A/N: Hi, so this is my venture into Old Kingdom territory seven years after I last touched the books. I remember Sabriel and Touchstone pretty well since I've read Sabriel to tatters. But I really only read Lirael and Abhorsen once-and never after that (because I desperately wanted Sam and Lirael together only to find out that Garth Nix made them RELATED *cries*) Anyway, here's my sort-of AU that'll be centred around Sam/Lirael just because they were such a good couple until they became related (WHY, WHY, WHY!)
Disclaimer: Everything familiar is Garth Nix's genius
Warning: If you are offended by any hint of incest, please exit now. By nature this isn't intentionally incest, but circumstancially-because Garth Nix gave them such good chemistry only to dash my matchmaking hopes. Sniffle.
Like Fictions You Would Make
In a nightmare, I am falling from the ceiling into bed beside you
You're asleep, I'm screaming, shoving you to try to wake you up
And like before, you've got no interest in the life you live when you're awake
Your dreams still follow storylines, like fictions you would make
-Epilogue, by The Antlers
It was the evening of Ellimere's birthday, and Lirael sat upon the dais alongside the queen and her husband, watching the masses on the ballroom floor as they waltzed and mingled to a general cacophony of merriness. Laughing and chattering gaily, the princess in question seemed to be enjoying herself, and from Lirael's sideways perusal of her sister and brother-in-law, Sabriel and Touchstone were every bit the satisfied rulers and proud parents they deserved to be for the evening.
A slight frown made its way upon her face upon dawning realisation that her nephew had yet to make his presence known-a habit he had come to adopt of late; and one which his mother had been chiding him for since the pattern emerged. The King, however, chose a more passive approach, dismissing it as a 'symptom of delayed adolescence'; Sameth would grow out of it in a few months, it was probably some moodswing or other, he had reasoned.
'Delayed adolescence' indeed; Lirael would snort, echoing in sentiment her sister's incredulous protest-'Adolescence-Charter forbid! He's already twenty-and-three, Touchstone!' And so with each no-show, Sabriel continued nagging her son's absence, and her husband continued to brush off the young man's behaviour. Today, however, it seemed they had let the matter rest in favour of their shared joy in celebrating the anniversary of their daughter's birth.
Seeing their entwined fingers resting over the armrests of the adjacent chairs, Lirael's heart warmed at their lasting companionship and complementary natures. She was glad that her half-sister had found someone like Touchstone, but it was times such as these that rendered the Disreputable Dog's absence all the more a stark, gaping hole within her consciousness. Feeling the emptiness creep upon her, she averted her eyes away from the couple, sweeping her gaze blindly across the ballroom for a few seconds before resolutely reaching out a hand to touch her sister's elbow.
"Sabriel, I'll be heading for a walk to clear my head," She managed to muster a tired smile as her sister looked over worriedly. "I'll be fine with a bit of fresh air, don't worry."
"If you're sure,"-a hesitant stare, and a squeeze of her hand. "Take care, sister."
Touched by her genuine concern, sincerity melded into her smile as she returned the squeeze and slipped out of the room through the door leading to the gardens.
He'd been watching her.
It had been survival instinct at first, when they first met as wandering strangers-that I'll-watch-your-back-and-you'll-watch-mine thing that was necessary out on the terrain, especially with the undead rampant as they were. Then as the days passed he found that watching her had gradually taken on the simultaneous role a soothing routine-perhaps because he'd only get a peace of mind when he was certain of her safety. Nevertheless, even when they transitioned into their stable lifestyle in the palace, he continued to watch her, for-and he realised this only as he pondered it-it had become some sort of fix, some sort of security blanket that was the sole remedy to an underlying, soul-searing anxiety.
And maybe-maybe if he was being brutally honest within the recesses of his own mind-he'd admit that she had become an obsession of sorts.
But really, it was just deep concern for an aunt, right?
It made sense really; having spent a certain amount of time with her as his travelling companion, they'd undoubtedly have forged a close friendship, so his concern was justified. And with her tendency of bottling up her grief over the passing of her loyal companion Dog, this made it all the more so.
But until he noticed his father's own dark gaze trained on himself, he remained oblivious to the fact that with each shared presence, his eyes were inevitably drawn to her form.
And so he formulated a strategy to avoid being in her presence when others were around; which turned out to be not-that-fantastic a strategy after all: it only served to turn his mother into a nagging-automaton and his father, into an individual possessing an air of knowing that sent tendrils of panic and a perpetuating anxiety through him.
It was precisely this unsettling and growing anxiety that bothered him the most. Watching her was like a drug-temporary relief, only to lead to emotional plummeting only moments after. Some days, just to avoid his father's penetrating, watchful eyes, he'd shut himself in his chambers or leave the castle altogether for the entire day. Yet the throbbing itch that originated somewhere from between his heart and his gut always seemed to worsen then; and all his mind would be coherent of was her name, her eyes, and her sarcastic wit.
He tried-oh, how he'd tried-approaching her. There were many an evening where he had padded down the hallway with the intent of seeking her out, just for a walk, just for old times' sake; and yet arrived at her door, fist poised to rap on the wooden surface, to find himself cowering and hesitant as a skittish pony. And night after night he had trudged back in shame, the shadows mocking his pansy-like behaviour as he made his way back down the same corridor.
On the evening of Ellimere's birthday, he had attempted to blend with the crowd in the ballroom and had eschewed the royal dais at the head of the room, just so that he could watch her for once, without worry (for he would have the excuse of watching his parents; since she sat directly beside them).
From his vantage point somewhere along the edge of the ballroom, he could see the emotions play across her face-a warm smile that gave way to a sad, upward-tilt of her lips as she watched his parents. She was missing Dog, he quickly realised. But as that hit him, he spotted her making her way off the steps and towards one of the exits.
He wasted no time in following.
A/N: Any factual mistakes so far? *Shifty eyes* (This'll be a two-shot, by the looks of it)
On another note: IF YOU'RE A SAM/LIRAEL FAN SAY 'AYE'!