The bishop looked out of the window as the sun began to set, watching the beauteous creature that was pulling up the pail of water from the well. From the moment that she had come into his service, he had not been able to think about anything else. She was an angel, a perfect example of Gods work. Heahmund sure that he had never seen anything like her, before, despite how many women that he had had. Despite how many times he had succumb to his weaknesses.

She was innocence personified. Pure, untouched, unsullied. A sweet child that made his heart race, every time that he looked upon her. Heahmund laying in his bed on many a night, pleasuring himself with thoughts of her being with him, underneath him. Of her moaning out his name, as she surrendered that innocence to him. The Bishop of Sherborne sure that God had sent her to him.....sent her for him. That she was a reward for all the pagan lives that he had taken, in his name; for there was no other explanation for her. The holy warrior watching for a moment longer, before leaving the window and making his way back to the desk and taking a seat in his large chair.

"Lord........." He began, as he looked up at the large, ornate crucifix in front of him, that stood atop the simple alter in the room; his hands placed together in prayer.

"If you have sent your angel, (Y/n), to be mine; for me to love, and forsake all others, then please........please send me a sign. Let me know thy will, oh Lord. Let me see thy plan for the life of this, your most humble of servants. In nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti..........." Heahmund continued, before crossing himself. The bishop looking up and calling out for his visitor to enter, as he heard the slightest of knocks on his door. A small smile coming to his lips, as into the room walked (Y/n). A soft pink blush coming to her cheeks, as she stood there with a small tray in her hands.

"My Lord........I was asked to bring your evening meal.........." She explained softly, curtsying slightly, as the bishop called her over. Heahmund watching her every move, as she placed the tray before him. The glass that had been filled with a deep, red wine, falling to the floor and smashing into a hundred pieces, as his finger gingerly brushed over hers. The exquisite serving girl, dropping to her knees before she began to pick up the pieces of the broken glass.

"I.......I am so sorry my lord. I did not mean to.......it......it was an accident.......please forgive me........." She rambled, as she continued to try and clean up the mess. The bishop's brows furrowing, as she let out a small yelp.

"What is it..........? What did you do...........?" Heahmund asked as he took the top of her arm in his hand.

"It........it is nothing my lord.....just a little of the glass........."

"Let me see.........." He ordered, startling her a little, causing her to look up from the floor.

"No, no, my lord, please; it is nothing to concern yourself with. It is just a little cut..........."

"Give me your hand..........." Heahmund continued. This time leaving no room for argument, as he held out his own hand. The now red faced (Y/n) nodding, before slowly giving him the hand that the shard of glass had penetrated. Her eyes growing wide, as the bishop carefully surveyed the skin, before finding the bleeding finger, and slowly taking it into his mouth. The older man not blind to her reaction; not blind to her now heaving bosom and wide eyes. Not ignorant of her gasps for air, as his tongue twirled around her finger, before gently sucking on it. The cleric reaching out and placing his hand on her cheek, as finally he withdrew the finger from between his lips.

"There........better..........?" He asked. The atmosphere between the two becoming thicker by the moment. The pair staring at one another in silence. Heahmund wanting nothing more than to draw her closer, so that he could finally be able to taste those lips that had always reminded him of the first rose to bloom in the spring. To be able to finally ask her, if she was really the angel that he believed her to be. To see if she could love a sinner, such as he. Yet before he could do anything; before he could say another word, (Y/n) had got to her feet and run from the room, the bishop quickly following after her; yet as he got to the door, she was already nowhere to be seen. Heahmund turning to look back at the crucifix, not sure whether this was the sign that he had asked God for; but one thing was for sure, that he could still taste her. He could taste her blood despite the bitterness of the wine; and if her blood tasted that sweet, then the thought of what other parts of her might taste like, just made him want her, all the more.

                                                      >>---------------------------------<<

Heahmund rose from his bed. He couldn't sleep; his mind racing since earlier that evening. He had gone to find (Y/n) after she had run from his room; yet no matter where he tried, or whom he asked, she seemed to have just disappeared. The bishop not sure what to think, just hoping that he had not scared the sweet girl away. That God had not taken her from him. The bishop making his way over to the window, surveying the scene that was lit by the light of the flower moon which cast its cool, pale glow over the land. Heahmund placing both hands against the small panes of glass, as he caught sight of something moving. A figure running across the landscape; a figure that he recognised so well after having watched (Y/n) for as long as he had. The bishop reaching for his shirt and boots, determined to follow after her; not wanting his innocent angel to be sullied by some ne'er-do-well, some thief in the night. Heahmund throwing open the door to his room and praying to the lord, that he would be able to find her.