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For his wife’s sake, Nimavel pretended that he did not notice the tears -no matter how evident they were. Scooting on the bed beside her, the elfin lord rested his head against the bed frame, one arm looping beneath Calairiel’s head and around her lithe shoulders. He sat quietly, listening to her explain the haphazard mood swings that had recently overcome her. Nimavel knew little of feminine biology besides the basics, but he feigned understanding nevertheless.
“I thought to surprise you…”
The Heru calmly said, his callused fingers massaging her skin gently as she lay in his grasp. Running his digits through her pure silver hair, Nimavel traced the curve of her shoulder-blades down to the tip of her lower back. His touch was soft and tender, unalike anything others knew of him.
Despite the generalizations that elfin-kind made about the Heru Mynendil, he was always compassionate with his wife. It was true that he was not around as frequently as many other husbands, but whenever he was with her, he demonstrated affection in his own way. Nimavel was not an elf of many words. Verbal communication almost did not exist in House Mynendil for the clandestine family was generally inexpressive and taught to be emotionless. They all loved one another, but they conveyed it in far different ways.
His lips fell upon Calairiel’s in a light kiss, speaking what words never could for him. Slowly pulling away so that his head was only a few inches from her, the elf lord’s lavender eyes aligned with her quicksilver ones, boring into her gently like a seer into a crystal orb.
“No, dae’amin, please stay where you are. I can get it myself.”
He said, setting a withered hand atop hers and rubbing it softly. The elf lord’s eyes, readable only by Calairiel herself, betrayed his thoughts. Calairiel was always so self-sacrificing, willing to serve others before herself. She would have traveled the Empire while inflicted by a mortal ailment for the sake of one she loved.
“The trip was not a long one…”
Nimavel added duly, failing to expound further on the matter. He seldom spoke of business-related topics with Calairiel, not because she was unconcerned with his activities, but more so because he wanted to protect her. He wanted to protect her from himself…
How would Calairiel look at him knowing that he’d slain countless men and women? All of them were evil in the elf lord’s eyes, but that did not change the fact that he was guilty of the gravest sins. And the worst part was that even if Calairiel knew, and a part of him understood that she did already, her opinion of him would never change. This was the reason that she was the only person he really trusted, the only person that deserved his love.
“Calairiel, tell me what’s wrong…”
He finally demanded, though his tone was soft and more concerned than anything else. His wife was strong, stronger than anyone he knew, and tears, as he’d earlier said, were not becoming of her. Calairiel did not cry, at least not very often, and as Nimavel knew her just as much as she knew him, so too was he aware that something was bothering her.
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