A Loom of Years

Fifth Weaving
@Anne E. Fraser 2006

The next evening, the farmer and his shy family were thanked.  They
refused, scandalized, the offer of payment, and waved the procession
back on its way.  The cart had been repaired, and  the horses were
refreshed from their rest. The werewolves and mages in the retinue
looked a bit disgruntled; the shepherd's hut had not been a pleasant
place to sleep.  Garron and Nigel both fell asleep in the cart as
soon as it got rolling again.

Blaine and Olivia, now sharing a new understanding, rode close
together.  Occasionally they smiled at each other, but didn't say
much.  Not with the others listening.  It was still too new to them,
this revelation, to share.  And with the problems attendant upon
moving cart, horses, and a motley collection of supernatural beings
across country, there really was no time to reflect upon what had
happened in the farmhouse.

Fortunately, the journey encountered no more obstacles and they
reached the port in Dover with much of the night still left.
Blaine's ship was rigged and ready; her crew was mainly werewolves
and Nameless Ones so that they could continue to sail even in bright
sunlight while the vampires were safely stowed below.

The Prince helped his consort aboard, and looked around the ship
with interest. It seemed, er, ship-shape. The captain welcomed them
aboard, but although he held his Prince in great respect, land-
lubber passengers were nothing but a menace on a working craft.  He
expected them to stay in their cabins or the special accommodations
below and stay out of the way of his crew.  Short strolls on deck in
fine weather were permissible... as long as they didn't actually
touch anything while strolling.

"Your cabins are ready, my Prince, m'lady." the captain addressed
Blaine and Olivia with a bow.  "But I assume you will want to watch
us cast off and set sail?"

"Yes, I always enjoy that," Blaine replied.  "We'll stay out of the
way, I promise."

"And we will be sharing a cabin this trip, Captain," said Olivia,
taking Blaine's hand.

The captain merely nodded, but Blaine looked at Olivia in
surprise.  "Sharing...?" he asked.

"I think it's about time, don't you?"

He cupped her chin in his hand.  "Are you certain?"

She smiled.  "Of course."

They stood holding each other to watch the ship cast off from the
docks, rowing out until they were able to raise the sails and catch
the wind and tide for France.  They waved to the retainers on the
dock who would not be coming with them, then watched the shoreline
fade away.

"Shall we go below then?" Blaine asked.

Accommodating vampires on a sailing vessel required specialty ship-
building skills.  Cabins and sleeping quarters had to be designed to
be light-proof.  15th century vessels were not noticeably large, so
the cabins were small.  Blaine found himself noticing this for the
first time as he ushered his wife into his cabin.

"Will you be all right in here?" he asked.  "It's rather tight
quarters."

"Mine is no larger," she replied, concealing a shiver.  "But I have
always been alone in mine, so no-one could notice my fear."

"I'll have them knock out the adjoining wall."

"It wouldn't help, but thank you."

"Here, have some wine, try to relax."

Of course, the ship rolled just as he poured the wine, so that it
slopped on his clothes and the floor. Olivia laughed.

"Wretched boat," Blaine said.  He shook a fist at the deck above
them. "Ahoy, up there, watch out for those bloody waves!" He managed
to get wine into the goblets and they sat side by side on the bunk–
there being only one chair in the tiny cabin–to drink.

"How long?" Olivia asked.

Blaine glanced down at his wine-stained mid section before looking
at her.  "Er... how long is what, precisely?" he asked.

She choked on her wine, spraying yet more on his clothes.  "Heavens,
Blaine," she snorted.  "I don't care about the size of your sword.
I want to know how long you have been in love with me."

He grinned.  "Ever since you held a dagger to my throat when I asked
you to marry me," he confessed.

She turned her head away for a second and he couldn't tell if she
was laughing or not.  "Ah, God," was all she said.

"How long?" he challenged her.

"Ever since you looked at that poor shaman who married us and asked
if you had to kiss me," she replied.

He didn't laugh. He met her eyes. "What utter fools we have both
been, Olivia."

"There were so many nights," she said, "when I saw you sitting alone
while I went out and hunted and you looked so lonely... but I never
spoke, because I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you," he replied.  "But let's not... let's not list
all the times we could have said something, and didn't.  Let's wipe
the slate clean and start fresh, as of tonight."

"Yes, agreed."

They set their wine goblets down and drew together, lips meeting,
arms entwining... and the ship once more rolled against an
unexpected wave, pitching them both down onto the bunk, Olivia on
top of Blaine.

"Darling!" he said.  "Some propriety, please!  Although, if you want
to be on top, I shall not object..."

She fetched him a resounding smack on the buttock she could reach,
and they both dissolved into laughter.

"Oh, strewth, you are covered with wine!" she exclaimed, pulling
herself off of him in mock disgust.  "Out of those clothes, at once!"

She began undressing him as if he was her child, and slapped away
his fingers–gently–when he tried to help.

"What's this?" she asked, pointing to a silver scar on his thigh.
Only silver and wood left scars on a vampire.

"Your turndam tried to take me with her," Blaine replied.

"Thank goodness that is all behind us now."

"Speaking of behinds... you are seeing mine, but I am not seeing
yours.  Most unfair."

She laughed and let him help her undress.  When the last bit of
nether garments hit the deck, he stared at her.

"You are so beautiful, I never realized..."

"Shh.  Clean slate, remember?  Kiss me, Blaine, kiss me and take me
to bed."

Naturally, that was just when the ship rolled again.

Go to the Sixth Weaving