Sleepless.

She peered back into the mirror, lavender eyes gazing at themselves. She tried to look within them, the way she looked into so many other sets of eyes. Blue, gray, black, violet, they all revealed bits of people. Not hers, though – Cilarys’ eyes were lavender mirrors, endlessly reflected back on themselves. It made her a little sad. She would have liked to have learned something while she sat there, patiently allowing her lady’s maid to comb through her silver-white hair. Her gown was pale, too – the whole image washed-out and ghostly. Sometimes she felt a ghost, trapped behind mirrored eyes. A caricature. “Enough. Leave me,” she waved the girl behind her away.

A deep breath, and she stood, smoothing pale blue silk over slender hips. It was late, time for her to slip into bed, but the princess knew no sleep awaited her there. Not yet. Every night she meant to just go to sleep, but nearly every night she slipped away, down the corridor to Viserys’ room. He had her eyes, but they were deep and feeling. She needed to see it.

It was a dangerous sort of game she played, she knew, slippers whispering against stone floors. He was stronger than she was, and only his fear made the whole thing possible. One night she’d slip into his room and be greeted with knife or sword. That was how it ended. She knew this, and still she went. The door creaked at her entrance, and again when she closed it. The sitting-room was traversed in pitch-darkness, unthinking. She knew the way to him, always, in the world and in his head. She knew his mind better than she knew her own – that was why she needed him.

She entered his darkened chamber in silence, found her way to the edge of his bed. “Viseys,” she whispered, stroking his hair. Her voice was soft and fragile and lost, the only genuine feeling she’d show him tonight, the only genuine feeling she’d really have. “I can’t sleep.”

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Last edited by QueenAlysanne on Fri Jul 20, 2007 3:29 pm; edited 1 time in total

Her fingers sent a chill through his body. He'd been awake before she came, but he hadn't heard her approach. He expected it all the same.

"I'm sorry..." And he was. He kept his back to her, and remained very still. He couldn't sleep either, but he didn't say so. He didn't want her to think that her presence wasn't a disturbance. It certainly was. He wanted to be alone. He didn't want this now. Ever.

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She laughed softly. It was incongruous with what had gone before, with sense in general. Cilarys was joyful, savoring the increasing anticipation of feeding her dark addiction. The hand in his hair trailed to the back of his neck, scratching. "Look at me. I need to know you love me." He said he did. She knew he didn't, really, but his eyes were very pretty when he said it.

Fingers explored the familiar reaches of his torso, alternately hesitant and possessive, delicate and forceful. He was beautiful, just as she was. They would have such beautiful children, one day. "Were you waiting up for me, little brother?" Little brother, she said, to cling to the perception of seniority, knowing how fragile that hold on him was. Did the danger make it better? She slipped her hand to his waist.

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He rolled onto his back, and let his head fall in Cilarys' direction.

"I was awake..." Not waiting for her, exactly. Hoping for a peaceful night. Expecting this.

"I was trying to sleep, but it hadn't come yet. I haven't been trying for very long." A lock of fair hair fell in front of one violet orb. He hadn't moved since he turned, at Cilarys' request. Command. He looked at her, because she told him to. And he didn't mind the obstruction in his sightline.

"Why couldn't you sleep?"

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She shrugged, wordless reply to a question that they both knew the answer to, or at least enough of it. Her eyes locked on his, seeking his trepidation, his fear. Her own gave away nothing, as ever. If she could have explained to him why she wandered into his room every night, she would have. But if Cilarys could have expressed that, she wouldn't have to come. Instead she peered at him, brushing the bit of pale hair from his purple eyes. Fingers lingered to trace a nose, a cheekbone. It felt familiar, as it always had, even the first time. Their faces had the same bone structure, their skin the same softness and pallor. She slipped out of her slippers and climbed fully onto the bed, straddling his waist. Fingers found his throat. His Adam's apple made her frown, she didn't like it. It had been better before, when his neck was smooth like hers.

"Tell me you love me," she asked, pleading. But her eyes were mirrors and her hand was a threat. The other slid down from his waist, forcing his body to an undesired response with the ease of long practice.

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"I love you." He obeyed. He always obeyed and still it sounded grudging. He had never numbed. All the dragonfire in his heart wouldn't permit him to cool himself to the point of numbness. And so he always sounded pained and frightened when he told Cilarys that he loved her. Because that was exactly how he felt. And yet his body betrayed him and told him that he did, so maybe it was his mind that was off-kilter. His body and his emotions were very linked. It must have been his reasoning ability that was flawed. His body said it plain; Viserys loved Cilarys. Why did she need to hear it, when his cock said it with a firmness that wasn't present in his voice.

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Cilarys' expression would have made more sense if she'd just been given a new gown, or a famous and handsome knight had just asked to carry her favor at tourney. She pressed down on his throat, for a moment, cutting off his air. It wasn't long enough to really scare him, just long enough to feel him try to breathe once. The sweet smile never once faltered, not even when she started toying with him with cruel fingernails. An index finger found his lips, pushed past them, slid along his tongue. "I love you, too." She honestly did. Why did that make her want to hurt him, shame him?

She needed to know he was hers. His eyes showed her things her own never would. He was her second self, and if he escaped her grasp she would have lost something irreplaceable. He never will, she vowed. They'd rule a kingdom together. "Tell me that you want me. Ask me." He knew what for. She slipped her finger out of his mouth, to let him speak.

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He choked slightly and gasped when she gripped his throat more tightly, but he didn't fight back. He never pushed her off. The most he would do would be to pull away when his survival instinct got the better of his senses. His body always knew what to do. Why did he ever question it?

"I want you. You can see that I do." He didn't want to react to her, but he did. His body knew what to do. Why did he have to tell her verbally what she could plainly see? It might have been fine if he didn't have to say it all the time.

"Will you finish me?" Make it go away. Make his body settle down and be normal. If she were merciful it would be quick. If she were cruel she would leave him to finish himself, his drying tears serving as terrible lubrication.

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"Not yet," she cooed. "Patience, little brother." She could make him want her more. She could make it agonizing in itself, the waiting. In the meantime she tried to get him to whimper. It wasn't always a whimper that she sought. Sometimes it was a certain sort of gasp, a tear, a moan. Once, just once, she'd drawn screams. But they'd almost been caught and he'd pulled away and Cilarys had been frightened that he'd realize he could stop it.

She dragged the sounds from him, forced expressions onto his face, with hands and teeth and words. She made him beautiful, and wished her own eyes could be so lovely. But they were ever mirrored glass, even when she found her own finish, suffocating him between soft, pale thighs.

When she was through with him, she kissed him fiercely. "I think we should be married soon, don't you, Viserys?" But for once, she didn't seem to desire a response. Her laugh was soft and musical as she slipped back into her gown, back to her own room and the promise of peaceful sleep.

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