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He had been training in the yard, lost in the sweat and flurry, blissfully mindless, when the family had arrived. Damocles stared; it was a momentary triumph for his opponent. Wincing at the sudden sting of pain, he raised his hand to the new cut on his cheek. Tasting blood at the corner of his lip, he signaled for a pause, his eyes still locked on her. The Lady Maeve had not looked out his way; her eyes were firmly on the ground as she dipped a low curtsy to his father and followed her parents inside. Ripping a cloth from the servant standing nearby he wiped his brow. Breathing heavy, he scrubbed at his eyes–saw her face, troubled but beautiful, dignified despite their disgrace–and opened them again, a blurred vision focusing itself on trampled grass. His brow furrowed. Then he had straightened and beckoned towards his friend: 'Again.'

Damocles Faye, Secret Affairs (The first time Damocles saw Maeve Prideaux).

#rereading #quotes #damocles faye #maecles #maeve faye

"I am not usually so...rugged." "Shame."

#Maecles #secret affairs #Ama liveblogs #oh these two #quotes #aka the moment I realized Maeve wasn't the sweet innocent and ultimately wronged damsel ^_^

Look I'm not saying Maecles were love at first sight Particularly given that it wasn't the first time they saw each other AND a revamp w/ fleshed out Pendulum will change a couple things around (including the addition of Kim which I'm SO excited for) I'm just saying, Damocles was distracted enough to get cut while sparring.

#Maecles #Maeve Prideaux #Damocles Faye #secret affairs #Ama liveblogs

{chapter twenty-six: 4} maeve&damocles faye

Maeve: *She actually felt sick, a trait that Maeve was never associated with. She didn't catch colds, run fevers, get dizzy, or have nausea, not once. Even during her pregnancies, she felt no discomfort apart from the one placed on her back and ankles with the growing weight. Evelyn teased about her envy, and congratulated Damocles on his enormous good luck. Maeve had gone through crises and treated wounds ranging from first degree burns to amputated limbs, but she never once felt sick. Today, however, she felt the burn of nausea at the back of her throat for what would happen today.

Sending her maid Elise away with a forced smile after she had finished with her hair, Maeve stood. She had long ago learned that she had to carry herself and walk as if the ground weren't crumbling beneath her very feet.

Maeve had been so uncertain at first, as her role of Lady Faye, and the responsibilities that came with it, but not for long. The position of power was one that both she and her husband were thrust in very quickly 18 years ago, they never really had a chance to look back. Now as other crises loomed over them constantly, Maeve missed the company of her dear friends the most, as did Damocles, she could tell. She wasn't surprised to find him standing by the window when she entered silently into his study, knowing all too well that for all the troubles plaguing her mind, he had almost twice as many. Reaching him, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed herself close, kissing a clothed shoulder blade and breathing him in.* Could you sleep at all?

Damocles: *It would be impossible for him not to remember the last two times he had stood on a morning such as this, related as they were. And if he was being honest, though only the first had ended in death, it was the latter that haunted him now. There was a dip where he stood near the window, years of worrying the spot with his relentless tread making him sure he stood in the same place as he had that cold October morning. Hands clasped behind his back, his legs spread in a Lord's stance from force of habit, he considered the absurdity of that. When he had been younger, he would never have thought this room would remain his. Yet Damocles had never taken his father's bedchambers as his own, for it would never have felt right in them. Instead he had - once Maeve acquiesced - given them to Vladimir. It was the first time he had taken a step into them since his father's death, clearing the room of cobwebs to paint it bright to amuse his son in his crib, chasing away the ghosts of his father's ills with the cries and laughter of a newborn.

It was another ill of his father's he fought against now. It was eerie, looking down from the window to the training fields as they had that morning, the morning he had woken and thought his friend would be killed. Rowland had only admitted the truth of the accusation against him two days prior -- he had been teased relentlessly by his friend that he had made him wait purely for glories sake, the image of a man who did not know how to show his honest gratitude.That was all right; the jape had been needed by him as well - perhaps Rowland's tease had been more indicative of how well his old friend had known him. The man had never in his life been a coward. Perhaps the tease was where he had gotten the idea. Now he made another wait, for the sake of the moment needed to make clear his intentions.

He had sworn it that October morning -- though the idea had been in the back of his mind from the the moment he watched his sister cry, the day her love was lost for this insane idea that a human being was at fault for his birth -- and he swore it last night, and he swore it now. Execution was not a punishment that did anything but inspire more violence. And until every possible other course has been followed to the point of exhaustion, it was not an act he would ever perpetrate. A hard thing that, to sue for peace with murder.

He didn't startle as he felt his wife's arms wrap around him, her warm, soft body against his melting his statue. Arms unclasping, he chuckled a warm grumble at the back of his throat and twisted his head to look at her, wondering briefly how he had ever coped without her there.* Love, am I so insignificant now that you do not even notice my absence? *He leaned to kiss her once, taking more comfort in the soft embrace than he knew how to give at the moment.* I did...but not much. I shudder to think my morning must be spent with Claudius - as if it is not dreadful enough a day already - but honestly, I am sure I will be in danger of falling asleep.

Maeve: *Her lips spread into a small smile so easily at his words, immediately calmed by him. They had been each other's rock, each other's support for nearly twenty years now, and Damocles never failed to make her feel like everything would be okay so long as she was in his arms.* No, I merely know better than to think that just because you laid in bed, that you managed to rest. *It had taken her longer than normal to fall asleep the night before, and he had still been awake by the time she was finally lulled into slumber. Kissing him back tenderly, she nodded once after he pulled back, expecting that answer. She chuckled, smiling fondly, a trace of sadness in her tone as she remembered.* Listening to him for an eternity and a half...*she chuckles again.* I do not envy you, my love.

Damocles: *Arms encircling his wife's waist, a smile came to his lips just to see hers. It was instantly threatened and strained. To hear Rowland's words leave her lips, even with a chuckle, he was amazed he found breath to respond.* That is the real miracle accomplished spending time with the man. *Amazed, but not too amazed, he thought wistfully -- almost as though he could hear Rowland telling him "sarcastically" that his friend was astounded Damocles could find it in him to talk. He clenched his teeth, hissing through the sudden emotion and looking back to the window. Hearing Maeve's quiet remark, he reached for her hand, and gripped hard.* Few would. And even if they did, I am well aware I do not have it in me to give the title up. *He shook his head briefly, eyes fixed on a training dummy in the yard, that wooden and straw knight which had braved some of his darkest moods. There was a wry smirk on his lips as he muttered, incredulous at himself,* Much as part of me might wish to take you and the children and go -- leave, never come back, I know also whatever...hardships come with it, I like it. I truly do. *He felt ashamed to admit it, astonished at himself even though he imagined his wife would not be surprised. Needing the reassurance, he looked back to her, saying in earnest.* It is good we do here. *His gaze darted up, biting his lip as he examined his curtain with harsh criticism. Tone bitter, he remanded the statement.* Try to do here, will do here. Need, to do here. *Now he looks back at his wife, hand closed around her fist, clenching as he swore his promise,* I will not let it happen. Whatever occurs on that scaffold, we are not going to be taken down by these small, pitiful excuses for men anymore than we were by dragons and vampires. *He kissed her, promise hot.* We won't allow it.

Maeve: *She knew that. Damocles had spent his entire life in preparation for the day he would rule, the same way they were preparing Vladimir now. Damocles loved his position, and not only because of the power (though she knew very well he enjoyed that as well; a man like him needed power), but because of what being Lord entailed: the town and people he helped. He was proud in his work, their work, and she was too. She licked her lips and added lightly* I'm relieved, I only married you for your title, after all. *The lies manifested in that sentence were too outlandish to consider for even half a second. She pressed another kiss to his shoulder, nodding her, nose grazing against his shirt as she did so. Maeve wished more people could see how hard Damocles worked for the betterment of this town, of this court, of the Wizarding World in general. He was a man of prospects and vision, of advancement, of justice. It had been so easy for them to cheer for him when the foes were vampires and dragons and invading knights, but as soon as the enemy presented itself as one of their own, they turned on him. But his resolve was unwavering, strengthened in fact, and he always did the right thing. Maeve wished more people could see the man he was through her eyes. Her eyes closed as she met his lips with hers once more, his words hitting her mouth afterwards, her eyes fluttering open again to watch him, and behold the fierceness in his gaze.* I am so proud of you, my love. *She kissed him quickly again* And so sorry for anyone who thinks they stand a chance.

#chapter twenty six #maeve faye #damocles faye #maecles #book: the proclamation #feelings #Q