Mr. and Mrs. Stefan Dornkirk. [Stefan]

[Eitan Angevin]

2nd Ash, 121 Steel
White Knight Hall

Eitan wasn't normally the first to leave a good party, but for once, the people involved mattered more to him than a good time. He was there for his sister and his brother-in-law but spent most of his time with Brenner. Then there was the dancing and the drinking and the schmoozing. Thankfully, for once, he seemed able to mostly schmooze with the people he wanted to see. His stepmother and half-sisters were friendly enough, and even his father was hearty in his presence. Perpetua sat next to him for a while as they plotted how to take care of Stefan should he mistreat Delia, though of course, they were joking. At least, he thought they were joking. One never knew with his grandmother. He was just pleased that he and Delia were her favorites because he would rather face the armies of Kalzasi than his grandmother.

He stayed for cake and all, but had a brief, quiet word with the newlyweds just before the pageantry of their big farewell. Then he was off, taking a cab home to make sure everything was in order at the Hall. He wasn't sure he liked its name before it had become Fverard Manor, but he didn't want someone else's name upon it. Perhaps when Stefan and he returned from the expedition, they could brainstorm something with Delia that was more suitable.

But of course, everything was perfect when he arrived home so there was little to do but cool his heels. He had done everything he could, and both Delia's maid and Stefan's man Dienerin had gone behind him and made sure that his broad strokes were perfected for their mistress and master.

He was about to flee to his own room, not wanting the exhausted couple to have to deal even with him until they had their night's rest, but then the key turned in the lock and he froze.

"Sod it," he muttered as Delia preceded Stefan, or tried to.

"Sod it," she muttered. "Sodding door."

Instantly, Eitan guffawed and hurried over to dig in her voluminous skirts for the catch that would unlock the second, rarely used half of the two-door entry. Mollified, she didn't seem too tired to sniff at the foyer with mock distaste.

"This dump can't even handle a proper gown, Eitan."

He kissed her cheek.

"Welcome home, snob. I was trying to hide before you arrived but I suppose you needed more help after all. For your enormous dress and your enormous ego." Then he smiled at Stefan coming in behind her.

"Welcome home, brother."

[Stefan Dornkirk]

Stefan had offered his hand to help Delia down himself, rather than letting the finely dressed footman attend her. He felt oddly possessive of helping her, supporting her. There would be no snapping at the serving staff if one of them did their job before he could get to it, and it wasn't as though he intended to go down into the kitchens to try and prepare something when she was hungry. It was more that...

Well, he was allowed. He'd never been allowed to take care of someone who had chosen to be with him of their own accord before.

Brenner had been under his care, all his life, but that had been started when his brother had been born and not seen now that they were adults. It was something everyone knew about, brothers took care of each other, of course, elder brothers more so, but not something people spoke about or looked at directly. A wife though; a man was expected to take care of his wife. People looked at how a man served the needs of his spouse, thought better of him when he did well, and poorly when he failed.

Not that Stefan was doing it for the praise of others, or from fear of their censure. He wanted to be good to Delia, for her to want for nothing, to be nurtured in her ambitions and supported in her causes. She was giving him the last thing he needed, allowing him the fulfillment of his duty and the hopes of his heart. Perhaps Brenner had started doing it when he came, and certainly, Eitan had been a piece he'd scarcely dared hope for at all coming shining into his life like a white knight to match the name of his Hall, but Delia was the Cap Stone; to crown and complete.

His hand kept hold of her's leading her up the stairs, even though she knew perfectly well how to walk in her exquisite gown without tripping. It had been a long day, one with many glasses of champagne, and while she wasn't wobbling or showing signs of inebriation there were little shows of weariness about her pretty eyes and mouth.

When they reached the door he pulled from his breast pocket the key he had kept there all day, acting as a talisman; promising rest and comfort at the end of the ordeal. Handing it to Delia he said, as earnestly as he could manage,

"Welcome home, Mrs. Dornkirk." She gave him a radiant smile that filled him with a sort of pride he'd never felt before and wasn't sure what to do with, except smile back.

Placing the key in the lock to their new home Delia lead the way... only to become stuck. Hearing Eitan's voice through the door, even though he couldn't yet see his new brother-in-law made it feel even more like coming home for Stefan, though the fact that he was swearing, and that Delia was then also swearing almost made him laugh.

As Eitan worked to get the second door panel open Stefan dropped to one knee, with no thought for his own finery, to rescue Delia's. The last thing he wanted was for her exquisite gown to tear at the last minute. When he had ensured nothing was caught he stood again and they both made their way inside.

Beaming over the head of his shorter bride at Eitan he said,

"Thank you." For a moment he had the urge to do to the man the same thing he'd done the first time he'd stood in this hallway, but the thought appeared and fled in an instant.

"Would you care to show us to our suite, brother?"

[Eitan Angevin]

Though both the Dornkirks—he would have to adjust his thinking now that his sister was a Dornkirk—had seen the Hall prior to agreeing to move in and play stewards of the property when he was off attending to his duties with the Air Defense Corps, he grinned in acknowledgment. He didn't anticipate much in the way of discomfort or awkwardness, but it did feel good to have some small acknowledgment that the place was his, the achievement was his. Stefan was an heir and Delia was a trueborn daughter; at least the baseborn bastard had managed to secure himself a property. It made him feel more secure in himself, more able to give to those he cared about.

Delia took Stefan's arm lightly, wanting to take these steps with him together. Her smile was tired, but happy. She was willing to let down her social mask for the man she had sworn to make a life with. They followed Eitan as he gave a lighthearted tour that made a beeline to the master suite, which he had decided they ought to share since he would spend less time in the Hall and they had babies to make.

Once inside, he grew a bit more visibly nervous; he was also willing to drop his social mask for them. He pointed out the water for drinking, the water for ablutions if they hadn't the energy for bathing tonight, the bottle of champagne chilling in a silver server, the snacks under a glass cloche that would keep well past morning if they found an appetite in the meantime.

"I would love to stay and chat, but I'm certain that wouldn't be appropriate anymore. But I will see you on the morrow for breakfast or... in the afternoon, depending on how things happen." He laughed, kissed Delia, and spread his arms to offer Stefan a brotherly embrace.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

The tour was charming, as was almost everything else Eitan ever did. There was no jealousy in Stefan for his new brother, only comfort in being in both his presence and his home. Their home now, really.

Delia felt good on his arm, an anchor to steady him when he might rather wish to float away and disappear, as he had throughout the day. Her presence being a steadying force for him was already proving its great worth and spoke well of their compatibility for the future. His only hope was that he could prove as useful and comforting to her.

When they arrived Eitan's nerves, showing a bit at the edges, oddly helped Stefan relax his own. After the long, dreaded day, this night, which he had long thought of with some degree of trepidation, didn't feel so daunting. Eitan's offered hug was more than welcome and it was an effort not to simply fall into it and rest there. The embrace was not quick, but neither did it linger, which was for the best for all involved, really. Stefan really could have fallen asleep in the familiar smell of his brother-in-law and there were things yet to do that night.

When Eitan left, closing the door unobtrusively behind him, Stefan turned, slowly, back to his bride. This was the first time they had ever been alone, at least in the way they were now; truely and entirely alone. Delia was a strong and capable woman, but anyone, Stefan included, might feel intimidated in such a circumstance.

His smile was shy, but he met her eyes and held out one hand to her. When she took it, he took one slow step closer and brought her hand to his lips without breaking their eye contact. When he straightened he said, quietly and seriously,

"May I take off your gloves?" She was wearing lovely satin things that covered her past the elbow. He knew her to be perfectly capable of removing them herself, but he wanted to do it. The tone he used left all the room in the world for her to deny him, to ask for her maid to be sent for, to have privacy to undress and redress as she chose. Stefan wanted to honor and serve his wife; personally, if he was allowed, as often as he was allowed, whenever he was able to calm his anxieties enough to allow himself. But her comfort was the greater part of honor as service, so he would let her decide.

[Eitan Angevin]

Eitan offered his sister a thumbs up and his brother-in-law a wink before he closed the door behind him. Later, perhaps, he would communicate to them how his heart swelled seeing them together, but for now, his feelings mattered less than those developing between them, and so he did another unnecessary tour of the house to make sure everything was in order—it was—before seeking his own room.

Inside, Delia smiled. In their own home, her social mask had been set aside, and now, with only her chosen husband, she set it aside entirely. She was weary from the day, but happy to have finally made this official, to belong to him and have him belong to her. A slight shiver ran through her at the touch of his lips to her fingers, knowing now that it could presage things she had long imagined. Her eyebrow rose at the question, but the rest of her face, her body, and her voice were entirely sincere.

"'Tis our wedding night, Stef. Husband." Her weary smile brightened sweetly. "You make remove any and all articles of my clothing, though I might beg you to hold off consummation until we have slept." Of course, she would defer to his desires in this; she wouldn't have much energy to make it the more enjoyable without rest, however. Then again, she had imagined this many times and would likely rally should his desires reignite her own.

But for all the teasing, she didn't pull her hand away, happy for the help and for the opportunity to bond with her husband.

"Afterward, may I loosen your cravat for you?"

She knew he was shy, and she was more invested in their long-term happiness than the immediate and forced physical intimacy that might turn him off, but it seemed a loving thing she could do to help him relax without baring him physically—even if a part of her wanted to lie upon the bed and watch him disrobe with all due interest.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

A little shiver threatened Stefan at the sound of his nickname, heretofore used only by his brother, and recently, his brother-in-law. Delia was part of that circle now, small but seeming to grow at surprising speed. He hoped it would be a little time before anyone else was added, allowing him to adjust to knowing he was loved by two new people as dearly as he and Brenner cared for each other.

In some ways he thought Eitan might care more than... no, it was not time for such thoughts. He needed to be present for the woman who had allowed him to give himself to her.

Stepping close enough that she would have to look up at him he said quietly, in the deep tones in which his emotions swam,

"Wife."

Without breaking his gaze from her face his hands came up to unfasten the tiny buttons that held her glove on. This done he slipped one finger below the satin fabric and slowly peeled it away. When it was below her elbow he reached down and carefully loosened the fingers until the whole glove came away. He had seen her arms and hands more times than he could count, but it felt different now; intimate. Repeating the process without hurrying he leaned down and pressed a very caste kiss to her lips as his hands came up to begin pulling out the jeweled pins that held her curls in perfect place. When they were loose, bouncing on her shoulders he stepped back enough that she could assist him in turn. It wasn't particularly odd, he had been assisted in dressing, and undressing, all his life. When her work was done he shrugged out of his jacket, laying it aside before moving around to stand behind Delia where his deft, engineers fingers began working through the laces of her corset.

It was a process, and he listened to her if she spoke while he worked, but mostly he used the time, and intricacy of the task, to let himself grow used to being there, alone, with a woman. This woman, in particular. She was the last woman he would ever have to be intimate with. The only one, if he was honest with himself, and he was trying to be, that he had ever really tried for.

[Eitan Angevin]

Her humor could be quick and sharp as Eitan's, but when she was alone with Stefan, it didn't disappear; it merely softened, slowed, as if they were dancing together and she was finding his pace. It might have gone unnoticed; it was a slow, subtle thing sometimes. It wasn't effortless, exactly, but it was becoming second nature the more time she spent with him, relaxing her social mask and sense of vigilance to be intimate with her husband.

She shivered at his finger sliding under her glove and pulling it away. She flushed slightly when he called her wife. It held a gravity in him that she recognized and liked very much. She didn't imagine he would take her that night; he was a thoughtful, deliberate sort of man, and she knew that would come when it did. When it did, she would be ready, for she found in him all that she could want in a husband and partner, and he did all the right things to arouse her. He was her man.

Without the goal of immediate passion, she let him undress her, giving him intimate glimpses when she pulled her long hair over her shoulder so he could loosen her corset. Her neck was strong, a fit model for any statue. Perhaps it would remind him of some remote marble thing, or perhaps it would be a sensual seed planted within him to bear fruit later. She wanted to bear his fruit, though she wouldn't mind putting that off a little while and learning to be a pair before they brought forth more lives to join their family.

When he got as far as he seemed willing to go, she smiled, stepped away, and stepped out of what remained until she was naked, smiling with trust and vulnerability, before her husband. It was only a moment before she pulled on a white silk peignoir. When she moved, there were flashes of red as cardinals and cornflower poppies became visible from within the folds. She came up, her hands resting on his sides, as she rose to her toes to kiss the strong line of his jaw.

"I'm so glad we're finally family."

She continued to aid him in undressing, loosening his cravat, and trying to be cautious so she didn't pull away too much of his clothing and step over the boundaries of his comfort. She would always push at his boundaries, but she wouldn't break them without grave need.

[Stefan Dornkirk]

They worked together to achieve the goal they both intended, but slowly, with care and instruction.

When his wife was bare before him he looked, swallowing down the feeling that he was doing something wrong or making her uncomfortable. If Delia did not want what was happening, she would tell him. If their marriage was to be a success, he would have to learn to trust her. She was lovely, pale everywhere except where the bright red-gold of her hair or blood flush skin gave contrast. He said so; that she was beautiful, quietly, once she was pulling her robe about her. The showing and then concealing of her body appealed to him more than if she had merely stood brazenly, or even tried to get him to touch.

When she began returning the favor, learning how his clothing attached and came away, he tried to be as kind and soft in his teaching. It was probably she knew already how the men's clothing worked, and even if not, it was considerably simpler, so his instruction was perfunctory. His wife seemed to like the sound of his voice though, so he spoke anyway.

When he was bare to his underclothes he let her help pull his undershirt over his head, which made him grin and then laugh quietly, as she was considerably shorter, particularly out of her high-heeled shoes, that he had to bend almost in half. Her amusement sparkled, as she did, and he told her this too, blushing faintly to say such a thing while all but naked.

Stepping forward he kissed her on the cheek, and then, hesitantly, on the mouth. It was plush and pliant under his own, and he had to suppress a shiver that wasn't bad. Perhaps his marital duties would come more easily to him than he had feared. Expressing his hope that she enjoyed her bath and bidding her a good night he stepped away, collecting his clothing, and made his way to his own bed-chamber just down the hall. There Dienerin was waiting, without questions or even a significant expression at his early arrival. A bath had been kept hot for him and he wondered how late the man might have stayed up refreshing it if he had ended up falling asleep in the master suite. Thanking his servant and friend he sent him home to his own wife, telling him that he wouldn't be needed for several days at least.

He took a long time in the bath, long enough that the heat left the water altogether, but it felt good, and he needed the silence.

[Torin Kilvin]

R E V I E W

Lore:

Eitan
None Requested

Stefan
None Requested

Points: 8 each, not for magic

Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: None

Notes:

[Torin Kilvin]

R E V I E W

Lore:

Stefan:
10

Eitan:
8

Points: 8 each, not for magic
Injuries/Ailments: None

Loot: A New Home

Notes: Was worried about where this was going there for a minute. Should have remembered Stef is a prude =P