[The scent of warm wax hung in the air next to Loredana, due to the candle she had left to burn next to her while she sat in the oversized wingback chair situated at the foot of the wide bed in front of her. Her deep black hair was left free around her face, whisps as always finding their way into her face as she worked. She remembered a lifetime ago when her hair brushed along her shoulders, yet now the heavy passage of time brought it to hang delicately like a veil caressing her waist, feeling not unlike the weight of the years upon her. Her posture as she sat in the chair was one of utter relaxation, her body draped languidly across it with but a simple bed sheet covering her obviously nude form underneath.
Her head was tilted downward, focused intently on the leather bound journal that rested easily against her thighs. This journal had followed her from the time she had first embraced the Morninglord into her heart, a congratulatory gift from her mother on being accepted into the priesthood. Despite her outward disappointment at the idea of her daughter never having a normal life with a husband and children, Loredana knew that her mother silently supported her choice. It was in this journal that she had spent the last four years of her life confiding all of her doubts and fears, highs and lows, triumphs and defeats and now she found herself facing down a new hurdle in her life. Happiness had never felt genuine to Loredana, try as she might to believe in it. Somehow it always felt more real once penned in the book. It may have been the permanency of it. No matter her doubts, the charcoal on the page remained. The book had long offered refuge for her thoughts yet now it presented a distraction. Her brow creased with a weight that presented a small ache to the wounded skin of her maimed eye that rest beneath the dark strip of cloth concealing its injury. Her thoughts were drawn briefly to that hurt yet as swift as they had come they were gone, replaced by the sight living just beyond the edge of the soft worn pages of her journal. Elenuta.
Loredana had not always thought of him as a man. He had been a student, a friend, and a protector long before she had seen him for what he truly was. He lay there just beyond reach but in her mind she could feel the memory of his warmth. His breathing even in a comfortable sleep but to a shame that brought color to her cheeks, she found herself appreciating the sculpting of the man. How had she not see him, until now? As her hand glided across the page, sketching the contours of the man before her, her mind raced, recalling past moments between her and her Lion.
He had proclaimed his love for her long before, a heartfelt confession that she, in her infinite wisdom, had brushed off and concluded it was not but a crush. He took it in stride and never left her side. Always there. Always supporting her every decision and never questioning her. She remembered the silent emotion in his eyes when she would catch him looking at her from afar, the absolute adoration that was so intense there would never be a mask discrete enough to conceal what he felt. Her lips curled pleasantly into a smile as she recalled the moment her heart opened to the slumbering man. She had wandered into Vallaki, soaked through with blood, her trip to Borca had taken a turn for the worse and the trauma she suffered was evident on her right down to her very core. Elenuta had found her, those brilliant green eyes of hers were glazed over and lost, she resembled a woman who had misplaced the very hope that made her who she was. She felt his strong arms wrap around her fragile form, hefting her up, pressing her against his firm physique. He had moved quickly through the city, his well toned legs pushing him towards the sanctuary, desperate to see the faith return to her eyes, the faith that brought them together in the first place.
It was all a blur then to her. One moment she was in the city, alone, and the next she was stripped bare and soaking in the tub with Elenuta watching over her, his full lips turned downward in a frown of worry. She remembered the water within the tub being stained crimson, as his strong and calloused hands washed the dried blood from her tawny skin. It swirled through the water like a maelstrom, those glassy eyes of hers unable to tear themselves away from that which would sure swallow her whole. That is, until he spoke to her. She could not recall the words he spoke, but the intonation in them is what saved her that day. True love resonated in the whispered words, words that were so full of care and anguish, and suddenly she was unable to look anywhere else but at him. His thick hair, so dark and wild, surrounded his face exactly like the mane belonging to a Lion. A fitting moniker for the beautiful creature who met her gaze now. There. In that moment, was when the flood gates to her heart crashed open, unable to hold back the raw devotion she glimpsed in his eyes.
Next thing she knew, she was wrapped up in a cloak, his cloak. It smelled of him, like the smoke of wood and fire and it enveloped her tiny frame easily. Once again, he had lifted her up into arms, holding her so tightly that for a moment she couldn't breathe and when she did she was met again by the scent of him, glad for the invasion. Next she was in bed, nestled warmly under the thick blankets, surrounded by pillows, used to make her as comfortable as possible. Vaguely she recalled his husky voice, speak the words "Sleep, Lore" before her eyelids, heavy with fatigue, fluttered closed and she succumbed to the darkness.
When she awoke, the sun was struggling to make its way through the Barovian haze, but it was obvious that it was nearly mid-day. Elenuta was nowhere to be found, the only trace that he had even been there, that last night was not some fever dream brought on by trauma was that his cloak, complete with his scent, was still draped around her. They never spoke of it, that night, and what the other may have seen within the depths of their souls by simply gazing into each others eyes. The two of them, the Vicar and the Lion, returned to their designated roles as protectors of Vallaki, that is until the incident that left her partially blinded.
Loredana paused in her sketching, bringing the journal up towards her lips to blow the residual chalk dust from the pages. It amazed her more and more everyday now that she continued to see more around her now, with only one eye, than she ever did before.
"I was always yours."
Those words he spoke to her the night before had settled in her heart and awoken something within her that she had coveted since she was a child. Only in her wildest dreams did she think that she would find true happiness, it was always something she had convinced herself was just out of reach to her. Yet there he lay, the man who had fought for so long to prove to her that she deserved it, the man who had put her broken heart back together time and again.
It was then that her hand ceased its movements, the broad strokes of someone sketching ended. Her gaze turned down to the drawing, to examine it with a warm smile resting on her lips. It was nowhere near finished, and far from beautiful but the emotion she felt when she looked upon it was all she needed to know. Quietly she closed the book, leaving it on the arm of the chair, forgotten. Padding her way over towards the bed, wrapped in nothing but that thin blanket, her remaining eye gazed down at him as he continued to sleep. His expression was one of peace and she realized that he felt the same as she did. Crawling onto the large bed, the solid oak of the frame creaked as she moved and she slid in next to her Lion, his arm coming about her protectively, even as he slept. Loredana marveled then, as the warmth of his body consumed and heated her that for the first time ever, there was no need to commemorate her happiness in her journal for it to feel real. It simply was.]
