The Phoenix and the Griffin

“Look,” Phaila said to Saeros and he did finding Isóng and Amaras talking, smiling.
“I do hope they will back him,” he whispered to her.
“Are they so polished and deep that we cannot sound them out? Can we win them over?”
“Perhaps, perhaps not, perhaps I am old and cynical now and do not trust them, let them show forth themselves Phaila, I may judge them too harshly.”
“We must be careful and not alienate them, maybe there is something we can do to satisfy them. Amaras will not want blood spilled for this.”
“An office? High enough to placate their ambitions? It is possible. Let me think on it.”

Isóng watched under his lashes her father-in-law move her around the floor, and flushed with heat.

“You must find yourself a dance partner, cousin, do not let your wife steal the light from you completely.” Isóng smiled, nodding in the direction of Saeros and Phaila.
“Oh, I do not like to dance with anyone but my wife.”
“Then allow me cousin, there are many ladies tonight, and I am not as fortunate as you and will sleep without such pleasant company as bedmate and must make do with a dance or two and give my dreams fodder.”
“Of course,” Amaras smiled.
“We will talk more, cousin.”
~~~~~~~~
Rorfiwn intercepted Phaila as she and Saeros walked from the floor. Inclining his head, he held out his hand, Phaila took it and followed him back out.

Amaras stood at his father’s approach, “I do like her Amaras, and she seems to have settled down tonight.”
“I think she was only tired and a little over excited….”
“You do not need to make apologies. She did not insult me with her cool reception, she should be reserved, and think it all over coming as it has. She was only being loyal to you, and was puzzled by the sudden alliance. I would have thought ill of her had she been too friendly.”
“As Isóng is being too friendly?”

Saeros lifted his goblet, “I do not know, Amaras, I have heard only hearsay. Who knows if it is based on truth or a simple frown of disappointment exhibited. You may be able to win one or all over, with the help of your wife.” He smiled and nodded toward the floor looking on Phaila and Rorfiwn dancing and talking. “They will not dare to move against you while I am still here, and as I will not leave until you have a firm grasp, they must learn to live with disappointment and high offices instead of my crown…your crown.”

Amaras stared at his father, “Are you leaving, Atya?”
“Yes, but do not look at me so, we have time,” he cupped the back of his sons’ head in his hand. “We cannot stay, you know this, not if you are to be duke. I am weary of this, Amaras, and Elenriel will only devil us all. In Aman she will find peace.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
“Do you like Lund Daer?” Rorfiwn asked.
“It is very different from my home, but yes, it is beautiful overlooking the sea.”
“Do you live by the sea in …ah, you live in the Gray Havens forgive me for forgetting.”
“Our rooms have a view, and is a short ride to the beaches.”
“And how is the hunting?”
“Deer mostly.”
“We have great deer here, with racks that are …you must hunt with us.”
“I would like that cousin.”
“You have come during the rainy season, I hope you do not mind a stalk in the rain.”
“My favourite weather.”
“Excellent, then we will hunt together.” Rorfiwn grinned, “in two days time, if it suits and does not interfere with obligations.”

Phaila looked to Amaras considering.
“Ah, you will have to ask your husband first.”
“I have no plans, but these we have made.” She bit.

Rorfiwn escorted her back to the table, gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and returned her to her husband.
“Watch her, cousin, she did try to seduce me while we were dancing,” Rorfiwn pointed a playfully accusing finger at Phaila.
“I was afraid as much.” Amaras glowered, falling in line with the joke.
“Meet me in the garden at midnight,” Rorfiwn leaned over her shoulder to speak in a loud conspiratorial whisper. Cast his eyes down the table.
“Where are my brothers?” He asked exasperated amid their laughter.
“Murion is dancing and Isóng is…ah, by door…” Saeros answered.
“Thank you, Your Grace, cousin, cousin, excuse me…” he bowed to all and snatching up his goblet, looked to Phaila, mouthed the word ‘later’, winked, and trotted happily to Isóng.

Phaila lifted her goblet. “I have been invited to hunt with your cousins,” she gave a disingenuous smile to benefit the court, “I have accepted.”
“You should have spoken to me on this matter…”
“When Amaras?” Saeros asked, “he invited her while they danced. They have begun to sound you, and will do it singly. This is for the best, you do not want to appear too cautious in dealing with them, you must be fast on your feet, improvise. She can always feel unwell, the weather disagreeable to you and you will not let her go, there is always a way out.”
“You are right, I should have consulted you before accepting.” She looked at him anxiously, did not want to overstep and embarrass him before his father. Rorfiwn had challenged her with the insinuation she must ask permission and her pride had answered.
“No. It is fine.” He kissed her cheek to reassure her.
~~~~~~~~~
“Well?” Isóng asked turning from the young elleth abruptly, he took Rorfiwn’s elbow and guided him away to a thicker group to hide them.
“I do not know what you want me to tell you, brother, she is muscle and bone, not at all what you are accustomed. She has a sweet bosom, I give her that, but her eyes are too … intense as if she is looking into one.” Rorfiwn took a goblet of wine from a servant who offered a tray, “I have invited her to hunt with us…”
“You what?” Isóng cocked his head angrily.
“I thought it would please you brother, forgive me my mistake!” Rorfiwn was offended; he could not please his mercurial brother since he had laid eyes on his cousin’s wife.
“You should have let me do this, Rorfiwn.”
“I am sorry I overreached myself,” he held up his hand.
“I am sorry, brother,” Isóng took the hand, gave it a tight squeeze.
Rorfiwn moaned, “I have done you no favour brother, look away for Eru’s sake! I have never seen you so.”
Isóng turned to face the stone wall paneled in polished pine, looked to his brother.
“I have never felt so.” Isóng took a deep drink of wine.
“Of all the ladies here, who are UNmarried…”
“I cannot turn.” Isóng’s eyes flashed.
“You had better turn a little or she well smell it on you.” Murion cautioned.
“She would never tell him, there is far too much at hazard to toss on the heap over a flirtation.”
“As long as you keep it to mild flirtation and do not reach just yet, can you do that, Isóng?” Rorfiwn took his brother’s arm firmly.
“I can do that.”
~~~~~~~~~~
There was a reel called from the floor. They moved a weaving pattern around the floor, partnering off to do a few steps before breaking away to wheel alone. Isóng found Phaila in his grasp.
“Cousin.” He said stiffly, surprised that they had ended up partnered, his eyes had followed her, he had hoped, he had hoped not.
“Cousin,” she turned in his hand, her hair brushing his face, the fragrance of sweet almonds and something else. A scent he knew well. Sex. Amaras had had her tonight. He roused despite it. He would love nothing more to replace that scent with his own.
“We are to hunt, you and I and your brothers,” she said as they linked hands.
“Rorfiwn told me. You will not mind the rain?” His hands were damp, they tightened their fingers to not lose their grip.
“Why is everyone so concerned about my getting wet? Surely, your ladies are not so frail that they cannot withstand a little rain.” She smiled.
“You husband would not look with favour on us if we brought you home ill.”
“In that case I will wear a coat, I would not want to jeopardize our friendship with a sneeze.” Pulled from his hands to move on to the next steps.

Isóng gave a breathless laugh and Phaila shot a backward glance and a smile.

He had barely had time to register what she felt like. A willow, strong and supple her waist was under his sweating hand, it left a mark on her gown, the scent of almonds and spent seed, the warmth of her and she was gone, leaving him panting with desire as he took another partner, a tall silver haired elleth in hands grown suddenly cold. He could scarcely take his eyes from her in the grasp of some house baron he could not remember the name of who looked on her attentively. She laughed and lightly skipped away, spun, her hair a honey dream of tangled curls.
~~~~~~~~~~
He approached her and with a dazzling smile asked her to dance. Flushed she dabbed her cheeks with a handkerchief and tucked it into her sleeve.

Murion nudged Rorfiwn. “Of course,” he sneered with resignation and no surprise.
“You must learn to be a bit more lyrical brother, the use of adjectives is most helpful when describing to satisfaction….”
“Only his cock buried in her will satisfy him.” Rorfiwn muttered.
~~~~~~~~~`
He wrapped his arm around her waist, yes a willow, took her right hand in his left and glanced at the heavy wedding band on her finger, tried to smile.

“You forgot me.” He gave her a masculine pout.
Phaila flushed, “I am flattered you remember me at all, I was very young.”
“I am hurt that you had thrown me completely from your memory.”

Phaila struggled.
“I am teasing you. I do hope that we can be friends,” he said softly against her cheek, turned his face away and breathed her in.
“I do as well, Isóng, you have a lovely name,” she murmured, “I do not think I have heard one that matches. I like it much better than the name you gave me on the road.”
“You are too kind, cousin, and must forgive me for my jest,” he bit the inside of his cheek, and drew blood. The taste of copper filled his mouth. “And your name, I have never heard before,” he looked into her face, but only briefly.

She smiled and moved her hand on his shoulder.

He was on fire. Every nerve blazed, hypersensitive to her.
“It is beautiful. A dream name. Fay la.” A name for the bed. He smiled as if still teasing.

She looked away. A pink bloomed on her cheeks.

He glanced between them, their hair had twined, and he stiffened his right arm to hold her from brushing him again, his erection ached, twitched for release in spite of his earlier attention and dampened his breeches.

She caught his eyes, and smiled innocent of the eroticism he was experiencing, mistaking it for sudden reticence. He held the look, in his mind; he crashed his mouth on hers and filled it with his tongue, the taste of her, honey and wine.

He gave a slow smile and looked at her right hand held in his left, his eyes falling on her wedding band again.
“You are not married, Isóng?”
“I have not been as fortunate as my cousin.” He blinked, perhaps she could see into him, “we, none of us have married.”
“I will not bore you with platitudes. I do recommend it though.”

He smiled, they were almost the same height, he stood only a little taller than her, not like Amaras who she had to look up to, “You did not get to have a wedding, I am sorry for you.”
“I would have liked one I think, if only my family would have conceded to Amaras, but it was not so.”
“It is unfortunate, but you see? It is all being corrected, and your parents will come around and forgive you.”
“My mother is dead, Isóng and my father will not speak with me.”
“Oh, forgive me…I did not know.” He knit his brow, rubbed his thumb against the small of her back. She startled him with her candor,
“You could not know these things, Isóng, think no more on it, I beg you.”
“I will do it because you ask, not because you beg, cousin.” He found himself pulling her to him, stopped himself, and smiled for his involuntary move to comfort her.

atya - father