Forsilvra :: Winds of Change
Old 09-02-2011, 03:47 PM
  #1
Amalie Delamere
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Default Take My Hand, We Shall Live Again :: 7/26 Amalie/Bruce

She had clutched the letter to her breast still, her resolve had all but been gone. Her children dead. Her sons, Guy, Amelia, Doris even her youngest Hector- her granddaughter, naught but a babe of one year. Victoria had been killed as well. Feran had set to fire his room to cover up his treachery and the castle had went to flames. Her children- all of them were dead. The words penned to her by one House Delamere's vassals. Trista had gone quiet as well, with Victor Castell's death and battle looming. Amalie was bent, broken. She had collapsed when she received the news, Bors- gods, why couldn't she not go home. She sat in the hallway still, weeping. She did not care if anyone saw her as such. Her children- her joys in life- they were dead. She had nothing anymore.

Perhaps Amalthia could take her too.

Last edited by Amalie Delamere; 09-02-2011 at 03:51 PM.
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Old 09-02-2011, 04:06 PM
  #2
Bruce Douglas
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Failure is hard to bear. It truly is. To be risen to the ranks of the finest swordsmen, only to be brought low simply because a washerwoman turned a corner at the wrong time. He had nothing now. Just a suit of armour, a sword and...access to certain rooms that housed rather a great deal of jewellery. And he had three men willing to follow him, Harold, William and Boris. Three good men, who could carry riches, armour...This wasn't the end
It was in the night that Bruce patted softly down to the room of someone he had come to love. Three packmules had been laden, four horses prepared. Much as their loyalty to the Castells stretched, they could not stay; they were symbols of Ovadorian Monarchy. Had they succeeded, the Leviathans might have grown to become the greatest institution in the world. They had not.

Bruce found his love weeping in the hallway. He did not venture down there to engage in one last passionate embrace; they would disappear. Across the sea, to Sanka, or Gyllene, or Strom. Away. Where noone would recall their faces, and they could live. Bed. Have children. A life.

But the moment he saw that woman, sitting, weeping as if her whole world had been torn asunder, he realised that she was more than that. More than simply a good woman. More. A haven in the black.
So, dressed in loose but well-made blue tunic and leggings, Bruce felt down next to her. He pressed her head to his chest. And he hummed. He hummed as he had to everyone he'd ever loved; his brother, his mother, his son. Victor Douglas was coddled in the plate-clad arms of Harold Bearnsley, mewling.
Bruce mused a slow, beautiful tune, as he stroked his lover's hair, his arms tight around her. Nothing he could say would assuage whatever drove a woman so strong to such grief.
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Old 09-02-2011, 04:13 PM
  #3
Amalie Delamere
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She wept, she cared not if he saw. Her whole world had been taken from her, Ovador ripped apart at the seams. She could go north, return to her family there. Her sisters. She could see them again, but she'd be returning an empty shell of a woman. “They are all dead Bruce...my children. Burned, burned alive by their grandfather.” She whispered, his humming soothing her only a little. “They killed my granddaughter. The babe only barely a year old...” She paused and lifted her head. "What are we to do? I should return north- to Blasa. I am Winter born...I shall die there too."
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Old 09-02-2011, 04:26 PM
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Bruce Douglas
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Bruce hushed her with a soft 'shhhh' as he ran his cut, scarred fingers through her silken hair once more, like water flowing over stones in the peak of spring. To some, he was young and baby-faced, almost. But then you saw the hands, the scars, the stillness in his eyes - he could empathise with this woman. The First Sword knew tragedy. So he simply let the woman cry. Comforting her.
"We will go anywhere you want. North. South. East. Away from all this. Together. Where only we can decide our fate." He whispered to her, from lover's lips of fortunate hope.
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Old 09-02-2011, 04:32 PM
  #5
Amalie Delamere
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Here was the man that was young- young enough to be her son. Yet it didn't matter to her now. He was comforting her, far more than her husband had ever done. Had she ever truly loved Henric? She was never sure. Did she love Bruce? She did not know this either- but she could see herself happy maybe, again some day, but for now it was dark. Everything was dark for her. She leaned forward to kiss him, burying her fears away upon his lips. "We should go away from this place...out of Forsilvra. I would go anywhere if you would protect me. But what are we to do? I do not have much money, perhaps jewels I could sell-is this what my life shall become?"
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Old 09-02-2011, 04:41 PM
  #6
Bruce Douglas
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Bruce leaned back into the kiss, his pale common mouth pressing against her lush, well-bred skin. Just enjoy such pleasures for a few moments, he told himself. Just enjoy the rush of life and blood as she kisses you. For tonight may well be the last one you spend in comfort, he told himself.
But he needed to speak.
"Me and three Leviathans have loaded packmules with enough wealth to buy an estate...Somewhere far away. Where you and I can make love, live, be happy." He kissed her again. "Come. With. Me."
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Old 09-02-2011, 04:44 PM
  #7
Amalie Delamere
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She paused, tense but she kissed him once more before she had pulled away. They could leave Forsilvra. There was a blockade on the south, but they could travel elsewhere and go. A place where there wasn't war.... "What will I say to my sisters? What will become of us?" She asked, and by then her tears had stopped. "I shall go with you, to whatever end Bruce Douglas, so long as we are safe."
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Old 09-02-2011, 04:52 PM
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Bruce nodded. He didn't care about her sisters. He didn't care about this Kingdom, this country, or the rotting King in the ground. He cared about this woman, his son, and the three men who had vowed to follow him. With the strength of youth, Bruce placed one arm under his woman's legs and the oround her back, and stood up. How lucky. How fortunate he was. Only a few short months ago, a woman had taken him into her bed almost on a whim, fuelled by a need for comfort and lust. She had taunted him, assaulted him, then finally caressed him. And now, just like that first night, it had all come to a close. The end of their chapter in this country, this world.
"I love you, Amalie Winter. And I will protect you from all the horrors of this world."

And as he carried Amalie off into the courtyard, through the stone halls, he dared to hope that maybe, just maybe, he would succeed.
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