A true knight always finishes a story...

His knock upon the door was gentle, but the sound of it made your blood race with sweet anticipation. You took a moment to compose yourself. To see that the lines of your dress fell properly. To straighten your shoulders so he would notice that although motherhood had softened your bosom some, there was a fullness there surpassing that of your youth. To run your fingers through your hair and play up the thick waves he had once greedily prized. A girl on the verge of full womanhood you had been then, a girl to the beautiful but green lad Duncan had come to you as. Now you were a woman in your prime, having lived years of joy in the child he had given you, along with the bitter heartache of missing the boy's da with every drop of blood in your veins. Now, a woman's hunger for the powerful man your only love had grown into filled your veins, and though your mind told you he wanted you the same way, your heart quailed to think perhaps not.

Duncan knocked again as you stood, tremoring hand on latch, before the last barrier thst stood between you two. A single firmer rap upon the oak, and then he spoke your name like a question. Your name from his dear lips, his voice low, and like long-missed silk, and like the dream you had never allowed yourself to believe might come true some day. With a slow, deep breath to brace yourself, you drew it open.

Dressed simply in shades of blue that paled still as you considered the peerless blue of his eyes, dark brown breeches, and fine leather boots, Duncan stood unparalleled, more handsome than any memory that had sustained you these many years. Easily stealing your breath, making your tongue cleave to the roof of your mouth, weakening your resolve to not throw yourself straight into his arms.

His eyes widened at the sight of you, an undisguised wonder sparking in their depths as his mouth dropped open. You felt frozen in their sweet regard, waiting to see if he would speak or fall back upon his old, shy manner and stumble out some loving compliment. He did not disappoint you. "My sweet, sweet lass, you've been all these years in my memory," he marveled, soft and low-toned, "But by the Gods now, you've become a lady fine. Too fine for the likes of an imperfect hedge knight and servant of the realm." In a breath, Duncan crossed the threshold, bowing his head as he took a knee. "Foolish I have been, lifelong and acknowledged by too many to number," he raised his gaze again your way, "But how, by the Seven, did I ever muster the strength to leave you behind, sweet lady?"

"Don't...Duncan please..." His fervor dizzied you, and you laid both hands upon his jawline, assuring yourself he was real and no fantasy formed of the depthless longing you had lived for ten long, yearly cycles of sun and moon and tides. "You're undeserved kindness will have me crying like a feckless girl. I would not have that be my welcome gift to you, but only proof that the love I bear you lives within me stronger now than ever it was..."

With that, he took to his feet and pulled you to him, reminding you how he had ever shown you his strength tempered by the caution of love. The door was still open wide, but he cared not, anchoring his powerful hands to your waist, finding your lips at last. Soft to start as though learning their flavor for the first time, then insistent for a far fuller taste.

As it had been then, so it remained now. You needed to rise up on your toes for your arms to encircle his neck. His solidness, the strength in his every muscle was enough to overwhelm you. The gradual probe of his tongue against yours, the pure taste of your Dunk, made you giddy and weak, and if he had wanted to, you'd let him take you right there on the floor with hot, heedless abandon.

"My dearest love...my heart...my love...my life..." Were they his words or yours? Did you hear them or simply feel them; the invisible brand that had silently bound one to another despite time and distance. Either way, they seemed in perfect timing with the racing beat of your heart. While his grip on your waist had tightened, as though Duncan was desperate to keep from losing you again.

You gasped hard when he released you from his kiss to savor your skin, murmuring both his devotion and his regrets for all the years he had allowed to pass without finding his way back to you. You were crying now, joyfully, to feel the truth of his love in his gentle words, in the hot press of his lips against the pulse in your neck. And in the insistent press of his body to yours, his rapidly hardened length impossible to fully conceal.

You laughed softly at that realization so that Duncan pulled away just enough to give you a questioning look, coming back to his senses enough to smile sheepishly, before stepping away only to close the door and see it safely bolted. The world beyond it now ceased to exist.

Stepping into you once more, his height and breadth got you sighing as you finally reached to touch his hair. Much longer and less sun-streaked muted gold than it had been, but as thick and soft as you remembered. Freshly washed too, with the faint scent of amber and something citrusy about it. By both the Mother and the Maiden, you thought what a blessing it would be to wear his scent on your skin.

Ah, but he had grown serious enough that you tamed you smile to suit his mood. Duncan brushed the fingertips of his swordhand along you cheek, then asked the question most pressing to his mind. "Lady, is it your will to be with me this night?"...