The tragic lovers met for the first time underneath the moon shade. Their first kiss was soft and sensual. She was quivering with a terrified excitement that locked her feet to the ground. He stood with confidence and explored her mouth with an internal sense of conquest.

Neither knew the consequence of their tryst could shatter a kingdom and topple a religion.

Neither knew their hearts could break.

She was on the cusp of falling in love as they stood under the pale moonlight. Her whole being was infused with the fantasies of a young girls romance. His earlier words of poetry chased each other in her mind. They danced before her eyes as they eagerly nudged her close to the edge. She desperately wanted to be loved.

A smirk pressed against her lips that she took as a smile and she sighed. His dark eyes glittered with the satisfaction of getting what he wanted.

He had tired of the younger Moon Maidens and their empty flirting. Being off limits to his advances they knew how to endlessly tease him until he was burning with the itch of desire. Giving up on their torturous flirting and many nights of troubled sleep, he turned his sights to the servants who could not refuse him.

He saw her first in the garden refilling buckets of water for the kitchens use. He set his mind to having her that afternoon as he watched her. Each movement of her pale limbs was hesitant and weary of reproach. She carried herself with care and a soft, seductive fear of her superiors.

She was all-wrong for him, he knew, yet he wanted her. Her hair, underneath the fire ash meant to dull the sin, was a pale gold – a slight to the Moon herself. Desires burned in him as he imagined his hands tangled in her hair, tugging and pulling until she cried out.

He almost groaned aloud with lust as she leaned over the still waters surface of the pond and the fabric of her robe slipped over her shoulder and down her arm. He bit his lip until it bled and his eyes scanned over her exposed skin.

He fled from the garden before he was caught watching her. He could not be seen spying on her.

Trying to put her out of his mind – she was sin after all – he threw himself into his studies. He tried to work through his lusty thoughts by impressing his tutors and pleasing his mother with his scholarly progress. After hours of studying, days of distractions his mind kept returning to her the fire of his want still as strong.

He was a man – a boy shy of sixteen springs – and his resolve soon crumbled. He had to see her again in hopes of expelling her from his waking thoughts and troubled dreams. He found himself asking around her fellow servants for her name. Glints of silver exchanged hands as knowledge trickled into his awareness.

Later, in his rooms, his heart soared at how easy it would be to take her.

No better then an orphan they had told him. Her families’ only daughter, they had given her in gratitude of her birth to the Moon on the sign of her first courses. Her sin made her of no use to the Temple and she was stowed away in the kitchens to be forgotten and neglected.

His body ached for her flesh and his heart cried for the easiness of the quest. With no one to care for her she was ripe for his nightly pickings.
Tiombé no Briscoé, the sinner, would be his.

He saw her for the second time in the garden. Alone as the first she sat on the edge of the water and trailed her hand along its surface. He hid as before and watched her. Blood rushed through him upon the sight of her and the need to take her on the spot was almost too strong to resist.

A sinner she may be but she was female. He could not strike her down and ruin his own name with one thrust of his hips. No one, he was certain, would ever be the cause of his dislodgment from his comfortable place in life.

As the minutes of seclusion trickled past and the threat of being interrupted became ever present he made his move. A soft rustling of the nightshade heralded his presence. She looked up, fear in her eyes, as he stood before her. Her hand stilled in the water and her mouth trembled.

He ignored the fear in her gaze, the fright in her stance as his eyes fell to the soft lines of her mouth. A groan caught in his throat at the thought of tasting them. Before he could frighten her more he pulled himself up and stabled his thoughts with the assurance she would be his in time.

“ This is a private garden,” his tried to soften his voice yet the arrogance of his stature saturated his words, “ how did you come to be here?” his dark gaze traveled the length of her neck, her arms and back up again. He drank in the nakedness of these parts while fantasies of the rest blurred his vision.

“ I know of no other place to get water,” her gaze dropped to her feet in shame, “ I come here.” Her skin burned a pink at the acknowledgment of her failures. They had failed to tell her of the servants’ gardens that were hidden in distaste from those who command them. They did it in spite and he could not condemn them. She was a sinner.

“ You are wrong to come here,” he dropped his voice low and took a step closer, “ for this I can punish you.”

Her head snapped up and her mouth fell open on a wordless cry for kindness. Her face was taken over by her large eyes and the sight of them struck him. Large and childlike they mimicked the surface of the moon. Their depths a dusky grey fringed by dark lashes shimmered with the terror of the punishment he could inflict.

He could have fall in love with her eyes, the thought, only if they did not sparkle with her sin. In their depths he watched as undertones of flashing topaz looked up at him.

He reached out and trailed his fingers along her up turned face and watched with glee as her breath was caught in her throat and she trembled beneath his touch. Reluctantly he pulled his hand away and took a step back. The space between them was a fresh gust of air that cooled his growing arousal.
She slowly turned her face to the ground, cheeks burning where he had touched, and with shame she waited for his hand to strike. It was clear she was no stranger to abuse.

“ I will forgive you,” he murmured thickly, “ if you meet me here tonight.”

Her body tensed as she glanced upwards at him. She knew who he was and what he was destined to be. They both knew she could not refuse him. Wordlessly, as if it were impossible for her to speak, she nodded her head and fled.

The water bucket was left behind and later, in his rooms, when he touched himself it was her he dreamed of.