscelin's heart ached for her. He had to keep her safe and take her from here as she wanted. That, and Joscelin wanted to leave this place as well for such a thing unsettled and intrigued him both. He breathed deep then before nodding before his arms shifted and hands smoothed along her, and within moments Joscelin was coming to her feet with Sophia within his arms.

He held her curled against his chest.

He was quite aware of her body and the warmth that came off of her then and there. Yet, Joscelin's mind was likewise elsewhere. There was a concern for them and the rest of the castle. If such had been an earthquake, had anyone else felt such, or was the sight had been the gardens only...? The question was clear within his mind then as he looked down to the wolf who had huddled nearest the fountain and their legs when the event had occured.

Joscelin whistled to catch the creature's attention. "Come," he told the wolf and tossed his head. Whether or not the message would be conveyed through the motion or not, Joscelin turned upon his heel and began to walk away. All the while his gaze flitted everywhere only to find that the gardens truly were spotless now beyond the floor that was now scattered with leaves, flowers and the two statues that had toppled free of their pedestals. Then there was Sophia.

Joscelin tucked his chin against his chest to look down upon her, and what he saw...well, was a young woman who was frightened of smoething that Joscelin himself didn't quite understand. The look that was upon her face was one of familiarity over the event. That this might have happened before at one point. He shuddered at the thought of such power before holding her more firmly.

"I'll keep you safe," he assured her as Joscelin carried her from the gardens.

Then the question flitted within his mind once more.

Idly Joscelin wondered whether or not anyone else had felt the event underneath their feet. There were no servants out and about then. Although, to be fair, Joscelin was glad for that. If there had been anyone around then he would undoubtedly be questioned for carrying Sophia the way he had been. Fortunately, no one was, and Joscelin ventured through the halls and weighed his destination; after all, where would be the safest place to take Sophia...?

He refused to take her to library. If another event occured then Joscelin was certain that a number of books would be more harsh than flowers and leaves. Then there was the feasting hall where others would undoubtedly be gathering if they had felt the occurrence. Then there was her chambers where he could leave her. She'd undoubtedly have a handmaid there to tend her. It would be the more proper thing to do. Yet, Joscelin's feet thought otherwise as he had taken her to his own chambers and his heart hammered within his chest.

He moved his hands skillfully underneath her to undo the latch of his door and push such open. He allowed the wolf first before following thereafter, and when he had entered, Joscelin pushed the door shut with the heel of his foot. He carried her through the chamber without a hitch to his bed where he laid her down mindfully. Yet, Joscelin did nothing more as he drew away from her for only a moment before sauntering toward the open window.

As for his chambers, though, they were certainly different from what one would normally expect. It was an unorganized mess for one albeit not to the point where one would dub such a pigsty. It was more the mess of a man with a busy mind than anything else. That, and a myriad of hobbies, too, or so one would think. It was easy to see that from the various leather bound tomes set here or there with ribbons that were pinned between a number of pages; marking places here and there. That, and the wooden figurines that were half finished and set upon the mantel over the hearth with a knife planted squarely upon such; each figurine depicting animals of the norm and those of the exotic from far off lands. Then there were other things...

There was a lute upon a seat near the hearth that was laid there upon the armrest. That, and a various assortment of clothing here and there of different shades, materials and even furs of all sorts that were mostly laid out upon the chest that was set before the foot of the bed. Then there was the open wardrobe, too. Then there was the desk that Joscelin often wrote from that was covered with with sheets of parchment both written upon and others being unsealed letters that were set there awaiting a reply. Then one table, near the window, that was stretched out with a fine vellum that bestowed the lines of Camelot proper and had been weighed down at the corners; a various assortment of colored inks lay at one side. It had undoubtedly been Joscelin's own work. As for Joscelin, though, he stood at the window where one simple clay pot lingered with flowers that eagerly leaned toward the sun at Joscelin's hand where he stood at the window sill.

"It looks like the worst has passed," Joscelin murmured and looked over his shoulder to her.

"Are you alright, Sophia...?" He questioned and frowned deeply before drawing near.