Author's Note: Wow… it's been a really long time since I wrote ANYTHING. Finally I've got some free time, and some muse. Here's what's been waiting in the wings for you.

Sonnet 127

In the old age black was not counted fair,

Or if it were, it bore not beauty's name;

His eye was soft as he watched her standing in the rain. "Milady." He spoke finally, once he thought she's soaked long enough. "I think it's time you come inside."

"Just a while longer, Break." She replied softly. "Please?" She turned to face him. "In fact, why don't you come dance with me?" She offered her hand.

"I can't dance, you know that." He replied softly. The desire for her only grew, watching the rain plaster her hair and dress to her young body. He knew he shouldn't feel this way, not for the 20 year old heir of the house he served… but he couldn't help it.

But now is black beauty's successive heir,

And beauty slandered with a bastard shame:

He searched the corners of the manor for her, the mistress that eluded his sight for the moment. "Lady Shalon?" He asked as he opened her door. 'Where could she have gone?' He heard the sound of a soft sob and walked closer to the wardrobe. "Milady?" He knelt down, opening the doors. "Milady what's wrong?" He hated it when she cried.

Her soft, young face was red and wet with tears. What she called "the ugly cry", though he didn't think there was a thing that could make her ugly. "I didn't want you to see." She trembled, burying her face back in the fabric of her nightgown covering her knees.

"Why not?" He took her hand.

"One of those visiting girls…" She hiccupped. "One of them called me ugly."

He sighed heavily. And this was the issue with raising a girl. He took her small hand in his and placed it against the side of his face. "My Lady Shalon. You are far from ugly. You are beautiful, and I will always think that." He murmured to the 12 year old, not knowing that in a short year she would be chained to this form forever. "But you are going to become even more beautiful. The face of youth will fall from you and you will become a handsome woman, with many suitors. Ignore the jealousies of lesser peoples. Because I only speak the truth."

For since each hand hath put on Nature's power,

Fairing the foul with Art's false borrowed face,

He looked down at her as he rose over her, her long soft hair tossed over the pillows, her pearl white skin exposed to him. He lowered his head and let his lips coast over the hollow of her throat, listening to the soft sigh of her voice. "Shalon." He said softly, letting his hot breath wash over her chest. It was dark, this desire he held for her. Despite how young her body may be there was a woman's brain in her head, a woman's needs in her body… needs that only he could provide for.

"Yes, Xerxes?" She murmured, lavender eyes trusting.

"You are the most beautiful creature I have ever set eyes upon." He told her.

Sweet beauty hath no name, no holy bower,

But is profaned, if not lives in disgrace.

She pulled his jacket around her shoulders, stroking his hair gently as he read to her. "Milady I'm not sure that this is a sonnet meant for your ears."

"Why, because it involves mistresses?" She asked. So young, but so forward. He wondered if she'd stay that way.

"Indeed that was my concern." He replied as she touched the side of his face with her hand.

"This is a sonnet about beauty." She replied. "And beauty is in the eye of the beholder. For instance, I believe that your red eye is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

He was taken aback.

Therefore my mistress' eyes are raven black,

Her eyes so suited, and they mourners seem

"Most people would think you silly." He replied gently. "I am an ugly, scarred man. But I fit well as a protector for my little lady."

At such who, not born fair, no beauty lack,

Sland'ring creation with a false esteem:

"Anyone who would so foolishly call you ugly should be beheaded." She touched the closed lid of his empty socket. "Even the darkness within this eye is beautiful. Like the fathomless depths of the Abyss." She watched his red eye soften.

"You speak such wisdom, my little lady." He said. "Let us hope you never witness the Abyss."

Yet so they mourn becoming of their woe,

That every tongue says beauty should look so.

Sonnet 142

Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate,

Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:

She laughed as he stumbled again. "Come now Break! Keep up!" She led them into a turn. Her long hair was pulled back in a braid as she took him through the steps of the dance she was trying to teach him.

"Ouch! I'm sorry!" He said, nearly treading on her foot.

"You're thinking too hard about it! And why did you say ouch you outlandish man?" She laughed. "Now twirl me!" She laughed again as he did. If that was the one thing he could hear for the rest of his life he could die a happy man.

"I'm terrible, how about we quit for tonight?" He suggested hopefully as his 20 year old mistress walked over to set the record back again.

"Once more! You've almost got it!"

O! but with mine compare thou thine own state,

And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;

She sighed. "Xerxes Break!" She stomped after him as he scuttled away. "Break!" She looked around for him. "Come back here!"

"I'm not sure I deserve whatever you're about to deal me!" He replied, trying to burrow into the corner of the kitchens.

"You do! You lied to me!" She replied angrily. "Stop hiding coward! You're a knight! Come face your lady!"

"If my lady is a dragon then I am no knight!" He replied, sidling up the stairs behind her.

"Break!" She saw him out of the corner of her eyes. "You ruined my favorite dress!" She said angrily and followed him.

"Geez!" He took off running and hid around a corner. "Treacherous girl you are." He caught her in his arms as she ran past, not seeing which turn he'd taken.

"Break don't you—" But her words were muffled against his lips. "Mmmph!" She tried again but he kissed her harder. Before long her anger had melted, there was nothing like his kiss.

Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,

That have profaned their scarlet ornaments

He traced the petals of the rose against her lips and she giggled lightly. "Don't laugh you'll ruin it." He told her.

"I can't help myself. It tickles!" She smiled. He watched those lips that were so capable of ripping him to shreds quiver as he touched the rose petals to her throat, letting the red shine against her silvery skin. He kissed her lips delicately and she strained for more as he drew away. "I tire of this game." She said weakly, wishing she could see behind the black silk blindfold he had tied around her eyes.

"No you don't." He chuckled, letting the rose petals brush a breast before lowering his head to let his mouth follow the same path, his lips teasing the coral peak there for a moment. She moaned lightly, chest pressing up for more.

"Why?" She whined as he drew away.

"That's not the point." He replied, planting kisses against her ribcage.

"What's the point?" She asked, trembling as the rose grazed her thighs.

"The point is to feel." His voice said soothingly.

And sealed false bonds of love as oft as mine,

Robbed others' beds' revenues of their rents.

She fanned herself excitedly as she sat down next to him. It was so rare that she was able to go to events like this, so he didn't mind. He leaned on the table, watching her laugh. "Oh my gosh Break that was so much fun." She looked over at him.

"Yes, I'm sure. You have quite a few admirers." He said, bemused.

"Of course… but none of them are as loyal as you are." She flirted lightly.

"I am your servant." He replied. "I am not a suitor."

"But you admire me, do you not?" She asked. "If so then let us dance." She stood up.

"Milady I…" He didn't have time to protest as she took his hand. "I don't know how to dance!"

"Yes you do! I taught you!" She pulled him out onto the dance floor. "Now put your hand on my waist." She guided his hand to her waist. "And follow my lead."

Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lov'st those

Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:

He felt good, being the one that for once people where envious of. He was dancing with one of the prettiest girls at the ball, and he knew it. His 16 year old mistress was bright and cheerful as she guided him through the steps. "Now you lift me~" She said and he caught her waist, lifting her as they turned in a circle.

"Milady I don't think I should—" he didn't get to finish yet again, which he found was often the case with her, as she rested her head against his chest. The music slowed and he desperately wished that she would let him go… but at the same time… "Just this once, my lady."

Root pity in thy heart, that, when it grows,

Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.

She gasped lightly as his lips finally met her thighs, following the path of the petals. "Xerxes." She said his name as his velvet tongue slid against the tender skin of her inner thigh. He had been right. He always was. Waiting for this moment was wonderful… "Perhaps you were…"

"Correct?" He finished her sentence. "I had hoped that you would think that." He let the rose brush between her legs as he took her lips, kissing her deeply this time. Whatever it was that was happening between them, he wasn't going to let it go. Even if it didn't last.

If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,

By self-example mayst thou be denied!

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