Variation #2 - The Four Seasons
Title: Wedding Day
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters: Miaka, Hotohori
Word Count: 1023
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. They marry on the last day of summer. Sequel to Summer Love.
Table link: http://airelement.livejournal.com/57564.html
Miaka and Hotohori marry on the last day of summer. It’s one of those beautiful days where the sun is shining hotly enough to warm their skin as they stand before their empire, the air has just the slightest suggestion of movement which is enough to keep them cool, and the birds wheeling above are eagles and not pigeons.
As is tradition in Konan, they are married in the morning. They spend the rest of the day in the palace gardens as is also tradition, eating the delicate meals brought to them by servants awed by the love they hold for each other. Miaka sits in front of Hotohori on the ground and leans back on his chest, resplendent in her beautiful silk kimono, and they feed each other and kiss and tell stories as the morning passes into midday.
The heat of summer’s end leads them to retreat to the shade, and they sit underneath a large willow tree. They begin to slip into a relaxed doze, but Miaka pinches herself hard to stay awake.
“Relax, sleep,” Hotohori says, his voice peaceful. He’s found his hope, his joy, his love, and their future together is secure.
“I don’t want to,” Miaka replies softly. “I don’t want to miss out on any part of today.” Hotohori opens his eyes and takes her face in his hands.
“Neither do I,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But… you’ll need that rest later, hmm?” Miaka blushes furiously. Hotohori has to focus to make sure he doesn’t do the same. He’s never been a flirt; he’s never wanted to encourage any of the potential brides sent to the palace to attract him, nor has he wanted to start a civil war by making a cheeky comment to the daughter of an overprotective duke. So when he does flirt with Miaka, something he doesn’t do often - he loves her too much to want to joke around about that fact - he’s always a bit uptight about how the words will be accepted. He’s relieved when she giggles and lies her head on his chest.
Hotohori’s never lain outside on the grass in summer before. He climbed out of his window and fell asleep outside, once, but that was years ago and his mother gave him such a scolding for behaving like a commoner that he never did it again. So he closes his eyes and takes in everything his senses tell him and just enjoys the experience.
The grass is soft against the exposed skin on his neck; it tickles if he moves just ever so slightly or the light breeze catches it at just the right angle. It has a faint, clean scent, less intense than the smell of cut grass but somehow infinitely more pleasant.
If he listens carefully, Hotohori can hear the quiet noise of insects and birds living life out as usual. It’s a sound he’s never, ever heard before and he suddenly wonders just how much he doesn’t know about the world that has surrounded him all his life. It’s a humbling thought and his hands automatically move so that he can run his fingers through Miaka’s hair, comforting himself and causing Miaka to make a sleepy noise of contentment that sounds almost like a purr.
------------
When Miaka awakens in the morning, for a moment she can’t think where she is. Then she lets her senses and her memory tell her; she remembers the previous night and feels Hotohori’s warm, strong arms around her and she shivers, because even though his body is warm they’re naked and the air is too cold to want to be completely bare. Hotohori cracks a sleepy eye open and pulls the sheets up from the bottom of the bed to cover them.
Miaka revels in the feeling of being held tightly against his warm chest and traces his face with her fingers - she touches his cheeks, his forehead, his lips, and plants a playful kiss on his nose. Hotohori’s eyes open again and he smiles contentedly.
Their eyes meet and for a few moments they don’t move, just revel in the adoration radiating from each other and let the joy of knowing they’ll be together forever flow through them. It’s a beautiful, amazing feeling and Miaka suddenly realises that salty tears are spilling from her eyes. She feels silly, but Hotohori understands and kisses them away, smiling against her skin.
------------
They don’t leave the room until much later in the day when they’re both starving; it’s mid afternoon by the time they reluctantly pick out clothes from the huge mahogany wardrobe. Miaka’s never worn anything half as fancy as the clothes of an empress - a status that she’s definitely going to have to work at getting used to - so she stands in the middle of the room sorting through the various layers of richly coloured material.
She and Hotohori end up dressing each other, making an unpleasant - unpleasant because it marks the end of their wedding - task much more enjoyable, especially when hands get a little playful and caress quickly before returning to the clothes.
“Thick clothes for the end of summer,” Miaka comments, realising belatedly that she’s wearing three layers and the outer one is a thick, richly embroidered red fabric. Hotohori takes her hands and leads her to the window.
A few golden leaves flutter past the window and are whisked away by the strong breeze. The air is much cooler than yesterday and brings with it a welcome sting, dispelling the humidity of summer. Miaka can see people distantly outside the palace, and they’ve left their light linen clothing at home in favour of heavier fabric. Summer has well and truly gone, gracefully passing into autumn and sinking away with the last sunset into peace.
Autumn has always been Miaka’s favourite season. So even though her stomach is growling and both she and Hotohori know they really should have made an appearance at lunch, let alone afternoon tea, she closes her eyes and enjoys the breeze, and Hotohori, caressing the skin on her face and her arms.
On to part 3
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters: Miaka, Hotohori
Word Count: 1023
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. They marry on the last day of summer. Sequel to Summer Love.
Table link: http://airelement.livejournal.com/57564.html
Miaka and Hotohori marry on the last day of summer. It’s one of those beautiful days where the sun is shining hotly enough to warm their skin as they stand before their empire, the air has just the slightest suggestion of movement which is enough to keep them cool, and the birds wheeling above are eagles and not pigeons.
As is tradition in Konan, they are married in the morning. They spend the rest of the day in the palace gardens as is also tradition, eating the delicate meals brought to them by servants awed by the love they hold for each other. Miaka sits in front of Hotohori on the ground and leans back on his chest, resplendent in her beautiful silk kimono, and they feed each other and kiss and tell stories as the morning passes into midday.
The heat of summer’s end leads them to retreat to the shade, and they sit underneath a large willow tree. They begin to slip into a relaxed doze, but Miaka pinches herself hard to stay awake.
“Relax, sleep,” Hotohori says, his voice peaceful. He’s found his hope, his joy, his love, and their future together is secure.
“I don’t want to,” Miaka replies softly. “I don’t want to miss out on any part of today.” Hotohori opens his eyes and takes her face in his hands.
“Neither do I,” he says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But… you’ll need that rest later, hmm?” Miaka blushes furiously. Hotohori has to focus to make sure he doesn’t do the same. He’s never been a flirt; he’s never wanted to encourage any of the potential brides sent to the palace to attract him, nor has he wanted to start a civil war by making a cheeky comment to the daughter of an overprotective duke. So when he does flirt with Miaka, something he doesn’t do often - he loves her too much to want to joke around about that fact - he’s always a bit uptight about how the words will be accepted. He’s relieved when she giggles and lies her head on his chest.
Hotohori’s never lain outside on the grass in summer before. He climbed out of his window and fell asleep outside, once, but that was years ago and his mother gave him such a scolding for behaving like a commoner that he never did it again. So he closes his eyes and takes in everything his senses tell him and just enjoys the experience.
The grass is soft against the exposed skin on his neck; it tickles if he moves just ever so slightly or the light breeze catches it at just the right angle. It has a faint, clean scent, less intense than the smell of cut grass but somehow infinitely more pleasant.
If he listens carefully, Hotohori can hear the quiet noise of insects and birds living life out as usual. It’s a sound he’s never, ever heard before and he suddenly wonders just how much he doesn’t know about the world that has surrounded him all his life. It’s a humbling thought and his hands automatically move so that he can run his fingers through Miaka’s hair, comforting himself and causing Miaka to make a sleepy noise of contentment that sounds almost like a purr.
------------
When Miaka awakens in the morning, for a moment she can’t think where she is. Then she lets her senses and her memory tell her; she remembers the previous night and feels Hotohori’s warm, strong arms around her and she shivers, because even though his body is warm they’re naked and the air is too cold to want to be completely bare. Hotohori cracks a sleepy eye open and pulls the sheets up from the bottom of the bed to cover them.
Miaka revels in the feeling of being held tightly against his warm chest and traces his face with her fingers - she touches his cheeks, his forehead, his lips, and plants a playful kiss on his nose. Hotohori’s eyes open again and he smiles contentedly.
Their eyes meet and for a few moments they don’t move, just revel in the adoration radiating from each other and let the joy of knowing they’ll be together forever flow through them. It’s a beautiful, amazing feeling and Miaka suddenly realises that salty tears are spilling from her eyes. She feels silly, but Hotohori understands and kisses them away, smiling against her skin.
------------
They don’t leave the room until much later in the day when they’re both starving; it’s mid afternoon by the time they reluctantly pick out clothes from the huge mahogany wardrobe. Miaka’s never worn anything half as fancy as the clothes of an empress - a status that she’s definitely going to have to work at getting used to - so she stands in the middle of the room sorting through the various layers of richly coloured material.
She and Hotohori end up dressing each other, making an unpleasant - unpleasant because it marks the end of their wedding - task much more enjoyable, especially when hands get a little playful and caress quickly before returning to the clothes.
“Thick clothes for the end of summer,” Miaka comments, realising belatedly that she’s wearing three layers and the outer one is a thick, richly embroidered red fabric. Hotohori takes her hands and leads her to the window.
A few golden leaves flutter past the window and are whisked away by the strong breeze. The air is much cooler than yesterday and brings with it a welcome sting, dispelling the humidity of summer. Miaka can see people distantly outside the palace, and they’ve left their light linen clothing at home in favour of heavier fabric. Summer has well and truly gone, gracefully passing into autumn and sinking away with the last sunset into peace.
Autumn has always been Miaka’s favourite season. So even though her stomach is growling and both she and Hotohori know they really should have made an appearance at lunch, let alone afternoon tea, she closes her eyes and enjoys the breeze, and Hotohori, caressing the skin on her face and her arms.
On to part 3