(LOG) Sam's Return

Mereavus had recovered from her hangover, but little else. Redressing in the black velvet corsetry and wolf fur, she'd ascended to the roof mid-rain. Caring little for the cold or wet, she stood with her gloveless hands by a castille, drenched to the bone and staring at the ground. Mahogany had turned to dark, clinging curls in the faded light and sodden quality, and it was impossible to tell if she was crying or not. She'd stopped to go to politics; she'd done quite well, too. But she couldn't stop that nagging unravelling sensation at the fringes of her mind, and hoped the rain would refresh her, somehow cleanse her damages. Alcohol had failed in epic, painful style, and all else seemed unquestionable. Could she really wait another year? Surely, she'd only go mad, and perhaps fail to end it completely. The thought filled her with fear. She couldn't live like this longer than a year. He was dead, and she could have sworn he was down there encouraging her. In actual fact, there was nothing down there. But she could've sworn he was down there. Perhaps she ought to go to him. Raindrops splattered onto the pavement underneath the tower, oblivious.

Alexston's trip had him looking rather haggard, really. That five o'clock shadow had crept onto his face thanks to a day-and-a-half's worth of ceaseless riding and no rest. But whatever sense of urgency that bade him to go home did not wane as he had expected it to. The gentle rolling fields and thick lush forests of Nharati did little to settle his nerves, and when he saw the castle for the first time since he'd left it on that early morning, his heart raced in his chest. For now, the best he could do was blame it on the fact that he was excited to see her. But something nagged at him; something so dark and foreboding that he found himself almost panicked as he entered and sought her out. A member of the house staff looked rather pale when he asked, worriedly, where Eave was. Why had that man gone so pale? Had Sam been too harsh in his demandings? He'd question that only briefly, before hurrying off toward where she'd last been seen. The roof top. A rather brilliant smile touched his lips before he found her there, scarcely recognizing her save for that familiar hair. Standing in the rain - he knew she hated rain - and all dressed in black? Instantly, that smile changed to something ultimately more concerned, and he took a couple of quiet, tentative steps toward her. "Eave? What's happened?" The black was his first clue.

Mereavus turned in vague confusion when the imaginary voice seemed ten times more real, hands still on the stone behind her. She looked like herself, simply oddly different. Her eyes were much less alive. In fact, their usual neutrality had been replaced with a dead nothing. Were her delusions so clear and life-like now? She really was losing it. She glanced back over her shoulder, down at the pavement. He'd gone, so surely this was the replacement. Madness really was an obscure experience. She turned her eyes back to him, looking him over. Her mind really had pieced him together very accurately. "You're dead," she answered, albeit somewhat sickly. Now she was talking to her visions, wonderful, and explaining to them why they existed. She couldn't stand those words. She'd not said it before. Just that he wasn't coming home.

Alexston had awaited her response patiently, but he was not at all prepared for what that reply would be. At first, he simply blinked at her, and once those words registered, a brow shot immediately upward. Normally he'd have shot off with something like, 'well, clearly someone forgot to inform me' or, 'good God, I am!?' or something equally sarcastic. However, her grave looks called for more seriousness than Sam typically afforded anyone. "No, Eave. I assure you I'm really quite alive indeed." He shook his head slowly, clearly still quite confused about the entire ordeal. "Just what's been going on here?" he asked suddenly, taking a careful step toward a woman who could've very well been at her wit's end. His heart wrenched as soon as his green eyes settled onto hers for a goodly amount of time, and he felt ill. Dead? He'd some idea of what that must've put her through...

Mereavus actually pressed back against the stone when he came closer, one hand moving in front of herself to gesture for him to stop. "Don't," she said, her tone slightly wavering. "You'll vanish again." They always did, after all. They always vanished when she tried to touch them. Would she be having these delusions for the rest of her life? Seeing him and entirely unable to touch him without him evaporating? You ruin everything you touch, Eave! She turned her head sideways, hand rising to sweep wet tresses back and out of her face. "I don't like it when you vanish." Barely above a whisper, and very clearly upset with that. Was she upset with him for going? Surely not, it was for the wedding, for the family. She wasn't so irrational, surely.

Alexston stopped dead in his tracks, alarmed. "Vanish again?" he repeated, tone oblivious. "I've not vanished yet, and I've no intentions of doing such a thing, ever. I was visiting my family, don't you remember?" He blinked several times, and offered an open hand toward her, palm upturned and interrupting drops of rain on their path toward the roof. "Come here, Eave. Help me understand what's happened while I was away so I may put your mind at ease and assure you that I'm quite alive, and really quite tangible." He'd not expected to have this sort of welcome, really. And he hadn't been expecting anything of any great granduer, either. But to be told that he was dead? To see his affianced dressed in black, and void of all smiles? In all his time away, that was one of the things he'd missed the most, her smiles. And now she'd not even touch him! Whomever had told her such a nasty bit of lies was someone he'd surely have words with.

Mereavus stared at the hand as though it were a live snake, hands pressing back against the wet stone and evidence of distress appearing around her eyes. She didn't want him to vanish, and at this rate he was going to touch her and evaporate into the rain. She couldn't handle him going again, she needed him to stay there. At least for a while. At least until she knew she could jump. At least until then. Wet velvet slid down the castille until she was effectively sat down, knees up. Her eyes seemed unable to leave his face, but at the same time seemed horrifid by the idea of him touching her. "You're more like him than the last one," she commented, before drawing her hands up to her chest and wringing them together. "You'll vanish again," she repeated, eyes lowering to look over her engagement ring. "I can't cope with you vanishing again."

Alexston drew and released a quick sigh. "Nonsense," he muttered, stepping adamantly forth as soon as she was seated. In one swift movement, he reached forth to place a hand against her shoulder. "Stop it," he said, in a tone that might've been startling, thanks to its sternness. A gentle squeeze was afforded to her shoulder, assuming she'd not completely fallen out of the way of his grasp, and very seriously he looked at her. "I'm not dead, nor have I ever been, nor do I think I'll be becoming such in any short amount of time. I left to see my family, I wrote you on the night I stopped overnight in the forest, and my horse delivered me safely to their doorstep and out of harm's way. I returned early because I missed you so tremendously that another day away, I'm afraid, would've been too much. Come back to reality now, Eave. It's over now. Whatever happened in my absense is over."

Mereavus flinched once his hand touched her shoulder, having been desperately anticipating that it'd pass through her, and he'd simply meld back into the air. When he didn't, she stared at his forearm in disbelief. Impossible. One of her hands rose to rest over his bicep, hesitating before squeezing lightly. He hadn't vanished. He felt real. Her expression came in a flood. She bit her lip, eyes welling up, and an entire shift of combined relief, joy and shock hit her angular features. Within a moment, the sodden, black wrapped form of the Advisor had collapsed in against his chest, clinging at his tunic and pressing the side of her head to his chest. Heartbeat. The right heartbeat. The relieved expression was followed by a doubly relieved sob, and her eyes closed. Alive. Impossibly, inexorably alive. Still an emotional wreck, simply for a developing number of other reasons, but at least she knew he was real.

Alexston had been holding his breath, but he scarcely recognized it. The instant that she fell against him, he released that breath in one long, somewhat relieved sigh. He wrapped his arms around her, running his fingers soothingly through her soaking wet hair, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "My, my," he murmured his quiet croon, "what have they done to you, my dear?" 'They' was a term used very loosely, as Sam still hadn't the faintest idea what had happened during his time away. He reasoned he'd find out soon enough and when that day came, it would not be particularly pretty. Hell had no fury like Samuel's, when someone had so clearly tortured the one individual he cared for above all others. Curled around her protectively, those arms gave her a soft squeeze. As soon as he felt she was able to move, he stood with his arms still around her. "Let's go inside by the fire, Love."

Mereavus nodded a little to the suggestion, rising with him, albeit shakily, and simply following him. She didn't care where they were, she had him back, by some miracle. She did hate rain, after all, and she'd only catch cold and make herself even more miserable than she was. Finding herself back in her chambers, she settled by the fire once they arrived to it, and lifted her hands to dry her face and push her hair out of it. Not exactly the loveliest she'd ever looked. It took several attempts, she was still somewhat shellshocked, and then she began explaining. "Violet came," she began, eyes on the fur. She had to explain. And she had to tell him what she'd done. She had to admit to what she never wanted to do. "And asked if we could rekindle. I told her no, and explained us, and planned to get rid of her. And then there was this horrible rumour that I hadn't heard, that there was a body, in the woods, and it was yours. Violet came in with a letter with your family seal and brother's signature asking where you were, and I hadn't got any letters from you at that point, so I was so sure you'd died. Then I got your letter, and...." She paused, having to take a deep breath as the tears threatened her again. She bit her lip, brow furrowing. "And I did something awful."

Alexston very carefully deposited her onto that fur, though he took her hands within his own as soon as he was able to do so. Thumbs offered their comforting caress to the tops of her hands, and he drew a heavy sigh in the instant he heard the name 'Violet'. Green eyes narrowed slightly at the mentioning of a forged signature, but before his mind could begin to formulate any sort of response to it, the beginning of what sounded like a confession hit his ears. Unbeknownst to Sam, he was just about to hear something he'd not be ready for, for the second time in one day. He'd been refraining from thinking the worst, however, and his expression became altogether forgiving. "What?" he said, with a quiet, token chuckle. "Did you tear it up and curse me?" Oh, the poor man was clearly none the wiser.

Mereavus wanted the earth to swallow her when he chuckled so good-naturedly, and moreso, she wanted to beat herself with a club. Why had she been so stupid? Her eyes closed, and she attempted to swallow the lump in her throat. "No," she answered. "I did something much worse than that. And I'm so, so painfully sorry for it." She paused to attempt to quell the storm of tears that wanted to come, refusing to permit it until she'd laid out the whole sordid story. How to say it? She tried to, and then it wouldn't come. "Your letter made me so sure you'd died. I... I got very drunk with Ulrika, the King of Nyrthlond, and..." Another pause, and her eyes squeezed together tightly, jaw clenching once. "I slept with her." She anticipated him leaving, frankly. She anticipated he'd get up, and never want to see her, speak to her or have anything to do with her again. She'd betrayed him, belief in his death or not. He was alive. Thus, she'd betrayed him.

Alexston's eyes searched her face as she began speaking, in the vain hope that he'd be able to piece her reply together before she'd the chance to say it. The grip that had been so gentle against her hands tightened slightly, and then immediately broke off, though he neglected to withdraw them. Numb. In all his shock, he'd not expected to hear something to this degree. "You slept with her?" he asked quickly, before all feeling and reality came flooding back to him. His heart sank in his chest, and his stomach churned. "No. Don't answer that, I don't want to hear it again," he said in a grave tone and finally withdrew his hands as he realized they were beginning to tremble; he wished not for her to discover that. For the longest time, Sam said nothing at all. He wanted to be understanding, needed to be understanding of her grief. Hard gaze turned immediately toward the fire as her words echoed mercilessly within his mind. "And that is how you mourn my de-..." With a grunt, he ceased his own statement.

Mereavus withdrew her hands when he did, settling them in her lap and staring hard at the rug during his silence. "I'm sorry," she murmured, voice still entirely choked with restrained tears. "I needed to pretend you were still here, and she was there to pretend. I needed to think of her as you. I needed you, and I was so sure you weren't coming back." There, that was the only twisted explanation she could give him. Nothing more, and nothing less. The tears came openly after that, given that she only really had two words to say afters. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I'm so sorry, Samuel. I'd never...." She stopped it there. I'd never betray you? She already had, she couldn't pull that card. She already had betrayed him, unwittingly or not. She couldn't do much but descend into silent tears.

Alexston wouldn't have given her the opportunity to finish that statement, had she even anything to say afterwards. He didn't want to hear it. It didn't help him that someone had been there to be his replacement, or that she'd hoped this she-King to be such. He didn't want to hear that any other had touched her at all, regardless of whether or not he may have been 'dead'. "How long after you discovered my death did you fall into bed with this woman?" he asked in an uncharacteristically sharp tone, accusing, if not worse. Perhaps his rage simply came from the fact that he knew what it was like to lose a spouse (clearly, so did Eave), and he'd had no trouble remaining celibate for quite some time. This was no 'holier than thou' attitude, however. His own circumstance had been the farthest thing from his mind in that regard. Her apologies, thus far, only burned him further. His angry mind insisted that it was just an easy utterance in hopes of making things disappear. They'd not disappear.

Mereavus knew perfectly well just how much she'd fucked up, and his anger wasn't unexpected. Painful, but not unexpected. The Advisor wasn't prone to apologies. Usually, she did nothing to apologise for. And even when she did, she was too proud or self-righteous to apologise. She could beg, she supposed. Beg him to stay with her and not hate her. But what good would it do? He'd hate her if he was going to, regardless. It'd only make it worse to cling to him and force a union she'd shattered. You ruin everything. "Five days," she answered, still staring at her hands and the engagement ring that now seemed to sit so pointlessly on her finger. She'd broken it now. The tower looked too tempting; she ought to spare him any more suffering with her, and just end it all. He lived, to what purpose? She'd lose him anyway.

Alexston nodded firmly at her reply, though it hardly helped to quell the sense of rage that still burned within him. A fist rested on the knee nearest her, thumb slipping in a subtle motion against the backs of his fingers as though he sought to calm himself. It was a rare thing indeed for Sam to be angry about anything. Peevish on occasion, perhaps, but not angry. Very directly, his gaze shot up toward her. Someplace beyond all of that anger was a harrowing, all-encompassing look of absolute anguish. "Five days," he said, albeit quite a bit softer. He'd not reasoned that she betrayed him on purpose - by all rights, if he was dead, he no longer had any claim on her. It wasn't that he thought she'd sleep with anyone, if she knew he was still alive. But had his memory really been so faint? His meaning to her really so feeble? He bit back his own emotion. Men did not crumble.

Mereavus did, however. Crumbling was all too easy, given an already broken state, to follow with further shattering. She took one look at his eyes, and made her decision instantaneously. The crying ceased, and her constantly held shoulders drooped in defeat. "I've lost you," she murmured, more in recognition of it than anything else. She looked back up to him, the previously dead expression in her eyes having turned to the watery, russet version of a heart being opened on a mortician's table, still beating but eviscerated regardless. A small tinkle sounded, the engagement ring placed down on the rose quartz of her hearth. "You don't have to see me again," she continued, the weeping stilled out of some inner decision that rendered whatever she might have to say pointless anyway. Whatever she might have to feel, too. "I love you. I've always loved you. And it won't change, regardless of whether you come back to me, or hate me forever." She rose shortly after, and turned to head for the door. She couldn't handle looking at him with that look in his eyes.

Alexston had not mentioned, nor had he even considered hating her. It wasn't her words that he focused on, however. It was the sound of that ring hitting the hearth that had his eyes locked on the little trinket. He dared not touch it for several moments; her words were what finally pulled him out of his stupor. "Stop." The word came out hoarse at first, but repeating it proved to be a useful tool in clearing his throat. "Stop." He stood and turned in one fluid motion. He was still angry, that much was obvious, and in his current state of mind, the idea that Eave would simply walk away from him only added insult to injury. "That's all there is, then?" He reached down and quickly swept the ring into his fist, holding it between thumb and forefinger toward her. "You're not even going to give me the choice?" His scowl would've probably been a force to be reckoned with, if he happened to be speaking to one with a weaker mind.

Mereavus snapped. She turned when he demanded it of her, jaw beginning to clench in the telltale sign that her own anger had been prodded. "That's all there is?" she asked, shaking her head some and releasing a mirthless, deeply bitter laugh. "That's it! I sent away someone I've known twenty-eight years for you. I ripped her cheek open. I still intend to rip her chest open. I doubt I've spent five minutes not considering suicide in the last week. I was up there to do it. I've been hallucinating that you're here, and watching you vanish a thousand times, and crying myself to sleep in your clothes, and yes, that's it. I'm sorry if my life isn't enough to make up for a mistake, I'm sorry it happened at all. I lost everything this week. Do forgive me if my method of trying to save myself wasn't quite how you'd fucking like it to be."

Alexston might've been angry, but not so much as to realize that he'd been daft and rather insensitive. Not unfounded, probably, but still - perhaps he should've chosen his words just a bit more carefully. What was anger very quickly changed to a look of surprise, and almost instantaneous regret. He'd not tell her he 'had no idea', lest it give her more ammo to shoot at him. Sam simply stood there, jaw agape, holding that ring toward her with a now-trembling hand. He was frozen in that position, or so it seemed, half expecting to be slap as he began to digest all that she'd just said. Finally, a stiff arm dropped to his side and he held that ring within a clenched fist. "Forgive me, then, for failing to understand that I was taken into consideration for any of it. Forgive me for not being present to witness such events and therefor not understanding all that occurred. Forgive me for having the audacity to hope that perhaps something could be salvaged out of all of this." He spoke through a slightly clenched jaw, an effort given in part to quell his own emotions, and to keep him from raising his voice toward her.

Mereavus gestured towards herself relatively vaguely. "Look at me, Samuel," she answered, her tone verging on exhausted. "Does it really look like I've forgotten you? Does it really look like I've not considered you, like I've moved on to some glorious height and left you irrevocably behind? I'm drenched from a psychotic episode that could well have ended worse. I'm not wearing any cosmetics because when I woke up this morning there was no one to wear them for. I'm wearing black when it looks hideous on me, and never had any intention of wearing another colour. I kept the ring." She gestured towards the bed, where one of his outfits still lay. "I put your damn clothes on. I shrieked so hard it made Danele freeze. Do I look like I haven't considered you? I'm not saying we're through, I just...." She stopped, one hand rising to her hair in an exasperated fashion. "I just don't want to hurt you any more. Violet screamed at me that I ruin everything when she was arrested. And she's right, I do. Is it so wrong of me to assume that you'll realise what a horrid mistake you've been making with me, and never want to see me again? It'd just be easier to leave it with you, and let you decide whether you want to put it back on, or go."

Alexston had to reply ready for her once she concluded her statements. Gaze turned toward the clothing on the bed before it very quickly turned toward hers and locked on it. "Do you honestly believe," he asked, in a tone far more calm than it had been before, "that I'd have asked you to marry me if I'd have once thought that I was making any sort of mistake at all?" He held the ring in an opened palm now, revealing it to her once again. "Do you honestly believe that's something I'd take lightly? Something I'd adhere to so loosely that you'd make a mistake, and I'd take it all back as though nothing had ever happened?" He certainly hoped not. "I rushed home to you early, when I should have still been with my family simply because I missed you." Well, with urgency. He finally understood why, at least. "I married you, in so many words, the moment I you agreed to be my wife. All that's missing is the ceremony. Do you truly think I'd just back out because things are difficult now?"

Mereavus' eyes rose to lay on the ring when he turned it back to the light, listening whilst looking at it - still afraid his eyes would tell her just how much pain she'd caused him. She shook her head very lightly, and looked down. Really, the self-loathing was written all over her face. "You'd be wise to," she answered. Before she turned loose whatever mighty wind of ruin that followed her around, before she did something else to hurt him. She wanted to carry on bruising his ears with apologies until he finally accepted it, but she reasoned there was little point. If he didn't believe her now, he probably never would. She'd be spending her life making up for it. Which she didn't begrudge. She just wanted to be able to feel glad that he'd come home, and it didn't seem possible whilst he was hurt or angry with her. She'd rather still suffer over his death than have him suffer over her mistakes.

Alexston's brow rose somewhat. "Oh really?" It was not a question imploring her to further regale him with tales of the happenings during his absence, of course. Merely a statement that was challenging her conviction in that answer. If she didn't want to see hurt, it was probably better that she didn't look into his eyes just yet, despite his efforts to catch her gaze. Whatever mistakes she had left to make were far out of his realm of sight, and if asked, he would've replied with much certainty that he had yet to make mistakes of his own. "I asked if you believed it, Eave," he reminded her, though not in a condescending fashion that one might've expected from a man that was previously so angry. Eave had her degrees of self-control and poise, and Sam certainly had his own.

Alexston drew himself up. "It must be a heavy burden to be looked upon as perfect. You're not perfect, Eave -- don't take that as an insult," he very quickly added. "You're human. You make mistakes, and mistakes are forgiveable. I don't even want to imagine what mistakes the future holds for me. But allowing you to walk out right now would certainly be among the worst mistakes I've ever made." Despite his anger, and his anguish, Sam loved Eave. His world, much like hers, had been turned absolutely upside down, but if there was anything left that he had absolute certainty of, and that was the love that still overwhelmed him. His heart pined for her, flesh burned for her, and every hoofbeat that had brought him closer to home had instilled in his mind that he was coming closer to home, where he belonged. "I love you," he confessed. "Don't walk out on me now. Unless you want to be rid of me, don't go." A tentative hand sought her cheek, gaze still fixed on hers.

Mereavus' cheek tilted some towards the hand, russets welling up again for yet another reason, eyes closing in an attempt to shut off yet another bout of tears. Lord, she felt pathetic. "I don't deserve you," she answered, though her tone wasn't setting her up to walk away. She'd be stupid to, as no doubt the entire castle agreed with her by now. "I'm not going anywhere unless you tell me to." If he sent her away, she'd go. If he wanted her to stay, then she'd suffer through it with him. She supposed every relationship had its crisis, and afterwards either failed or grew stronger. She sighed, eyes still entirely down. "I missed you so much," she admitted quietly, stilling a trembling lip. Which she had. He might think her apologies held as much water as a hole-filled bucket, but she'd not said anything to him that wasn't genuine.

Alexston set his own anger and hurt aside for the moment. "Come here," he said with a patient sigh, and drew her into an embrace, wrapping his arms rather delicately against her shoulders. Lips brushed lightly against her forehead as he simply held her for several lingering moments. His mind raced with the possible outcome of welcoming Eave into his arms. Further hurt? The trust had surely not been broken - again, he'd probably need to remind himself several times that he was dead, as far as she knew. Violet would surely be dealt with, he promised himself, and he'd make it a point to avoid the Nyrthlond king for awhile if he had to. Woman or not, he understood that he'd probably regard her with just a bit more hostility than he'd have liked to extend to foreign royalty. "I missed you too, Eave." he murmured quietly against her forehead, before seeking her own lips - fervently.

Mereavus had every intention of dealing with Violet, when it came to it, and had she known Samuel was actually alive, she'd not have gone anywhere near Ulrika. But she hadn't, and had, and here they were. She settled into his arms with something of another small sound of relief, cheek turned in against his chest until he sought out her lips. Nothing had changed in her response; perhaps a little more in the way of need, perhaps a little more concentrated on savouring it, but otherwise, entirely as was before he left. Small nasal exhale emerged on contact, and she coupled it with a low sound and the rose of one hand to the side of his neck. Interesting solution to accidental betrayal, but whatever worked for him - she wasn't about to turn him away.