A Toast
Title: A Toast
Universe: the Merry Gentry MSV
Pairing: Mairwen/Sholto
Written For: ginevra
Prompt: firelight, mulled wine, the scent of gingerbread
Rating: adultish. no language but hints of sexual overtones. no violence or language
Word Count: 2305
Disclaimer: i don't own Sholto. he belongs to LKH. i'm only playing with him for a little bit and will put him back when i'm done. i don't own Mairwen, either. she's owned by Gin. i'm not making any money off this. don't sue me.
Her chambers were warm and comfortable, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the large room. The heat out off by the flames served to both remind her and make her forget that it was late in the year and late at night. December had come with a chill that kept even the Fae hidden away within their underground lair. Outside the faerie mound, snow lay thick and heavy on the ground, a deep white blanket that saw the world tucked in for the long sleep. It had always been a sad time of year for her. And yet... This year, this night, she was happy. Excited.
He was supposed to be arriving shortly. The meeting had been entirely his idea, a way for the two of them to spend the night together. To enjoy some of the old traditions that came with Yule. Traditions that had been adopted and changed by the Christians over the years. Traditions that had been changed to suit their restrictive religion. So few of the old traditions still remained in their purest, most original state. Still, an opportunity to share the past with new friends was not to be wasted or frowned upon.
She still couldn't believe the things that had happened. Not so long ago, she'd been considered little more than a servant. She'd spent her time waiting hand and foot on those who'd deemed themselves better than her. She'd been subject to being beaten on a person's whim. Now, with one simple act, she was considered consort to a King. Wasn't it strange how the tables had turned?
Mairwen glanced around her rooms with a critical eye. She wanted everything to be perfect, wanted to make a good impression on him.
Despite her lowly position, her rooms had always been extravagant. She thought that such a thing might have been because the sithen seemingly had a mind of its own. The chamber was divided into two rooms, one being her private sleeping chambers while the other served as a living and receiving area. And everything within the rooms, every piece of furniture, was as rich and lush as anything she could have ever imagined.
A thick Persian rug lay on the floor before the giant hearth. The colors were vivid and bright, as if it had only come off the loom that day though it had laid there for a very long time. A long, low couch faced the hearth, while winged chairs took up position across from one another on either end of the rug. All three pieces were upholstered with pale grey silk, a few shades darker than her eyes. Accent colors in darker grey, blue and purple somehow went with the deep reds that made up much of the rug before the furniture.
Ornate wrought iron candle stands occupied spots along the wall, eight of them that housed dozens of candles. Only one or two here and there were lit, casting soft and gentle light across the walls. Walls that were covered with the most amazing art that the world would never see. The candle flames glowed off the gilt frames that edged each painting. One corner held a massive desk of wood. It and the matching chair were both carved from some ancient tree that had gone extinct centuries ago. Another corner held an ornate harpsichord inlaid with mother of pearl, while raised sections shone with gilt gold. One wall held shelves of books. It was a glamorous and gorgeous room.
Frighteningly enough, her bedchamber was even more lavish than her receiving area.
She drifted to a stand near the book shelf that housed a phonograph player. The wax disc had already been settled onto the turn table, leaving her the task of cranking the handle. It was a more modern version than those that had first been invented over a century ago. Winding the motor brought forth the sound of gentle, chiming Christmas music that served to fill in the silence comfortably. A moment later, there was a knock at the door to her rooms.
Mairwen took a moment to smooth her hands over the sky blue gown she'd put on for her... Well, she guessed it was a date. She'd never done such a thing before and it wasn't as if the Fae actually engaged in dating the way the mortals did. She'd put on something airy and feminine in the hopes that her date would find it pleasing. The neckline scooped low to show a hint of cleavage and rest just under the curve of her shoulders. There was an empire waistline that gave way into a flowing mass of skirts that floated around her legs. Accents of silver at her throat, ears and wrists finished off her dressy look. She moved to the door and pulled it open.
Sholto had taken care in his dress, as if this was meant to be a special occasion. Perhaps it was. He'd left his white hair to hang long down the back of the black suit coat he wore. The shirt beneath it was snowy white. Between the two, he wore a vest of gold with twisting black figures embroidered into it. The color of his vest matched perfectly to the inner ring of color in his eyes. His slacks matched his coat and his shoes were polished and glossy. A woven basket with a lid was draped over one arm. She could smell that something tangy and spicy lay hidden inside. The smile that took up residence on his face was one of pleasure and joy. "You look quite lovely, Mairwen."
"Thank you, my lord. You look dashing."
He gave her a stern glare. "I've told you time and again, Mairwen. There's no reason to be so formal."
"Forgive me, Sholto. It is a habit that I have yet to rid myself of." She stepped back from the door and held one arm out, a silent invitation asking him to enter. He passed over the threshold and into her chambers. She closed the door, watching him silently as he allowed his gaze to move over the room. His eyes landed on the mantel and took in the evergreen boughs that edged it. Small sprigs of holly and mistletoe had been woven into the garland. A small basket rested on the mantel, filled with oranges that had been studded with cloves. Between that and the basket he'd brought, her rooms smelled delicious.
A curious sense of confusion stole over her. She didn't know what she was supposed to do or how she should act, so she simply stood by the door and watched him in silence. Sholto knelt and set the basket on the floor before the hearth. Long, sure hands flipped the lid open so that he could withdraw a blanket from within. After shifting the basket away from him, he rose and spread the blanket out over the Persian rug. Then he knelt again and once more began drawing items out of the basket.
Soon enough, there were two crystal goblets resting on the blanket, awaiting the wine that he set between them. A pair of plates had come out next, followed by a bowl that was filled with freshly cut up fruits and a platter of decadent looking chocolates. Another platter held cubed meats and cheeses. A bowl played home to the largest, most succulent looking strawberries she'd ever seen. Another bowl was heaped with freshly whipped cream. And the last thing that he brought out of the basket was a freshly baked loaf of gingerbread. The scent of it wafted out to gently tickle her nose. Her stomach growled in response.
Everything laid out, Sholto looked at her and smiled before a soft chuckle rumbled up his throat. "It would seem that you find the idea of a picnic acceptable. Come join me on the blanket, Mairwen." He held a hand out to her. His eyes had darkened with emotion that she didn't dare name.
Almost hesitantly, she crossed the room to where he stood and slid her hand into his. He tugged her close to him, their bodies barely touching. The firelight ran reaching fingers over them, its light catching on the colors of his eyes. The gold in the center shone warmly, reminding her of molten metal. The center ring of amber was mellow and the yellow on the outside conjured up the sights and scents of autumn as the leaves fell to the ground and crunched underfoot. Mairwen licked her lips absently. Sholto's smile deepened, became something much more personal. He leaned closer, prompting her to close her eyes and tip her head back.
"Join me for a light repast, my lady," Amusement colored his words, as well as something less defined. Her eyes fluttered open as she felt the stain of embarrassment flood into her cheeks. After a nod, he helped her down onto the blanket before taking his place beside her. Then he began to lay pieces of meat and cheese and fruit onto her plate.
Sholto filled her plate with an assortment of the foods he'd brought, excluding the chocolates, the strawberries and the gingerbread. Before handing her the plate, he filled his own and rested it before him on the blanket. Mairwen wondered what this whole evening was about. It seemed an odd way to pass the time, almost as if he wished to woo her. A notion that was silly because they'd already had a sexual encounter.
Finally, he placed the plate before her. But she didn't have the opportunity to reach for one of the delectables he'd put on it. His hand caught up a slice of apple and held it out to her. She offered him a smile, then leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the slice. Sholto allowed her to take it from his fingers, then he swooped in so that his tongue could catch the drops of apple juice that ran down her chin. The action ended with him pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss.
She was the one to offer him food next, a chunk of juicy melon that left its sticky sweet liquid all over his chin. She did the same as he had, her tongue and lips cleaning away every last bit of the tasty juice. And when she pulled back from him, he had a chunk of cheese waiting for her.
They fed one another back and forth, taking the time to kiss and lick away any lingering trace of flavor on their lips and skin. A world of conversation flowed between them even though very little was actually spoken out loud. For the first time in as long as she could remember, someone looked at her with something other than contempt in their eyes.
Mairwen had never been a favorite at court and that had never really bothered her. She'd been content to fade into the background, become part of those who served. But she'd found, with Sholto's attention, that she no longer wanted a life so empty. And though she and he hadn't truly begun a real relationship, some part of her knew that there was no other at court, Seelie or Unseelie, that she wished to be with.
She knew that he still held feelings for Merry, that he would always have them. And she could live with that. But she thought he was developing feelings for her. At least, she hoped that he was. Such nights like the one they were presently sharing suggested it to be true. She simply had to wait to find out. And if they had more nights like this one, the waiting would indeed be sweet.
When their plates were cleaned, he set them aside and began feeding her the deep red strawberries he'd brought, dipping the tip of each one into the fresh whipped cream. If some of the berry juice trickled down her chin, he was there to clean it away. The same with any stray fleck of cream. She noticed he didn't take any for himself, though he didn't feed her all of the berries, either.
Finally, he brought a knife out of the basket and began slicing into the loaf of gingerbread. He dipped the tip of the knife into the whipped cream and spread it across the porous surface. After preparing two slices that way, he set the knife down and handed one piece of bread to her. Without a word, she offered him the slice. He did the same. They fed one another until the bread was gone, only crumbs remaining to show that they'd tasted the holiday sweet.
The wine was the last thing he served. She watched as sure hands removed the cork stopper, then carefully poured an equal measure of the deep red claret into each goblet. He offered her a goblet with one of his hands, the second goblet clutched in his other hand. Mairwen took a breath and pulled the pungent smell of alcohol into her lungs, as well as the scents of cinnamon, vanilla, cloves, nutmeg and several other flavorings. "Mulled wine?" she asked him.
"Something warm to chase the chill away." There was more than one meaning to his words. She smiled at that. He held out his glass toward her, prompting her to clink the crystal of hers against it. "A toast, my lady. To tonight. And to many more nights just like it. To new friends and lovers. To the future as it spirals out before us, filled with unending possibilities."
He took a drink of his wine, watching her with a keen gaze as she did the same. She smiled and offered her goblet to him. The rim of his touched hers. "To us, Sholto."
He returned her smile. "To us."
Universe: the Merry Gentry MSV
Pairing: Mairwen/Sholto
Written For: ginevra
Prompt: firelight, mulled wine, the scent of gingerbread
Rating: adultish. no language but hints of sexual overtones. no violence or language
Word Count: 2305
Disclaimer: i don't own Sholto. he belongs to LKH. i'm only playing with him for a little bit and will put him back when i'm done. i don't own Mairwen, either. she's owned by Gin. i'm not making any money off this. don't sue me.
Her chambers were warm and comfortable, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the large room. The heat out off by the flames served to both remind her and make her forget that it was late in the year and late at night. December had come with a chill that kept even the Fae hidden away within their underground lair. Outside the faerie mound, snow lay thick and heavy on the ground, a deep white blanket that saw the world tucked in for the long sleep. It had always been a sad time of year for her. And yet... This year, this night, she was happy. Excited.
He was supposed to be arriving shortly. The meeting had been entirely his idea, a way for the two of them to spend the night together. To enjoy some of the old traditions that came with Yule. Traditions that had been adopted and changed by the Christians over the years. Traditions that had been changed to suit their restrictive religion. So few of the old traditions still remained in their purest, most original state. Still, an opportunity to share the past with new friends was not to be wasted or frowned upon.
She still couldn't believe the things that had happened. Not so long ago, she'd been considered little more than a servant. She'd spent her time waiting hand and foot on those who'd deemed themselves better than her. She'd been subject to being beaten on a person's whim. Now, with one simple act, she was considered consort to a King. Wasn't it strange how the tables had turned?
Mairwen glanced around her rooms with a critical eye. She wanted everything to be perfect, wanted to make a good impression on him.
Despite her lowly position, her rooms had always been extravagant. She thought that such a thing might have been because the sithen seemingly had a mind of its own. The chamber was divided into two rooms, one being her private sleeping chambers while the other served as a living and receiving area. And everything within the rooms, every piece of furniture, was as rich and lush as anything she could have ever imagined.
A thick Persian rug lay on the floor before the giant hearth. The colors were vivid and bright, as if it had only come off the loom that day though it had laid there for a very long time. A long, low couch faced the hearth, while winged chairs took up position across from one another on either end of the rug. All three pieces were upholstered with pale grey silk, a few shades darker than her eyes. Accent colors in darker grey, blue and purple somehow went with the deep reds that made up much of the rug before the furniture.
Ornate wrought iron candle stands occupied spots along the wall, eight of them that housed dozens of candles. Only one or two here and there were lit, casting soft and gentle light across the walls. Walls that were covered with the most amazing art that the world would never see. The candle flames glowed off the gilt frames that edged each painting. One corner held a massive desk of wood. It and the matching chair were both carved from some ancient tree that had gone extinct centuries ago. Another corner held an ornate harpsichord inlaid with mother of pearl, while raised sections shone with gilt gold. One wall held shelves of books. It was a glamorous and gorgeous room.
Frighteningly enough, her bedchamber was even more lavish than her receiving area.
She drifted to a stand near the book shelf that housed a phonograph player. The wax disc had already been settled onto the turn table, leaving her the task of cranking the handle. It was a more modern version than those that had first been invented over a century ago. Winding the motor brought forth the sound of gentle, chiming Christmas music that served to fill in the silence comfortably. A moment later, there was a knock at the door to her rooms.
Mairwen took a moment to smooth her hands over the sky blue gown she'd put on for her... Well, she guessed it was a date. She'd never done such a thing before and it wasn't as if the Fae actually engaged in dating the way the mortals did. She'd put on something airy and feminine in the hopes that her date would find it pleasing. The neckline scooped low to show a hint of cleavage and rest just under the curve of her shoulders. There was an empire waistline that gave way into a flowing mass of skirts that floated around her legs. Accents of silver at her throat, ears and wrists finished off her dressy look. She moved to the door and pulled it open.
Sholto had taken care in his dress, as if this was meant to be a special occasion. Perhaps it was. He'd left his white hair to hang long down the back of the black suit coat he wore. The shirt beneath it was snowy white. Between the two, he wore a vest of gold with twisting black figures embroidered into it. The color of his vest matched perfectly to the inner ring of color in his eyes. His slacks matched his coat and his shoes were polished and glossy. A woven basket with a lid was draped over one arm. She could smell that something tangy and spicy lay hidden inside. The smile that took up residence on his face was one of pleasure and joy. "You look quite lovely, Mairwen."
"Thank you, my lord. You look dashing."
He gave her a stern glare. "I've told you time and again, Mairwen. There's no reason to be so formal."
"Forgive me, Sholto. It is a habit that I have yet to rid myself of." She stepped back from the door and held one arm out, a silent invitation asking him to enter. He passed over the threshold and into her chambers. She closed the door, watching him silently as he allowed his gaze to move over the room. His eyes landed on the mantel and took in the evergreen boughs that edged it. Small sprigs of holly and mistletoe had been woven into the garland. A small basket rested on the mantel, filled with oranges that had been studded with cloves. Between that and the basket he'd brought, her rooms smelled delicious.
A curious sense of confusion stole over her. She didn't know what she was supposed to do or how she should act, so she simply stood by the door and watched him in silence. Sholto knelt and set the basket on the floor before the hearth. Long, sure hands flipped the lid open so that he could withdraw a blanket from within. After shifting the basket away from him, he rose and spread the blanket out over the Persian rug. Then he knelt again and once more began drawing items out of the basket.
Soon enough, there were two crystal goblets resting on the blanket, awaiting the wine that he set between them. A pair of plates had come out next, followed by a bowl that was filled with freshly cut up fruits and a platter of decadent looking chocolates. Another platter held cubed meats and cheeses. A bowl played home to the largest, most succulent looking strawberries she'd ever seen. Another bowl was heaped with freshly whipped cream. And the last thing that he brought out of the basket was a freshly baked loaf of gingerbread. The scent of it wafted out to gently tickle her nose. Her stomach growled in response.
Everything laid out, Sholto looked at her and smiled before a soft chuckle rumbled up his throat. "It would seem that you find the idea of a picnic acceptable. Come join me on the blanket, Mairwen." He held a hand out to her. His eyes had darkened with emotion that she didn't dare name.
Almost hesitantly, she crossed the room to where he stood and slid her hand into his. He tugged her close to him, their bodies barely touching. The firelight ran reaching fingers over them, its light catching on the colors of his eyes. The gold in the center shone warmly, reminding her of molten metal. The center ring of amber was mellow and the yellow on the outside conjured up the sights and scents of autumn as the leaves fell to the ground and crunched underfoot. Mairwen licked her lips absently. Sholto's smile deepened, became something much more personal. He leaned closer, prompting her to close her eyes and tip her head back.
"Join me for a light repast, my lady," Amusement colored his words, as well as something less defined. Her eyes fluttered open as she felt the stain of embarrassment flood into her cheeks. After a nod, he helped her down onto the blanket before taking his place beside her. Then he began to lay pieces of meat and cheese and fruit onto her plate.
Sholto filled her plate with an assortment of the foods he'd brought, excluding the chocolates, the strawberries and the gingerbread. Before handing her the plate, he filled his own and rested it before him on the blanket. Mairwen wondered what this whole evening was about. It seemed an odd way to pass the time, almost as if he wished to woo her. A notion that was silly because they'd already had a sexual encounter.
Finally, he placed the plate before her. But she didn't have the opportunity to reach for one of the delectables he'd put on it. His hand caught up a slice of apple and held it out to her. She offered him a smile, then leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the slice. Sholto allowed her to take it from his fingers, then he swooped in so that his tongue could catch the drops of apple juice that ran down her chin. The action ended with him pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss.
She was the one to offer him food next, a chunk of juicy melon that left its sticky sweet liquid all over his chin. She did the same as he had, her tongue and lips cleaning away every last bit of the tasty juice. And when she pulled back from him, he had a chunk of cheese waiting for her.
They fed one another back and forth, taking the time to kiss and lick away any lingering trace of flavor on their lips and skin. A world of conversation flowed between them even though very little was actually spoken out loud. For the first time in as long as she could remember, someone looked at her with something other than contempt in their eyes.
Mairwen had never been a favorite at court and that had never really bothered her. She'd been content to fade into the background, become part of those who served. But she'd found, with Sholto's attention, that she no longer wanted a life so empty. And though she and he hadn't truly begun a real relationship, some part of her knew that there was no other at court, Seelie or Unseelie, that she wished to be with.
She knew that he still held feelings for Merry, that he would always have them. And she could live with that. But she thought he was developing feelings for her. At least, she hoped that he was. Such nights like the one they were presently sharing suggested it to be true. She simply had to wait to find out. And if they had more nights like this one, the waiting would indeed be sweet.
When their plates were cleaned, he set them aside and began feeding her the deep red strawberries he'd brought, dipping the tip of each one into the fresh whipped cream. If some of the berry juice trickled down her chin, he was there to clean it away. The same with any stray fleck of cream. She noticed he didn't take any for himself, though he didn't feed her all of the berries, either.
Finally, he brought a knife out of the basket and began slicing into the loaf of gingerbread. He dipped the tip of the knife into the whipped cream and spread it across the porous surface. After preparing two slices that way, he set the knife down and handed one piece of bread to her. Without a word, she offered him the slice. He did the same. They fed one another until the bread was gone, only crumbs remaining to show that they'd tasted the holiday sweet.
The wine was the last thing he served. She watched as sure hands removed the cork stopper, then carefully poured an equal measure of the deep red claret into each goblet. He offered her a goblet with one of his hands, the second goblet clutched in his other hand. Mairwen took a breath and pulled the pungent smell of alcohol into her lungs, as well as the scents of cinnamon, vanilla, cloves, nutmeg and several other flavorings. "Mulled wine?" she asked him.
"Something warm to chase the chill away." There was more than one meaning to his words. She smiled at that. He held out his glass toward her, prompting her to clink the crystal of hers against it. "A toast, my lady. To tonight. And to many more nights just like it. To new friends and lovers. To the future as it spirals out before us, filled with unending possibilities."
He took a drink of his wine, watching her with a keen gaze as she did the same. She smiled and offered her goblet to him. The rim of his touched hers. "To us, Sholto."
He returned her smile. "To us."