Take the third line of the last song you heard, make it your post title, and write for a maximum of 15 minutes. From the song “Love you to Death” by Type O negative
In the night, she came to him, carrying a tray of tea, walking with perfect poise and grace. Had she not worn the black ruffled gown of the servants, some may have wondered whether she was of noble blood. She had oceans of blond hair, as golden and bright as the summer sun, and eyes like the grassy hills in the springtime. A ribbon of black silk was tied around her pale-skinned neck, as many of the young ladies from Marrziil wore.
The prince she served was alone in hos chambers, lounging in an old leather armchair with a book in his lap. Madeleine curtsied and smiled when he glanced over at her, the walked over to set the tray on the table nearest him. She gave him a soft greeting, then went back to the door to ensure hat it was securely closed and locked. Letting him read a little longer in peace, she prepared his tea just the way he liked it. with k’het milk and sweet nectar, and set the small cup close to him before pouring her own.
“Thank you,” he told her as her closed his book, his voice resonating as though he deeply meant it. He turned towards her and took her hand to lead her closer to him.
“I wish you did not have to pretend like his,” Loracaz told her after taking a sip of his tea.
She gazed into his hazel eyes, unsure how to reply to what he wanted. “Your father would never allow it.”
“But my mother would, and he would easily accept her wishes,” the Ciorian prince insisted, pulling her closer.
He laid his hands on her hips and felt the curves of her body, then laid his head on the soft hills over her chest, wanting to tell her of all the things he had planned for when he finally did tell his mother. She caressed his shoulders, soaking in the feel of his warmth and closeness. She took any chance she could to be close to him, knowing that outside of his room, they had to act with propriety.
Sir Loracaz III sat up to drink his tea, and then got to his feet. He led Madeleine over to his four-poster bed, the curtains of heavy black brocade casting shadows across it, and sat down. Smiling to him, she gathered up her hair in one hand, and with the other reached back to loosen the buttons near her neck. It was a night like another other; she brought him tea, she dropped her clothes on his floor, and shared his bed until her could give her no more. After that, they spoke together deep into the night, content in the end to fall sleep next to one another, skin to skin, as though their positions in the castle did not matter in the least.