Aedinius Sextus Maximus. The name struck fear in the hearts of his enemies, but filled mine with love. My husband was no taller than my own five feet and four inches, but was one of the strongest, fiercest warriors in the empire. I always marveled at the man the Gods blessed me with-his smooth, muscular body, his thick, wavy brown hair, his piercing blue eyes, and a smile that warmed me more than any fire ever could. He loved me passionately and it showed every time he touched my body. It hurt to watch him leave when his duty to the empire sent him to war, and devastated me beyond repair when news of his death came to me. I felt as if my soul died that day.
My servant master, Jareth, was a kind man, not much older than myself yet younger than Aedinius. He towered over me, a good foot taller, his long brown hair reaching his shoulders, and his eyes the same blue as my late husband's. It made me smile, yet sad, when I looked into them. Without him, my household, and quite possibly my life, would have fallen into disrepair after Aedinius' death.
The first few months after receiving the news, he would sit with me as I cried, wailing in my sorrow, and railing against the Gods for their cruelty. He would hold my hand at first, calming me, reminding me that my life would go on. Then he would put is arms around me as my body would shake with sobs. Every night for months he would soothe me with his voice and comfort my broken soul.
It was only six months since I received news of Aedinius' death when it happened. As had become our evening routine, Jareth would orchestrate the servants' movements throughout the house to prepare the evening meal and set the house to order before the sun went down. He was so efficient and so effective, and the servants cared for him so due to his kind yet firm manner, that all was ready in short time. We ate our meals together now, so that I would not succumb to the loneliness of my loss. But more than that, I came to enjoy Jareth's company. He was an intelligent man, and quite funny.
No, he wasn't my Aedinius, but he was able to make me smile again. He did so that night, as it was warm and he took me on a walk through the gardens after supper. We walked arm in arm as he informed me of the news brought to him from the city. The war was finally over, and the empire had prevailed. At that, I fell into Jareth's arms in tears. He held me close. I could feel his heart racing, though I did not know why.
When I looked up at his face, I saw a fire in his eyes I had not noticed before. I knew that fire, for I had seen it in my Aedinius' eyes before. But how could Jareth feel this way for me?
"My Tiaret," he said softly, "please do not cry. My heart breaks every time you do so."
It was then that I realized my servant master loved me. I couldn't believe that I had not seen it before tonight. His fingers reached out and tenderly wiped the tears from my face. Then he cupped my cheek and bent down, lightly brushing his lips over mine.
I think it was at that moment my soul started to finally heal. I felt something other than pain and loss for the first time since Aedinius left for battle. The warmth started in my chest, but quickly spread to the rest of my body. I wrapped my arms around Jareth's neck and pressed my lips to his, thanking the Gods for giving me another chance at happiness.
When our lips finally parted, he looked in my eyes and smiled. Then we both laughed. He took me up in his arms and swung me around. We were both so happy at this turn of events, at the gift the Gods had given us. We practically skipped and ran back to the main house, hand in hand, as we anticipated what the night held for us.
