Reclaiming Love

Days in Solstheim passed both in a blur and at a crawl. That morning, Elenor woke without the familiar dread that usually heralded the start of her day. There was no tolling bell forcing her into purification rituals, nor the lingering echo of the Pope’s lashes in a cold, silent room.

​Elenor made her way downstairs, finding Killian standing by the hearth, staring into the dancing flames. A strange sensation fluttered in her chest. Somewhere along the way, she had grown accustomed to seeking him out first—the very man she once cursed.

​"You’re awake later than usual," Killian said, breaking the silence. He turned, his gaze warmer than the morning sun.

​"I have no reason to wake any sooner," Elenor replied softly. She stepped closer, inhaling the steam from the warm soup on the table. "Did you prepare this?"

​"I did. The villagers provided the vegetables. Perhaps they intend to bribe me so I won’t wreak havoc on their village. Not that I had any such intention."

​"They seem terrified of you."

​"And what should I do about that?"

​"Smile when you meet them. Like this," Elenor said, pressing her fingers against his cheeks to force the corners of his lips into a curve.

​"It's been a moon. Are you sure you're happy here?" 

“This is the best moment in my life.”

"Let’s eat then. I know you’re hungry. Doesn't your power weaken when you’re far from the Temple?"

​Elenor sat, tasting the soup slowly while observing the man across from her. "How do you know?"

​"I know everything about you, my Elenor."

​"Aren't you eating?"

​"It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted human food. Your blood is enough to sustain me for months." The vampire reached out, his thumb brushing a stray drop of broth from the corner of her lip. "Do you not miss the luxury of your Temple?"

​Elenor paused, then shook her head slowly. "I prefer this small cottage. Here ... it feels like I can breathe without fear. I don't have to pretend to be perfect. Though, I suppose, there are no servants to attend to me here."

​"What do you mean? I am here, Elenor. I cook and wash your clothes every day. I’ve even forbidden you from doing the chores. The only thing I haven't done as your servant is help you bathe—though I’d be happy to do that, too, if you’d let me."

​The bluntness of his words made the Saintess flush. She quickly looked away, unwilling to let him see the heat rising in her cheeks. "Even if that’s what I meant, don't say it so shamelessly."

​"Don't look away, Elenor," Killian said, his voice dropping into a needy, playful tone. He pushed the table aside and knelt, resting his head on her lap. "I want to be the only one for you."

​"But I’m not the only one for you, am I? It’s clear you’ve had many relationships before. You’re far too skilled at… making love."

​"Making love? A wonderful idea."

​The black-clad man scooped up Elenor’s petite frame. To his surprise, she didn't struggle; instead, she closed her eyes, offering a silent invitation to continue.

​"Want to do it right here, Sweetheart?"

​"Killian, it's very early morning."

​"I have no concept of time, Elenor. I could make love to you all day. For a week without stopping, if your body could keep up."

​He carried her back to the rumpled wooden bed. Their mingled scents still clung to the tangled sheets. There, Elenor felt her heart pounding against her ribs, matching the heat of Killian’s breath.

​"You ... you truly have no shame," she murmured, her grip tightening on the vampire’s broad shoulders.

​"Why should I be ashamed in front of mine?"

​Killian hovered over her, his weight drawing a thin gasp from her lips. "You’ve finally accepted me. I won't waste a single second."

"Be gentle this time.”

​The pale-skinned man began to trace her jawline with his lips, moving down to plant soft, lingering kisses along her smooth neck. His large, cool fingers moved with practiced agility, unbuttoning her gown one by one.

​When no fabric remained to shield her, it became clear that it wasn't just Elenor’s face that was flushed, but her entire body. Killian lowered his head between the Saintess’s thighs. His tongue began to explore her, accompanied by a hypnotic refrain of sighs.

​When Elenor pulled at him, the vampire finally looked up. He entered her with a rough, sudden surge of possessiveness, drawing a sharp cry from her throat.

​Rather than softening, Killian grew more primal. The sheer force of their rhythm even caused one of the bedposts to snap. They didn't stop—they were far beyond noticing such things.

​Only when the sun reached its zenith did they finally come to a rest. They lay entwined for a long while, eyes closed. Later, they spent the afternoon on the small porch overlooking the cliff, knowing they would have stayed in that bed until exhaustion took them if they hadn't forced themselves out.

​The Saintess spent the day sorting herbs gathered from the forest edge, while Killian sat nearby, sharpening his black sword that had long been left to gather dust.

​"Killian, aren't you bored?"

​"I’ve spent hundreds of years just waiting for you to be reborn, Elenor. Sitting here watching you is a miracle to me."

​"Sometimes I feel like this is all just a mirage. That one day this mist will vanish, and I’ll wake up on that altar again."

​Killian stopped sharpening his blade. He stood and walked over until his shadow enveloped her.

​"Touch me," he commanded. He placed Elenor’s hand against his chest, right where his heart beat slowly. "Does this feel like a dream?"

​Elenor felt the warmth beneath the skin that was usually cold. The gentle heartbeat was incredibly grounding. "No. It’s too real to be a dream."

​"Then stop being afraid," Killian whispered, kissing her forehead. "I’ve prepared for everything. I won’t let you go again."

​"Do you know? A Saintess cannot die unless she desires it with her whole heart. That is why I kept coming back, even after trying to end it so many times."

​"I hope I am now the reason you want to keep living," Killian said while grabbing her hand.