Author's Note: I don't own Fable III or its characters, or anything else from Fable III . . . Lines from the game are in italics, because I'm too lazy to write my own. I did a little, though. There are far too few stories of Princess/Elliot, and that made me sad. Elliot is very underrated, in my opinion. . . Enjoy. Or don't. Whatever ;]
Peyton's heart thudded against her chest. This was the most difficult choice she had ever had to make in her life, and it was twisted. It wasn't right. She looked away from her brother in disbelief. How could he force this choice on her? Her eyes locked with Elliot's.
"This is madness! We can't, we just can't. . .choose me. You can't let them all die. Choose me." His hand lightly touched her cheek, gently turning her face towards his.
Peyton stood there, frozen with indecision. Logan's words echoed in her mind. Was there any kind of right choice in this situation? She bit her lip. Did even a princess have the right to decide where a person's life should end? Her eyes darted between Elliot and the group of rebels. Her brother didn't offer her much time, and if she waited too long to decide, he would kill all of them, Elliot included. Elliot, her eyes lingered on him, and she knew she couldn't bear the thought of losing him, even if he hated for it afterward. She turned her back on him and faced the rebels. She her head at them, keeping her eyes on the ground, ashamed at her choice. Silent tears ran down her cheeks.
She could hear Elliot shifting behind her. "It should be me. Don't do this!" he pleaded with her. "It should be me!"
"The boy lives. Kill the rest now," Logan ordered, and the guards quickly moved to obey, shoving the small group out of the throne room.
Peyton turned to her brother, holding back a torrent of angry tears. "I will never forgive you for this!" she said through her teeth.
Unperturbed, Logan regarded her coldly. "Good, then you will never forget it. Escort my sister to her chambers. Now," he ordered another pair of guards. Peyton felt her arms grasped by armored hands and was pulled toward the throne room's exist.
As she passed, Peyton turned her head to look at Elliot. He would not meet her gaze, the anguish on his face evident, causing her heart to contract within her chest. He would surely hate her, now. But he was alive, and for that she felt a perverse relief. It mingled with guilt and twisted around in her gut, making her feel sick.
The guards deposited her in her chambers, and she paced around, unable to remain still. She couldn't cry, refused to. Her head, chest, and stomach hurt from worry over Elliot. She had to think of something else. Absently, she bit at the nail on her thumb.
What had happened to Logan? She cringed. She had barely seen him recently. Their schedules rarely mixed these days. He used to insist on sharing at least dinner with her, but it had been at least two months since their last meal together. The circles under his eyes were darker than she remembered, as though he hadn't slept in a week. She wouldn't be surprised if that was true, considering that his temper had snapped, the result of which was her current situation. She leaned on the back of the sofa, taking in deep breathes. He was not as she remembered him. She loved her brother, and Peyton didn't know if she could stand watching him become a tyrant. It was too much.
"You mustn't blame yourself," she heard Jasper say behind her. "I don't think any of us realized just how far he had fallen into madness."
"I have to do something," Peyton said. "I can't just stay here!" She didn't want this to be the end of it. Something had to be done. Those people she had condemned deserved better than their fate. Elliot deserved better. She would make it up to them.
"You're not," Walter said as he entered her chambers. "We leave the castle tonight. This kingdom needs nothing less than a revolution. It needs a new leader. It needs a Hero. It's time to see if you're ready."
"Ready for what?" Peyton asked, curious.
"To be your father's daughter."
Peyton was so close. She had successfully recruited the Dwellers as well as Swift's men. It was remarkable to her that while the aid of the Dweller's had come with some difficulty, Swift had offered his without further ado. She shook her head and smiled. She wasn't complaining; she was grateful for help wherever she could find it.
Then there was Page. Peyton understood her mistrust, because she would have felt the same in Page's position. Peyton was the Princess, the King's sister; that would set off anyone's alarm bells. Page would not aid her if the people did not trust her, and Page was all about the people. Peyton didn't mind, though. She loved being among the people, especially in Industrial. Her heart went out to them, as did whatever money she had. She dispersed her own hard-earned money freely, glad to lift the burden of Logan's policies, at least for a little while.
But just handing out money wasn't enough to gain the favor of the people of Bowerstone. Peyton had searched long and hard to find people in dire need. Well, except for those gamers. Their need wasn't life or death; still, it had gotten her some notoriety, and it had been fun.
She had done some other, smaller tasks, as well, such as donating money to rebuild the bridge that lead to the gypsy camp her father had grown up in.
And today, just an hour ago, wandering around Industrial, she had come across a woman, Linda, whose fiance was being held for ransom. Peyton offered her assistance, and Linda gratefully and eagerly accepted.
Into the decrepit house they had gone, and Peyton fended off Ferret's men easily. She followed Linda into the room where Ferret had hidden. Peyton barely listened to their conversation, her eyes scanning the room, looking for a door or hatch that might lead to Linda's fiance. Her eyes were drawn to the big, obvious, gaping hole behind Ferret, and heard him say something about stashing the poor fellow down there. She glanced back at Linda, who nodded. "Please, go and get him," she said. "I'll keep an eye on Ferret." Linda kept her gun aimed at the fat man's head.
Peyton stepped up to the edge of the hatch and dove, her fall cushioned by the water at the bottom. She resurfaced, and scanned the cavern, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. She gasped when her eyes locked with a familiar set, and she scrambled to the shore. "Elliot!" Suddenly her heart was beating fast.
Elliot stood, just as surprised to see her. "I thought. . .I thought you were. . ."
Peyton threw her arms around Elliot's shoulders in an embrace. She had missed him so much. His arms encircled her waist and gave her a quick squeeze. "I thought you were gone," he said, pulling back a little to look at her. "Do you know how hard I've tried to forget you?"
Peyton cringed inwardly, and bit her lower lip. Of course he would try to move on, she thought. And it seemed that he had. He was with Linda, now. She dropped her eyes from his, and stared at the ground. "I never forgot you," she said softly.
"The last time I saw you," Elliot said, taking a step back from her. "That day, in the throne room." As though Peyton could forget. She brought her eyes back up to his face, her brows creased in sorrow, and saw the same expression written on his own. "That was the most horrific day of my life."
It was for me, too, Peyton thought to herself. "Today's not going to be great either if we don't get you out of here. Come on!" She held out her hand to Elliot, as she had that day so long ago. As soon as she felt his hand grasp hers, she began to jog, leading him through the sewers and back to Ferret's hideout, where Linda was waiting for them both.
"I can't do this," Elliot said.
Peyton didn't look back at him, but kept jogging. "Can't do what?" she asked.
"You can't save me again, like that day," he said hotly, accusatory.
Peyton's eyes stung. "This isn't like that," she said, determination in her voice. "This time, no one gets hurt." She willed it to be so, and it would.
Elliot sighed, loudly. "Just when I think I have everything sorted out, you come back into my life," he mumbled, but Peyton heard it. She couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh or cry at his tone, but held her tongue and did neither.
They jogged on in silence for a time. They were swarmed by a group of bats, but Peyton's fire spell made easy work of them, and she and Elliot were moving once more. "I've never seen anything like that," Elliot observed softly, his hand absently giving her own a squeeze. "It was like something out of. . ." he coughed in sudden realization. "Walter's stories about your father!" He slowed to a stop, and Peyton felt a slight tug on her arm. She stopped as well, looking at him expectantly. His eyes scanned her, as if seeing her for the first time, wide with wonder. "You're a Hero," he said.
Peyton didn't have time to respond. Hobbes jumped out of their hiding places, and she had to concentrate on keeping them away from Elliot. She pulled a bottle out of her pocket and threw it on the ground. Time slowed around her, and she maneuvered around the Hobbes, slashing at their vulnerable areas as she weaved through them. In a rush, time sped up around her again, back to normal, but at least half of the Hobbes had been cut down. She sheathed her sword and pulled out her rifle, aiming head shots at the remainder. None of them even got close to Elliot, even to her. She strapped her rifle to her back and took a few seconds to catch her breath and wipe the sweat off her brow. Then she turned back to Elliot. "Let's go," she said, taking his hand again.
As they jogged along, she heard Elliot several times give an intake of breath, as though he was about to say something. Finally, he did speak. "Thank you for saving me." Peyton was about to respond, but closed her mouth when he continued. "I don't just mean today. I should have thanked you back in the throne room, but I was just. . ." Peyton looked back at him to see him shaking his head, looking at the ground. "I just felt so guilty."
She slowed to a walk so that they were moving side by side. "I made the choice that day," she said, trying to alleviate him.
He looked up at her, eyes locking. "And I hated you for it," he said quietly. Peyton bit her lower lip, her heart breaking a little. "Feeling that those people died because of me, it was awful beyond words."
Peyton wanted to say she was sorry, wanted to throw her arms around him and cry; but she couldn't. She didn't think he would let her, and that would be the worst thing of all. She didn't expect his next words. "But there was something worse." He paused. "Deep inside, I felt happy." His face twisted in self-loathing. What had she done to him? "I felt happy, even as they were dragged away, that I was still alive. . ." his face crumpled. "I'm so sorry. . ."
Peyton gave his hand a squeeze, knowing that it was inadequate beyond words. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she said fervently. "Anybody would feel what you did." It wasn't meant to be justification, but that's how it sounded. She stumbled on before he could protest what she had just said. "It was an appalling situation, and the only one to blame for it is Logan." She gave his hand another squeeze, willing away his survivor's guilt.
Elliot sighed heavily. "Well, now that I've said that. . . thank you."
Peyton offered him a small smile and was rewarded with one in return. "You're welcome," she replied. Perhaps there was hope, after all. She cleared her throat. "Should be almost back to Linda. . ." his fiance. . .
Elliot's face blanched, as though he had forgotten his Linda. "Oh, bloody hell. Linda. What am I going to say to her?" he asked with trepidation.
They walked in silence until they stood before the hatch door that would lead them to Linda and Ferret. As they stood before the door, Elliot bade her to wait. "I have to tell you something," he said. Peyton turned to face him, her back to the door, her heart thudding in her chest. "Linda is the most. . ." he paused, trying to get what was in his head to come out of his mouth the right way. "Well," he amended, "she is the second most amazing woman I've ever met." Peyton listened in silence, anticipating what he wanted to tell her. At her sides, her hands clenched and unclenched in nervousness. "She started that shelter from nothing, and she keeps it going despite Ferret and Reaver." He sighed, his eye drifting away, reliving. . .something. "Working with her felt. . .right after all those years in the castle, doing nothing."
Peyton felt a stab of pride. She had never heard such passion from him before. "Then, somehow, it became about more than work. I felt something I hadn't since you," he said, meeting her eyes again. Peyton's heart skipped a beat, and seemed to fall from her throat to her stomach. "And now you're back," he said softly, taking a step closer to her, his hand touching her cheek. Then he pulled his arm back and spun away. "Oh, this is maddening!"
With that, Peyton painfully agreed. "Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you haven't said anything." He took a step toward her. Peyton's heart leaped back into her throat. "Do you want to give me a consoling hug and say 'Do the honourable thing'? Or grab me and kiss me and tell me to come back?" Peyton could hear the longing in his voice, and see it on his face. She knew what she wanted, and it was probably wrong, but she didn't care. She wouldn't lose Elliot again.
She stepped up to him, closing the distance as she spoke, carefully considering her words. "You said you tried to forget me," she said. "and I understand why. But," she said, gently pressing her body into his, smiling when he sighed in relief. "I'm back now." She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face to hers. Their lips met in a messy surge of emotion and pent-up desire. Peyton felt relief wash over her and sighed when they finally broke the kiss.
"And I'm so glad you are," he said, holding her against him. "Listen, I need time to break it to Linda," he said. Peyton nodded against his chest. "Please, say nothing now. Find me at the shelter in a few days and we'll be together."
Peyton nodded again and placed a chaste kiss on his lips, though she felt his tongue begging entry to her mouth. That would have to wait, she thought to herself, and smiled playfully at him when she pulled back. "Linda is waiting," she reminded him. He merely nodded.
"I love you," he said as she turned to open the hatch.
She turned her face back to him and smiled as she opened the door.
Peyton regarded herself in the mirror in the Sanctuary. She felt ridiculous in the masquerade outfit, though she appreciated aspects of it. She might use pieces of it later on, but all together, it was just overwhelming. She sighed, still, one would hardly be able to tell who she was, which was the point of wearing it. She and Page had to get into Reaver's mansion, though in all honesty, that was the last place she wanted to go. She didn't even want to begin to contemplate what went on there. She needed no more incentive to put Reaver out of power than the decrepit state of Bowerstone Industrial.
But some of Page's people were there; and that made them Peyton's people, too. She had to help. Peyton turned from the mirror and thanked Jasper for his help as she left to meet Page outside Reaver's mansion.
Once there, Page and Peyton followed the man, Hatch, through Reaver's mansion. Peyton couldn't help but feel nervous as they walked through the halls. She glanced around, studying the walls and furniture. There were pictures of Reaver everywhere, which hardly surprised Peyton. Finally they stopped in front of the ballroom door.
"Now," Hatch's voice cut through her thoughts. "There are some ground rules," he said, and Peyton noticed for the first time the funny way he spoke. "Master Reaver insists that nobody carries weapons into the ballroom. There have been some accidents. . ."
Page shook her head vehemently. "I'm afraid I need to keep mine," she insisted. "I'm here to find some friends," she told Hatch.
"Oh! You're the brave, noble rebels!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you say so? I'm an oppressed proletarian myself! We're practically comrades." He winked, and a shiver went up Peyton's spine. She decided right then that she didn't like him, nor did she trust him. She glanced at Page, and couldn't tell if Page had come to the same conclusion.
Hatch bowed to them. "If you just go through these doors, you can sneak past the party and rescue your fellow revolutionaries." The doors opened. Peyton didn't think it was a good idea to just waltz in, but before she could caution, Page was already walking down the hallway. Peyton had no choice but to follow.
They pushed through the double doors and came almost face to face with Kidd, who was locked in a cage that was dangling from the ceiling. "There's one of my men!" Page exclaimed angrily. Peyton followed her to the cage. This had trap written all over it, but Page didn't seem to notice. "Kidd, are you alright?" Page asked.
Frantically, he leaned toward them. "Get out! Now!"
Confused, Page asked, "Where are the others?"
Kidd hung his head and shook it. "All dead. Reaver knew you'd come," his head snapped back up to look in Page's eyes. "He's been waiting for you!"
"What?" Page asked. Something started to click, and the cage moved slightly upward. Peyton grabbed hold of the bars.
"I'll get him out," she told Page as the cage began to slowly be pulled back toward the ceiling.
"My, my!" a voice rang into the ballroom, and all three pairs of eyes turned in its direction. "More busy little bees here to steal Reaver's honey. So industrious. So committed. So bloody annoying," his voice, which at first had seemed amused, took on a hard edge. "When will you people learn to enjoy life?"
From the ground, Page replied, "I'll enjoy killing you, does that count?" Her voice was steal with idealism. Peyton almost shook her head. As much as the world would benefit from Reaver's permanent absence, Peyton knew that in reality, getting rid of was a task even she could not handle. She remembered Walter's stories of Reaver, his warnings about Reaver's skill and character (or lack, thereof). Page had no idea who she was dealing with.
"Oh, you're just full of spunk, aren't you?" Reaver asked, a smirk upon his lips. "A true heroine. You must be lightening under the bedsheets," he said wolfishly. Peyton cast a worried glance down at Page, who she knew would rise to the bait. "And now, as promised, the evening's piece de la resistance. Another piece of the resistance." He chuckled darkly, and Peyton heard the sound of a lever being pulled. "Voila."
Peyton's grip on the cage slipped, and she fell to the ground, landing skilfully on her feet. She stood beside Page, and followed her gaze to the ballroom balcony, where stood Reaver and his masked party guests. The cage that held Kidd dangled from the ceiling above them. On the wall below Reaver was a wheel of cogs and little icons on it. She began to guess what he had in store for them, and steeled herself. "Do try to put on a good show for my guests, won't you?" Peyton imagined he was practically pouting.
"You expect us to entertain you?" Page asked, clearly disgusted.
"But of course! It's just a game, my little sweet," Revear purred.
Four rounds later, exhausted from killing Hobbes, Hollow men, mercenaries, and some creature Reaver said he picked up in a foreign country. All the while, she and Page had had to endure Barry Hatch's commentary, and at time Peyton felt an acute desire to wring his neck. The only thing that kept her going was the thought of Elliot waiting for her back in Industrial. She sighed dreamily, and Page fixated her with a strange look. Peyton blushed and then shrugged at the resistance leader as they made their way back to the ballroom.
Reaver was clearly annoyed that she and Page had survived this long in his little death game. "You holier-than-thou idealists, always thinking in the simplest, most binary of ways! But I quite agree. This game grows tiresome. And my guests, they grow. . .restless."
Peyton's eyes watched Reaver warily. Movement behind him caught her attention, and in the darkness she could see Hatch's figure gazing luridly at the woman beside him. Her eyes narrowed, shifting from Reaver to Hatch and back. The air hummed, but she didn't think Page noticed. Peyton had a feeling something unholy was about to happen.
Suddenly, Hatch spoke to the woman who had his attention, who looked nervous, or bored (Peyton couldn't quite tell in the dim light). "No need to get restless, sweetheart," Barry said, his eyes difting over the woman's form. Barry Hatch is here to take care of you." He slid up behind the woman, and Peyton saw his hand disappear behind the woman. The woman practically winced as Hatch continued on blithely. "Fancy a quick jig?" the smarmy lech leered at her. He spun the woman, trying to get her to dance.
At the same time, Reaver pulled the lever again, the cogs spinning. It stopped on an icon Peyton didn't quite recognize, and her attention was drawn back to the woman in Barry's tight grip, for she had suddenly convulsed, trying to jerk her arm out of his grip. "You're a rough one, ain't ya?" he asked, thoroughly enjoying himself, unaware of his impending danger. "I like that in a woman." And then he saw her changing. "You're just. . .what? Reaver!" he yelled, turning to his master. But Reaver stepped back as the woman-now-balverine jumped on Barry, mauling his throat. "Reaver! Help!" he gargled, and then Peyton couldn't hear him anymore. Horrified, she watched as Reaver watched the balverine gnaw on Hatch's fresh corpse.
"Oh, dear. Do you brutes have any idea how hard it is to find good staff?" Reaver asked the balverine at his feet. Then Reaver shrugged. "Still, one might as well enjoy the show. What's the use of a secret society without a little secret, after all." As if in agreement, the balverine leaped from the balcony onto the main floor.
Peyton jumped back as she and Page were suddenly swarmed with balverines. Peyton knew her rifle would be of little use here. From the stories, she knew that balverines were quick, and so she needed to be quick as well. She couldn't afford the time it would take to aim. She would have to rely on her will and her sword. She dodged as she saw one of the creatures charge her and aimed a fireball at it, satisfied when she heard a sizzle and whimper. She dodged again, not knowing just how long it would take to recover.
"I hope you're finding them amusing to fight," Reaver commented over the megaphone. "I don't want you to get bored." She could practically hear the laughter in his voice. She felt a burning in her arm, and saw that a balverine was taking fast swipes at her. She cursed Reaver for distracting her. She tried to ignore his comments by thinking of other things, mainly of Elliot, or the past; of how her brother used to be, before all of this. These things helped her focus, gave her purpose. A reason to fight.
She remembered her first barrier on the Road to Rule, where Theresa had shown her the vision of Logan in his war room. Others would have thought him heartless and cruel from what she saw there. But he was her brother, and she knew him. The circles under his eyes, the tremor in his voice, his passion as he spoke about Albion. Something was terribly wrong. It was the only explanation. Yet it did not excuse his actions. She knew that. He had to be stopped. She shook her head as she drove her blade into a balverine's chest.
Glancing around the room, she saw there were only three of the beasts left.
"You do handle yourself rather well," Reaver commented, his voice now intrigued. "My suspicions about your true nature seem to be correct," he mused. Dodging a balverine, Peyton cast a quick glance up at Revear, who met her gaze. She broke eye contact to dodge again, and cast a fireball at the balverine, sending it hurtling into a wall. She rushed at it and slammed the hilt of her sword into its head, crushing it. "Hero, I do believe you might survive this after all. How wonderfully unexpected."
Page had dispatched of one, herself, and the last balverine circled them, calculating its chances. Peyton charged up her fire spell, carefully aiming it at the creature's head. Thankfully, Page was distracting it with a few hits while Peyton let the spell build up. When she could hold it no more, Peyton threw the fireball and heaved in a breath of air as the balverine's head exploded.
Peyton looked up at Page, relieved it was over. "This is the last party I take you to," she grinned.
"Well, I must say, you've made me out to be a somewhat poor host," Reaver chided. The two young women turned to look up at him. He shook his head. "Rather rude of you to dispose of all my guests."
"Now it's your turn, Reaver," Page said, lifting her pistol and aiming for Reaver's head and shooting before Peyton had a chance to protest. Not that a protest would have done her any good, not with Page, at least.
With reflexes well honed, Reaver lifted his cane and swatted the bullet away as if it were a fly. Page stood rigid, her mouth wide open in shock. The bullet sang and then clicked on the ground as it landed at Page's feet. Peyton couldn't help but feel impressed, but didn't let it show. No need to feed that already enormous ego Reaver had.
"Oh, my dear girl, why not stop all this bickering? The three of us could go up to my quarters and have a private party." Peyton felt Reaver's eyes scanning both her and Page, and her cheeks flushed; half in embarrassment and half in anger. She stepped forward, but Page spoke for her.
"Do you have any idea who this is?"
Reaver arched an eyebrow beneath his mask and tilted his head.
"It's Logan's sister, the princess!"
Peyton crossed her arms over her chest and glared at Reaver.
Reaver was now genuinely intrigued. "The King's sister is a bona fide Hero. . ." he mused. "Well, I wouldn't dream of coming between siblings," he said, turning away. Then he laughed and turned back. "Well, that's not strictly true. . .there was that time. . ." he turned away again. "Anyway, best of luck with this whole revolution lark. Perhaps we'll meet again one day."
Peyton sincerely hoped she would never see Reaver again, but doubted she would be that lucky.
"Tatty-bye," his voice rang as he disappeared down a corridor.
"Hey, come back!" Page cried after him, moving as if to follow him. Peyton grabbed the enraged woman's shoulder and pulled her back, shaking her head. "Bloody coward," she mumbled.
"Would someone mind getting me out of here now?"
Both women had forgotten about Kidd. Peyton slapped her palm to her face, and the nodded. "Yes, sorry, Kidd," Page said as they moved to find a way to lower the cage back down.
Clean, comfortable, and back in her normal clothes, Peyton left the Santuary for Bowerstone Industrial. Excitement fluttered in her belly; she was going to see Elliot now. She hadn't had a chance to since she'd rescued him from Ferret, what with gaining the resistance's support. Now she had a little free time for herself. She dropped a few coins into the open hands of a beggar as she passed before turning toward the orphanage. And there stood Elliot, waiting for her.
His face lit up when he saw her approaching, and Peyton smiled at him, like she used to. "Darling," he greeted, and she felt she'd melt inside. "I'm so glad you've come." They embraced. "I spoke to Linda," he said, pulling back a little so he could see her face. "She said she understood," he shook his head. "Which made it even harder. I wish she'd called me awful names and thrown me out."
Peyton gave a small, sympathetic laugh. "Always simpler that way. But she doesn't seem the sort," she remarked.
"She's a good woman, and I'll always love her," he said, and Peyton blanched a little. He cupped her face in his hand. "But not like I love you." He grinned at her. "So, what are we waiting for? If we're to spend the rest of our lives together, let's start right now." He bent and kissed her softly, and Peyton tightened her arms around his waist as his tightened around her shoulders. She breathed in his familiar scent; how she'd missed it! She opened her mouth to him, and moaned a little as he slipped his tongue in to tangle with her own.
Dizzy, she broke the kiss and smiled at Elliot, who pouted at the loss of her mouth. "Marry me?" she asked airily.
He pressed his forehead against hers. "Darling, of course I will."
The ceremony had been so perfect. Townsfolk and a friends from the resistance, and Walter all attended. The town square had been decorated with flowers and streamers, the wedding officiated by a priest. Everything was within sight of the castle. Peyton had chosen this place on purpose, sure that her brother would see. He had driven the rift between them, and Peyton was sure that even if she could have invited him, he wouldn't have come. But she wanted him to see; she had the love and support of the people, she was happy. Without him.
She didn't know if he saw, if he watched. She didn't even know if he knew, though he probably did. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Elliot and her were finally together, finally married like they had always wanted and planned.
Peyton had purchased a nice house near Bowerstone Market, and as soon as the ceremony was over, that's where she and Peyton disappeared, eager to get their hands on each other. Holding Elliots hand, she dragged him upstairs toward the bedroom.
"Do you remember when we used to sneak up to your room in the Castle?" he asked her with unmasked desire in his voice.
Peyton giggled.
"Fancy reliving those memories?"
In answer, Peyton sat on the bed and pulled Elliot toward her. She let her eyes roam over his body until they met his eyes. "Care to remind me?" she asked huskily.
In a flash, they were at each other, each pair of hands on the other's clothes, trying to find the quickest route possible out of them. Then they were skin on skin, lips on lips, tongues and legs entangled. Desperate to feel each other again after so much time apart, they lost themselves in heated passion.
In the aftermath, while their breathes and pulses slowed, Peyton kissed her groom's chest, upon which she rested. She shivered as Elliot lightly ran his fingers up and down her spine. She was not done with him yet, though. They had let their need rule before, but now was time for slow and careful love-making, where they could fully enjoy each other.
She trailed her lips over his chest, gently nipping at his nipple, and was pleased when he squawked in response, his fingers suddenly digging into the skin of her back. She gave it a suck, and he moaned. "Hey, that's my job," he murmured, entwining his fingers in her hair and bringing her head up to his face so he could kiss her. She could feel him hardening again against her leg, and smiled in the kiss.
"Well, then, get to it," she breathed, giving his nipple a light flick with her finger. Without further ado, he rolled her beneath him.
Peyton lay awake later that night, sitting in bed and watching Elliot sleep. She loved him so much. At the start of all this, she had thought she'd lost him with her choice to save him. It was a huge blow to her confidence, and for the longest time she had doubted she could pull this revolution off. And yet, here he was, laying beside her as her husband. Elliot had faith in her, loved her.
She turned her gaze to the window of their bedroom. Perhaps there was hope for her, after all. She would win this revolution and be the leader Logan could not be.