Come Morning After Coming Home

It was a cold night, his gaze made it colder still. There was no where to go. There was nothing left for me, but him. I'm sorry of all the things that came to be that led me here. My own desparation, my mother's despair, his passion. Life's sweet challenge and adventure that tasted bitter in my mouth, my soul. He kissed me, and the chills fell away. He always did this. He made me feel safe behind the stone walls and the door I could barely open. I was weak, society demanded I be. They demanded that I be subdued, and less than that of my husband. The heat of his skin, sent waves through me. As much as he scared me, as much as I feared him. I craved him, I wanted and needed him. I hated him for it, just as I loved him for it. I never refused him, I never would. His touch was caring and sensual. As he led me down the hall to our door, to the door. It was adorned with ornate carvings. It was the door I couldn't move. He opened it with ease and led me inside. As he undid the laces, I became more than a trophy for him, I became a person once again. I became flesh to touch. I was now more than a doll dressed to impress the world, the ones above and below us. He became a husband, a friend. His smile was warming, his gaze no longer cold from the days he spent away from me. His skin was sacarred and warm as I ran my fingers over it. He pulled me against him, and held me as if I meant the world to him, as if I was the one that made him human. Maybe I was. He was my pillar of stregnth. He was my wall of protection. I was his humanity. There was my hope. I was his. He was my saviour. He kissed me again, and the world fell away. He was a man, and I was just a woman. He was no longer a lord of the far north, hidden from society by great forests and mountains. I was no longer just his lady, I no longer had nothing I had him. The fire in the room roared, and not just the one in the hearth. Come morning, the snow had fallen outside. And we were both happy in each other's arms.