Sir Nicholas Richerd

❝I warn you, I have been trained to kill since birth.❞ Nicholas Richerd, 24, Commander, Knight of France, Dedicated to the code. ❝A Knight must behave with honor and nobility.❞

[nicholas-richerd]

dufort‌:

These moments are so few and far before.  She covets them fiercely, keeping them close to her heart.  They both have parts that they need to play outside of this room—the Commander more so than she.  Amphelice breathes in deeply, savouring the quiet between them.  Though brief, there is peace; they are calm, and he is here, safe, smiling; oh how she wishes she could always have him home, with her, knowing well no harm can come to him! Many a time has she wished it, feverishly; she has prayed, she has wept, she has sorrowed, but all in vain, for not a thing can ever be done to keep him from duty. A soft, loving smile spreads across her delicate features nevertheless, for he is here, now, and that is all that shall matter for as long as the gods see fit that she has him. “spoiled, is he! but he would not have me go out into the woods alone, would he?” her fingers drum once, in sequence, against his shoulders, squealing with girlish delight as he pulls her into a warm embrace, her curls spilling like spun silk about her fair neck, tickling his chin. “how ever will I fend for myself, monsieur?” she feigns concern, with a certain air of disbelief, knowing full well that between the two of them both are aware of the countless times she has ventured into the woods by herself. She’s only teasing him, of course, her smile hastening at the mention of their babe as she lovingly caresses the crown of his head, her whole face beaming with joy and tenderness; “well enough– she has slept all the morn, and only woke twice to play and eat–; how sleepy she is all the time! Not at all like her father…Always occupied…” she wonders softly–only half a complaint– her heart swelling with passionate pride and affection as she stares at him; she is glowing from the inside out as only healthful youth can glow: there is gem-like brightness on her curling hair and in her blue eyes; there is warm red life in her lips; her throat, too, has a breathing whiteness above the differing white of the silk dress she wears which itself seems to wind about her figure and cling down her pale-blue bodice with a tenderness gathered from her own. “Will you not come to see her, my love?” lilts she softly, afterward, smooths his hair from his temple with such delicate care, “I shall wake her and we can take her to the sea; tis hot outside and it would do her well to get some sun, no? –” and then, with a sudden realisation,  “–and think not I have forgotten you have yet to have your lunch! You shall have to abandon your duties for a while, I fear, sir, or I shall be forced to use desperate measures on you.” she informs him in a demanding little voice, then, giving him a look through a mass of thick, black lashes as her fingers continue to toy with his golden hair.  

—even after all the time they have been together he still has not grown accustomed to her affection and care for him; a good thing in part, for he does not take what he is given for granted. truth is, that he hasn't gotten used to having a woman who loves him as Lis does, a wife, and then a baby. he is a father now and this makes him immensely happy. they have a beautiful, small family and he had never even thought he would want this to begin with. her love has healed parts of his soul that he had refused to acknowledge for years, still does, but he can understand the difference she has made into his life; loving him without expecting anything from him other than to love her in return. life didn't teach him this kind of a connection with another human was achievable, making it somewhat hard for the Commander to learn how it was alright to let his walls down, unsealed from potentially getting hurt in the process. it was not easy, but it was worth all the effort it took on his part to approach her in a more intimate way; opening up, allowing himself to feel for the first time after almost two decades of having detached himself from every and all emotion. and it does feel better now. less pretense. less weight on his shoulders. a smile forms on his lips as he watches her. the way she looks up to him with those big ocean blue eyes of hers, these particular eyes color their daughter also got from her, her dark locks glowing under the golden sunlight. laughter falls from his lips and he pretends to roll her eyes at her, squeezing her elbows as he pulls back a little to better look at her. his gaze soft as it caresses the angles of her face, meeting her gaze and laughing once more. "I can ask the staff to prepare as a little something..." he proposes, cupping her cheek, thumb ghosting over the peak of her cheekbone."...and we can take the baby to the beach for an evening stroll..." and dinner, goes unsaid, for she knows how forgetful he gets when it comes to meeting his on needs, especially when it comes to eating. but he has dearly missed spending relaxing, long evenings with her, and it is a beautiful day. and their babe, of course, is all enough now for them to take outside with them; but he trusts her motherly instincts better than he trusts his own judgement, for she has proven to be a brilliant mother before even their little human was born. "don't you worry about me.." he adds after a short pause, though maybe he has grown to like this feeling, of someone caring about him and looking out for him, instead of him having this role for everyone. constantly. he leans down and kisses her forehead, pulling her in a hug, arms wrapped around her small waist. the scent of her hair familiar and sweet, soothing what ails his mind as he pulls her a tad harder to him. kisses her forehead, the tip of her nose. "let's go get our girl..." he mutters then, running his fingers through her locks before relaxing his hold.

[mr-merlin]

[nicholas-richerd]

mr-merlin‌:

merlin photos 14/∞ 

[nicholas-richerd]

dufort‌:

“–have I come at a bad time, dear knight?” Amphelice wonders with feigned innocence as she intrudes upon Nicholas’ space– bright-eyed and rosy cheeked, a spark of mischief in her eyes, plain as day to see; the corners of her mouth fold upward just so, too, suggesting a further intrigue than she would otherwise verbally confirm, for her entrance had been so noiseless, and her footsteps had been so light and soft and graceful that she stood almost within a few feet of him before he was even aware of her presence. “why, if I recall, a little lark told me he would lend a hand for a bit of gathering–am I to pick all my herbs and flowers myself, monsieur? what sort of man have I made my husband?,” the right-side corner of her mouth– all sweet and soft and rosy– slants up.  Amphelice then looks to place her hands on the tight breadth of his shoulders and lean up on her toes, to attempt to peer over him at whatever it is her lord and husband may be up to that have kept him for so many an hour from her and their babe, her expression, softened now, conveying the tender warmth she feels from the inside, out. 

—the sound of her voice draws him almost involuntarily out of the words spilled over the fine piece of paper, his wife gathering all of his attention at once. lips curl into an effortless smile. he did not hear her coming, if he is being honest, and he is surprised that she has become so good at matters that he is considered an expert. the thought makes him smile even harder; how proud he is of her little talents. “a spoiled man...apparently...” he responds in a teasing manner, watching her as she moves closer, the smile ever so present on his lips. unfaltering. “I will help you...” he notes then, leaning a little closer against her as she comes to stand right behind him, feeling the tension in his shoulder melt away at once at her touch. a soothing, warming gesture. laid across the desk was a piece of paper, a letter from the reverent about receiving better security at a convent north. he turns to face her, arms wrapping around her small frame, pulling her closer. “how is our baby?” he asks her in a soft tone, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, head tilting to the side a little. he was beyond excited with their baby, never once felt indifferent to either her or their small bundle of joy because she had given him a daughter and not a son; she had delivered a strong, healthy baby and no matter the gender of the child that was what he most cared about; a mother and baby in good health. and he was a father now, and very much ecstatic about this

[nicholas-richerd]

{ back to you ;; amphelice }

—the battle raged on for hours. days. it felt like no matter how many of them they killed, they somehow grew in number. the sharp cold of winter did not make matters any easier; if anything it penetrated through the armor and chainmail, chilling them to the bone. freezing, exhausted and starved. but it was nothing he was not accustomed to; years ago, his father, Leon, had foreseen this and took great pride in getting him familiar with such situations. over and over again. so much so that it now felt normal to him, the weather condition not making his mission any harder than it already was. filled with pride and persistence, he knew that his men, the King’s army, would prevail. when the last of their enemies retreated, they declared victory. it was what was expected of them, nonetheless, what the whole kingdom of france had been expecting of them. 

and so their journey back home begun. blood and dirt. smeared over his armor. his blood mixed with that of those who tried to kill him stain the metal. he is bloody, battered and bruised. it took days to get back, but it was all worth it. the biggest concern on his mind as he unmounts his horse outside of his estate is that his wife will see him like this; not that he wishes to hide something from her, he would never, but she is heavy with child and he wishes not to worry or trouble her. the plan was to sneak in the house, clean up and get changed before she gets to see him in this mess, however, he knows he cannot hide anything from her and she will probably be the first at the door to greet him. he heads for the door, his steps sure but slow, each of them sending a jolt of pain through his body. he thinks he catches a glimpse of her on the window, heart leaping in his chest, wishing more than anything to see her, despite the state that he is in; he can reassure her about his well being. he is anxious and a good kind of nervous. similar to the kind he has been so many times when he is coming back to her from a battle or from being far away for far too long. heart doing that stupid little thing where it stops beating for a long moment. but he really cannot wait to hold her in his arms, kiss her. he anticipates the moment when he will be able to see how much their child has grown in her stomach, and her, heavy with child shall be a little groggy and nagging from all the discomfort, and his greatest regret is that he has been away for a long time, has missed most part of all the pregnancy stages she went through; without the endless support of her husband.

[merlincastdaily]

[nicholas-richerd]

merlincastdaily‌:

Medici: The Magnificent | 2.01

[bradleyjamesjr]

[nicholas-richerd]

dufort:

Liquid fire ignites in her veins at the very touch of his mouth upon her throat. Her eyes shut, and she arches her neck slightly, obviously enjoying his attentions. The quilt is pulled above them, enclosing them in a warm, dark tent of private passion and she feels the hardness of his fingers as they caress her back, her waist, her thighs, hungered for the whole of her, making her quiver in delight. They are hard and callused from the yielding of sword and bow, but their touch is the touch of a lover, and she sighs breathlessly, reveling at long last in the sensation of his strong arms around her, stroking over her pale, milky skin, the curve of her hips, pressing her close. She pulls her head away from his shoulder and raises her flushed face to his, her curls spilling like silk about her neck as she tips her chin delicately, kissing him back fiercely, now, a long, slow, deep, moist kiss that has her pulse swelling, and breathless, wet gasps spilling from her lips, clutching at him feverishly in the flickering light that drifts over them through the half open window. “–mmm…“ she mewls tenderly, her heart racing. “this kiss alone was worth the riding thirty miles in the rain, no?” she jests in a breathless little drawl, nestling closer to his chest; she can feel the heat from his body, see the golden stubble of beard under the skin of his face, and when he bends his mouth to hers once more, her heart leaps in her chest with such affection and joy, it makes her lose all sense about her, drowning in the sweetness of his mouth and tongue, all liquid, wet heat, soft, tender laughter dripping from her mouth soon after, a bright, lovely expression falling over her rapt little face as they stroke and caress at each other as wife should dot on husband and husband on wife, every little touch of him sending little shivers down the length of her spine, squealing softly at his compliment, her cheeks aflame with a rosy blush. Oh, how did she miss him! Terribly, intolerably so! How had she ached and longed for him! What heavenly bliss was it, now, just to sit by him in silence, just to touch his skin and hear him speak and laugh and jest with her; bliss beyond all mortal telling, for she can picture at this moment no greater bliss on earth than this! God, never, thinks she, never have I loved man as I love him! What blessing is it, to have him back home to her, safe and unharmed! He laughs, and she trembles in his arms, the flickering light from the fire burning in the brazier casting a rosy glow on the pearly curve of the skin over her high cheekbones, voice warm and lilting."I love you as well! I love you, I love you, I love you! You are my love and my lord and my husband, and I will love you as long as I live, and as long thereafter as God wills!” she drawls sweetly, her mouth to the jut of his chin, giggling at his sly jests and gasping a little at his suggestion, pelting him in the chest with the back of her hand, “oh, Nicholas! – Have you not had me all night and half the morn, now? what shall the servants think of us, spending all the day cooped up in here?” she breathes half in jest, colours shyly, teeth catching her lower lip in a coy fashion as she toys with the fair hair upon his chest, feeling the smoothness of them tickle her fingers, giddy and dizzied with her love of him; there is something softer about her, too, as she grins up at him, a warm gentleness in the curve of her bright smile, the glint of her gaze;  she is a delicate, ethereal creature in his arms, swaying and willowy, light and graceful and overflowing with something so tender and joyful, it makes her appear almost not of this world, her pulse a wild, fierce thing against his as she lays upon him, stroking the curve of his jaw. Never before, has she appeared this soft and delicate; her face, too, is bathed in something akin to a glow: there is gem-like brightness on her unbound hair and in her big blue eyes; there is warm red life in her lips; her throat has a breathing whiteness above the blue silk of her robe which itself seems to wind about her neck and cling down her blue-gray bodice with a tenderness gathered from her own, every curve, every swell and dip of her neck and throat, soft and beautiful in such a way, it can make one gasp in awe upon the very sight of it; radiant is she, and soon, she is dipping her mouth over his cheek with wild, joyful excitement and pressing sweet, messy kisses all over his face; his chin and nose and eyelids, his jaw and throat and the spot between his eyes, giddy and half out of breath, lilting a sweet little, “I shall have you know that I have a surprise for you, Sir Knight!” between soft, adoring kisses, entirely unable to contain her joy, pressing him even closer to her, delirious with her adoration of him, the sheer intensity of her joy that her lord and husband is back to her. “–I shall take you somewhere very special…” she alludes, rubbing their noses together affectionately.  

—nothing could wipe the smile off his face now, as he is holding her close, enjoying the feeling of her pressed hard against him. oh, how has he longed to see her again; see her like this once again, after having been away for months and having missed everything and all that is her. from the lovely sound of her voice, to the way she gazes upon him with those bright blue eyes of hers that shine more than the sun itself. he has missed the feeling of her silky soft dark curls spilling through his fingers as he idly combs them through her locks. how her skin feels against his, underneath his fingertips; all pale and soft, flawless. and holding her now, like this, having her all to himself with no interruptions whatsoever, nothing that could pull him away from her now (not even an uproar against the King), he finds himself in a state of unimaginable glee and bliss. the sound of her sweet, airy laughter and lilting voice make his pulse hasten every single time, and now it is no exception, of course. laughter fell from his lips at her comments, smiling hard as she pulled her to him. kissing her hard again. “let them think what they will, my heart…” he responded, his voice low against her lips. for no matter how he may try it is nearly impossible a task to pry himself away from her, even for a short moment. he had suffered enough through it, now he cares for nothing but to hold and touch her, kiss her a million of times, over and over again. hands pouring over her curves, he looked up at her, meeting her lovely blue eyes, adorned by those dark, long lashes. how his heart adores the very thought of her! he is so beyond delighted to be able to hold her again! and it only made for his heart to beat faster at the way she plants a thousand of kisses all over his face, delighted and joyful herself. however, there is something different about her; a different kind of glow. not that she has not always been beautiful, that would be a lie to claim, but she appears different, too, something he cannot put his finger on quite yet. the words she spoke made him curious as to what she is hinting at, and then, for a very brief moment, he stopped. breath caught in his throat; could it be…? a smile formed on his lips, bright and genuine, and though he did not want to get ahead of himself, he could hardly help the way the feeling blossomed inside of him, the pure, raw excitement at the prospect of what he thought that her words meant. “you are not saying…” he begun, and though his words do suggest a doubt, the smile that so easily formed on his lips does not. never had he thought of it before so intently, but now that he so strongly believes that this is going to be her gift to him, he cannot help how happy he is feeling. and he knows his wife far too well to notice the subtle changes about her; on her body and that different glow she has about her. like she is walking wrapped up in a golden light —which is nothing new, but it is just a different kind of light. and the prospect of him becoming a father is exciting to him; a father to their baby. a baby who’s mother he adores beyond any words could ever effectively describe and beyond any human comprehension. there is not a thing he wouldn’t do for this woman and he only regrets not having had more time with her, with all his work before and all the work that came after their wedding. how the uprisings and uproars started soon after their honeymoon. but he also could not be happier in life than he is with her. no woman had ever drawn his interest and he had never loved anyone before her, even planned on remaining unwed to be better focused on his duties. life with her is beautiful, though; a gift to him from her, she is a treasure that he never wishes to lose, ever, and plans on fully and entirely dedicating whatever time he has to her. loyal and faithful and in love, for life. forever, if he can. and if his assumptions are to be confirmed by her, to their baby too; though deep down in his heart he already knows that he will always choose her first. always. and as for that there is not a single ounce of doubt in his heart. if for some reason he ever had to make a choice between them, he would choose her. for in his life she is the most important person. she is the sole reason why he has come to find such true, deep and raw happiness and things that left him uninterested before, and even the simplest thing is a joy with her. “oh, do tell me, my heart!” he prompted her, longing to hear it from her lips, to be sure that they will be having their first child together! and to know how she fairs, have all the time to worry about whether she is eating right and resting properly, even more than he did before, and tease her about being a mom. the anticipation nearly killing him, but still he remained, soothing his hands down the length of her back, a bright smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

[nicholas-richerd]

{ for the code ;; domenico }

—the Commander overlooked the field were men lied lifeless amongst the wildflowers. the battle had not been long, nor had it been particularly difficult, but the ever growing number of rebellions and instances such as this one was problematic in each own, making his and the King’s work difficult. the smell of blood and guts still hang in the air and it was strong enough to upset anyone’s stomach, but he had grown far too accustomed to the smell to be bothered by it. or any smell concerning blood, really. not even the combination of it with cider was bothersome enough to the Commander, nevermind that his Squire had vomited a couple of times in the process of cleaning his sword and chainmail the other day. Nicholas had gotten irritated, telling him of how delicate a stomach he must have to be so easily upset by a smell. a stench, many would argue, but still. the only concern he truly had was to get back home to his wife; having missed the very sight of her, the feeling of her. there was no greater ail for the Commander’s mind than longing to get back to his wife’s side, see that bright smile of hers and look into those deep blue eyes, shower her in affections and find himself in the receiving end of her attentions. it did not matter that he had only been away for a day this time, the last battle had lasted for far too long, having kept him away from her in months. now he simply wanted to enjoy his time with her and the little life that was growing in her belly. oh, how delighted he was that he was going to be a father! a smile crept on his lips at the thought and he mounted his horse at once, instructing his trusted four legged companion to get him back home, fast.

it has been a while since he had begun riding, the blood on his armor had dried out by now, when he heard people conversing in agitated tones further ahead. slowing the pace of his horse, the Commander approached the sight. more arrogant than he was cautious, for he had always had little care for getting himself in trouble or in danger, far too trusting in his abilities for fear to even cross his mind for a fleeting second. but he was met with two footmen, arguing over a broken wheel, the carriage stuck over a large stone. a little further was a man standing whom he recognized as the Sardinian Prince, who was a guest at the French court, thus he was bound to offer his aid. to show a good face for himself and their King, of course.

“Your Highness,” he greeted, unmounted his horse, bowing his head lightly for a moment. “may I offer my assistance?” he proposed, though by all means believed that the Prince would understand he meant not to fix the carriage, but provide some security whilst it was being repaired by the men.

[nicholas-richerd]

dufort:

@nicholas-richerd  

& so her lion returned from battle, sullied from head to foot in the throes of war. With every return, she received him more ferocious than before, starved for her affections; such an insatiable appetite was inspired by the gnawing of steel to flesh and bone, and the long, endless days and nights spent away from one another — that the very instant he arrived, the armor fell apart like paper skin, lace and steel and the red of her silken skirts dripping to the floor with furious, desperate haste, hands and mouths long starved for each other dragging across necks and throats and thighs, slick, tender; breathless–the both of them; teeth against teeth in a motion of passion which left lips colliding in slick, fierce kisses and heated sighs in their wake, and her, yielding to his every touch and caress, heat and warmth and affection overflowing; intimately intertwined with the mind and the heart and the passions of him, giving herself up entirely to the sweetness of his kisses and embraces and what more he might desire of her–and though Nicholas came to her with a hunger, it was she who took control of the helm of the beast. With her mouth pouring against his neck, she let her teeth rake across the muscled flesh of his throat and down, until she was coveting the hard line of his collarbone; such a furious advance of lips and teeth and tongue that she awoke a bruise, a possessive mark, there for them to remember come morning. And when the morn came, she lay softly on his naked chest and watched him sleep with such a feeling of fierce, wild adoration in her bosom, it made her heart swell, made her dizzy and breathless with her love for him– dipping delicately over him after a time and stealing long, tender kisses– smoothing his hair back from his brow and pressing there, too, dotting, warm kisses, urging him to keep his bed for a while more, for she would be loath to stir him awake at such early an hour. She laid herself down along their bed, pressing her body warmly against his, looking in dizzied tenderness at his golden hair shining in the sunlight, his chest that rose and fell with his quiet breathing, and thought with satisfaction, This sweet man of mine! He is home– he is home, my own sweet heart! he’s at long last come back to me–safe; unharmed; alive. How precious was he to her– thought she, how tender and vulnerable he grew with her! Oh, how had she missed him! Dreadfully, endlessly so! What torture had it been, not being able to hold and kiss him every day! To see him, and know him safe and alive, away from harm’s way! Oh, how glad, was she, to have him back home once more, where she  could care for and love him as wife should love her husband! She sighed then, sweet and tender, drew their silken sheets tighter around him, affectionately tucking him in with a chaste kiss, and down to the kitchens she went, bidding the maids bring her honey cakes and sweet meats for their master, bustling about excitedly with an air of barely contained joy, all light, airy laughter and rosy cheeks, blushing furiously at the sly jests her ladies made and tossing a slice of bread at them, cheeks blooming with an even greater heat, now; she went herself and made his platter, filling it with such delicacies as he best liked, fresh-cooked fish from the lake, scented with sweet herbs she herself grew in their kitchen and dripping butter; there was hot, fresh barley bread, too, pears and figs and a bowl of freshly picked berries from her little garden, baked apples in cream and wine and marmalade, all manner of delicate and subtle pastries–such food as her lord and husband had seldom tasted of late, away at war and battle, and then, once she had gathered her little tray, back up to their chambers she went, a soft, delicate little thing, joyful and excited, a shining blue-black mass of curls cascading sheer to her thighs as she twirled about in her light blue silks and set the tray aside, moving to his bedside soon after and dipping delicately toward him, pressing a warm, fierce kiss to his mouth. Lush, red lips dragged heatedly across his lips and up to his cheek, placing several, sweet little kisses along his face, to his ear, whispering, in a coy little drawl, “–good morning, my sun and stars,” sweet breath tickling his face as she crawled into their bed with him. She slid her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek into his shoulder, seeking, once more, his warmth and affections. It was so safe here in his arms, she thought, so wonderfully, wonderfully safe. She felt his lips brush over her hair, her ear, across her cheek. The soft skin of his neck was warm against her cheek and she could feel the hard muscles of his back under her hands. She sighed and pulled him tighter to her, whispering, now, “your little wife has brought you food and drink! Shall you break your fast with her?” pretty face bright and rosy as she tenderly held him close to her. 

—arms tighten around her, pulling her closer as soon as he feels her shift in the bed. no matter how deep in slumber he is, he always remains somewhat aware of his surroundings; something he thinks he picked up through years of training as well as being at the ready for whatever nonsense Leon would throw his way. and also he has missed her far too greatly to not be aware of her presence next to him. he came to miss her for such long days and nights while he was away. though, honestly, he was already missing her the second they said their goodbyes and he left their home to go to war. duty often keeps him away from their estate, from her, but it is not a thing he is growing accustomed to. it doesn't get easier and every time he returns home he is longing to touch and hold and kiss her. to keep her to himself all day and all night long. to just feel her hands on his chest and back, taste the sweetness of her lips. the longing and yearning for her never ceases, nor does it become easier. in fact. he believes that when she is his source of strength, his sense of home and anchor, she also is his greatest weakness; there is not a thing he wouldn't do for this woman. and being back to her now makes his good mood hasten, restoring the smile on his face. she whispers something to him before leaving his side, and he lets out a low groan in protest even though he falls back to sleep almost as quickly as he stirred awake from it. he had forgotten how easy sleep came by her side, in their bed. everything comes easy with her, she has been so good to and for him, there are hardly any words he could use to effectively describe just how perfect she is for him. what good she has done for him. and when they are apart, he feels like a part of him is missing. he counts down the days and hours and minutes till he gets to see her radiant little face again. despite the fact that she leaves their bed, he drifts off again because he knows that he is not losing her; this is not a mere dream and she will be there when he wakes up. but still it feels like hours until he feels the bed shift under her light weight, the warmth of her skin against his. a smile curling on his lips. and that smile grows when her attentions are to him, and he laughs softly, fondly at her words. humming lightly, he cups the side of her face in his hand, pulling her mouth to his. kissing her. long and deeply. yearning to have all of her attention to himself, find himself in the receiving end of her affections once more. "good morning, my sunshine..." he is kissing her wherever he can reach; her forehead, over her eyelids, the tip of her nose, along her hairline, her cheekbones, her chin and lips. fingers delve into her her long locks, toying with her hair. how he has missed the silken feel of it! the way it slips through his fingers. how her hair always smell; a floral, sweet scent. a scent he has loved since their first encounters. oh, how he loves every little thing about her! the soft feeling of her pale skin. the warmth she exudes. the sweet feeling of her lips on his, all over his face. the way she loves him and throws herself at him every time, so fiercely. passionately. his heart bursting with all the love he houses for her. beating harder at the very thought of her. "can't breakfast wait a little?" he questions, tone of voice playful, teasing. his arms wrapping around her and pulling her fully on top of him. squeezing her tightly to him. feeling her heartbeat against his own, the sweet breath of hers over his face. "your man hasn't had enough of you yet..." he adds, tipping his head up to plant a kiss on the underside of her jaw. teeth grazing the skin of her jawline lightly. sitting up a little, prompting himself on the pillow, his eyes meet hers. the smile tugging on his lips once again. easily. she is so damn beautiful. he thinks to himself, so otherworldly good looking, he knows not how he has gotten so lucky to have her love him as much as she does. cupping her face in both hands, his lips meet hers in a soft, lingering kiss. drinking her in; every taste, every scent, every heartbeat. his own heart beating fast against his chest. but he is relaxed and happy. "a new day, I haven't told you how beautiful you look today..." he laughs. the palms of his hands press over the curves of her body as he moves them to her waist. his grip light, but slightly possessive. she is a vision, dressed in her blue nightgown. hair spilling down to her knees, in lovely, elegant curls. cheeks rosy. he smiles again, leans up to kiss her again; hard on the mouth. "god, I love you!"

[merthurdaily]

[nicholas-richerd]

dufort:

Amphelice stands several feet away, busying herself with a small, golden vase which now boasts a single long-stem white rose. She places the flower where it can gather some sun, her attention only wavering as he speaks. “—such sharp a tongue you have, Commander! I wonder what it might say about me behind my back?” she smiles and collects a plate with sweet meats and some berries that she has prepared and strides calmly across the room back to her lover, yearning to offer what peace she can to him through a simple, delicate gesture of affection. Setting the plate in reach near him and his guest–a Knight she has many a time now met–, she leans over and places a doting kiss to his temple prior to quietly taking her place at his side, wanting to neither bother nor pester them with idle questions; for, surely, her lord and husband has occasion enough for such angry words, and she cares very little for court gossip and other such talks; tis neither her desire nor her place to question him, not in the presence of others, and thus, she asks not whom he’s cursing so, but only keeps her silence, collecting her silks from the table, meaning to busy herself with her stitching and peering up and over at him with a soft, delicate smile upon her mouth as she begins to slip her silver threads through the needle. The light of the candles illuminates her fresh, rich complexion, her blue liquid eyes, and her silky hair under her head-dress of gold brocade, and her expression softens when their gazes meet, causing her heart to swell with affection. “–Mind you if I stay here with you and stitch? I shall not bother you at all!” she lilts delicately, wanting to make sure her presence is not unwanted, “Tis too dark upstairs to see without lighting a fire, and I should like to be near you…” she explains a little shyly, earning hard, amused laughter from the Knight–Ser Antoine, was it not? An old friend of the Commander, she thinks,-- causing spots of crimson to bloom in both her cheeks. 

—a soft, airy laughter falls from the Commander’s lips, his attention immediately drawn to her as she speaks. such an endearing, cute little thing she is, thinks he to himself, looking upon her beloved form with feverish adoration and love. “only the best things, my heart...” he responds, idly, for he is well aware that she is only teasing, for she definitely has no reason to believe that he would ever speak ill of his wife, the woman that he so much loves and adores, beyond any words could ever effectively describe. and then, when she is joining him at his company at the table, placing a plate before them first and then a sweet kiss upon his temple, he smiles, thanking her quietly. and his attention remains solely on hers, his gaze meeting hers after he picks up a piece of meat, shoves it into his mouth. a tender, fond smile hastens on his lips at her words. such a good, elegant being she is, he thinks to himself, reaching over to hold her hand in his own for a long moment. his love for her mounting. a beaming smile at the sight of her forms on his lips. the Commander knows his wife well, knowing that she is far from a fool; a very intelligent woman, even more fit than most men to express opinions in politics —fact that he is well aware of, for she had gone to him many a times in the past to discuss matters of the court, with fervent interest and patriotism alike. he knows that he can trust her, very much so, with anything that either ails him or he simply wishes to hear of her views and opinions on a matter. and to hear her now, keeping a lower profile, like it is accustomed and socially acceptable for women to do and not mingle in men’s discussions and politics, too, is rather surprising to him. “your presence is very much welcomed, my love.” he responds, placing a soft kiss upon her knuckles, another one in the palm of her hand. “it would be our pleasure to have you join us,” adds him not a moment later, shooting a strict, scolding look towards the Knight that is in their company tonight (and will be for a while longer, surely). “perhaps, you could even share with us your opinion, once you’ve heard of the matter...” he promptly suggests, wishing to openly display the trust that he puts in his wife, sharing everything with her, for she is far too smart to not take her opinions into account.

[nicholas-richerd]

“—there’s no cure for being a cunt...” the words blurt out, sarcasm dripping through each one of them; sometimes he has no filter between his brain and tongue it seems, but the Commander has never been known for neither his tolerance nor for his talent to mask his words with mock flattery or for being a skilled conversationalist (altogether). if anything, most people do consider his honesty to be rather blunt, coming even when unwanted or at times when he could simply lie in order to please his discussant’s ears; but this is not him, never will be. and yes, he does show respect and pays it where it is due, but lying to please has never been a gift of his, so to speak.

[periodfantasy]

[nicholas-richerd]

dufort:

Amphelice, breathless and aching with fierce affection, smooths the hair back from his hot forehead, smiling dizzily as he strokes her delicate curves, her skin smooth and soft like silk under his rough, callused fingers. She nestles against him, listening to the slowing beat of his heart, the quieting of his breathing, and is fiercely glad that she has been able to do this for him, for it is a matter of awe just to see how much pleasure and delight she is able to give to him, and him to her–oh, how she has longed for him through all those lonely nights… How she has burned with passion, laying wakeful in her bed, being not at all able to leave off thinking of him! Now, she is sighing, clutching at his strong shoulders and quivering at his lavish caresses, the sweet, long brushes of his mouth over her skin, yielding herself up wholly to his will and pleasure and drowning in the sensations he awakens in every inch of her body. She tremblingly puts her arms around his neck and her heart blazes up in a flame of such strong and deep a joy she loses her breath, her blue eyes glistening in the firelight. “oh, I have no other plans, but have you the strength for it, Ser Knight? You have been riding through the rain all day…I would be loath to keep you from your rest!” she lilts coyly, giggling, her voice very low and close to his ear as she lovingly strokes the back of his neck, and feels her heart contract, staring at the tawny gold hair, at the chiseled, hard lines of his jaw, fuzzy with the golden stubble of beard; she runs her fingers through it, soft and adoring, and colours at his compliments, her blood heating, “You have…but I shall never tire of hearing it!,” she whispers sweetly, and moves her mouth to the arch of his throat, kissing the beating pulse she finds there with a deep, half open-mouthed kiss, giggling breathlessly at his question, and thinking, gods, never, never has she known such lovely and sweet a man–how precious he is to her, how darling! She knows not what she would ever do without him, and having him back in her arms is making her delirious with sentiment, her heart racing as she grips at him tighter, needing him as close a man can be to woman.

Smiling, she looks at him sideways from under long, gold-tipped lashes, rubbing her nose against his cheek and feeling the prickly softness of his face against her mouth as she sets it upon the apex of his cheekbone, making a soft little sound, “You need not for a while! – you look so nice in a beard, my love! I never in my life saw so masculine a creature before!” she drawls playfully, her voice light and melodic, a loving smile glimmering in her eyes as she looks upon him, blindly reaching for the sheepskin rug atop the stool and dipping it in the water prior to drizzling some sweet soap on it; she tightens her thighs around his lap and sits up a little, her curls dripping about her bare shoulders and drawing gleams of light from the fire burning in the brazier as she begins to attentively rub at his shoulders and down the taut expanse of his torso, yearning to help him wash. The water is getting slightly colder, she thinks, and shyly catches the swell of her lower lip between her teeth as she once more blushes at the thought of him not waiting for the night to have her, but having her twice in the water, of all places; surely, she must be quite the sight in half torn silks and lace and with her curls tumbling down her neck and into the water, sticking to her naked breasts and back; oh, what shall the maids think? she wonders idly, and laughs a little, her nose scrunching up as she steals a coy little look at him, using her free hand to flick water at his face. “Look how you made me look! And here I am, helping you wash!” says she sweetly, stroking the rug against his chest. “are you not happy you have such docile a wife to call your own?” she jests, longing to make him laugh.

"—worry not, for I will deliver," and that is not something he is merely saying, for surely she thinks not that he has not missed her, fervently during all this time away, all these months. besides, every ounce of tiredness and exhaustion have long vanish, since the second he saw her, was able to touch her again. and especially under her beloved care. these are such lovely, cherished moments by him; such intimate, calming interaction between the two of them. it would be a definite lie to claim that he does not enjoy being the center of her attention. a feeling so pleasant awakens when he is finding himself in the receiving end of her affections and love, her tender caresses and adoring touches. never has he known such joy before her in his life, certainly he would never find it anywhere else but with her, just with and by her. for never had a woman excited him before, nor has his heart ever beaten so hard, achingly so, against his chest, filled with love and intimacy for a woman. mayhaps, he could have settled for someone he would merely like, had he found himself old and unwed, but sure he is that he could never have loved another, even more so in the way that he loves her. it is a sin, of that there is no doubt, for he adores her like she is a Goddess, and he forever will with the same devotion Catholics display in public when they speak of God or engage themselves in church's, religious, activities. and he is smiling every time that he is looking at her, effortlessly. a genuine, true smile. "and I shall never tire of saying it, my love..." he exclaims, his tone matching his. and then, she dips her neck and her lips press kisses along his throat and he is sighing with pleasure that each sweet brush of her lips bring, every press of her mouth ignites his skin on fire. his hold on her hips tightens and a lazy smile tugs on his lips. his eyes falling shut for a long moment when her delicate fingers delve into his sun kissed hair, smiling hard and her tender caresses. his hands slide up and down her sides when she leans in closer, feeling her sweet breath against his face and neck. and then, he is laughing at her words, fondly. humming, he pulls her in closer. "so you like it?" teases he, another smile tugging on his lips, hands stroking her curves in a lazy, gentle manner; enjoying the feeling of her silken skin under the rougher one of his fingers, and damned would he be if he said that he did not love this. smiling at the feeling of her long, feathery lashes brushing against his cheekbone, his grip on her tightens a tad. and then another laughter falls from his lips, light and airy. "I don't believe you are making fun of me..." eyes narrowing, voice low, just above a whisper, and he feigns suspicion. and he finds himself in awe at how beautiful she is, her smile shining bright as she is looking at him; and it is evident to him that she is only looking at him, her eyes not even moving from his person when she is reaching to grab something from the stool near the bathtub. her eyes agleam, the fire of the candles burning by the bathtub add a complimentary light to her features; though, if he is being honest, she looks beautiful in everything, never ceases to thieve his lungs of breath, leaving him in awe.

his eyes ever so fixed on the person he holds most dear to him, the one that holds his heart and mind, the woman he is devoted to, body and soul. the blue of his eyes darkening, his pupils dilating and rounding with all the love and affection that he holds for her. his heart skipping a beat or two as he watches her, her own face focused as she moves her dainty hand over his shoulders and chest, rubbing the rug gently against his skin. her cheeks are rosier and she is laughing then, which makes him smile harder. "you look lovely, madame," he defends himself, laughing lovingly as she flicks water at him. his hand moves atop of hers and he holds it for a long moment, simply looking at her before leaning a little to press a kiss on her soft skin, then her knuckles. "indeed, I am!" he nods, laughing, joyous and fond, affectionate too. "not only am I happy, my heart, but I am also very lucky," the Commander adds, playfully, though his tone is genuine. "I think there is no man luckier than I, my love," he adds, his tone a little lower, for they truly hold a weight and he means every single word he says. he leans in and catches her lips in a kiss, teeth sinking into her full lower lip, a faint growling sound at the back of his throat. and then when he is pulling back, he wishes to make her laugh again, hear that adorable sound that he holds so dear at heart. "you worry about what the servants will say?" begins he, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. "...for what will they think of their mistress fashioning a torn dress, drenched in water, her hair spilling from her elaborated hairstyle..." and he tries not to laugh, though a smile forms on his lips and he pecks her on the lips, hard, smiling against her mouth.

[nicholas-richerd]

dufort:

Amphelice smiles when he laughs, and presses close to him, savouring the feeling of his strong hands upon her waist: warm, familiar. The corners of her lips cant up coyly, an amorous expression that outlasts any worries she may boast, for she knows all too well, her husband keeps no secrets from her, and she hums softly, a delicate, melodic sound, pressing a sweet kiss to the finger he brings upon the tip of her nose; her own fingers card through his hair,  nails scratching soothingly over his scalp before her hands come to rest at his neck. “no, not moody. I rather thought you appeared quite lost in thought for a moment…” she lilts sweetly, eyes lit from the pale and silver moonlight that’s spilling over them as they roam about his face fondly, taking stoke of his expression; for her love, she well knows, has always been a proud man of few words, strong and unrelenting, a fierce and savage leader of war and battle; he well knows how to shield his private thoughts and worries from the world, but he cannot hide from her, and she wonders if all is well in the city; if he has had word of rebellion or battle again; for she rarely goes to court when he is here, and although news trickle up to her of the outside world, she finds she cares very little about any of it, least of all for gossip and rumours. The world of their own they are making seems to her at times more absorbing than all the affairs of England, France, and the whole of Christendom combined.  Nevertheless, she is the wife of their nation’s war general, a zealous patriot at heart herself, and often yearns to keep herself abreast of political events, even now, fearing for the time duty shall call her husband away from her once more. “So– what is the meaning of this face?” she reaches out playfully, longing to make him smile, and with her forefinger smooths the slight line that has etched itself between his brows. “You worry too much, my love…even when you think you don’t, you do.” she breathes softly, her heart longing to soothe whatever worries subconsciously burden him; had something happened on the borders? No, surely, he would have told her –is he perhaps simply tired? Then again, the signs of fatigue she sees in him, are slight, only noticeable to the caring, delicate eye of a dedicated lover, and thus are no less apparent to Amphelice; mayhaps, it is truly nothing, then– he has worked all day away from her, and last night, she remembers, he had had but little sleep; that, too, is reason enough to make him frown so, no?  For, otherwise, he appears perfectly happy and content, and not a soul other than her would have ever thought to question his good mood. “oh, Nicholas, I wish you did not have to leave our home at all tomorrow! You just came back and, already, they ask so much of you!” she exhales, her arms moving to his chest, rubbing affectionately over the hard muscles there as she peers up at him softly.

—it is remarkable how well she can read him, better than he his own self; and that without him having to say anything, not even hint to anything, or appear to be in a displeased mood. and she is right, there is not a single thing that he needs to be worrying about right now; for he has exactly what he needs right here, in front of him, in his arms. and when he has her, there is nothing that ails his mind, if only thoughts of leaving her, but that only when he has such news or orders from the King himself. however, unavoidably, worrying is something he has always done every since he can remember himself, something he is rather skilled at since a very young age, too, if he is being honest. it is more destructive and nerve wrecking than it is helpful or constructive, but it is also a habit which he cannot break out of. worrying and overthinking. and since he has been back he swore to himself as he wished not to bring the worries and stress that work related matters cause him back home with him. that, regardless, proves to be nearly impossible for truthfully, there is none he trusts as much as he does his wife and he would rather share everything with her than, a, keep things from her even if it is the silliest, most insignificant thing in the world, and b, ask for her opinion other and over than anyone else's. and he feels a pang of guilt at that thought, cupping her hand over one of hers as she caresses his chest, gently taking her small limb into a loving grasp. his thumb stroking idly over her knuckles. "you read me like an open book!" he tells her, a smile adorning his lips and a teasing, affectionate tone lacing his words. holding her hand in his still, another smile tugs on the corners of his mouth. he, too, wishes that he would not have to leave her side, not for a few hours but not even a couple of minutes. as a matter of fact, he becomes a bit selfish when it comes to her, wishing he would be able to remain at her side, undisturbed, for at least a couple of days. or even better, weeks. but that, of course, is wishful thinking at the times France is in and a bloody religious war brewing. hatred between the Huguenots and Catholics intensifying day after day, by the minute even. "honestly," he begins after a few moments of silence, with only the sounds of nature having disturbed it; chirps of night birds and callings of owls. the sound of the woods falling asleep just as the sun begins to set and is replaced by the silver moon hanging up in its place. "we have been informed of a possible rebellion in the south...some Huguenots..." he tells her, wrapping his arms around her again, holding her a little tighter. "we do not have to go yet, and there is not much we know, but I will tell you when we have more information." and that is much like a promise he makes to her. "but, I promise I am fine, just a bit concern of maybe having to leave you again soon..." and he is honest, for he would loathe to part ways with her again, having to leave her and go work somewhere that she cannot follow. "let us not sour our moods, my heart, I am excited to see where you have planted your herbs!" he proclaims, kissing her forehead, a laughter leaving past his lips, joyous and happy. honestly, genuinely, happy.

[undesirablenumberone]

here we are, under the stars heaven is not so far

[panamaweddings]

I don’t like asking for help, because I don’t like admitting I need it.

c.j.n. (via panamaweddings)