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Last Dance Maxwell left the castle. He needed no cart today, only cloak and horse for his appointment. He traveled at a reasonable pace, but unhurriedly. She who waited would be preparing for his visit. There would be time enough. The door swung open in answer to the single hammer from a great iron gargoyle staring at Maxwell. He made his proper introduction, though none was needed. The doorman and all within this grand residence knew exactly who he was and whom he wished to see. After all, there was only one resident now and a small staff to keep her. "This way please." The elderly and staid gentleman led Maxwell from the entrance foyer. "Madame is in the study." They stopped before a huge set of panel doors. The doorman slid one open with ease. Despite the age of the residence and its keepers, the place was in marvelous condition. Maxwell thanked the fellow and entered the study as the panel door was closed behind him. He looked around the room for her but saw only her hand draped across the arm of a chair turned to face the hearth. No fire was lit, yet she sat there all the same. Her hand twirled in the air. The huge stone of her ring caught sunlight from the windows, scattering the deep ruby light from the gem. Maxwell swept his cloak from his shoulders and lay it aside on his way to her. He knelt beside the chair, taking her hand to kiss the back of it. His other hand was primly set behind his back. His head remained inclined, eyes downcast. "Madame, I do hope that I have not kept you waiting too long." He heard her tired laughter, a mere echo of what was once bubbling and contagious, but not so for several years now. "Had that been the case, I'd have met you with my whip, rather than a mere wave of my hand, dear boy." Though her voice was no longer smooth, the dry age of it did not bother Maxwell in the least. In fact, he barely noticed it. She was still the same woman he had known for many decades. Madame's hand withdrew from Maxwell's as she stood. He shifted slightly on bended knee at her feet, both hands behind his back now. "Rise and turn. You do not have my permission to look." "Yes, Madame." He did as commanded. Even with eyes downcast, he could see her lovely, if a bit out of style, dress. It was a midnight blue taffeta, thick with layer upon layer of skirting. He turned his back to her and wondered what she might have on her mind today, but he would do as she asked and serve his best at whatever it was. "Remove your jacket." Her voice was not very commanding now, but firm enough, more for her benefit than his, Maxwell surmised. He was feeling a strange mood from her. It puzzled him but he removed his jacket gracefully and folded it very neatly. He started to lean to lay it down but her hand came around to take it from him. He did not see her press it to her face to smell the youthful musk of him before she draped the garment over a nearby tea table. Maxwell felt her hands on his back, smoothing over his pristine white shirt. Her fingers slid beneath his braces at the small of his back then glided upward to his shoulders before drifting down his crisp sleeves to french cuffs and links. A bit clumsy from age, her fingers flipped the cuff links and extracted them. She tossed them onto his jacket, watching the opalescence of the moonstones catch the sun. "Still seeing that young Terin, I suppose?" Maxwell smiled, wondering what Terin would have to say about such a question. "Aye, Madame. The Castle is thriving as are the Ladies, Arianda and Terin. I serve the castle and the latter, personally, of course." "Yes, well, lucky lass, that." Her fingers crept along his suspenders again but this time as she crested his shoulders, she pushed outward, releasing the loops to fall to his hips. Maxwell stood still, trying not to be bothered by his increasingly unkempt appearance. He felt her tugging weakly at his shirt until she finally released the tail of it from his trousers. He offered, "If you wish, Madame, I could--" "Hush. Let an old woman have her way." He started to protest her proclamation of being old but she shushed him again. They both knew it was true and she did not want lip service, however divinely delivered. She pushed at his shirt, bunching it up until he raised his arms and helped remove it. She folded his shirt, though not as neatly as Maxwell might have wanted, then lay it with his jacket. Maxwell felt her not at all for a moment, not physically at least. He heard her breathing. He heard her skirts shifting. He felt her mood strengthen but still was unsure what it was. Madame stood behind him, looking at Maxwell's neat trousers covering his long legs. She admired the sculpture of his buttocks, the contours discernible in the light and shadow playing on the dark fabric. She looked over his fine strong back, tanned musculature, and squared broad shoulders. He looked down at her hands sliding around his ribs. Her crooked fingers slid up across his chest and held to him as her cool taffeta pressed against his back. He'd not been commanded or given permission to move, but his hands came up to cover hers. He lifted her ring hand to grace it with another kiss, then pressed it with the other against his heart. She rested her cheek against his back. She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat, so strong and just a little quickened... even just a little, she thought. It felt good to touch the smooth warm skin of a man, of anyone, again. It buoyed her to be wrapped around another person, even for just a bit. Maxwell swallowed and wrapped his arms over hers. She was sad. It made his heart ache. She was tired and this tried to drain him as well. Her muffled voice whispered, "I'll ask nothing more of you, dear Maxwell. You have served me well in all these visits." He felt her breath cool across moisture on his back. "But, I shall soon be called back to the earth that made me." "Madame..." He entwined his fingers in hers. "You have thought and said as much before, but here we are." She took a deep breath and sighed against his back. "Yes, so we are." "Madame, I have no wish to incur your wrath but..." He loosened his hold on her hands and turned to face her. He looked down into her aged face and smiled his warmest smile as she looked up. "Is this not better?" "Not necessarily, " she said quietly, as she lowered her gaze to watch her pale withered hands flex against his hard tanned chest. Maxwell wrapped her loosely in his arms. "How so? If I may ask, Madame." She was thinner than last visit and indeed seemed more frail. She was quiet as her hands left his chest and crossed over her own. The dress revealed nothing. It's bodice was designed up to her throat where hung another ruby which blazed from a short chain, a twin stone to the one on her finger. "Long forgotten pleasures... What I can remember, I have no energy for any longer or I've lost interest. Bless me, I'm sure I exceeded my quota." Her dry laughter was short-lived. "Surely there is something?" Maxwell curled to kiss her forehead. It made her moan softly. She closed her eyes to relish him lingering there. Encouraged by this acceptance and appreciation, Maxwell bent further to nuzzle a kiss into her neck. Her arms snaked around his bare waist and held to him. "Dancing..." she hissed out across his shoulder. "I miss... dancing." Maxwell grinned against her neck then whispered, "Dancing you shall have then, Madame." He used no power more than mind to accomplish it, but Madame began to hear music, music enough to fill the room, and her head with the silly notion that she could actually find the strength to dance. She was stirred as he began to sway with her. He wrapped one arm securely at her waist while the other hand teased along her sleeve until he caught her fingers in his and held their hands together against his shoulder. He began to step with her, slowly, in half rhythm to the orchestral music she was hearing. His body guided her, lavishing her with his warmth and energy, loosening the brittle stiffness of her old bones and muscles so she could move with him. They began to sweep as Maxwell led them to the open area near the study doors. He spun slow and easy with her, taking extra steps but still giving her a hint of that giddy feeling she was beginning to remember. Madame's dry laughter became almost a girlish giggle as Maxwell smiled at her and whirled with her around their impromptu dance floor. The study's panel doors slid into their wall pockets of their own accord as Maxwell and Madame stepped and twirled and spun into the foyer then across to the grand dining room to have a go around the large table, twice. As they swept back out into the foyer, Madame was smiling and giggling still. The blush upon her brightened face even made her look more youthful than she had appeared in several visits. At last Madame began to protest, albeit mixed with laughter. "Enough. Enough! I think I have overdone, although..." She looked up into Maxwell's gaze and her slightly clouded eyes had just a touch of sparkling happiness in them. "Although I am ever so grateful, Maxwell." "Nonsense. I merely serve." He slowed with her and brought them to a gentle stop but did not release her as yet. "Aye, that you do and nothing 'mere' about it." She stepped back out of his arms and whispered. "Kneel for me." It was request as much as command. Maxwell bent to one knee again, his hands at his back, head up but eyes downcast. Madame's hand stretched out. Her age softened fingers brushed at his hair and his cheek. "You may go, dearest Maxwell. I am so very pleased, but now I think I should take my rest." "Yes, Madame." He then waited for her to turn from him and head up the winding staircase. He went back into the study and donned his clothes and cloak again. While he stood in the study doorway, adjusting his sleeves, he looked up to see that Madame had not yet made the second floor landing. She was struggling with each step and proceeding very slowly. He set himself in the center of the foyer. He was neatly appointed, just as when he had arrived. He watched Madame until she reached the second floor at last. She turned to see him standing there. She said nothing, only smiling down to him, then continued toward her chambers. Some months thence, a package arrived at Double Moon, addressed to Maxwell and bearing Madame's seal. He opened it, finding a very old but finely crafted whip coiled into the box. In the center of the coil of leather was a black velvet pouch. It contained a glittering ruby on a chain. There was also a note, a few words scrawled on parchment in the wobbling script of an elder. "Twin hearts of fire. One now rests with me and the other shall live on with you." |
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Lady Terin's Chambers |