Never Let an Elf Steal Your Heart

--- Markos. Present, 86th year of the age of Arnaud. ---

"When we crossed through the gate, Iliana was there like nothing had happened. She was safe, whole. We were so relieved to see her," Markos smiled at the memory of Iliana's smiling face and the persistent glow of her eyes. The relief that it wasn't her in the dragon's pot had made both him and Caelyn get carried away when they saw her again. He swallowed as the image of Iliana was replaced by Sintija. In the retelling of the temple and of Mara, Sintija had settled in his lap. Her arms were wrapped around Markos's neck, staring intently and expectantly into his eyes.

The memory of what came after and the secret they shared was complicated. He'd left out the part of the retelling that Mara had told him and Caelyn to go make babies. It was awkward enough to get reacquainted with Sintija without imposing an ancient god's edict into the mix. It was a strange tale. Markos wondered how any normal person would take that?

"We should sleep together because the gods will it? Maybe that'd work with the people at the temple," Markos mused to himself.

Elias slept curled into a ball beside the horse, Dardanelles, leaving them in unchaperoned with only the crackle of the fire to remind them of the world outside their little bubble. Markos was comfortably warm with Sintija on top of him with the blankets wrapped around him. Even so close to his tattoos, Sintija didn't seem bothered by it any more. Perhaps, Mara had changed something to help him while he talked.

"We explored the rest of the temple and sent our report back to the Order, but they didn't believe we told them everything. Caelyn and Iliana stayed in the north and I headed back south on orders. I was pressed every chance they got for more information on the temple," Markos placed his hand on the small of her back. It felt unreal that she was actually in his lap. "Then they pressed me to kill you."

Sintija pouted. "How long ago was that?"

Markos caressed her cheek with a small smile. "Five years. It was before the spring festival." He remembered giving the confession and being urged to love someone else. Anyone but Sintija, or Iliana. They wanted him to pick someone else. They hoped that in his childhood friend, Jo, that they'd rekindle love. They weren't wrong but it wasn't the same. "Since I found you in that d*mn village on that rainy day, I wanted so desperately to tell you that I wasn't your enemy."

He leaned his forehead against hers. "I felt so powerless. I'd waited five years to see you from that first time at the pool, then you appeared like a phantom in the storm." His hand slid over her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I almost died in that pit without even knowing your name. I wanted to hate you. Then every moment since then, you've haunted my dreams and even in waking I saw you there forever out of reach."

Sintija's voice was soft as she closed her eyes. "I didn't want to give you my name on the second meeting because there is power in names. There were times I saw you more clearly, there was more of a pull... like you called me." She tilted her head slightly, gently kissing him. "Did you hate me then?"

Markos dreamily admitted, "Never. I threatened you and your sisters in the pool that first time. You were also thrown into the pit. Then... Emilio almost..." He embraced her more tightly, more earnestly pressing his lips against hers. He pulled away to continue. "You are my first love. How can I hate you?"

"I saw you. Laima delivered me visions of you. I felt your call, your warmth through the distance but all I knew was that you are sworn to be my enemy." Sintija whispered against his lips, soft flutterings of kisses like a butterfly landing against the petals of a flower. She turned her head to whisper in his ear, "Markos Louvel, did you hear me call you?"

"I heard you." They were as close as they could be, but his voice was distant. "I foolishly searched for you. Took every mission north seeking those mountains that caught the moon at sunrise."

Sintija's lips brushed against the side of his neck. "Five years of yearning. I was afraid I lost you, I felt you... all that pain."

"I've finally found you." Markos sighed. "For years I've tried to put you out of my mind, but you've never left. I can't let you feel it, all this misery I carry with me." Sintija pulled back and kissed his forehead, resettling down in his lap. He watched her with a gentle smile. Her eyes caught the illumination of the fire, giving them a soft glow. He feel like an idiot. She was there, in his lap and he couldn't stop talking. There were too many things he wanted to tell her when he saw her. He felt her call him before Emilio stabbed her. He saw her reach out for him when he fainted in the the collapse of the demon cave. "I'm afraid, I don't want to ever leave you again but it's dangerous to have you join me."

"I don't want to think about the dangers of tomorrow," Sintija softly replied. "If Laima guides us towards Mara and away from Saule, then I will fight with Mara for you again... Perkons be kind and gentle the storm outside."

Markos ran his hands up her side, up to the lower edge of her shirt, toying with the material. The leather of her shirt was well-weathered and softened from time. The ties that bound it to her were laced along the sides. Sintija watched him as his hands moved with more purpose. He kissed the soft skin of her neck.

"Let me go with you," Sintija's voice was a low rumble against his lips. She sighed as she moved against him. She ran one hand lightly over his hair while the other traced the length of his back along his spine. "This is usually where you disappear," she murmured. "I pray you don't, at least until I stop dreaming."

He laughed against her neck, quickly untying the lacing. "This is usually when someone asks me who Sintija is." He pulled her against as though she might escape into smoke or be some sort of illusion. He kissed her like he might never have the opportunity again.

He kissed her like he loved her.

"You caught me, what'll you do with me?" Sintija's lips lingered just out a breath away from his.

"I've no idea." Markos joked, working the laces of the bodice once more. "Maybe you should tell me how your dreams go?"

"I thought there were stories of lusty elves and brave Templars," she purred as she stole another kiss from him. "This strong templar catches me and slides his hands over me," she continued. "Sometimes I wake up before he has his way with me." The laces easily came undone at his deft fingers as did all the clothes at were underneath.

Markos trailed kisses down her chest, muttering against her skin, "What if you... don't?"

"Mmm, what do you remember feeling when I called you?" She pressed her hand against the flat of his stomach. "Or would you rather experience me screaming your name?" Her hand trailed down to the top of his pants, teasing.

Markos's hand found her breast, gently exploring the feel and weight of it in his hands. She sighed contentedly and she helped him shrug off the blankets. He didn't need it any more with Sintija's heat spreading over his body. Her hands eagerly helped him undress, she seemed just as afraid of him fading away as he was of her. They were not phantoms that would slip away with the light of dawn.

Sintija pressed her lips together for a long moment and whispered, "Markos Louvel." It hung in the air, expectant as if he might fade if she didn't say it to keep him there.

But he was there, and he was real, and so was she. They had summoned each other.

He didn't rise from beneath her. Fate had tossed them together and it would take more than that to pry them apart. They readjusted, the last shreds of clothing cast off and Sintija sitting on his lap. It was a dream. He held her, smoothing his hand over her body once more to verify that it was really Sintija and not anyone else. Her skin was pale in the light of the fire.

"Sintija," he whispered back.

Her fair skin was marred by a diagonal scar beneath her left breast between her ribs, he knew it was from Emilio's maraium blade. His foolish friend didn't know better, but he had a hard time not hating the young lord for it. The firelight cast her long, pale hair in hues of gold as it cascaded to the small of her back. Sintija's petite form irradiated heat beneath his touch, her eyes glittered gently as she watched him.

His lingered on what it meant to be in love. Wasn't being afraid of losing someone being in love? He didn't want her to disappear again, the thought made his heart hurt. All this time of longing and here she was. Solid, warm, her heart beating as loudly as his. It didn't feel like it was enough. "Promise me this isn't it."

"This isn't the end." Sintija snuggled closer to him. "I'll stay with you, Marko Louvel," she paused for a moment, their eyes meeting. "If... you'll.. love me.. Markos Louvel, I will stay with you until the light of the last star dies."

"From this day until the final reckoning," he replied, slipping his arms back around her and sitting up, lifting his knees and shifting the way that he sat so that, even straddling him, they seemed a little more on equal terms, their legs locked as they stared at each other. "I'll gladly love you. I don't understand a thing about you, but I'll try."

"I love you." She drew closer to kiss him again, "What of your dreams?"

"I'm living them," he murmured into her mouth. She was too close, the need to be with her completely was too urgent. He grabbed the soft curves of her rear and guided her slowly down onto him, their bodies easily sliding together.