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Will his wife adore him, even with the scorched bodies left in his wake?
“We should visit soon, my love. I need to restock the kitchen.”
Messmer sat by the fire, watching as crimson and amber flames caressed the wooden logs. It crumbled under such intense heat, yet he observed regardless, as the pile turned to ash.
His beloved wife stirred a worn silver pot in the kitchen. The aroma of something savory wafted, momentarily drawing him from his troubled thoughts.
“Hm? Where to?”
Pale fingers brushed the man’s chin lightly, out of habit.
Truthfully, he hadn’t been listening as attentively as usual. On any other occasion, Messmer would be beside her, aiding and showering his wife with kisses as he deemed fit. She would giggle, flashing her bright smile, and likely try to push him away before resuming her culinary duties.
But this night was different
His patience wore thin; and so did his soldiers. They lay fallen in the yellowed wheat fields, swords piercing their backs. A surprise attack had sealed their fate, led by whom? Messmer didn’t know, flames began to dance across his pink and white knuckles with a methodical rhythm.
“The town, my love! I ran out of yeast the night before.”
“The town?” The knight gripped his knee harshly with his right hand. Unbeknownst to him, his wife hummed in agreement and turned to gaze at him.
“Mmh, I thought I would go in the morning. Save myself the trouble for—”
“Darling, I’m sure whatever you think you need can wait.”
His neck turned slightly towards her, earning a frown. She grasped the light blue apron around her middle, looking confusedly at her husband through her lashes. The room grew unbearably warm, a telltale sign of Messmer’s anger—disappointment, occasionally.
She could see his blazing eyes from here. Hells, they illuminated most of the living room.
“But… darling, our—”
“Enough. Wife.”
He stood taller now; she had to crane her neck back to meet his fiery gaze.
“It’s not safe. You’ll wait.”
Messmer approached, his maroon hair swaying with each step. In seconds, he was before her, appearing torn between worry and contempt.
She refused to meet his gaze any longer, unable to comprehend his displeasure.
Yet Messmer persisted. His index finger traced the skin around her chin, urging it upward with gentle pressure.
Now he stood with a gaze of love, mingled with sympathy. How swiftly he could change—she would never understand. His emotions had become less predictable lately; just the other day, he incinerated a field when a direbear had ventured too close.
She had regarded him then with the same eyes—worry, concern. He hadn’t acknowledged it, merely placing his hand back on her waist and continuing.
Just a he was doing now, ignoring the present.
“Forgive me, my love, I’ve been ah— distracted.” Noticing the change in atmosphere, his fingers found home in her hair, they stroked and smoothed over it with newfound patience.
“Distracted?” Her head rested upon his hand now, it engulfed it instantly.
“With what?”
He laughed.
It was small— and not the humorous kind.
“It’s nothing that should ail you, darling.”
His form bent over, and she felt the man’s forehead tap hers adoringly.
His eyes stared right into her own, they were half lidded and the knight held a light smile upon his face.
“Let me do the worrying, hm?”
His nose bumped with hers, and soon their lips touched. She felt his breath waft across her lips— her cheeks.
It was warm, and smelled of a cider he had made earlier that day.
“Kiss me, darling?” He pleaded.
And who was she to deny such a man of power?
The girl leaned in, now on her tiptoes as her soft mouth collided with his chapped one.
The maroon knight let out a groan, his knees almost buckled for how much he had to hold back from the poor girl.
So as a distraction, he pulled away, and began to kiss and suck the skin of her neck, making his way to her perfect jawline.
“But what about ah— “
A light kiss.
“The food—“
Another bite.
His chin met her shoulder, his lips grazed the bottom of her ear.
“Should you worry about that now, dear wife?”
His voice was deep, gravelly from the amount of lust bestowed upon his body.
The woman squeaked, embarrassed such an action would fluster her so.
“Its just ah— what would we do for to— morrow?"
Sharply, his arms sagged down, and his hands met with the back of her legs.
Quickly he acted, and pulled each of her legs across his muscled torso.
Now face to face, the man walked backwards, towards the well worn stairs leading to their shared bedside.
She laughed, her head bobbed to the side and he couldn’t help but let out a timber one of his own.
His wife’s arms looped around his wide shoulders, and met just behind his neck.
“Do not concern yourself with such frivolous tasks, my love.” He began his kisses once more,
each laid a different love bite.
One pink
One purple
“For tonight, I found my feast, mmh?”
She poked at the pale man’s cheek.
“Who knew you could hold such a flirtatious remark?” She teased, and Messmer clicked his tongue before tossing her lightly upon the mattress.
His wife’s hair engulfed the pillows, it surrounded her like a halo and he swore he’d remember such an image for the rest of his days. No matter the cost.
He’ll see her eyes before his future slumbers
Hear her laugh before the numerous fights to come on the battlefield
Eventually, when his last breath graces his lips, he’ll taste her there, feel the breath of hers brush past his vicinity.
He’ll remember such love filled eyes
He’ll remember what she smelled like— elder flowers and apples.
He’ll remember she loved him.
And that he loved her.