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With his eyes closed and head settled in her lap, his ragged breathing broken by the occasional cough still, Iason found it much easier to rest as her fingers filtered through his hair. It had been longer than he could remember since anyone bothered to show him such attention when he was ill, before his mother had passed away. Persephone's touch reminded them of that comfort, when his mother's sweet voice would hum a little lullaby and he would simply rest against her until he felt well again. With her it was different, hers was a less maternal sort of care, and sent a little shiver through him at the slight scratch of her fingertips against his scalp. Or perhaps that shiver was due to the chill he felt.
Her comment about singing made him smile, though he didn't open his eyes, an arm sliding over to wrap about her hips and fighting back against the cold he felt even in the heat of the room. He was no doubt soaking her dress in sweat, and for a moment he felt guilty about that, but this was the most content and relaxed he'd felt since he woke with the hacking cough and pounding headache. The ache hadn't gone away, but this was helping him take his focus from the pain and discomfort.
"If you have a mind to sing, I wouldn't mind it. But just this is helping."
Iason tightened his grip around her in a sort of embrace, allowing his hand to settle at the small of her back and tracing absent circles every so often as his breathing finally began to even out. He didn't remember falling asleep, only that the touch of her fingers and warm calm of her lap was soothing. The next moment of consciousness, he could almost breathe through his nose, though his throat felt raw and his head still ached. His muscles felt tense and tight, but the cough that had woken him sounded far better than the misery he had been dealing with.
Disoriented, he blinked to try to discern the time and slowly shifted, realizing that the solid warmth of Persephone was still resting beneath him. She had stayed however long he'd slept, allowed him to curl up against her this whole time and a smile crept across his lips as he turned to look up at her, unsure how to properly thank her for staying. His arm was still draped over her, and as he tucked his head against her his hand closed around the material of her chiton, nose brushing against her stomach with a hum.
"You didn't have to stay..I'm sure I was very dull. But, I'm glad you did."
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With his eyes closed and head settled in her lap, his ragged breathing broken by the occasional cough still, Iason found it much easier to rest as her fingers filtered through his hair. It had been longer than he could remember since anyone bothered to show him such attention when he was ill, before his mother had passed away. Persephone's touch reminded them of that comfort, when his mother's sweet voice would hum a little lullaby and he would simply rest against her until he felt well again. With her it was different, hers was a less maternal sort of care, and sent a little shiver through him at the slight scratch of her fingertips against his scalp. Or perhaps that shiver was due to the chill he felt.
Her comment about singing made him smile, though he didn't open his eyes, an arm sliding over to wrap about her hips and fighting back against the cold he felt even in the heat of the room. He was no doubt soaking her dress in sweat, and for a moment he felt guilty about that, but this was the most content and relaxed he'd felt since he woke with the hacking cough and pounding headache. The ache hadn't gone away, but this was helping him take his focus from the pain and discomfort.
"If you have a mind to sing, I wouldn't mind it. But just this is helping."
Iason tightened his grip around her in a sort of embrace, allowing his hand to settle at the small of her back and tracing absent circles every so often as his breathing finally began to even out. He didn't remember falling asleep, only that the touch of her fingers and warm calm of her lap was soothing. The next moment of consciousness, he could almost breathe through his nose, though his throat felt raw and his head still ached. His muscles felt tense and tight, but the cough that had woken him sounded far better than the misery he had been dealing with.
Disoriented, he blinked to try to discern the time and slowly shifted, realizing that the solid warmth of Persephone was still resting beneath him. She had stayed however long he'd slept, allowed him to curl up against her this whole time and a smile crept across his lips as he turned to look up at her, unsure how to properly thank her for staying. His arm was still draped over her, and as he tucked his head against her his hand closed around the material of her chiton, nose brushing against her stomach with a hum.
"You didn't have to stay..I'm sure I was very dull. But, I'm glad you did."
With his eyes closed and head settled in her lap, his ragged breathing broken by the occasional cough still, Iason found it much easier to rest as her fingers filtered through his hair. It had been longer than he could remember since anyone bothered to show him such attention when he was ill, before his mother had passed away. Persephone's touch reminded them of that comfort, when his mother's sweet voice would hum a little lullaby and he would simply rest against her until he felt well again. With her it was different, hers was a less maternal sort of care, and sent a little shiver through him at the slight scratch of her fingertips against his scalp. Or perhaps that shiver was due to the chill he felt.
Her comment about singing made him smile, though he didn't open his eyes, an arm sliding over to wrap about her hips and fighting back against the cold he felt even in the heat of the room. He was no doubt soaking her dress in sweat, and for a moment he felt guilty about that, but this was the most content and relaxed he'd felt since he woke with the hacking cough and pounding headache. The ache hadn't gone away, but this was helping him take his focus from the pain and discomfort.
"If you have a mind to sing, I wouldn't mind it. But just this is helping."
Iason tightened his grip around her in a sort of embrace, allowing his hand to settle at the small of her back and tracing absent circles every so often as his breathing finally began to even out. He didn't remember falling asleep, only that the touch of her fingers and warm calm of her lap was soothing. The next moment of consciousness, he could almost breathe through his nose, though his throat felt raw and his head still ached. His muscles felt tense and tight, but the cough that had woken him sounded far better than the misery he had been dealing with.
Disoriented, he blinked to try to discern the time and slowly shifted, realizing that the solid warmth of Persephone was still resting beneath him. She had stayed however long he'd slept, allowed him to curl up against her this whole time and a smile crept across his lips as he turned to look up at her, unsure how to properly thank her for staying. His arm was still draped over her, and as he tucked his head against her his hand closed around the material of her chiton, nose brushing against her stomach with a hum.
"You didn't have to stay..I'm sure I was very dull. But, I'm glad you did."
Persephone felt a warmth spread through her chest as she watched Iason's trust in her develop. He curled himself around her, allowing the appearance of vulnerability in her presence. Wrapped his arms around her to bring her close, offering himself as defenceless. The opposite of seeing him as weak or sick, it sparked a protectiveness in Persephone that she had never felt outside of her blooded kin. It was the same sort of maternal instinct in that moment that had he fighting tooth and nail to reach Emilia during the raid, or had led to her holding in her tears when her father had past, so that that last thing his eyes saw before closing was the smiling faces of his daughters.
But added to that protectiveness... to that maternal instinct... was an awareness that had Persephone feeling awkward or embarrassed... but in a good way. Which was odd. She wasn't sure how else to describe it but it caused a fluttering in her belly the kind she had experienced when they had lain naked together (despite the fact that she was currently clothed and he was wrapped in his blankets). She found that every stroke of his head sparked the fluttering to grow a little stronger for a moment and wondered if the sensation might become a little addictive.
Reaching out to ensure that Iason's blanket was wrapped around him for warmth - even around the arms that he now sifted to be embracing her - and that the cool cloth on his forehead wasn't moving, Persephone continued to stroke and touch at his hair, brushing the backs of her knuckles to his temples and cheekbones a little. When he responded to her comment and offered her the chance to sing, she gave him a light laugh instead.
"You would mind when I started." She told him. "I have been reliably informed that while I am proficient in a few instruments, my own voice is not one of them. I imagine listening to me sing would only make you feel worse at this point." She laughed.
Soothed by the circles Iason began to draw on the small of her back, Persephone smiled down at him and never ceased in her touches of comfort, even when she heard his breathing even our and the weight of his head grow heavier in her lap. She was pleased to note that Iason slept for several hours, his breathing staying relatively calm, his touch around her holding firm each time he seemed to nearly wake. She felt her legs go dead and start to illicit pins and needles after a few hours but her court training had had her enduring hours of wearing an exceptionally heavy crown on her head. She could handle a little dead leg.
By the time he woke up, Persephone had been entirely lost in her own thoughts, her hands moving in his hand out of habit now rather than conscious thought. As he had coughed a little in his sleep a few times, Persephone was only aware of him waking up as he turned to look up at her from her lap. She smiled at his comments.
"Not dull at all." She assured him, her smile turning knowing and one of her eyebrows rising mischievously. "You talk in your sleep." Her lower lip drew in to be pressed into by her teeth; an expression of "knowing" creeping over her features as her hair swung down to shield the two of them from non-existent prying eyes...
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This character is currently a work in progress.
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Persephone felt a warmth spread through her chest as she watched Iason's trust in her develop. He curled himself around her, allowing the appearance of vulnerability in her presence. Wrapped his arms around her to bring her close, offering himself as defenceless. The opposite of seeing him as weak or sick, it sparked a protectiveness in Persephone that she had never felt outside of her blooded kin. It was the same sort of maternal instinct in that moment that had he fighting tooth and nail to reach Emilia during the raid, or had led to her holding in her tears when her father had past, so that that last thing his eyes saw before closing was the smiling faces of his daughters.
But added to that protectiveness... to that maternal instinct... was an awareness that had Persephone feeling awkward or embarrassed... but in a good way. Which was odd. She wasn't sure how else to describe it but it caused a fluttering in her belly the kind she had experienced when they had lain naked together (despite the fact that she was currently clothed and he was wrapped in his blankets). She found that every stroke of his head sparked the fluttering to grow a little stronger for a moment and wondered if the sensation might become a little addictive.
Reaching out to ensure that Iason's blanket was wrapped around him for warmth - even around the arms that he now sifted to be embracing her - and that the cool cloth on his forehead wasn't moving, Persephone continued to stroke and touch at his hair, brushing the backs of her knuckles to his temples and cheekbones a little. When he responded to her comment and offered her the chance to sing, she gave him a light laugh instead.
"You would mind when I started." She told him. "I have been reliably informed that while I am proficient in a few instruments, my own voice is not one of them. I imagine listening to me sing would only make you feel worse at this point." She laughed.
Soothed by the circles Iason began to draw on the small of her back, Persephone smiled down at him and never ceased in her touches of comfort, even when she heard his breathing even our and the weight of his head grow heavier in her lap. She was pleased to note that Iason slept for several hours, his breathing staying relatively calm, his touch around her holding firm each time he seemed to nearly wake. She felt her legs go dead and start to illicit pins and needles after a few hours but her court training had had her enduring hours of wearing an exceptionally heavy crown on her head. She could handle a little dead leg.
By the time he woke up, Persephone had been entirely lost in her own thoughts, her hands moving in his hand out of habit now rather than conscious thought. As he had coughed a little in his sleep a few times, Persephone was only aware of him waking up as he turned to look up at her from her lap. She smiled at his comments.
"Not dull at all." She assured him, her smile turning knowing and one of her eyebrows rising mischievously. "You talk in your sleep." Her lower lip drew in to be pressed into by her teeth; an expression of "knowing" creeping over her features as her hair swung down to shield the two of them from non-existent prying eyes...
Persephone felt a warmth spread through her chest as she watched Iason's trust in her develop. He curled himself around her, allowing the appearance of vulnerability in her presence. Wrapped his arms around her to bring her close, offering himself as defenceless. The opposite of seeing him as weak or sick, it sparked a protectiveness in Persephone that she had never felt outside of her blooded kin. It was the same sort of maternal instinct in that moment that had he fighting tooth and nail to reach Emilia during the raid, or had led to her holding in her tears when her father had past, so that that last thing his eyes saw before closing was the smiling faces of his daughters.
But added to that protectiveness... to that maternal instinct... was an awareness that had Persephone feeling awkward or embarrassed... but in a good way. Which was odd. She wasn't sure how else to describe it but it caused a fluttering in her belly the kind she had experienced when they had lain naked together (despite the fact that she was currently clothed and he was wrapped in his blankets). She found that every stroke of his head sparked the fluttering to grow a little stronger for a moment and wondered if the sensation might become a little addictive.
Reaching out to ensure that Iason's blanket was wrapped around him for warmth - even around the arms that he now sifted to be embracing her - and that the cool cloth on his forehead wasn't moving, Persephone continued to stroke and touch at his hair, brushing the backs of her knuckles to his temples and cheekbones a little. When he responded to her comment and offered her the chance to sing, she gave him a light laugh instead.
"You would mind when I started." She told him. "I have been reliably informed that while I am proficient in a few instruments, my own voice is not one of them. I imagine listening to me sing would only make you feel worse at this point." She laughed.
Soothed by the circles Iason began to draw on the small of her back, Persephone smiled down at him and never ceased in her touches of comfort, even when she heard his breathing even our and the weight of his head grow heavier in her lap. She was pleased to note that Iason slept for several hours, his breathing staying relatively calm, his touch around her holding firm each time he seemed to nearly wake. She felt her legs go dead and start to illicit pins and needles after a few hours but her court training had had her enduring hours of wearing an exceptionally heavy crown on her head. She could handle a little dead leg.
By the time he woke up, Persephone had been entirely lost in her own thoughts, her hands moving in his hand out of habit now rather than conscious thought. As he had coughed a little in his sleep a few times, Persephone was only aware of him waking up as he turned to look up at her from her lap. She smiled at his comments.
"Not dull at all." She assured him, her smile turning knowing and one of her eyebrows rising mischievously. "You talk in your sleep." Her lower lip drew in to be pressed into by her teeth; an expression of "knowing" creeping over her features as her hair swung down to shield the two of them from non-existent prying eyes...
She was so warm and comfortable, though he was sure the position she'd been sitting in for however long was not the most relaxing for her. It was beyond kind and caring of her to have stayed as she was, as if afraid she would wake him and instead wishing that he take his rest. The knowledge that she so clearly did care for him warmed his heart and made him forget any feelings of unhappiness that might have lingered from her earlier snapping. They were both adjusting to this new way of being, of caring for another person more than they had known for anyone other than family.
At her revelation that he talked in his sleep, his smile faded slightly and he scanned his thoughts, memories, anything that might reveal what he had been dreaming of or saying in his sleep. Hoping it wasn't anything too horribly embarrassing, Iason gave an apprehensive look up at her with a sheepish sort of smile replacing the affection it held before. The draping of her dark black hair around them was like being surrounded in a perfumed cloud, so entirely enveloped by a scent and warmth that was uniquely her that made him wish he could take a deeper breath to enjoy the moment.
"Do I? I've never had anyone share a bed to tell me so..."
He'd dreamed of her, of course. Ever since their night of shared passion that had very nearly gone too far, the details had been far more...fleshed out. The image of her body, bared before him as it had been, was burned into his mind for all he did not wish to discuss the particulars with her. If she wished to share a bed with him again, he would eagerly accept for her touches were far better than his own when the desire she'd stirred heated in his belly. From this angle her lips looked full and soft, and had he not been ill he would have stolen a kiss, her body equally soft beneath his head.
"What did I have to say?"
Iason shifted somewhat, moving enough that she could unfold from her cramped position and laying his head, which he now realized was entirely soaked in sweat, onto the pillow instead of her lap, though he kept his arm tight about her hips still. If she was willing to stay and pass time with him even in this state, he was more than happy to keep her close.
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She was so warm and comfortable, though he was sure the position she'd been sitting in for however long was not the most relaxing for her. It was beyond kind and caring of her to have stayed as she was, as if afraid she would wake him and instead wishing that he take his rest. The knowledge that she so clearly did care for him warmed his heart and made him forget any feelings of unhappiness that might have lingered from her earlier snapping. They were both adjusting to this new way of being, of caring for another person more than they had known for anyone other than family.
At her revelation that he talked in his sleep, his smile faded slightly and he scanned his thoughts, memories, anything that might reveal what he had been dreaming of or saying in his sleep. Hoping it wasn't anything too horribly embarrassing, Iason gave an apprehensive look up at her with a sheepish sort of smile replacing the affection it held before. The draping of her dark black hair around them was like being surrounded in a perfumed cloud, so entirely enveloped by a scent and warmth that was uniquely her that made him wish he could take a deeper breath to enjoy the moment.
"Do I? I've never had anyone share a bed to tell me so..."
He'd dreamed of her, of course. Ever since their night of shared passion that had very nearly gone too far, the details had been far more...fleshed out. The image of her body, bared before him as it had been, was burned into his mind for all he did not wish to discuss the particulars with her. If she wished to share a bed with him again, he would eagerly accept for her touches were far better than his own when the desire she'd stirred heated in his belly. From this angle her lips looked full and soft, and had he not been ill he would have stolen a kiss, her body equally soft beneath his head.
"What did I have to say?"
Iason shifted somewhat, moving enough that she could unfold from her cramped position and laying his head, which he now realized was entirely soaked in sweat, onto the pillow instead of her lap, though he kept his arm tight about her hips still. If she was willing to stay and pass time with him even in this state, he was more than happy to keep her close.
She was so warm and comfortable, though he was sure the position she'd been sitting in for however long was not the most relaxing for her. It was beyond kind and caring of her to have stayed as she was, as if afraid she would wake him and instead wishing that he take his rest. The knowledge that she so clearly did care for him warmed his heart and made him forget any feelings of unhappiness that might have lingered from her earlier snapping. They were both adjusting to this new way of being, of caring for another person more than they had known for anyone other than family.
At her revelation that he talked in his sleep, his smile faded slightly and he scanned his thoughts, memories, anything that might reveal what he had been dreaming of or saying in his sleep. Hoping it wasn't anything too horribly embarrassing, Iason gave an apprehensive look up at her with a sheepish sort of smile replacing the affection it held before. The draping of her dark black hair around them was like being surrounded in a perfumed cloud, so entirely enveloped by a scent and warmth that was uniquely her that made him wish he could take a deeper breath to enjoy the moment.
"Do I? I've never had anyone share a bed to tell me so..."
He'd dreamed of her, of course. Ever since their night of shared passion that had very nearly gone too far, the details had been far more...fleshed out. The image of her body, bared before him as it had been, was burned into his mind for all he did not wish to discuss the particulars with her. If she wished to share a bed with him again, he would eagerly accept for her touches were far better than his own when the desire she'd stirred heated in his belly. From this angle her lips looked full and soft, and had he not been ill he would have stolen a kiss, her body equally soft beneath his head.
"What did I have to say?"
Iason shifted somewhat, moving enough that she could unfold from her cramped position and laying his head, which he now realized was entirely soaked in sweat, onto the pillow instead of her lap, though he kept his arm tight about her hips still. If she was willing to stay and pass time with him even in this state, he was more than happy to keep her close.
Persephone watched as Iason's expression changed from apprehension, to thoughtfulness, to a look of sheepish chagrin as he considered what she might have heard pass his lips. The expressions only made the topics of his dreams more of a curiosity to her than the murmurings he had expressed in the night ever could and her eyes narrowed in shrewd and amused speculation as she looked down at him.
When he commented that he had never had anyone share his bed who could inform him that he talked in his sleep, Persephone was hit by the same surprised that had knocked her sideways the last time he had mentioned his chastity to her. It surprised her still that a man of his appearance and fine qualities had been left alone by the female of the species for so many years. Especially given the way he kissed... The night that things had sped further than she had ever intended them but did not regret, had told her that his kisses affected her deeply. Perhaps that was a reaction unique to herself or surely Iason would have found a willing partner to bed before now.
Whilst the knowledge that he was as innocent of human pleasure as she (though perhaps not quite as ignorant, given her repressed means of childhood) made her a touch more nervous of their future times together as husband and wife (it would have been comforting, after all, to have at least one of them know what they were doing)... Persephone also found it rather comforting to know that, regardless of how horrendous she might be at lovemaking - a performing her duties as a wife - Iason would have nothing to compare it to, to know he to be so very terrible. So, there was something in that at least.
When the man shifted so that she could release her legs and straighten them out, Persephone didn't move at first. Remaining on her knees initially so that she could lean over and adjust the pillow beneath his head, Persephone smiled again at his question of what it was he had said. She found herself doing that more these days... smiling.
"Mostly mumbles of completely gibberish." She told him, in a warm tone. "Which amused me greatly." It had been funny to witness a man who spoke with such earthy common sense to ramble random noises incoherently under his breath. Persephone blushed at the next admittance. "I think my name might have been in there somewhere." There had been a few times she had thought she heard a few vowels, framed in a way that suggested her own name. She swallowed and turned away to pick up the wet cloth that was now no longer cold and threw it to one side. She turned her voice friendly and bright. "But whatever dream you were having, you clearly enjoyed it." She concluded. He had hummed and smiled a little in his sleep, so she was sure it had been good dreams in which he passed the time. Which she was grateful for. Everyone deserved a happy place in their mind to retire to when sick.
Taking the opportunity now to place a flat palm to the surface of the bed, Persephone ignored the patch of sweat that had formed over the piece of chiton stretched across her thighs, and moved to straighten both her legs. As blood rushed back into the limbs, she frowned a little, her lip curling as she circulated her feet and wiggled her toes, one of her slippers shifting off of her foot, hitting the mattress and falling to the floor as she did so. Pressing her bare toes to the heel of the other, Persephone kicked the second off to join its pair.
Now sitting with her feet out straight, her hands braced on the bed to support an upright position of her torso, and Iason's arm thrown over her lap and around her hip, Persephone braced her weight on one hand and reached out to touch the back of her hand to her betrothed's forehead. It was clammy and damp with sweat but it didn't burn as it had before.
"It think your fever has broken." She told him with a calming exhale of relief.
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Persephone watched as Iason's expression changed from apprehension, to thoughtfulness, to a look of sheepish chagrin as he considered what she might have heard pass his lips. The expressions only made the topics of his dreams more of a curiosity to her than the murmurings he had expressed in the night ever could and her eyes narrowed in shrewd and amused speculation as she looked down at him.
When he commented that he had never had anyone share his bed who could inform him that he talked in his sleep, Persephone was hit by the same surprised that had knocked her sideways the last time he had mentioned his chastity to her. It surprised her still that a man of his appearance and fine qualities had been left alone by the female of the species for so many years. Especially given the way he kissed... The night that things had sped further than she had ever intended them but did not regret, had told her that his kisses affected her deeply. Perhaps that was a reaction unique to herself or surely Iason would have found a willing partner to bed before now.
Whilst the knowledge that he was as innocent of human pleasure as she (though perhaps not quite as ignorant, given her repressed means of childhood) made her a touch more nervous of their future times together as husband and wife (it would have been comforting, after all, to have at least one of them know what they were doing)... Persephone also found it rather comforting to know that, regardless of how horrendous she might be at lovemaking - a performing her duties as a wife - Iason would have nothing to compare it to, to know he to be so very terrible. So, there was something in that at least.
When the man shifted so that she could release her legs and straighten them out, Persephone didn't move at first. Remaining on her knees initially so that she could lean over and adjust the pillow beneath his head, Persephone smiled again at his question of what it was he had said. She found herself doing that more these days... smiling.
"Mostly mumbles of completely gibberish." She told him, in a warm tone. "Which amused me greatly." It had been funny to witness a man who spoke with such earthy common sense to ramble random noises incoherently under his breath. Persephone blushed at the next admittance. "I think my name might have been in there somewhere." There had been a few times she had thought she heard a few vowels, framed in a way that suggested her own name. She swallowed and turned away to pick up the wet cloth that was now no longer cold and threw it to one side. She turned her voice friendly and bright. "But whatever dream you were having, you clearly enjoyed it." She concluded. He had hummed and smiled a little in his sleep, so she was sure it had been good dreams in which he passed the time. Which she was grateful for. Everyone deserved a happy place in their mind to retire to when sick.
Taking the opportunity now to place a flat palm to the surface of the bed, Persephone ignored the patch of sweat that had formed over the piece of chiton stretched across her thighs, and moved to straighten both her legs. As blood rushed back into the limbs, she frowned a little, her lip curling as she circulated her feet and wiggled her toes, one of her slippers shifting off of her foot, hitting the mattress and falling to the floor as she did so. Pressing her bare toes to the heel of the other, Persephone kicked the second off to join its pair.
Now sitting with her feet out straight, her hands braced on the bed to support an upright position of her torso, and Iason's arm thrown over her lap and around her hip, Persephone braced her weight on one hand and reached out to touch the back of her hand to her betrothed's forehead. It was clammy and damp with sweat but it didn't burn as it had before.
"It think your fever has broken." She told him with a calming exhale of relief.
Persephone watched as Iason's expression changed from apprehension, to thoughtfulness, to a look of sheepish chagrin as he considered what she might have heard pass his lips. The expressions only made the topics of his dreams more of a curiosity to her than the murmurings he had expressed in the night ever could and her eyes narrowed in shrewd and amused speculation as she looked down at him.
When he commented that he had never had anyone share his bed who could inform him that he talked in his sleep, Persephone was hit by the same surprised that had knocked her sideways the last time he had mentioned his chastity to her. It surprised her still that a man of his appearance and fine qualities had been left alone by the female of the species for so many years. Especially given the way he kissed... The night that things had sped further than she had ever intended them but did not regret, had told her that his kisses affected her deeply. Perhaps that was a reaction unique to herself or surely Iason would have found a willing partner to bed before now.
Whilst the knowledge that he was as innocent of human pleasure as she (though perhaps not quite as ignorant, given her repressed means of childhood) made her a touch more nervous of their future times together as husband and wife (it would have been comforting, after all, to have at least one of them know what they were doing)... Persephone also found it rather comforting to know that, regardless of how horrendous she might be at lovemaking - a performing her duties as a wife - Iason would have nothing to compare it to, to know he to be so very terrible. So, there was something in that at least.
When the man shifted so that she could release her legs and straighten them out, Persephone didn't move at first. Remaining on her knees initially so that she could lean over and adjust the pillow beneath his head, Persephone smiled again at his question of what it was he had said. She found herself doing that more these days... smiling.
"Mostly mumbles of completely gibberish." She told him, in a warm tone. "Which amused me greatly." It had been funny to witness a man who spoke with such earthy common sense to ramble random noises incoherently under his breath. Persephone blushed at the next admittance. "I think my name might have been in there somewhere." There had been a few times she had thought she heard a few vowels, framed in a way that suggested her own name. She swallowed and turned away to pick up the wet cloth that was now no longer cold and threw it to one side. She turned her voice friendly and bright. "But whatever dream you were having, you clearly enjoyed it." She concluded. He had hummed and smiled a little in his sleep, so she was sure it had been good dreams in which he passed the time. Which she was grateful for. Everyone deserved a happy place in their mind to retire to when sick.
Taking the opportunity now to place a flat palm to the surface of the bed, Persephone ignored the patch of sweat that had formed over the piece of chiton stretched across her thighs, and moved to straighten both her legs. As blood rushed back into the limbs, she frowned a little, her lip curling as she circulated her feet and wiggled her toes, one of her slippers shifting off of her foot, hitting the mattress and falling to the floor as she did so. Pressing her bare toes to the heel of the other, Persephone kicked the second off to join its pair.
Now sitting with her feet out straight, her hands braced on the bed to support an upright position of her torso, and Iason's arm thrown over her lap and around her hip, Persephone braced her weight on one hand and reached out to touch the back of her hand to her betrothed's forehead. It was clammy and damp with sweat but it didn't burn as it had before.
"It think your fever has broken." She told him with a calming exhale of relief.
He was relieved to hear he had mostly been unintelligible, though he wasn't surprised that her name had been on his lips even in sleep. It seemed surreal to the young lord that in the brief time that had passed since he first met her, to this day, that his feelings had so rapidly shifted. First of friendship and duty, then of resentment and frustration after the way she'd treated him on the boat, now he was entirely enraptured and it was as if she was all he could think about. He had been looking forward to taking her on a ride about the property, to show her the nuances of Meganea and Taengea and share his love of the land and horses with her. That would have to wait a few days it seemed, but he was still eager for it.
Perhaps he was mad, to be so easily won over and changed in his feelings for her, but there was something in her that he could see now, something she was no longer hiding that brought her to life and made her flesh and bone before him instead of a marble perfect ideal of a woman. He had felt how easily her body bent to his own, the warmth of her kisses and the heat on their skin when they got carried away. His family would take time, but in the end he knew his father would be glad for him to marry someone for love. It was what Gavriil had insisted he do, but Iason had decided he was essentially hopeless in that arena and opted instead for something political in nature. He'd never thought that perhaps it could become one and the same.
"I wouldn't be surprised. I dream of you often."
Even as she said his fever had broken, he felt himself burn with a flush of heat. He hadn't intended to say that out loud, but clearly whatever illness he was suffering with had affected his mental capacities. Iason only hoped she didn't find the knowledge that he dreamed of her to be disturbing. Even after their night, or perhaps because of it, he felt uncertain in regards to what he could and should say around her, what liberties they were able to take with one another. They were bound to marry, they couldn't be shy forever.
"I feel somewhat better. I should have ridden out with my father to the capitol. It's the only senate meet I've missed since I became a baron."
There, that was a safer subject than what he dreamed of.
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He was relieved to hear he had mostly been unintelligible, though he wasn't surprised that her name had been on his lips even in sleep. It seemed surreal to the young lord that in the brief time that had passed since he first met her, to this day, that his feelings had so rapidly shifted. First of friendship and duty, then of resentment and frustration after the way she'd treated him on the boat, now he was entirely enraptured and it was as if she was all he could think about. He had been looking forward to taking her on a ride about the property, to show her the nuances of Meganea and Taengea and share his love of the land and horses with her. That would have to wait a few days it seemed, but he was still eager for it.
Perhaps he was mad, to be so easily won over and changed in his feelings for her, but there was something in her that he could see now, something she was no longer hiding that brought her to life and made her flesh and bone before him instead of a marble perfect ideal of a woman. He had felt how easily her body bent to his own, the warmth of her kisses and the heat on their skin when they got carried away. His family would take time, but in the end he knew his father would be glad for him to marry someone for love. It was what Gavriil had insisted he do, but Iason had decided he was essentially hopeless in that arena and opted instead for something political in nature. He'd never thought that perhaps it could become one and the same.
"I wouldn't be surprised. I dream of you often."
Even as she said his fever had broken, he felt himself burn with a flush of heat. He hadn't intended to say that out loud, but clearly whatever illness he was suffering with had affected his mental capacities. Iason only hoped she didn't find the knowledge that he dreamed of her to be disturbing. Even after their night, or perhaps because of it, he felt uncertain in regards to what he could and should say around her, what liberties they were able to take with one another. They were bound to marry, they couldn't be shy forever.
"I feel somewhat better. I should have ridden out with my father to the capitol. It's the only senate meet I've missed since I became a baron."
There, that was a safer subject than what he dreamed of.
He was relieved to hear he had mostly been unintelligible, though he wasn't surprised that her name had been on his lips even in sleep. It seemed surreal to the young lord that in the brief time that had passed since he first met her, to this day, that his feelings had so rapidly shifted. First of friendship and duty, then of resentment and frustration after the way she'd treated him on the boat, now he was entirely enraptured and it was as if she was all he could think about. He had been looking forward to taking her on a ride about the property, to show her the nuances of Meganea and Taengea and share his love of the land and horses with her. That would have to wait a few days it seemed, but he was still eager for it.
Perhaps he was mad, to be so easily won over and changed in his feelings for her, but there was something in her that he could see now, something she was no longer hiding that brought her to life and made her flesh and bone before him instead of a marble perfect ideal of a woman. He had felt how easily her body bent to his own, the warmth of her kisses and the heat on their skin when they got carried away. His family would take time, but in the end he knew his father would be glad for him to marry someone for love. It was what Gavriil had insisted he do, but Iason had decided he was essentially hopeless in that arena and opted instead for something political in nature. He'd never thought that perhaps it could become one and the same.
"I wouldn't be surprised. I dream of you often."
Even as she said his fever had broken, he felt himself burn with a flush of heat. He hadn't intended to say that out loud, but clearly whatever illness he was suffering with had affected his mental capacities. Iason only hoped she didn't find the knowledge that he dreamed of her to be disturbing. Even after their night, or perhaps because of it, he felt uncertain in regards to what he could and should say around her, what liberties they were able to take with one another. They were bound to marry, they couldn't be shy forever.
"I feel somewhat better. I should have ridden out with my father to the capitol. It's the only senate meet I've missed since I became a baron."
There, that was a safer subject than what he dreamed of.
When the words of dreaming of her slipped from Iason's lips, Persephone was a skilled enough people reader to know that the admittance embarrassed him. Whether that was because of it implying a deeper level of feeling than he had yet admitted to, or because of the essence or.... genre of the dreams in question, Persephone didn't know but either way it had her cheeks flame along with his own and she did nothing to restrain the colour this time. She was so used to holding everything about herself so in check, that Persephone had only recently realised - in the days she had known Iason better - that she had used an almost meditative state over her own mind, ever since she could remember. A state of calm that allowed her to be the perfect image of a Queen and feel absolutely nothing. It was no surprise that emotions were hard for her, now.
Deciding not to push Iason regarding the dreaming, for she didn't wish to humiliate the man or force him to reveal something about himself so intensely private as his subconscious thoughts (she had already invaded that enough by listened to his murmurs as he slumbered), Persephone turned to his new topic of conversation; the Senate meet. She swallowed at such a topic, for she had determined in marrying Iason that she would leave the world of politics behind her. But, of course, Iason was a baron. And if she was to support him as his wife, she would be privy to information regarding the Taengean Senate - regarding the political field she used to dominate and would now be on the very edges of, in a kingdom she had no first-hand experience in.
"It is due to be a significant meet, is it not?" Persephone asked, her knowledge of Taengea rudimentary but at least current. "The first since King Stephanos became reigning monarch?" She wasn't asking to make him feel more guilty for missing it, but to be able to understand his feelings.
In the hopes of offering more comfort, Persephone bent her elbows and allowed herself to elegantly fall down onto the bedclothes, her torso twisting as she went until she was lying beside Iason - he beneath the sheets and she above - facing one another side by side. Persephone coupled her hands beneath her head as Iason had the pillow and simply kept his eye contact as she spoke. She seemed totally oblivious - or completely at ease - with the way Iason's arm now - because of her movements - rested over her hip, his hand hovering down by her bottom.
"You cannot blame yourself for being ill, Iason." Persephone insisted in a serious tone that she would have used with Emilia had she been chastising herself too harshly. "Sickness is not to be taken lightly, and you becoming worse or suffering worse, could have resulted in you being unable to attend many meets in the future. Then where would Chaoedia be?" Persephone swallowed as she glanced down, her emotions and memories overtaking her a little. "My mother was ill. A fever... some coughing. Nothing serious, they said. But she..." She broke off and swallowed, glancing back at the man across from her. There were no tears in her eyes - just emotion in her voice. "She was gone in less than a week. I would not see another I care for take their health for granted."
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When the words of dreaming of her slipped from Iason's lips, Persephone was a skilled enough people reader to know that the admittance embarrassed him. Whether that was because of it implying a deeper level of feeling than he had yet admitted to, or because of the essence or.... genre of the dreams in question, Persephone didn't know but either way it had her cheeks flame along with his own and she did nothing to restrain the colour this time. She was so used to holding everything about herself so in check, that Persephone had only recently realised - in the days she had known Iason better - that she had used an almost meditative state over her own mind, ever since she could remember. A state of calm that allowed her to be the perfect image of a Queen and feel absolutely nothing. It was no surprise that emotions were hard for her, now.
Deciding not to push Iason regarding the dreaming, for she didn't wish to humiliate the man or force him to reveal something about himself so intensely private as his subconscious thoughts (she had already invaded that enough by listened to his murmurs as he slumbered), Persephone turned to his new topic of conversation; the Senate meet. She swallowed at such a topic, for she had determined in marrying Iason that she would leave the world of politics behind her. But, of course, Iason was a baron. And if she was to support him as his wife, she would be privy to information regarding the Taengean Senate - regarding the political field she used to dominate and would now be on the very edges of, in a kingdom she had no first-hand experience in.
"It is due to be a significant meet, is it not?" Persephone asked, her knowledge of Taengea rudimentary but at least current. "The first since King Stephanos became reigning monarch?" She wasn't asking to make him feel more guilty for missing it, but to be able to understand his feelings.
In the hopes of offering more comfort, Persephone bent her elbows and allowed herself to elegantly fall down onto the bedclothes, her torso twisting as she went until she was lying beside Iason - he beneath the sheets and she above - facing one another side by side. Persephone coupled her hands beneath her head as Iason had the pillow and simply kept his eye contact as she spoke. She seemed totally oblivious - or completely at ease - with the way Iason's arm now - because of her movements - rested over her hip, his hand hovering down by her bottom.
"You cannot blame yourself for being ill, Iason." Persephone insisted in a serious tone that she would have used with Emilia had she been chastising herself too harshly. "Sickness is not to be taken lightly, and you becoming worse or suffering worse, could have resulted in you being unable to attend many meets in the future. Then where would Chaoedia be?" Persephone swallowed as she glanced down, her emotions and memories overtaking her a little. "My mother was ill. A fever... some coughing. Nothing serious, they said. But she..." She broke off and swallowed, glancing back at the man across from her. There were no tears in her eyes - just emotion in her voice. "She was gone in less than a week. I would not see another I care for take their health for granted."
When the words of dreaming of her slipped from Iason's lips, Persephone was a skilled enough people reader to know that the admittance embarrassed him. Whether that was because of it implying a deeper level of feeling than he had yet admitted to, or because of the essence or.... genre of the dreams in question, Persephone didn't know but either way it had her cheeks flame along with his own and she did nothing to restrain the colour this time. She was so used to holding everything about herself so in check, that Persephone had only recently realised - in the days she had known Iason better - that she had used an almost meditative state over her own mind, ever since she could remember. A state of calm that allowed her to be the perfect image of a Queen and feel absolutely nothing. It was no surprise that emotions were hard for her, now.
Deciding not to push Iason regarding the dreaming, for she didn't wish to humiliate the man or force him to reveal something about himself so intensely private as his subconscious thoughts (she had already invaded that enough by listened to his murmurs as he slumbered), Persephone turned to his new topic of conversation; the Senate meet. She swallowed at such a topic, for she had determined in marrying Iason that she would leave the world of politics behind her. But, of course, Iason was a baron. And if she was to support him as his wife, she would be privy to information regarding the Taengean Senate - regarding the political field she used to dominate and would now be on the very edges of, in a kingdom she had no first-hand experience in.
"It is due to be a significant meet, is it not?" Persephone asked, her knowledge of Taengea rudimentary but at least current. "The first since King Stephanos became reigning monarch?" She wasn't asking to make him feel more guilty for missing it, but to be able to understand his feelings.
In the hopes of offering more comfort, Persephone bent her elbows and allowed herself to elegantly fall down onto the bedclothes, her torso twisting as she went until she was lying beside Iason - he beneath the sheets and she above - facing one another side by side. Persephone coupled her hands beneath her head as Iason had the pillow and simply kept his eye contact as she spoke. She seemed totally oblivious - or completely at ease - with the way Iason's arm now - because of her movements - rested over her hip, his hand hovering down by her bottom.
"You cannot blame yourself for being ill, Iason." Persephone insisted in a serious tone that she would have used with Emilia had she been chastising herself too harshly. "Sickness is not to be taken lightly, and you becoming worse or suffering worse, could have resulted in you being unable to attend many meets in the future. Then where would Chaoedia be?" Persephone swallowed as she glanced down, her emotions and memories overtaking her a little. "My mother was ill. A fever... some coughing. Nothing serious, they said. But she..." She broke off and swallowed, glancing back at the man across from her. There were no tears in her eyes - just emotion in her voice. "She was gone in less than a week. I would not see another I care for take their health for granted."
"It is. I feel I should be there, but my father will give him the support from both of us no doubt. Zenon was a good man, and in spite of some...differences we have, Stephanos seems to be a good man and king as well."
Iason winced slightly as he tried not to think on the differences between himself and Stephanos of Mikaelidas. He did not have the inherent charm or good looks of the king, nor could he make a lady swoon just with a look, and he'd certainly not taken to bed as many as the other man. He wondered for a moment, a brief self destructive moment, if Persephone would prefer for him to have had experience. Would she want him to take charge in the bedchamber in a way he was not sure he would be able to?
Preferring to turn his thoughts back to the senate meet, he wondered what was so important that it had been set on such short notice. It felt odd, but perhaps that was just his own feeling, a prickling on the back of his neck because of what had happened after Athenia's senate meet. That night was still pressed into his memory, every moment from waking to the sounds of men fighting, the rush to get to Persephone's chambers before those who would no doubt have killed her, the guilt at not having time to get her sister out as well. He wondered if she blamed him, if she would ever forgive him for that.
Her assurance that being ill was nothing to push had him sighing, and as she laid beside him, he wrapped his arm around her tighter, hand now very nearly resting upon the curve of her rear. Closing his eyes once again, Iason slid closer to her again as she told the tale of her mother. He felt a flicker of fear, not wanting to let her down or leave her in such a way after everything they'd been through, but she had said his fever was breaking and he didn't feel in danger for his life with this illness. Not after the care she had taken of him.
"I promise, I won't push myself. Nor will I leave you so soon. There's no need to worry for that."
He'd slid close enough to her that he could feel the warmth of her body against his, seeking more of it to heat up his chilled form, he once again nestled his head against her. This time against the joint of her neck and shoulder, he tried to ignore the fact that if he moved ever so slightly down he could instead rest against her chest, trying not to think of the feel of her breast in his hand or mouth and instead settle himself to rest further.
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"It is. I feel I should be there, but my father will give him the support from both of us no doubt. Zenon was a good man, and in spite of some...differences we have, Stephanos seems to be a good man and king as well."
Iason winced slightly as he tried not to think on the differences between himself and Stephanos of Mikaelidas. He did not have the inherent charm or good looks of the king, nor could he make a lady swoon just with a look, and he'd certainly not taken to bed as many as the other man. He wondered for a moment, a brief self destructive moment, if Persephone would prefer for him to have had experience. Would she want him to take charge in the bedchamber in a way he was not sure he would be able to?
Preferring to turn his thoughts back to the senate meet, he wondered what was so important that it had been set on such short notice. It felt odd, but perhaps that was just his own feeling, a prickling on the back of his neck because of what had happened after Athenia's senate meet. That night was still pressed into his memory, every moment from waking to the sounds of men fighting, the rush to get to Persephone's chambers before those who would no doubt have killed her, the guilt at not having time to get her sister out as well. He wondered if she blamed him, if she would ever forgive him for that.
Her assurance that being ill was nothing to push had him sighing, and as she laid beside him, he wrapped his arm around her tighter, hand now very nearly resting upon the curve of her rear. Closing his eyes once again, Iason slid closer to her again as she told the tale of her mother. He felt a flicker of fear, not wanting to let her down or leave her in such a way after everything they'd been through, but she had said his fever was breaking and he didn't feel in danger for his life with this illness. Not after the care she had taken of him.
"I promise, I won't push myself. Nor will I leave you so soon. There's no need to worry for that."
He'd slid close enough to her that he could feel the warmth of her body against his, seeking more of it to heat up his chilled form, he once again nestled his head against her. This time against the joint of her neck and shoulder, he tried to ignore the fact that if he moved ever so slightly down he could instead rest against her chest, trying not to think of the feel of her breast in his hand or mouth and instead settle himself to rest further.
"It is. I feel I should be there, but my father will give him the support from both of us no doubt. Zenon was a good man, and in spite of some...differences we have, Stephanos seems to be a good man and king as well."
Iason winced slightly as he tried not to think on the differences between himself and Stephanos of Mikaelidas. He did not have the inherent charm or good looks of the king, nor could he make a lady swoon just with a look, and he'd certainly not taken to bed as many as the other man. He wondered for a moment, a brief self destructive moment, if Persephone would prefer for him to have had experience. Would she want him to take charge in the bedchamber in a way he was not sure he would be able to?
Preferring to turn his thoughts back to the senate meet, he wondered what was so important that it had been set on such short notice. It felt odd, but perhaps that was just his own feeling, a prickling on the back of his neck because of what had happened after Athenia's senate meet. That night was still pressed into his memory, every moment from waking to the sounds of men fighting, the rush to get to Persephone's chambers before those who would no doubt have killed her, the guilt at not having time to get her sister out as well. He wondered if she blamed him, if she would ever forgive him for that.
Her assurance that being ill was nothing to push had him sighing, and as she laid beside him, he wrapped his arm around her tighter, hand now very nearly resting upon the curve of her rear. Closing his eyes once again, Iason slid closer to her again as she told the tale of her mother. He felt a flicker of fear, not wanting to let her down or leave her in such a way after everything they'd been through, but she had said his fever was breaking and he didn't feel in danger for his life with this illness. Not after the care she had taken of him.
"I promise, I won't push myself. Nor will I leave you so soon. There's no need to worry for that."
He'd slid close enough to her that he could feel the warmth of her body against his, seeking more of it to heat up his chilled form, he once again nestled his head against her. This time against the joint of her neck and shoulder, he tried to ignore the fact that if he moved ever so slightly down he could instead rest against her chest, trying not to think of the feel of her breast in his hand or mouth and instead settle himself to rest further.
Persephone smiled in what she hoped to be comfort.
"If he is a good king with the loyalty of his people, then he shall be fine." She promised, reaching out to shift a lock of Iason's hair as it fell over his brow when he frowned and winced. She wondered what the topic of Stephanos had caused in his mind - what thought had surfaced that caused an expression so. She opened her mouth to ask but was distracted when Iason moved to shift closer to her, wrapping his arm around her more securely. She shifted towards him in return, a little at a time.
When he reassured her that he would go nowhere - that she would never be abandoned by him to the jaws of death, Persephone lowered her head and flicked a finger over the ends of a lock of her hair.
"You cannot know that." She told him without sadness but simply pragmaticism. With a healthy dose of real-life tragedy. "Our fates are for the Gods to decide." She told him, looking up just as he moved closer still to move his face to the curve of her neck. Persephone shifted to rest her head on the pillow he had been using and did nothing to push Iason away. She honestly felt no sense of disgust at his damp heat, nor the sweaty texture of his skin. Wherever he touched her, he felt hot and that was far more distracting that any remaining clamminess.
Moving her hands so that they were between the two of them, Persephone's touch of nervous as she reached out, the backs of her fingers brushing Iason's chest where ribs met abdomen. The touch was sporadic and awkward as it inched around his torso, one of the hands burying into the sheets to reach beneath him, and the other winding around his side. Persephone shifted closer so that she could find enough reach to embrace him fully, bringing them flush together, the blankets around Iason and her chiton their only form of barriers.
Tracing slow patterns on the skin of Iason's back, her fingertip circling each vertebra that she could find, Persephone took a slow inhale in and a calming exhale out.
"I'm sorry I cried..." She murmured into Iason's shoulder, the embarrassment in her face, hidden by his own head and neck. "The other night, I mean..." She confirmed. "I'm... I'm sorry that you had to stop."
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Persephone smiled in what she hoped to be comfort.
"If he is a good king with the loyalty of his people, then he shall be fine." She promised, reaching out to shift a lock of Iason's hair as it fell over his brow when he frowned and winced. She wondered what the topic of Stephanos had caused in his mind - what thought had surfaced that caused an expression so. She opened her mouth to ask but was distracted when Iason moved to shift closer to her, wrapping his arm around her more securely. She shifted towards him in return, a little at a time.
When he reassured her that he would go nowhere - that she would never be abandoned by him to the jaws of death, Persephone lowered her head and flicked a finger over the ends of a lock of her hair.
"You cannot know that." She told him without sadness but simply pragmaticism. With a healthy dose of real-life tragedy. "Our fates are for the Gods to decide." She told him, looking up just as he moved closer still to move his face to the curve of her neck. Persephone shifted to rest her head on the pillow he had been using and did nothing to push Iason away. She honestly felt no sense of disgust at his damp heat, nor the sweaty texture of his skin. Wherever he touched her, he felt hot and that was far more distracting that any remaining clamminess.
Moving her hands so that they were between the two of them, Persephone's touch of nervous as she reached out, the backs of her fingers brushing Iason's chest where ribs met abdomen. The touch was sporadic and awkward as it inched around his torso, one of the hands burying into the sheets to reach beneath him, and the other winding around his side. Persephone shifted closer so that she could find enough reach to embrace him fully, bringing them flush together, the blankets around Iason and her chiton their only form of barriers.
Tracing slow patterns on the skin of Iason's back, her fingertip circling each vertebra that she could find, Persephone took a slow inhale in and a calming exhale out.
"I'm sorry I cried..." She murmured into Iason's shoulder, the embarrassment in her face, hidden by his own head and neck. "The other night, I mean..." She confirmed. "I'm... I'm sorry that you had to stop."
Persephone smiled in what she hoped to be comfort.
"If he is a good king with the loyalty of his people, then he shall be fine." She promised, reaching out to shift a lock of Iason's hair as it fell over his brow when he frowned and winced. She wondered what the topic of Stephanos had caused in his mind - what thought had surfaced that caused an expression so. She opened her mouth to ask but was distracted when Iason moved to shift closer to her, wrapping his arm around her more securely. She shifted towards him in return, a little at a time.
When he reassured her that he would go nowhere - that she would never be abandoned by him to the jaws of death, Persephone lowered her head and flicked a finger over the ends of a lock of her hair.
"You cannot know that." She told him without sadness but simply pragmaticism. With a healthy dose of real-life tragedy. "Our fates are for the Gods to decide." She told him, looking up just as he moved closer still to move his face to the curve of her neck. Persephone shifted to rest her head on the pillow he had been using and did nothing to push Iason away. She honestly felt no sense of disgust at his damp heat, nor the sweaty texture of his skin. Wherever he touched her, he felt hot and that was far more distracting that any remaining clamminess.
Moving her hands so that they were between the two of them, Persephone's touch of nervous as she reached out, the backs of her fingers brushing Iason's chest where ribs met abdomen. The touch was sporadic and awkward as it inched around his torso, one of the hands burying into the sheets to reach beneath him, and the other winding around his side. Persephone shifted closer so that she could find enough reach to embrace him fully, bringing them flush together, the blankets around Iason and her chiton their only form of barriers.
Tracing slow patterns on the skin of Iason's back, her fingertip circling each vertebra that she could find, Persephone took a slow inhale in and a calming exhale out.
"I'm sorry I cried..." She murmured into Iason's shoulder, the embarrassment in her face, hidden by his own head and neck. "The other night, I mean..." She confirmed. "I'm... I'm sorry that you had to stop."
Iason didn’t respond as she tried to assure him that all would be well. He had the strangest feeling something was amiss, but he had no proof of it, and he would much rather be here close to her in the event he needed to keep her safe. Not that he could do much in his current condition, but still. The closer he was, the better he felt. Tipping his face up as she brushed at his hair, he followed her touch with a sigh as she reminded him that he could no sooner make the promise that he would cheat death than he could promise to grow wings and fly as Daedalus. There was no promise he could make, but he could always try.
He didn’t respond, only tightened his grip as she slid closer to him, her fingers brushing along his chest sent a spark through him wherever her touch landed, and he wanted to tell her to stop being afraid, wanted to ask her to just touch him without fear but bit his tongue. Persephone finally seemed to decide her mind, and he was smiling as she tucked her face against his chest, trying not to lay too much of his weight on her arm even as she wormed it under him. He was surprised that she wanted to be this close to him given how sweaty and uncomfortable he felt, and he tried to hold in a cough so he didn’t exhale it into her dark hair.
A hum of pleasure left his throat as she circled her hands along his back, the light tracing quite possibly the most soothing thing he’d felt on muscles that were sore and unused to such attention. Curling close to her embrace, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling back to cough, murmuring an apology as he settled his head back on the pillow. It was silent until she spoke up, and he could feel his face burning and body heating as she spoke of the night they’d spent together. Things had progressed so quickly between them he was almost glad for her tears. It wasn’t the way he’d wanted things to go, the first time he made love to a woman he had been hoping they would be as eager as him.
”It’s..don’t apologize. Please.” Iason slid back slightly to try to look at her, hoping to get his point across somehow. ”If, when we do this, I hope you will want it just as much as me.”
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Iason didn’t respond as she tried to assure him that all would be well. He had the strangest feeling something was amiss, but he had no proof of it, and he would much rather be here close to her in the event he needed to keep her safe. Not that he could do much in his current condition, but still. The closer he was, the better he felt. Tipping his face up as she brushed at his hair, he followed her touch with a sigh as she reminded him that he could no sooner make the promise that he would cheat death than he could promise to grow wings and fly as Daedalus. There was no promise he could make, but he could always try.
He didn’t respond, only tightened his grip as she slid closer to him, her fingers brushing along his chest sent a spark through him wherever her touch landed, and he wanted to tell her to stop being afraid, wanted to ask her to just touch him without fear but bit his tongue. Persephone finally seemed to decide her mind, and he was smiling as she tucked her face against his chest, trying not to lay too much of his weight on her arm even as she wormed it under him. He was surprised that she wanted to be this close to him given how sweaty and uncomfortable he felt, and he tried to hold in a cough so he didn’t exhale it into her dark hair.
A hum of pleasure left his throat as she circled her hands along his back, the light tracing quite possibly the most soothing thing he’d felt on muscles that were sore and unused to such attention. Curling close to her embrace, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling back to cough, murmuring an apology as he settled his head back on the pillow. It was silent until she spoke up, and he could feel his face burning and body heating as she spoke of the night they’d spent together. Things had progressed so quickly between them he was almost glad for her tears. It wasn’t the way he’d wanted things to go, the first time he made love to a woman he had been hoping they would be as eager as him.
”It’s..don’t apologize. Please.” Iason slid back slightly to try to look at her, hoping to get his point across somehow. ”If, when we do this, I hope you will want it just as much as me.”
Iason didn’t respond as she tried to assure him that all would be well. He had the strangest feeling something was amiss, but he had no proof of it, and he would much rather be here close to her in the event he needed to keep her safe. Not that he could do much in his current condition, but still. The closer he was, the better he felt. Tipping his face up as she brushed at his hair, he followed her touch with a sigh as she reminded him that he could no sooner make the promise that he would cheat death than he could promise to grow wings and fly as Daedalus. There was no promise he could make, but he could always try.
He didn’t respond, only tightened his grip as she slid closer to him, her fingers brushing along his chest sent a spark through him wherever her touch landed, and he wanted to tell her to stop being afraid, wanted to ask her to just touch him without fear but bit his tongue. Persephone finally seemed to decide her mind, and he was smiling as she tucked her face against his chest, trying not to lay too much of his weight on her arm even as she wormed it under him. He was surprised that she wanted to be this close to him given how sweaty and uncomfortable he felt, and he tried to hold in a cough so he didn’t exhale it into her dark hair.
A hum of pleasure left his throat as she circled her hands along his back, the light tracing quite possibly the most soothing thing he’d felt on muscles that were sore and unused to such attention. Curling close to her embrace, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head before pulling back to cough, murmuring an apology as he settled his head back on the pillow. It was silent until she spoke up, and he could feel his face burning and body heating as she spoke of the night they’d spent together. Things had progressed so quickly between them he was almost glad for her tears. It wasn’t the way he’d wanted things to go, the first time he made love to a woman he had been hoping they would be as eager as him.
”It’s..don’t apologize. Please.” Iason slid back slightly to try to look at her, hoping to get his point across somehow. ”If, when we do this, I hope you will want it just as much as me.”
When Iason seemed to moan a little - hum was probably a more accurate word - at her touches, Persephone continued her ministrations to his back. His muscles were probably sore from the ravaging the fever would have taken on his body and she knew it was comforting to have such aches soothed away by a gentle (and sometimes firmer) touch. She did not have the skills of travelling medicine men who worked the body with their hands to relieve pain and tension (or so she had heard them to do) but she could at least offer him the touch of someone who cared, moving to slide into his loose embrace.
Had he slept longer, Iason would have probably smelt none-too-fresh. But as he had slept only a handful of hours, and she had helped him bathe just before, his clamminess wasn't oppressive. Instead, she smelt onto the scent of man; of Iason. When Iason offered a kiss to the top of her hair, Persephone smiled privately to herself, her expression hidden from view against his chest and she moved her hands from his back to his front, tucking her arms in between the two of them. Despite being a woman used to ruling over others, she enjoyed the feeling of being tucked in small against her betrothed's chest, his arms secure around her. She tentatively flattened her palms against Iason's chest, feeling the sparse, dark curls of his body hair and sucking on her lower lip as she breathed in the presence of him. She felt her whole body ease and relax - the first time it had done so in Iason's arms - and felt something that suggested her heart was smiling.
When Iason spoke, however, Persephone frowned against his skin where he couldn't see, keeping her face hidden and her voice a little muffled as she hid herself in his torso. Her voice and tone were matter of fact and calm in her responses. As if it never struck her that Iason might believe her desires for him to be any less than those he held for her.
"If mutual desire is what you're waiting for, Lord Iason." She said, using his title as she was want to do now, when offering mocking formality to their conversations... "We would have been... together that night." She stated, as if this was entirely obvious. Persephone placed her forehead in the dip where Iason's neck met collarbone. "I think that is why I cried as I did." She swallowed nervously, her fingers tracing the lines and curves of Iason's pectorals, as she touched him thoughtfully. "I... I was emotional that night for other reasons and I wasn't about to... keep up with... feelings that were new to me." Her voice went quieter, as if she didn't want him to hear the last bit, despite it being clear to anyone as close as he. "I think the strength of them scared me a little."
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When Iason seemed to moan a little - hum was probably a more accurate word - at her touches, Persephone continued her ministrations to his back. His muscles were probably sore from the ravaging the fever would have taken on his body and she knew it was comforting to have such aches soothed away by a gentle (and sometimes firmer) touch. She did not have the skills of travelling medicine men who worked the body with their hands to relieve pain and tension (or so she had heard them to do) but she could at least offer him the touch of someone who cared, moving to slide into his loose embrace.
Had he slept longer, Iason would have probably smelt none-too-fresh. But as he had slept only a handful of hours, and she had helped him bathe just before, his clamminess wasn't oppressive. Instead, she smelt onto the scent of man; of Iason. When Iason offered a kiss to the top of her hair, Persephone smiled privately to herself, her expression hidden from view against his chest and she moved her hands from his back to his front, tucking her arms in between the two of them. Despite being a woman used to ruling over others, she enjoyed the feeling of being tucked in small against her betrothed's chest, his arms secure around her. She tentatively flattened her palms against Iason's chest, feeling the sparse, dark curls of his body hair and sucking on her lower lip as she breathed in the presence of him. She felt her whole body ease and relax - the first time it had done so in Iason's arms - and felt something that suggested her heart was smiling.
When Iason spoke, however, Persephone frowned against his skin where he couldn't see, keeping her face hidden and her voice a little muffled as she hid herself in his torso. Her voice and tone were matter of fact and calm in her responses. As if it never struck her that Iason might believe her desires for him to be any less than those he held for her.
"If mutual desire is what you're waiting for, Lord Iason." She said, using his title as she was want to do now, when offering mocking formality to their conversations... "We would have been... together that night." She stated, as if this was entirely obvious. Persephone placed her forehead in the dip where Iason's neck met collarbone. "I think that is why I cried as I did." She swallowed nervously, her fingers tracing the lines and curves of Iason's pectorals, as she touched him thoughtfully. "I... I was emotional that night for other reasons and I wasn't about to... keep up with... feelings that were new to me." Her voice went quieter, as if she didn't want him to hear the last bit, despite it being clear to anyone as close as he. "I think the strength of them scared me a little."
When Iason seemed to moan a little - hum was probably a more accurate word - at her touches, Persephone continued her ministrations to his back. His muscles were probably sore from the ravaging the fever would have taken on his body and she knew it was comforting to have such aches soothed away by a gentle (and sometimes firmer) touch. She did not have the skills of travelling medicine men who worked the body with their hands to relieve pain and tension (or so she had heard them to do) but she could at least offer him the touch of someone who cared, moving to slide into his loose embrace.
Had he slept longer, Iason would have probably smelt none-too-fresh. But as he had slept only a handful of hours, and she had helped him bathe just before, his clamminess wasn't oppressive. Instead, she smelt onto the scent of man; of Iason. When Iason offered a kiss to the top of her hair, Persephone smiled privately to herself, her expression hidden from view against his chest and she moved her hands from his back to his front, tucking her arms in between the two of them. Despite being a woman used to ruling over others, she enjoyed the feeling of being tucked in small against her betrothed's chest, his arms secure around her. She tentatively flattened her palms against Iason's chest, feeling the sparse, dark curls of his body hair and sucking on her lower lip as she breathed in the presence of him. She felt her whole body ease and relax - the first time it had done so in Iason's arms - and felt something that suggested her heart was smiling.
When Iason spoke, however, Persephone frowned against his skin where he couldn't see, keeping her face hidden and her voice a little muffled as she hid herself in his torso. Her voice and tone were matter of fact and calm in her responses. As if it never struck her that Iason might believe her desires for him to be any less than those he held for her.
"If mutual desire is what you're waiting for, Lord Iason." She said, using his title as she was want to do now, when offering mocking formality to their conversations... "We would have been... together that night." She stated, as if this was entirely obvious. Persephone placed her forehead in the dip where Iason's neck met collarbone. "I think that is why I cried as I did." She swallowed nervously, her fingers tracing the lines and curves of Iason's pectorals, as she touched him thoughtfully. "I... I was emotional that night for other reasons and I wasn't about to... keep up with... feelings that were new to me." Her voice went quieter, as if she didn't want him to hear the last bit, despite it being clear to anyone as close as he. "I think the strength of them scared me a little."
The feeling of her hands running along his bare skin was both thrilling and soothing, and he felt his breathing calm and hitch in a strange manner. He never wanted this to end, the gentle touch and play of her fingers across the contours of his chest were a foreign feeling that he found himself easily falling into. Her interest in the curls of hair brought a flush of heat to his cheeks as he tried to banish the thought of what it might feel like if she followed the line down across his stomach and lower. Something in him stirred and he was grateful for the next coughing fit for the distraction it offered him.
Mutual desire was what he had thought they had that night, until he’d seen the tears on her cheeks. If she was telling him now that in fact she had wanted him as badly as he had wanted her, he had somehow been utterly wrong. She kept touching him as she spoke, and he wished with every part of his strength that he wasn’t ill any longer. He’d have rolled her back into the position they’d been in that night and picked up from where they left off.
”So long as the desire was mutual, that’s all I wanted.”
Persephone’s revelation was so quiet he nearly missed it, but his heart felt as if it was suddenly beating faster as she spoke of the strength of her feelings. If she cared so deeply for him, as he did her, then he would have succeeded in what his family had always said they wanted for him, that he loved someone who returned that love as strongly as it was given. He had always been hopeless when it came to women, not that he met a good many that would be marriageable quality. As a Dimitrou and a baron, his duty was to find someone who would help further the strength and glory of the family, but as his father also reminded him, it was also important to be happy. What situation could be better now than finding the love of a queen.
”Does it still scare you?”
Iason tried to crane his neck and adjust his aching body so he could look at her, trying to meet her gaze and the dark depth of her that was captivating. It was perhaps foolish and more than a little nonsensical to admit, but he could have gladly spent an age just looking at her eyes and finding the intricacies in the shades and lights that made them up.
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The feeling of her hands running along his bare skin was both thrilling and soothing, and he felt his breathing calm and hitch in a strange manner. He never wanted this to end, the gentle touch and play of her fingers across the contours of his chest were a foreign feeling that he found himself easily falling into. Her interest in the curls of hair brought a flush of heat to his cheeks as he tried to banish the thought of what it might feel like if she followed the line down across his stomach and lower. Something in him stirred and he was grateful for the next coughing fit for the distraction it offered him.
Mutual desire was what he had thought they had that night, until he’d seen the tears on her cheeks. If she was telling him now that in fact she had wanted him as badly as he had wanted her, he had somehow been utterly wrong. She kept touching him as she spoke, and he wished with every part of his strength that he wasn’t ill any longer. He’d have rolled her back into the position they’d been in that night and picked up from where they left off.
”So long as the desire was mutual, that’s all I wanted.”
Persephone’s revelation was so quiet he nearly missed it, but his heart felt as if it was suddenly beating faster as she spoke of the strength of her feelings. If she cared so deeply for him, as he did her, then he would have succeeded in what his family had always said they wanted for him, that he loved someone who returned that love as strongly as it was given. He had always been hopeless when it came to women, not that he met a good many that would be marriageable quality. As a Dimitrou and a baron, his duty was to find someone who would help further the strength and glory of the family, but as his father also reminded him, it was also important to be happy. What situation could be better now than finding the love of a queen.
”Does it still scare you?”
Iason tried to crane his neck and adjust his aching body so he could look at her, trying to meet her gaze and the dark depth of her that was captivating. It was perhaps foolish and more than a little nonsensical to admit, but he could have gladly spent an age just looking at her eyes and finding the intricacies in the shades and lights that made them up.
The feeling of her hands running along his bare skin was both thrilling and soothing, and he felt his breathing calm and hitch in a strange manner. He never wanted this to end, the gentle touch and play of her fingers across the contours of his chest were a foreign feeling that he found himself easily falling into. Her interest in the curls of hair brought a flush of heat to his cheeks as he tried to banish the thought of what it might feel like if she followed the line down across his stomach and lower. Something in him stirred and he was grateful for the next coughing fit for the distraction it offered him.
Mutual desire was what he had thought they had that night, until he’d seen the tears on her cheeks. If she was telling him now that in fact she had wanted him as badly as he had wanted her, he had somehow been utterly wrong. She kept touching him as she spoke, and he wished with every part of his strength that he wasn’t ill any longer. He’d have rolled her back into the position they’d been in that night and picked up from where they left off.
”So long as the desire was mutual, that’s all I wanted.”
Persephone’s revelation was so quiet he nearly missed it, but his heart felt as if it was suddenly beating faster as she spoke of the strength of her feelings. If she cared so deeply for him, as he did her, then he would have succeeded in what his family had always said they wanted for him, that he loved someone who returned that love as strongly as it was given. He had always been hopeless when it came to women, not that he met a good many that would be marriageable quality. As a Dimitrou and a baron, his duty was to find someone who would help further the strength and glory of the family, but as his father also reminded him, it was also important to be happy. What situation could be better now than finding the love of a queen.
”Does it still scare you?”
Iason tried to crane his neck and adjust his aching body so he could look at her, trying to meet her gaze and the dark depth of her that was captivating. It was perhaps foolish and more than a little nonsensical to admit, but he could have gladly spent an age just looking at her eyes and finding the intricacies in the shades and lights that made them up.
Persephone kept her forehead to the hollow of his neck, only breaking contact with his skin as and when he needed to cough so that she could give him room to breathe easier. And she naturally sunk back into place when he had finished. She had been around coughs, colds and illnesses with her young sister enough to know that the wracking shudders that had hit through Iason's chest earlier in the day were now a pale imitation of themselves and that, given another day perhaps, Iason was likely to be at full health again, if not full strength. Which meant she didn't feel too guilty about sidling up to him instead of looking after him.
She felt herself exhale, watching the way the curls on his chest fluttered with the breath, moving her hand to start lining the first row of his abdominal muscles, beneath his pectorals. She wasn't sure what was allowable to him and kept her touch soft and curious rather than possessive. She figured he would tell her to stop if he became uncomfortable and she wasn't likely to go any lower in her exploration. Her own demure and repressed upbringing wouldn't allow her to be too courageous without serious encouragement.
When he asked her if she was scared still, Persephone frowned a little, wondering how to words the thoughts that came to mind.
"I'm still decidedly uncomfortable around you." She began, careful to then correct her words. "Of your physicality..." She swallowed. "I have never seen a man naked before. Not once. Such a thing was taught to me as inappropriate for a woman of my rank and distinction. It's formed a strong habit of avoidance and... prudishness you must say with regards to nudity. But..." She traced her fingertip back up the centre of Iason's chest and, clearly nervous placed the palm of her hand flat against his skin for a moment. "But you personally... as Iason... I feel very calm with. You make me feel safe. Something that I think led to our... enthusiasm, the other night. My feeling of safety struck ahead faster than my prudish nature could cope with."
Leaning back a little and re-positioning herself so that she might be able to look up towards Iason, Persephone didn't pull back enough for him to break his hold around her and kept her arms folded between them, rested against his torso. But now they were able to look at one another.
"I'm sorry, I don't feel like I'm making a lot of sense." She said with an awkward smile and a gaze that flickered away from making full eye contract in its moment of embarrassment.
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Persephone kept her forehead to the hollow of his neck, only breaking contact with his skin as and when he needed to cough so that she could give him room to breathe easier. And she naturally sunk back into place when he had finished. She had been around coughs, colds and illnesses with her young sister enough to know that the wracking shudders that had hit through Iason's chest earlier in the day were now a pale imitation of themselves and that, given another day perhaps, Iason was likely to be at full health again, if not full strength. Which meant she didn't feel too guilty about sidling up to him instead of looking after him.
She felt herself exhale, watching the way the curls on his chest fluttered with the breath, moving her hand to start lining the first row of his abdominal muscles, beneath his pectorals. She wasn't sure what was allowable to him and kept her touch soft and curious rather than possessive. She figured he would tell her to stop if he became uncomfortable and she wasn't likely to go any lower in her exploration. Her own demure and repressed upbringing wouldn't allow her to be too courageous without serious encouragement.
When he asked her if she was scared still, Persephone frowned a little, wondering how to words the thoughts that came to mind.
"I'm still decidedly uncomfortable around you." She began, careful to then correct her words. "Of your physicality..." She swallowed. "I have never seen a man naked before. Not once. Such a thing was taught to me as inappropriate for a woman of my rank and distinction. It's formed a strong habit of avoidance and... prudishness you must say with regards to nudity. But..." She traced her fingertip back up the centre of Iason's chest and, clearly nervous placed the palm of her hand flat against his skin for a moment. "But you personally... as Iason... I feel very calm with. You make me feel safe. Something that I think led to our... enthusiasm, the other night. My feeling of safety struck ahead faster than my prudish nature could cope with."
Leaning back a little and re-positioning herself so that she might be able to look up towards Iason, Persephone didn't pull back enough for him to break his hold around her and kept her arms folded between them, rested against his torso. But now they were able to look at one another.
"I'm sorry, I don't feel like I'm making a lot of sense." She said with an awkward smile and a gaze that flickered away from making full eye contract in its moment of embarrassment.
Persephone kept her forehead to the hollow of his neck, only breaking contact with his skin as and when he needed to cough so that she could give him room to breathe easier. And she naturally sunk back into place when he had finished. She had been around coughs, colds and illnesses with her young sister enough to know that the wracking shudders that had hit through Iason's chest earlier in the day were now a pale imitation of themselves and that, given another day perhaps, Iason was likely to be at full health again, if not full strength. Which meant she didn't feel too guilty about sidling up to him instead of looking after him.
She felt herself exhale, watching the way the curls on his chest fluttered with the breath, moving her hand to start lining the first row of his abdominal muscles, beneath his pectorals. She wasn't sure what was allowable to him and kept her touch soft and curious rather than possessive. She figured he would tell her to stop if he became uncomfortable and she wasn't likely to go any lower in her exploration. Her own demure and repressed upbringing wouldn't allow her to be too courageous without serious encouragement.
When he asked her if she was scared still, Persephone frowned a little, wondering how to words the thoughts that came to mind.
"I'm still decidedly uncomfortable around you." She began, careful to then correct her words. "Of your physicality..." She swallowed. "I have never seen a man naked before. Not once. Such a thing was taught to me as inappropriate for a woman of my rank and distinction. It's formed a strong habit of avoidance and... prudishness you must say with regards to nudity. But..." She traced her fingertip back up the centre of Iason's chest and, clearly nervous placed the palm of her hand flat against his skin for a moment. "But you personally... as Iason... I feel very calm with. You make me feel safe. Something that I think led to our... enthusiasm, the other night. My feeling of safety struck ahead faster than my prudish nature could cope with."
Leaning back a little and re-positioning herself so that she might be able to look up towards Iason, Persephone didn't pull back enough for him to break his hold around her and kept her arms folded between them, rested against his torso. But now they were able to look at one another.
"I'm sorry, I don't feel like I'm making a lot of sense." She said with an awkward smile and a gaze that flickered away from making full eye contract in its moment of embarrassment.
When her hands slid down to his abdomen Iason felt everything suddenly tense, not of fear or discomfort but from a hidden instinct. He’d never really known this sort of thing before, never been explored in such a way with the curiosity she showed, and he found he rather liked it more than he dared to say given their current discussion. Had he been in full health the story would have been very different. His lips would have been on hers and he might have boldly invited her to go further than her current cautious presses. But then she said how uncomfortable she was around him and those notions were quickly deflated.
Watching her with interest, he noted her words didn’t match with her movements and as she trailed her fingertips back up to his chest he covered the hand that landed on him with his own. One arm still held her close, but the other wrapped around her much smaller hand and he gave a smile as she looked up at him. It made sense after all for a princess to be sheltered from such things, and as she continued to speak he felt better, less self conscious about the many times she’d shied away from him and his bare ness in the past.
”I do hope you always feel safe with me. Even as I hope our...enthusiasm...shall we say, hasn’t frightened you away.”
He didn’t know how else to express that he wished to be with her, wanted to touch every inch of her and know every contour and line of her body and how it felt against his own. Or that looking at her now it felt as if the ache he felt would vanish if he could only kiss her, breathe in the scent of her hair and for a moment simply vanish into that feeling. And he didn’t want her to fear him most of all; wanted her to desire him just as much in return.
”If you wish, since you bared yourself to me I could do the same..though you cringed a bit in the past. Perhaps it would help if you could see and know before anything else, enthusiastic.”
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When her hands slid down to his abdomen Iason felt everything suddenly tense, not of fear or discomfort but from a hidden instinct. He’d never really known this sort of thing before, never been explored in such a way with the curiosity she showed, and he found he rather liked it more than he dared to say given their current discussion. Had he been in full health the story would have been very different. His lips would have been on hers and he might have boldly invited her to go further than her current cautious presses. But then she said how uncomfortable she was around him and those notions were quickly deflated.
Watching her with interest, he noted her words didn’t match with her movements and as she trailed her fingertips back up to his chest he covered the hand that landed on him with his own. One arm still held her close, but the other wrapped around her much smaller hand and he gave a smile as she looked up at him. It made sense after all for a princess to be sheltered from such things, and as she continued to speak he felt better, less self conscious about the many times she’d shied away from him and his bare ness in the past.
”I do hope you always feel safe with me. Even as I hope our...enthusiasm...shall we say, hasn’t frightened you away.”
He didn’t know how else to express that he wished to be with her, wanted to touch every inch of her and know every contour and line of her body and how it felt against his own. Or that looking at her now it felt as if the ache he felt would vanish if he could only kiss her, breathe in the scent of her hair and for a moment simply vanish into that feeling. And he didn’t want her to fear him most of all; wanted her to desire him just as much in return.
”If you wish, since you bared yourself to me I could do the same..though you cringed a bit in the past. Perhaps it would help if you could see and know before anything else, enthusiastic.”
When her hands slid down to his abdomen Iason felt everything suddenly tense, not of fear or discomfort but from a hidden instinct. He’d never really known this sort of thing before, never been explored in such a way with the curiosity she showed, and he found he rather liked it more than he dared to say given their current discussion. Had he been in full health the story would have been very different. His lips would have been on hers and he might have boldly invited her to go further than her current cautious presses. But then she said how uncomfortable she was around him and those notions were quickly deflated.
Watching her with interest, he noted her words didn’t match with her movements and as she trailed her fingertips back up to his chest he covered the hand that landed on him with his own. One arm still held her close, but the other wrapped around her much smaller hand and he gave a smile as she looked up at him. It made sense after all for a princess to be sheltered from such things, and as she continued to speak he felt better, less self conscious about the many times she’d shied away from him and his bare ness in the past.
”I do hope you always feel safe with me. Even as I hope our...enthusiasm...shall we say, hasn’t frightened you away.”
He didn’t know how else to express that he wished to be with her, wanted to touch every inch of her and know every contour and line of her body and how it felt against his own. Or that looking at her now it felt as if the ache he felt would vanish if he could only kiss her, breathe in the scent of her hair and for a moment simply vanish into that feeling. And he didn’t want her to fear him most of all; wanted her to desire him just as much in return.
”If you wish, since you bared yourself to me I could do the same..though you cringed a bit in the past. Perhaps it would help if you could see and know before anything else, enthusiastic.”
When Iason took her hand in his own, Persephone couldn't help but focus on the touch. There were individual circles of roughness over the top of his palm - where the balls of each finger had gripped something hard and with friction - perhaps from a weapon or tool. The rest of his palm was smooth but tough as a man's touch should be, she supposed. The ridges of each of the bents in his fingers could be felt against the softness of the back of her own hand and she found that she liked the little marks of friction where the pads of his fingers curled around hers. His hand was larger than hers - enough to cover her own entirely - with knuckles that were wider, with clear grooves. She could see the tendons the back of his hand, the thickness of his wrist, the veins that ran across the bones of his fingers.
There was a lot about Iason that didn't follow the hyper-masculine ideals of some women. She knew from Court gossip that many ladies liked their partners to be as male as was possible. Dominant, demanding - even aggressive. The very notion was more frightening to Persephone than it was attractive. Iason was none of those things. Capable and strong he might be. But he was more compassionate than he was dominant, more selfless than demanding. And she had never seen him aggressive, despite the callouses on his hands telling her he knew how to handle a weapon.
And yet, his appearance was more in keeping with the desires of such women. His hair was thick and curled, his hands large and rough. His physique was not slim and delicate, but powerful and male. When he grew in his beard, he almost looked wild, or huntsman like.
Perhaps it was the combination of a rougher looking courtier and his sweeter disposition that had Persephone warming to Iason more and more each day. Surrounded by men of elegant looks and dark and deadly tempers since before she could imagine... he was a man who looked every bit as dangerous but was, beneath it all, kind. Perhaps that wasn't sexually pleasing for some women but for Persephone... such a combination was both exciting and comforting all at once...
When Iason commented that he hoped their activities a few days past had not scared her away, Persephone shook her head, her tone calm and her eyes warm.
"I think it was my entire lack of fear that frightened me most." She admitted before offering a pretty frown and nipping her lower lip with her teeth. "If that makes any sort of sense..."
When the man mentioned her bold demonstration of nudity during that night, Persephone immediately lost all eye contact with Iason, dipping her head in a moment of embarrassment before she took a calming breath and brought her head back up again, a look of chagrin mingled with defiance on her features. She had done it now, there was no sense in being awkward when it was mentioned. There seemed to be a smile pulling at the corners of her lips at the memory but she restrained it in her embarrassment. Her cheeks flamed when Iason suggested him performing a similar act, allowing her to witness his own anatomy. Recognising that such a gesture was one of great personal vulnerability, Persephone was careful in how she answered this time, less ignorant or likely to give offence as she realised now that she might have done in the past with regards to Iason and his body.
Dipping her head, Persephone moved her hand to wrap around Iason's - the one that held her other in his palm. She drew the entanglement of fingers towards her and pressed a kiss to the back of Iason's knuckles before looking up at him with a smile.
"Perhaps that would help." She offered him, despite her obvious awkwardness. "But perhaps such things should be only discussed when you are at full health." She told him with gentility. She kissed his knuckles again. "Which is probably my moment of fate to allow you to rest."
Detaching her hands from within his, Persephone moved her legs backwards and away from Iason, sliding to sit upright and then sweep her legs over the side of the bed, the skirts of the chiton splitting open to reveal a long and slim leg before she stood and the vision was hidden once more, swathes of material falling back into place.
Snatching up the damp cloth that she had thrown to one side, Persephone moved back around the bed briskly, her manner back to that of a doting nurse as she dunked the cloth into the cool water, drained it free of excess and then moved to encourage Iason to lay straight in the bed, keep the pillows thick beneath his head and then used the tips of her fingers to brush the hair back from his forehead. She replaced the locks with the damp cloth, before checking the sheets and blankets around him and then loving to place another log on the fire that had burnt a little low.
"A little more rest and perhaps you can complete your promise of riding with me in a few days...?" She murmured, more as a statement than as a question, moving to the side of his bed and linking her fingers with his loosely for a moment, luxuriating in their touch once more.
Drawing the little chair closer to the bed so that she might sit in it at his bedside without losing that touch, Persephone braced her elbow on the mattress, held his hand in hers against the sheets and smiled at him from her seat.
"You should sleep." She told him, softly. "I'll be here when you wake." She vowed, as she passed her thumb gently over his knuckles...
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When Iason took her hand in his own, Persephone couldn't help but focus on the touch. There were individual circles of roughness over the top of his palm - where the balls of each finger had gripped something hard and with friction - perhaps from a weapon or tool. The rest of his palm was smooth but tough as a man's touch should be, she supposed. The ridges of each of the bents in his fingers could be felt against the softness of the back of her own hand and she found that she liked the little marks of friction where the pads of his fingers curled around hers. His hand was larger than hers - enough to cover her own entirely - with knuckles that were wider, with clear grooves. She could see the tendons the back of his hand, the thickness of his wrist, the veins that ran across the bones of his fingers.
There was a lot about Iason that didn't follow the hyper-masculine ideals of some women. She knew from Court gossip that many ladies liked their partners to be as male as was possible. Dominant, demanding - even aggressive. The very notion was more frightening to Persephone than it was attractive. Iason was none of those things. Capable and strong he might be. But he was more compassionate than he was dominant, more selfless than demanding. And she had never seen him aggressive, despite the callouses on his hands telling her he knew how to handle a weapon.
And yet, his appearance was more in keeping with the desires of such women. His hair was thick and curled, his hands large and rough. His physique was not slim and delicate, but powerful and male. When he grew in his beard, he almost looked wild, or huntsman like.
Perhaps it was the combination of a rougher looking courtier and his sweeter disposition that had Persephone warming to Iason more and more each day. Surrounded by men of elegant looks and dark and deadly tempers since before she could imagine... he was a man who looked every bit as dangerous but was, beneath it all, kind. Perhaps that wasn't sexually pleasing for some women but for Persephone... such a combination was both exciting and comforting all at once...
When Iason commented that he hoped their activities a few days past had not scared her away, Persephone shook her head, her tone calm and her eyes warm.
"I think it was my entire lack of fear that frightened me most." She admitted before offering a pretty frown and nipping her lower lip with her teeth. "If that makes any sort of sense..."
When the man mentioned her bold demonstration of nudity during that night, Persephone immediately lost all eye contact with Iason, dipping her head in a moment of embarrassment before she took a calming breath and brought her head back up again, a look of chagrin mingled with defiance on her features. She had done it now, there was no sense in being awkward when it was mentioned. There seemed to be a smile pulling at the corners of her lips at the memory but she restrained it in her embarrassment. Her cheeks flamed when Iason suggested him performing a similar act, allowing her to witness his own anatomy. Recognising that such a gesture was one of great personal vulnerability, Persephone was careful in how she answered this time, less ignorant or likely to give offence as she realised now that she might have done in the past with regards to Iason and his body.
Dipping her head, Persephone moved her hand to wrap around Iason's - the one that held her other in his palm. She drew the entanglement of fingers towards her and pressed a kiss to the back of Iason's knuckles before looking up at him with a smile.
"Perhaps that would help." She offered him, despite her obvious awkwardness. "But perhaps such things should be only discussed when you are at full health." She told him with gentility. She kissed his knuckles again. "Which is probably my moment of fate to allow you to rest."
Detaching her hands from within his, Persephone moved her legs backwards and away from Iason, sliding to sit upright and then sweep her legs over the side of the bed, the skirts of the chiton splitting open to reveal a long and slim leg before she stood and the vision was hidden once more, swathes of material falling back into place.
Snatching up the damp cloth that she had thrown to one side, Persephone moved back around the bed briskly, her manner back to that of a doting nurse as she dunked the cloth into the cool water, drained it free of excess and then moved to encourage Iason to lay straight in the bed, keep the pillows thick beneath his head and then used the tips of her fingers to brush the hair back from his forehead. She replaced the locks with the damp cloth, before checking the sheets and blankets around him and then loving to place another log on the fire that had burnt a little low.
"A little more rest and perhaps you can complete your promise of riding with me in a few days...?" She murmured, more as a statement than as a question, moving to the side of his bed and linking her fingers with his loosely for a moment, luxuriating in their touch once more.
Drawing the little chair closer to the bed so that she might sit in it at his bedside without losing that touch, Persephone braced her elbow on the mattress, held his hand in hers against the sheets and smiled at him from her seat.
"You should sleep." She told him, softly. "I'll be here when you wake." She vowed, as she passed her thumb gently over his knuckles...
When Iason took her hand in his own, Persephone couldn't help but focus on the touch. There were individual circles of roughness over the top of his palm - where the balls of each finger had gripped something hard and with friction - perhaps from a weapon or tool. The rest of his palm was smooth but tough as a man's touch should be, she supposed. The ridges of each of the bents in his fingers could be felt against the softness of the back of her own hand and she found that she liked the little marks of friction where the pads of his fingers curled around hers. His hand was larger than hers - enough to cover her own entirely - with knuckles that were wider, with clear grooves. She could see the tendons the back of his hand, the thickness of his wrist, the veins that ran across the bones of his fingers.
There was a lot about Iason that didn't follow the hyper-masculine ideals of some women. She knew from Court gossip that many ladies liked their partners to be as male as was possible. Dominant, demanding - even aggressive. The very notion was more frightening to Persephone than it was attractive. Iason was none of those things. Capable and strong he might be. But he was more compassionate than he was dominant, more selfless than demanding. And she had never seen him aggressive, despite the callouses on his hands telling her he knew how to handle a weapon.
And yet, his appearance was more in keeping with the desires of such women. His hair was thick and curled, his hands large and rough. His physique was not slim and delicate, but powerful and male. When he grew in his beard, he almost looked wild, or huntsman like.
Perhaps it was the combination of a rougher looking courtier and his sweeter disposition that had Persephone warming to Iason more and more each day. Surrounded by men of elegant looks and dark and deadly tempers since before she could imagine... he was a man who looked every bit as dangerous but was, beneath it all, kind. Perhaps that wasn't sexually pleasing for some women but for Persephone... such a combination was both exciting and comforting all at once...
When Iason commented that he hoped their activities a few days past had not scared her away, Persephone shook her head, her tone calm and her eyes warm.
"I think it was my entire lack of fear that frightened me most." She admitted before offering a pretty frown and nipping her lower lip with her teeth. "If that makes any sort of sense..."
When the man mentioned her bold demonstration of nudity during that night, Persephone immediately lost all eye contact with Iason, dipping her head in a moment of embarrassment before she took a calming breath and brought her head back up again, a look of chagrin mingled with defiance on her features. She had done it now, there was no sense in being awkward when it was mentioned. There seemed to be a smile pulling at the corners of her lips at the memory but she restrained it in her embarrassment. Her cheeks flamed when Iason suggested him performing a similar act, allowing her to witness his own anatomy. Recognising that such a gesture was one of great personal vulnerability, Persephone was careful in how she answered this time, less ignorant or likely to give offence as she realised now that she might have done in the past with regards to Iason and his body.
Dipping her head, Persephone moved her hand to wrap around Iason's - the one that held her other in his palm. She drew the entanglement of fingers towards her and pressed a kiss to the back of Iason's knuckles before looking up at him with a smile.
"Perhaps that would help." She offered him, despite her obvious awkwardness. "But perhaps such things should be only discussed when you are at full health." She told him with gentility. She kissed his knuckles again. "Which is probably my moment of fate to allow you to rest."
Detaching her hands from within his, Persephone moved her legs backwards and away from Iason, sliding to sit upright and then sweep her legs over the side of the bed, the skirts of the chiton splitting open to reveal a long and slim leg before she stood and the vision was hidden once more, swathes of material falling back into place.
Snatching up the damp cloth that she had thrown to one side, Persephone moved back around the bed briskly, her manner back to that of a doting nurse as she dunked the cloth into the cool water, drained it free of excess and then moved to encourage Iason to lay straight in the bed, keep the pillows thick beneath his head and then used the tips of her fingers to brush the hair back from his forehead. She replaced the locks with the damp cloth, before checking the sheets and blankets around him and then loving to place another log on the fire that had burnt a little low.
"A little more rest and perhaps you can complete your promise of riding with me in a few days...?" She murmured, more as a statement than as a question, moving to the side of his bed and linking her fingers with his loosely for a moment, luxuriating in their touch once more.
Drawing the little chair closer to the bed so that she might sit in it at his bedside without losing that touch, Persephone braced her elbow on the mattress, held his hand in hers against the sheets and smiled at him from her seat.
"You should sleep." She told him, softly. "I'll be here when you wake." She vowed, as she passed her thumb gently over his knuckles...
Iason could see the hesitation and for a moment he feared he had offended or frightened her again, but her kiss to the back of his knuckles calmed his worries. Smiling as she pulled away, he let his hand extend and follow her so that it laid across the bed as he watched her stand and return to her nursing ways. He closed his eyes as she laid the cloth on his forehead once more, sighing at the brush of her fingers to his hair as they got him settled against the pillows again with minimal coughing. Perhaps she was a marvelous healer, or love had some affect, but aside from his general exhaustion and body aches he was feeling far better than he had in a few days.
As she slipped her hand into his again, the baron smiled and gave her a gentle squeeze, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. It was still something foreign to him, how soft her skin was in comparison to his own. It was clear she had never done any sort of harsh work in her life, and for all she had been a week without any of her usual fancy care on the boat, she still seemed as delicate and smooth as ever. Before he had seen her exterior as stone, but now he knew better.
”Thank you. I can definitely promise that we will go riding, and soon. I’ll be better for it.”
It didn’t take him long with her caresses and care for him to fall asleep, soothed more than he ever had been during an illness in his memory. Her presence was at once protective and comforting and he smiled to think that this would be how it always was. When one of them was ill, the other would always be there for the other.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Iason could see the hesitation and for a moment he feared he had offended or frightened her again, but her kiss to the back of his knuckles calmed his worries. Smiling as she pulled away, he let his hand extend and follow her so that it laid across the bed as he watched her stand and return to her nursing ways. He closed his eyes as she laid the cloth on his forehead once more, sighing at the brush of her fingers to his hair as they got him settled against the pillows again with minimal coughing. Perhaps she was a marvelous healer, or love had some affect, but aside from his general exhaustion and body aches he was feeling far better than he had in a few days.
As she slipped her hand into his again, the baron smiled and gave her a gentle squeeze, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. It was still something foreign to him, how soft her skin was in comparison to his own. It was clear she had never done any sort of harsh work in her life, and for all she had been a week without any of her usual fancy care on the boat, she still seemed as delicate and smooth as ever. Before he had seen her exterior as stone, but now he knew better.
”Thank you. I can definitely promise that we will go riding, and soon. I’ll be better for it.”
It didn’t take him long with her caresses and care for him to fall asleep, soothed more than he ever had been during an illness in his memory. Her presence was at once protective and comforting and he smiled to think that this would be how it always was. When one of them was ill, the other would always be there for the other.
Iason could see the hesitation and for a moment he feared he had offended or frightened her again, but her kiss to the back of his knuckles calmed his worries. Smiling as she pulled away, he let his hand extend and follow her so that it laid across the bed as he watched her stand and return to her nursing ways. He closed his eyes as she laid the cloth on his forehead once more, sighing at the brush of her fingers to his hair as they got him settled against the pillows again with minimal coughing. Perhaps she was a marvelous healer, or love had some affect, but aside from his general exhaustion and body aches he was feeling far better than he had in a few days.
As she slipped her hand into his again, the baron smiled and gave her a gentle squeeze, brushing his thumb against the back of her hand. It was still something foreign to him, how soft her skin was in comparison to his own. It was clear she had never done any sort of harsh work in her life, and for all she had been a week without any of her usual fancy care on the boat, she still seemed as delicate and smooth as ever. Before he had seen her exterior as stone, but now he knew better.
”Thank you. I can definitely promise that we will go riding, and soon. I’ll be better for it.”
It didn’t take him long with her caresses and care for him to fall asleep, soothed more than he ever had been during an illness in his memory. Her presence was at once protective and comforting and he smiled to think that this would be how it always was. When one of them was ill, the other would always be there for the other.
