List: Em's Mostly Random Word Generator List #1
Number: 52. Soft
Story of Origin: Daerinnid Chronicles
Character(s): Daerinnid, Alonriel
Warnings: Spoiler for Daerinnid Chronicles, PG-13 for some very light mature content, and... rather fluffy!
Use: Possible, but unlikely, at least in Daerinnid Chronicles. (Doesn't really fit.) Maybe rewrite parts for use in something else.
Scenario: Daerinnid has become duke of the Duchy of Rakkel and been bullied into an arranged marriage with a fairy princess, but as he discovers a few months after their marriage, he has fallen in love with her.
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He could feel the tendrils of her hair tickling his cheek, like soft feathers on his skin, and he smiled in contentment. This, here, was where he wanted to be, laying by her side, surrounded by silken sheets and down pillows, engulfed by the mattress of their marital bed.

Even without opening his eyes he knew it was morning. The warm sun spilled through the east windows, driving away the chill of night, and the room was already at a comfortable temperature. Usually he rose when the cold still lingered on the floorstones and the sun was but a wash of damp blue on the sky.

He knew that outside the city was in full motion. Merchants, travelers, housewives and workers were already toiling under the sun's light, at their work for several hours now. He, on the other hand, had the luxury of not getting up. He exercised it against his better judgment. There were some perks to being the duke.

There were also several drawbacks. While he lay slumbering in his bed, petitioners were already lined up to seek his justice, awaiting his presence in the throne room. They started arriving well before dawn and the gatekeeper let them in when the sun struck the top of the portcullis, perhaps an hour into morning. There had been a time when Daerinnid would have been downstairs already, waiting for them, dispensing his rulings within minutes of the gate's opening.

That had been before his marriage to Alonriel, before his knowledge of the reasons why a man might stay up late into the night and then sleep through as long as he was able.

Eventually, someone would come and get him. Maybe Rikard, maybe Caerden. Technically it was not their jobs, but they took a sort of perverse pleasure in torturing Daerinnid, payback for slights both real and imagined. Any chance to bother him.

Daerinnid sighed and was surprised to hear Alonriel's voice answer. "Did you sleep well?" He merely groaned in response, wanting to pretend he was still sleeping. Then maybe when someone came to bother him, Alonriel would send them off.

Only that would mean she'd get up, and then he'd have no reason to stay in bed after all. Daerinnid reached over and draped his arm across her slender form possessively. He would just have to keep her here. Alonriel settled against him, tucking his hand across her chest. He could feel the softness of her breast in his calloused palm and somehow it still felt so wrong, so impossible that he of all men could have come into possession of such a beautiful treasure. "Shall I compare thee to my finest pillow," he mumbled drowsily, and she giggled in response. Her laughter filled him with such indescribable joy, like silver fairy bells ringing. Like mountain streams and spring rain showers--

Alonriel stretched her neck and kissed him on the chin lightly. He hummed happily, mumbling in conclusion, "Thou art softer and more gentle." He could feel Alonriel suppressing another giggle, and then she was getting up, pushing away his possessive arm. He turned and groaned in honest misery, "Urgh, no," but she was not leaving the bed just yet.

Tucking long strands of silver hair behind her graceful ears, Alonriel leaned over Daerinnid, letting her hair tickle his face once more until he opened his eyes and looked up at her. The soft, graceful body, the most powerful treasure in his duchy. He reached up to possess her once more. The petitioners would have to wait, at least a while longer.