Hello peeps! I just watched Heath Ledger's Casanova, and it inspired me to write this piece. I don't hate Francesca, but I prefer OCs. Enjoy. BTW, this is kind of an alternate plot to the one in the movie. It conceivably takes place before the movie events. Possible sequel.
"Giacomo! Wait for me! I cannot run as fast!" Adryanna shouted behind Casanova as he raced up the hill ahead of her.
The cloudless, darkening sky allowed the sun to throw her long, lagging shadow onto the grassy path that Adrya was ascending; all her petticoats and overcoats; blues and greys and whites and creams were plumed out beneath her and she felt like a great, flightless bird chasing a rather quick and alluring fox through the underbrush. The sky's flushed pink color mimicked the exertion displayed on her face.
"Surely you cannot be winded already?" Casanova called out behind, relishing in the wind blowing his sun-bleached blonde hair over his shoulder, beckoning his prey up to their destination at the summit.
From where he was standing, Casanova could look out upon the entirety of Venice, just as the sun was setting to a gentle rose color over the buildings. From this one little island that his grandmother used to inhabit (and his mother, before she disappeared), he could get away from all the trivial affections that followed him through the ancient, water-logged streets below.
Women left their windows open at night just for a chance to glimpse the famous senior Giacomo Casanova. None were so lucky as Adrya however. Since childhood, the flirtatious and untamable blonde haired rascal known to the rest of Italy as Casanova, had always held Adrya in high esteem. If he were to ever find true love, it would be with someone like her.
Why can't it just be her? Casanova asked himself as he allowed the quick, sporadic beating of his heart to calm. No amount of exercise could run Giacomo's heart like when he heard Adrya's laugh, or even the mention of her name.
But they were two different people, and she would never be the one for him. Not to mention they'd known each other their whole lives. Casanova always told himself that the love he held for Adrya could never be more than that of a brother for a sister. Adrya, born and bred under strict Catholic traditions would surely see it as heresy to commit such an act of incest, even if he were to propose.
But when have I cared about sinning before?
"Carry me?" Adryanna pleaded with her sinfully azure, sapphire eyes. That simple stare had caused Casanova to do many a questionable task… just to obtain that look of adoration in those ethereal, cerulean orbs.
Like a slave to his master's whim, Casanova swept the petite girl off her feet, and allowed a feeling of contentment to wash over him like an irreconcilable typhoon. The object of all his love and affection trusted him to cradle her safely in his arms.
The sun is so low, the sky is so clear… do I dare?
Taking a seat at the peak of the green, grassy rise with the Venetian duchess in his lap, Giacomo Casanova, the famous incorrigible womanizer, felt a glimmer of doubt creep up in the form of goose bumps on his bare arms. His white tunic was rolled up to his shoulders due to the intense and cruel humidity of Venice's warm, colorful summers.
"Are you cold?" Adryanna glanced up curiously from her position in front of Casanova, noticing the chill that passed through him only moments ago. She reached up hesitantly and swiped a sweat-damped, blonde curl away from the man above her's unwavering blue eyes.
"No, no… I'm fine. Just a little… troubled at the moment."
Adryanna's expression saddened. Her highly empathetic nature picked up on Casanova's mood and she immediately found herself wanting to replace it with one that emulated her own joy.
"Trouble you say? One of your many admirers is perhaps evading you? To hard to catch?" Casanova smiled at her attempts to cheer him up. It was better that she never knew the pain she caused him when they were together like this. She'd never guess she was the reason that he constantly felt unsatisfied.
All those other women served only as replacements. Sometimes they shared the same hair as her- silky smooth, brown and luscious… other times it was the creamy, ivory skin or flawless, flushed complexion, her gently sloping curves or the perfect roundness of her breasts. But never had he found someone with a stare as alluring and desirable as the one Adrya possessed. It was hypnotizing in its intensity. She had always been the one. She only had to ask for his unconditional affection, and it would be hers.
"Not exactly," Casanova drifted off absent-mindedly. "It's more like… she's so far ahead, she doesn't know I'm chasing her anymore."
"Well, maybe she needs a little hint, to remind her that you're unwilling to give up." Adrya chastised herself after the words left her lips.
Am I talking about one of Giacomo's faceless lovers… or myself? Adryanna gazed up listlessly into the rising stars and sighed, resting her head comfortably on Casanova's chest.
Casanova's eyes flickered down to watch Adrya resting contently beneath him and in a moment of confidence, he gently began to raise one of his hands to her shoulder.
Slowly, slowly, gently, gently-
When Adrya didn't respond to the palm resting on her forearm, Casanova smiled at his accomplishment. He casually began to grow bolder and bolder, rubbing her arm to her shoulder, back down to her wrist, back up to her neck…
Casanova held his breath as he pulled back Adryanna's curtain of dark tawny hair to reveal the pale skin on the nape of her neck.
When no objection was heard, he craned his head so that his lips were just barely inches away from her exposed flesh. It was so tempting…
Without warning, Adryanna shifted around so that she could examine or perhaps foresee Casanova's next ministrations, and was surprised at what she received. Leaning forward into her chest, Casanova implored on the small Venetian girl a gentle kiss, one that neither of them expected to occur.
When he withdrew, Casanova felt guilt add itself to his flood of emotions.
"Adrya! I'm so sor-"
Adryanna interrupted Casanova's unnecessary apology with another soft, butterfly-like kiss.
"I need a bigger hint, I think," she flirted, her voice soft and sensual as the night sky darkened to an exuberant violet. The look of surprise that found its way onto Casanova's face was highly amusing to Adrya, but as he leaned in for another kiss, she stopped him… momentarily.
"Are you playing games with me, Giacomo? I cannot stand to be a toy, I cannot tolerate all those others having their way with you if it is me you are seeking…
"I know it is silly of me to desire the most sought after man in all of Venice… but I can't help it. I saw you first," Adrya pouted, lifting up her smooth, uncalloused hand to stroke the planes of Casanova's beautiful face. Her touch was covetous, deliberate… taunting.
"It's not a race… besides, you hate games," Casanova reminded her, grasping her hand in his free one and planting gentle kisses on the unmarred palm, savoring each delicate, warm section of flesh. After a moment, he was somewhat surprised as one of Adrya's adorable giggle's escaped her lips.
"Just promise me this won't be like when we were twelve and you insisted that we practice kissing," Adrya reminisced. Of course, she left out the humiliating part which was that later she found out that the pre-teen Giacomo (still a scamp back then) had only used her to impress Bianca Fortescue down the way.
Casanova, noticing her distant expression, realized what she was thinking about. Her eyes had always told him everything he needed to know.
Although he was a child back then, Casanova recalled the way Adrya had pretended she didn't know about the incident just so their friendship could remained untainted. That's what she was about- holding things together. Of course, in Adrya's eyes, Casanova was the bridge between them. He was just so magnetic. She didn't seem to care how many women he seduced or slept with or enticed... she was always there.
"You were a much better kisser than Bianca was by far," Casanova smiled. His mood was... contagious.
A requited moment of silence and satisfaction enveloped the air around the two, Adrya now entwined in Casanova's loose embrace.
"So, what becomes of us now? We've all but confessed ourselves to one another-"
"Marry me," Casanova interrupted, taking Adrya's chin into one of his hands and tilting her face up so that he could read her expression properly. Her utterly flawless eyes couldn't lie. Not to him. Of course, it was that very same look that influenced nearly all his actions when he was around her. If she told him to marry her, he couldn't refuse.
"You don't have to say anything now… just think about it," Casanova interrupted yet again, taking Adrya's velvety hand into his own and warming it with a gentle kiss.
"Just think about it," he repeated, helping his hopeful fiancé onto her feet as he led her down the path they'd traversed only a few moments before.
"I'm just afraid. Afraid that it'll… end up like kissing practice again. I know it's silly, and I suppose I love and trust you too much to know your methods of seduction, but-"
"But nothing. Don't talk. Just… think." Casanova smoothed Adryanna's gently curled locks affectionately as he spoke. It wasn't surprising that she suspected him of turning on her the moment they were wed, but somehow… he'd have to prove himself to her. Somehow, he'd have to show her that she was the only one he ever saw.
It promised to be a long and winding road ahead. For both of them.
Lame ending, I know, but I'm a little PMS-y that Casanova fics (especially with Heath gone) aren't a bigger venue. CATS, the musical has a bigger story list. Isn't it sad?