Marianne at Court

Marianne swept from the northern wing of Misthallow, still thinking over what had just occurred. It was a simple thing that she did - patch a wound up. She'd done that innumerable times during her education. Yet still, she felt....good. Special. Needed, connected to the people and world around her. She hadn't felt that way in...well, gods know that it's been a long time.

It occurred to Marianne how she felt seen, and how rare that had been these days. She had come to the capital to be around Farelia more, but her sister had been...occupied. She hadn't seen her in a long while. She was ostensibly her lady in waiting, but she made little use of Marianne, preferring to keep her in the palace while she stayed in her manse in the city, only occasionally summoning Sharra or Nyrene to attend her. That hurt, she supposed. She didn't know why Farelia was avoiding her. Yes, Sharra and Nyrene had proven to be great friends in the time that she's known them, but Farelia was her sister. She wanted to tell her about things, about Victor and the party. About how she helped the prince...

Marianne rounded a corner into the gallery overlooking Misthallow's common rooms...and quite nearly collided into a petite girl with unkempt raven hair.

"Oh! Sorry, I....Nyrene?"

Nyrene Pryce stood before her with wild hair, carrying a dress. Her dress. She was garbed in a long black shirt trimmed with white. It was wrinkled, and altogether too big for her. The hem drifted down to her upper thigh.

"Well, hello there, Marianne. I've heard you've been busy." she wore a wicked smile that was completely discernable despite the darkness of the evening. The clothes she wore were definitely not hers. I'm not the only one, it seems. Marianne thought to herself.

"I'm not sure there's much to say." Marianne quipped and whirled. It's true...nothing really happened. She went in, patched up Prince Jason Algrave's wounds, then she was on her way. It was a brief encounter.

"Not much to say? You had the heir to the realm naked and vulnerable in front of you, and there's not much to say? I don't believe you, darling." she said.

"He wasn't naked or anything." Just mostly naked, Marianne thought to herself. But she was beginning to be too shy to give Nyrene any ideas. If you gave her an inch.... "He was just...there, I don't know."

Nyrene shrugged, and they whirled and walked. The guest rooms were primarily on the first floor - wherever Nyrene had her fun with Duncan, it wasn't a bedroom. The once-roaring Misthallow was now a dim and somber quiet. Most of the partygoers had retired to bedrooms, or to hushed conversations near the numerous blazing hearths that lined the walls of the common room. The way the prince took his wound had everyone feeling much sober than they had an hour ago.

Nyrene's borrowed shirt drifted as she walked, as if it were a tiny dress. Marianne felt that it just barely covered what it needed to cover.

"Are you looking at my ass?" she teased in a half-whisper. "You would think you'd caught enough eyefulls tonight. Didn't you just have the prince's cock in your face."

"Nyrene! Shut up." Marianne hissed as she glanced around. Nobody was around, but between her lack of clothing and spiced words, she felt like her friend was being far too cavalier. But she was right. She couldn't deny that she felt a certain...jolt, of fierce and impassioned energy when she was on her knees in front of her prince. Between his legs, looking up at his pained face...it was oddly intimate. And certainly not something she was going to forget anytime soon. But she was not about to admit that to Nyrene. At least, not right now... "Are you even wearing underwear?" she asked with a disbelieving chuckle.

Her friend stopped, and turned to her. All she did was stare into Marianne's eyes, and lifted the hem of her shirt. Her panties were lace, black and thin. The strap clung to Nyrene's light skin in feminine elegance. Nyrene always seemed to be able to look good through that post-sex glow, draped in men's clothing. She let the shirt drop, and continued walking. As if she could read her mind, she began to speak again. "Honestly, Marianne, you should be dressed like this tonight. He was right there. I know you want him."

Marianne Newhook blushed as they began to travel down the serpentine steps. "Gods, Nyrene. He was stabbed!" she replied. Yet her thoughts did drift. She thought of the way the blood and sweat glided over the curvature of his muscles. The way his chiseled hips flexed ever so slightly beneath her touch. She had to note that even in this vulnerable state, Prince Jason seemed so strong to her. She wondered how his shirt would look on her. Marianne figured that it would look quite large on her body.

Nyrene shrugged as they found their way to the first floor. "The only thing that will prevent a man's cock from getting hard is death. If you wanted to have him, you could have."

Marianne's face twisted into a sour look. She knew that wasn't true. And anyway...

Her mind's eye drifted back to that room. The infirmary, where she was on her knees in front of her prince. But when her gaze moved upward, it wasn't Jason's face anymore - it was Victor's. His face wore a sad smile, almost apologetic. Marianne's breath caught in her chest. How could she talk about something like this to Nyrene? She wasn't like her. She couldn't just float from one man's bed to another. She couldn't embrace carnality like Nyrene could. She wouldn't...she wouldn't understand. She wouldn't understand what she had with Victor. It was a perfect artifact. She could recall the warmth and the passion and the pain vividly, yet she couldn't figure out how to go back. If she could go back. Her knight was a place that she longed for, but was burned by. A mix of nostalgia and love and lust and comfort and agony. It was too much. She wanted to go back, but she found herself feeling like...she just couldn't.

They were nearly to the bedroom they shared with Sharra. She would be in there now, she suspected. Marianne's footsteps stopped just shy of the door, however, and she looked to Nyrene. "Nyrene, I..."

Her friend turned and stared at her with inquisitive and serious eyes. "Yes?"

"I just... I don't know if I can. It's too much. To be with a man again, I don't think...I don't know if I'm ready. I can't explain it, I'm sorry."

She seemed to stare at Marianne for an hour, her eyes alive with consideration. Eventually, all she said was. "Okay. I understand." She fixed her friend with a sad smile. Then she opened the door.