Hi!
A vacation with no internet meant I grabbed a couple paperbacks to dump in my bag. That is how I rediscovered Kushiel's Scion. And I remembered, how I had loved the verse and the characters. And it was just as good now as the first time.
This story first came to me five years ago. I was a beginning writer then, and the story slept, unwritten. I am very happy that it has come back. First person is intimidating to write, and Carey's style is very unique. I hope to do it justice.
This is a one-shot, with about four chapters. Set some imaginary time toward's the end of Kushiel's Scion.
Oh and this is explicit work. Will contain slash sex and power-play. Actually, this story is all about the sex, with a hint of character development. Which is pretty much my normal style. ;)
...
It was inevitable, I see it now.
Betimes, I think I knew it then too. But I hoped, and pretended.
Mavros was wintering at Montrève.
It was an exciting prospect, in some ways. Memories of the time my cousin fostered with us were bright in my head, and, dare I say, among the staff of the household. It was much the same. Mavros sparkled, in our quiet country estate, dashing and mysterious. He charmed the maids outrageously, plied the cooks with compliments until he was given sweets and diced with the guards, winning and losing with equal grace.
I daresay he did considerable good for my mood, forcing me into long rides across the snowy countryside and recounting tales by the fire until I momentarily forgot my woes.
Mavros brought a much-needed breath of vitality to the small world of Montrève.
Yet he also carried danger. I could sense it, sometimes; a foreboding unease that shivered just under my skin. Mavros was unapologetically Shahrizai, though in Montrève he showed exceptional restraint.
For all his glamorous antics, my cousin never bedded anyone, that I knew of. And opportunity abounded, I am sure. I heard the whispers. People wondered, as simple folk will. Mavros evaded many a clumsy advance with a slanted smile and gentle words.
It forced reluctant respect into my heart. For all his light-hearted dramatics, the weight of being Kushiel's Scion grew heavier for him to bear as the weeks passed. Shahrizai are not meant to be celibate.
I knew.
And while I'm certain his self-imposed torment chafed at times, Mavros hid it well behind a rakish grin. The predator in him was tightly leashed, but it was there. Oh, I could feel it. The blood of Kushiel ran within me too. Some evenings, the distant beat of bronze wings made my teeth grind. Those were the times when my cousin was rather more quiet than usual. Shaking out his myriad braids, Mavros reclined and listened more than he talked, blue eyes dark and watchful.
Evaluating.
I rather thought he drank too much, until one late evening when I was tasked by Eugènie to refill our cups as needed. It was that night when I realized my cousin, for all he seemed to constantly have his long fingers wrapped around his wine-cup, did not drain it even once.
One does not bed the wolf with the sheep without consequence.
Joscelin knew it, glaring silently from across the room with crossed arms. Phèdre too.
Phèdre, just as the first time her domain was invaded by Shahrizai, remained more absent than usual. She was welcoming enough of my cousin's presence, because of his influence on me I am certain. Yet, she was... wary. There was a careful guardedness in her clear eyes that had not been there a few years ago when Mavros had first been here.
They avoided each other, out of some silent mutual agreement.
I asked her about it, on a night when she had retired early to her study, again.
I shouldn't have, mayhap. But... I missed her.
"We are what we are, Imriel." She responded peacefully. "Your cousin knows this too."
Her eyes sharpened and she did not need to remind me of that fateful morning when I had faced that same truth. No matter how I wished to forget, I could still feel the lurch of desire and the taste of rancid perry brandy.
She sighed, hair tumbling over her graceful nape.
"Sometimes, tis best to leave well alone."
I would not be satisfied.
"But what..." I began, agitated. "It's different. Something's different. Last time..."
I trailed off, frustrated by my inability to express confused feelings.
Phèdre, as always, knew me. She understood.
Her answer was simple, yet it made my blood run cold.
"Last time, Mavros was a child, with the simple wants of a teenager."
Her face was illuminated by the crackling fire in twisting shadows, rendering her eyes unreadable.
"Now... Now, he is a man grown." She finished quietly.
Phèdre turned her slender back on me and I knew then. Knew what she would not say. Last time, Phèdre had stayed away because she worried at my cousin's ability for self-control. This time, it was because she doubted herself.
I made a noise in my throat, feeling at once too hot and freezing cold.
It was my fault, for pushing. I didn't want to be angry at Phèdre, and still I was. Bowing stiffly, I forced myself to say "Thank you." Hoping she would understand that despite how upset I was, I was still happy she had been truthful.
The dark mirror, and the light. I had never been able to face either well.
...
It was simple bad timing that unraveled the carefully constructed balance that allowed peace to reign in Montrève.
Another few weeks had passed since my talk with Phèdre. It was late, on a night when a nasty blend of sleet and ice-rain pelted the windows with a sound like a thousand fingers tapping. It set my nerves on edge.
Mavros too, was restless.
How that turned into a silly chasing game with Clovie and her cousin Antoine, I do not know. But the fires sent shadows dancing in the corners and the house resonated with happy shrieks. We stalked them, me and Mavros, sharing a devilish smile. I had the advantage, knowing the house well and being trained in covertcy.
Blood roused, I pointed down one end of the long hallway, mimicking tiptoeing down stairs. I had heard the unique creak-thud of the wine-cellar door. The prospect of tracking our prey in the dimly lit tunnels of the basement multiplied our excitement. If we each took our own way, we could creep silently in the dark and corner them from two different directions.
Mavros was still looking over his shoulder when he set off at a light run, chuckling softly.
Laughing, he ran.
He ran.
Mavros ran straight into Phèdre, who was exiting a doorway at that precise moment.
I heard the muffled thud of two bodies colliding. Hard. A crack, as some body part struck the wood door-frame.
The woosh of breath expelled suddenly from the impact, and then... Nothing.
I felt removed from myself, as I slowly turned back around in that eerily silent corridor.
I could not see much, half-way down the hall, and for that I am grateful.
I did not need to see.
Mavros' tall strong silhouette, his multitude braids hanging down to mid-back, dwarfed Phèdre's slim frame.
He was pressing her into the wall. Unmoving. As I watched, he took one slow step forward, pushing a leg between Phèdre's. As in a dream, I saw his hand wrap around her wrist, hard, and lift her unresisting arm above her head.
Candlelight glittered on polished wood and it seemed to me the hallway undulated.
I beheld, in all it's terrible glory, Kushiel's Legacy fully awakened in my dark cousin.
I froze, deafened by the clanging of bronze Bells. Oh, Elua.
My manhood awoke, surging painfully in my breeches.
And then, somehow, the moment broke.
I will never know what deep reserve of will-power Mavros tapped to be able to push away roughly, taking a staggering step or two. I hurt. I hurt for him. I hurt for them. Someone made a broken sound, maybe me, and then my cousin stormed by me, too fast for me to see more than the terrible mask of strain on his face.
Phèdre whimpered and slowly sank to her knees. Some distant part of me knew that only her long years of training had kept her upright earlier. Had kept her from begging for more.
Without thinking, I took an unsteady step in her direction before I realized what I was doing.
Elua, no.
Whirling about, I glimpsed Joscelin appearing on the far stairway. What terrible things he read in my expression, I could not say.
Mind and body in turmoil, I went in search of my cousin.
...
This first bit is really short, but the story felt like it needed to breathe. Chapters with the actual sex scenes are usually insanely long...
I welcome any comments, especially since this is a new fandom for me.
xxx
French Caresse
