"Mab," he replied, his lips still swollen from pressing upon hers. She traced her fingers around his curls, feeling at once like she could disappear into nothingness or explode into creation and all the world would be right. "What do you think of, dear Mab?" he asked. His lips formed a smile, slight and secret, and one eye drooped in pleasured exhaustion. "How strange a name..." she murmured. "What means you?" he laughed, his chest rumbling the sounds like echoes in a cave against her ears. "Mab. A small word with an 'm' and a 'b' and nothing but the sound of sorrow to keep the two apart." "You may call yourself Gwenyvere and my love for you would not change. You are Mab, my Mab, a small name fit for a mighty queen." "A queen of a kingdom imagined." "A queen of my heart and that is not imagined." "This world that we live in will fade soon, and I will wake to see that I have merely fallen asleep in another place and time." "But for now, this is truth and for now, think not of the other worlds to be," spoke Mercutio gently, gathering her close. "Even though this is but a moment in the blink of an eye for you, it shall be something I carry with me for my lifetime. All that I remember, all that I will be or will not be, you will color it all like a wash from a painter's cup. In fact, you already do." "As do you my love." He stroked her hair, the peace of the early morning upon their union.
