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EXCERPTS FROM THE PERSONAL JOURNALS OF DR. EMILY WILDE, 20TH - 30 APRIL, 1910.
—
20th April, 1910
Hrafnsvik, Ljosland
I received a much warmer welcome than when I first came to Hrafnsvik, nearly six months ago. Aud hugged me tight as I came off the boat, and with a suitcase in one hand I could only pat her back in awkward reciprocation, feeling rather like a firm tree. She turned out to be the first of many waiting to greet me, with Thora squeezing me with surprising strength before I was passed off to Lilja and Marget.
“Oh, we’re so happy you could come,” Marget said, cheeks flushed and eyes dangerously wet. If she started to cry I didn’t think I would know what to do with myself. Most likely I’d act a fool and certainly be uninvited from the wedding before I could get into the village proper.
“We’re so grateful you took the time to come back, we know how busy you must be,” Lilja said.
“Don’t worry about that, the work practically does itself,” a voice called from behind me, far too jubilant for my tastes. Wendell swooped in beside me, pressing quick kisses on the back of the to-be-weds hands. Marget’s eyes took on a slightly starstruck look, but Lilja remained unimpressed. His hand brushed my back as he took pose beside me, and I flushed with indignation for more than one reason.
“Dr. Bambleby means to say that we were more than happy to make the trip,” I said.
“Yes, we deduced a vacation was in order.” He stressed the word with such importance I wondered if a vein would erupt in the process. “No work.”
“No work,” I agreed, keeping a smile on my face and murder in my heart.
—
21st April, 1910 - day
I write now, in the earliest time of morning, physically exhausted yet too mentally wound to find sleep. The dawn is threatening to break soon, solitary rays of pinks and oranges stretching across the horizon and turning the sky cerulean blue. Wendell is asleep, buried under more blankets than I thought possible to find in our current accommodations. I wonder if he struck a deal. Oh, he most certainly struck a deal.
{ … }
The wedding was the event of the year. More people than I had known to live near the village stuffed into the only church in town. With all bodies pressed snugly against each other, sweat mingled with the sweet scent of the flowers strewn along the floor and on the walls. Moisture gradually pooled at the base of my neck, and it took all the strength I had to resist wiping it with my sleeve. Naturally, Wendell was at perfect peace, likely having woven some magic or the other into his cloak to keep him at perfect temperature. Bastard.
“Perhaps if you let me mend your clothes,” he said after, when I voiced my frustrations to him. We (or rather, I) stumbled into the spring sunshine with the mass of guests. “You would find yourself without trivial problems such as the irregulation of your internal body temperature.”
I swatted at this shoulder, but he caught my wrist and pressed a gentle kiss on the underside. I felt my face burn what must have been a furious shade of red. He kept my hand in his, our fingers entangled, the rest of the walk to the centre of the village. It was impossible not to notice the looks we got on our way, a mix of amusement and fear, but Wendell seemed insistent to pay them no heed: he carried on the path with his head held high, me trailing behind like something of a lost maiden.
—
21st April, 1910 - night
“Dance with me,” Wendell said, his voice barely a breath against my neck. He pressed a featherlight kiss below my ear, so quickly I nearly didn’t notice until he did it again, and again, and again.
“Wendell,” I hissed.
“Em,” he replied, with all the cadence of a man willing and ready to play a long game of patience. “It would make a man very happy to have a turn around the floor with his wife.”
I rolled my eyes. Technically, we were nothing more than outlaws: we both wanted a proper ceremony, though the commitment of marrying a faerie was a frightening thought to me, and a mortal ceremony blasphemy for Wendell. We figured it best to wait until he reclaimed his kingdom before anything official, but, for all intents and purposes, everyone who knew us saw us as husband and wife. We certainly lived like it.
“I will step on your feet and each of your toes individually,” I said, a warning and a threat.
“And I expect nothing less, my love. If you were anything more than terrible I would assume you’d been possessed.” I scoffed. He placed his hands on my hips and spun me around, so we stood eye-to-eye. Our noses brushed. I could spot that small dot beside his eye. “Please, do me this honour.”
I put on a show of thinking hard about it, though really I had already made my decision. “One song,” I said. I put a stern finger up to enunciate my point. He beamed, and leaned forward to kiss the tip of my finger before whirling me onto the dance floor proper.
The band started a new song, full of the spirit and heart I had come to love about the small village. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, looking around with hope to grasp some idea of how they danced. They moved in a circle, leading with the sides of their bodies with a rush of energy that reminded me of a particularly relentless wind, or the harsh waves surrounding their land.
Wendell thrust us into it with little preparation. I tripped over my feet several times, nearly careening into him — but he caught me everytime, mischief and fondness glinting in his eyes. Eventually, I got some understanding of the rhythm, and I could understand the fun in all this. There was Lilja and Marget, hands clasped and giggling like schoolgirls, the glow of newlyweds so obvious in their shared glances. Then, Aud had corralled Ulfar into the affair, and I dare say I almost saw a smile under his furrowed brows and untameable beard. Finn was pink in the face, stealing looks at a boy across the circle, who in turn stole looks of his own when Finn’s gaze was turned elsewhere. I couldn’t hear anything over the music and stamping feet, and for once could keep myself singularly focused on one task at hand: the movement of my feet.
“Marvellous!” Thora cried, sitting somewhere behind me, though it was impossible to pinpoint exactly where with how fast we moved. I looked up, and Aud caught my eyes. We exchanged grins, a joke passed between us though I couldn’t say what it was.
We spun around and around for what felt like a fantastical eternity, and then the song came to a sweeping conclusion in a crescendo of sound. Everyone cheered and clapped, exchanging hugs and kisses on the cheeks in merriment. I turned to Wendell, and I was gratified to see he was as winded as me: we both heaved for breath, flushed from exertion, but aglow with a unique sort of joy. In a rush of adrenaline, I pushed forward and kissed him.
He reacted immediately, placing one hand on my waist and the other on my cheek. His touch was gentle, a barely-there brush. I pressed myself against him, tightening my grip at the collar of his robes. His touch became more firm then; I could feel his thumb moving across my cheek, a subconscious motion that calmed and exhilarated me all at once.
We broke apart when I heard a cheer of sorts, and good grief, I was mortified. It wasn’t like me to do that — throw myself into his arms. I left the public dramatics to Wendell, who more than necessary took any opportunity he had to hold me, pressing his lips wherever he saw fit. Even then, he didn’t let me far; he kept our bodies slotted against each other, his hand at my waist keeping me in place. We had only separated enough to rest our foreheads together, both of us desperately trying to catch our breath all over again.
“My God, Em,” he said finally, voice still a bit hollowed. “If you wanted to leave early, you could have just said so.”
I scowled, and he laughed. He pressed a kiss to the corner of my mouth, and then another on my nose. I was trying to think of a perfect retort, but someone pushed into me, startling us, and the dancing began again.
{ … }
“So, he really is a tall one? A prince?” Marget asked, eyes wide and glassy. “And you’re not… scared?”
I couldn’t help that I laughed. The very notion was ridiculous; if anything, Wendell was scared of me. He would never hurt me, and I knew it with the same conviction I had when I first defended him to Aud. “He’s not like your folk, he doesn’t care about mortals.”
“But he cares about you,” she said, gesturing to me with her liquor-filled glass. “Quite a lot, it seems.”
I blushed. “Yes, well…” And I couldn't think of anything more to say. It didn’t feel right to dismiss the claim, or water it down to something irrelevant. Marget took pity on my flustering, laying an understanding hand on my arm and then offering me more wine.
{ … }
“I love you,” he whispered, mouth against my neck. His arms tightened around me, and I let myself relax. First I released the tension from my shoulders, and then I let it all roll off me like water, until I was putty. I covered his hands with my own, and we stood there watching the dwindling festivities, swaying gently to the music.
“Well, aren’t you two a sight,” someone drawled. I startled, nearly jumping out of my skin, but it was only Aud, looking at us — or rather, Wendell — with amusement. I thought perhaps we would step apart, but Wendell kept himself wrapped around me and I realised I was too comfortable to care about detangling myself. “I do hope you’re taking care of her.” The flint in her voice translated the nuance of her question.
“My wife wants for nothing,” he said, and I didn’t have to see him to know he was trying his hand with one of his classic charming smiles. Going by her raised eyebrows, it certainly didn’t work.
“And I hope it’s done without expectation of returned favours.” She spoke so confidently I was momentarily convinced this wasn’t Aud, but someone else completely. Then again, Wendell was nothing like their courtly folk, and he’d proven it, too. In her eyes, he was another petulant young boy for her to ward away from susceptible women.
“Of course,” he said with absolute sincerity. His arms tensed ever-so-slightly, as though I would disappear, and I softly patted his hands, as much comfort as I could subtly give. It was enough though, as he turned softer around me and less like an impenetrable fortress.
Aud nodded once, then turned her gaze to me. She searched my face, and she seemed to find whatever she was looking for; she smiled at me warmly — warmer than she ever did all those months ago — and went on her way with little else more to say.
Wendell released a long breath. It tickled my neck and sent a piece of hair fluttering about my face. “Well, that went well,” I said.
“She’s protective,” he said. Under his breath, in a much darker tone, he added, “As she ‘ought to be.”
“Wendell.” I spun around, a tricky manoeuvre considering how tightly he held me. It took a second of readjustment, but then we stood properly face-to-face. My hair fell in front of my eyes, and he immediately swept it back behind my ear. His hand stayed, resting at the back of my neck. Warmth spread down my spine, like a beam of sunshine in the height of spring. “Would you ever hurt me?”
He looked affronted. “Never!”
“Physically or emotionally?”
“Emily Wilde, I swear I would never do anything to—”
“Alright, alright.” I swatted at his shoulder until he shut up. “I don’t need you to swear fealty. I believe you. I know you.”
He still looked confused, but then clarity chased away the clouds. Though his expression remained sober, a hint of a smile teased the corner of his mouth.
—
30th April, 1910
Cambridgeshire, England
My back hit the wall and I gasped. Wendell wasted no time in covering my lips with his, his hands finding themselves positioned at my waist and neck. One of his legs wedged itself between my thighs, and I shivered at each brush of contact.
“Been waiting all week to have you,” he murmured, almost to himself like a madman. “No bloody privacy on that blasted ship or frigid village.” He nipped at my collarbone, his teeth grazing my skin and setting me on fire.
“I’d rather prefer if you had me on the bed, if you don’t mind,” I managed to say between kisses. It came out as a few words at a time, punctuated by heavy breathing, than a coherent sentence. All the same, Wendell growled — growled! — and heeded my request. In a single movement he managed to drag us the few steps left to our room before slamming the door with his foot, and throwing me on the bed. I had some semblance of mind to berate being tossed around like a child’s doll, but all sensibilities were quickly overwritten with how much I needed him in that moment.
When he was leaning over me again, parting my lips with his tongue and eliciting the most treacherous sounds from me, I began to work to unbutton his robes. He suddenly pulled away, my wrists captured in his hands.
“Let me take care of you,” he said, his tone so insistent I almost mistook it for a plea. “Please, Em.” Oh, that certainly qualified as begging.
I merely laid back on the bed, eyebrows raised in challenge. He grinned, pressed featherlight kisses on my wrists, and then got to business.
He used his fingers, then his mouth, and I writhed beneath him until I couldn’t move anymore. Still, I fully intended to finish what we started and no sooner than when I began undressing him he had us laying together, skin to skin from head to feet. “What do you want?” he asked, moving an errant curl out of my face. His eyes were a brilliant green now, deeper than any forest I’d seen, faerie inhabited or otherwise.
“Gently,” I said. My voice threatened to shake, but this was a dance I was no stranger to now. “I want to feel every second.”
He flipped us so he sat with his back against the bed’s headboard and me in his lap. He entered me carefully, letting me adjust to every movement until I was fully seated, thighs spread around his waist and face buried in the crook of his neck. I rocked slowly, moaning as familiar pain and pleasure mixed like sweet honey in my stomach. He kissed me below my ear, encouraging, and I moved again. We found a pace that was languid and we shared our breaths, exhaling and inhaling in synchrony.
“You’re the greatest thing I’ve ever found,” he murmured. Sweat dripped down the side of his face, and without thinking I followed the path with my tongue, eliciting a shudder from him.
“You didn’t find me,” I said. “I found you .”
“Right,” he conceded breathlessly. “Either way, you’re the best thing in my life.” He kissed my shoulder, then my chest, then trailed his mouth back up to my chin. He cupped my face in his hands, looking me in the eyes and rolling his hips so sinfully I had to bite back the most guttural sound that wanted to escape me. “I do love you to pieces, Em.”
“And I, you,” I said, but I cut myself off with a gasp as I began to feel the beginning of my unravelling. After that, I couldn’t think clearly, only able to speak in fragments of moans and exclamations of Wendell’s name when his hand ventured to where we connected, moving his fingers in gentle circles. It was only a few moments of that before I came apart, laying against him fully as I shuddered. My eyes closed, I rested my face in the crook of his neck. It took him less than a half dozen thrusts to finish, and then we both sat chest-to-chest, heaving and flushed.
I slid off him and he followed, turning so our fronts were pressed together. One of his arms came to rest across my hip while the other snuck under my neck, cradling me. He traced incoherent patterns on my back and I threw my leg across his, my arms around his torso. We laid like that, listening to each other’s breaths and lost in our own thoughts.
“I want to marry you properly,” he said after our breaths steadied out. “It’ll be the first thing I do when we go to my realm.”
I raised an eyebrow. “The first thing?”
His lips twisted into half of a grin. “The first thing I’ll enjoy doing.”
I hummed, pulling us closer. I rested by head on his arm, my nose nearly brushing his chest, and let his warmth and scent flood me. He was like the woods after it rained, I determined some time ago, with just a dash of coffee and parchment and home .
“There’ll be dancing ‘till morning, and the sweetest cake you’ve ever eaten,” he whispered softly. “Really, Em, it’ll melt in your mouth. And of course, all the books and knowledge you could ever hope to have, right there at your fingertips. My God, the libraries we had were unparalleled.”
“It sounds lovely,” I said, and I truly meant it. His first, and perhaps most melodramatic, proposal had sent me into a nauseous tizzy, but now being with him, loving him, I had no qualms about our future. He would do everything in his power to keep me safe and intellectually alight. He would never lie or mislead me. And, perhaps greatest of all, he respected me — where I led he followed, and whenever we found the entrance to his world I would gladly take his hand and step through with him.
— { FIN } —