I wrote this quite a while ago as part of fanfic100 (I've claimed the Clayr, and some day I'll get around to posting the other 74 Clayrfics I've written so far - in the meantime, check out my livejournal) and finally decided to post it. The prompt I used for this was #10 - Years. Enjoy :)

Wanting You

It had been years since they'd first met. The first time Lirael met him, she was cold and icy from rushing through Death and she knew she was going to die. He'd been relieved to finally climb out from the Paperwing and he'd barely seen her, doing what she said obediently and trying not to let his knees knock together in fear. It wasn't really an auspicious meeting, standing waiting for Orannis to blast them into oblivion.

But they'd survived. They'd all survived, even Nick who was already dead. Lirael had curled up on the floor, sobbing and crying at the loss of Kibeth, and Touchstone's heart had gone out to the lonely girl. It was odd to think of Sabriel having a sister. It was even odder to think of himself as a brother in law. The feeling of oddity brought with it a sense of impending doom. He'd accidentally led his sisters to death once. What was to say he wouldn't do it again?

Touchstone had been uncomfortable around Lirael for years. Apart from worrying that he'd get her killed, she was so similar in looks to Sabriel that the sisters' opposite personalities threw him off balance. That was until Lirael finally screwed up the courage to yell at him for running away whenever he saw her. The only other woman he'd ever been yelled at by in that manner was Sabriel and then she'd kissed the living daylights out of him.

Lirael couldn't believe she'd just yelled at the King. Even if he was her brother in law, he was still King Touchstone! She'd just got so fed up of him avoiding her, only speaking to her at mealtimes and other occasions where conversations were necessary; if Lirael could break the habit of a lifetime and stop avoiding human companionship, she figured Touchstone could do the same. She considered apologising hurriedly and ducking away, but instead she stood her ground and glared at him furiously.

--

"I heard Lirael shouting at you earlier," Sabriel said with a smile. Touchstone grimaced.

"You have no idea how weird that was," he said with a groan.

"What, being shouted at by my beloved sister? No doubt you deserved it," Sabriel laughed.

"Hmph. It was like you'd suddenly got turned back into a twenty five year old young woman," Touchstone said, shaking his head. "If you and Lirael were the same age, I think I'd have difficulty telling which one was which."

"I hope the outcome of our arguments are different to the outcome of the one you just had with Lirael," Sabriel teased.

"Perhaps you'd better remind me of what happens when we argue," Touchstone suggested.

"After or before I stop screaming at you?" Sabriel asked.

"During," Touchstone said.

"You want me to yell that you're a stupid, chauvinistic –" Touchstone cut her off by kissing her hard.

"I was thinking more along the lines of ooh Touchstone, harder, more, please," he smirked. Sabriel grinned.

"Re-enact away," she said, pulling him down on the bed.

--

'I hate him! That stupid, chauvinistic – ' Lirael's thoughts were cut off as she heard something… odd.

'What was that?' she wondered, following her ears to the source of the sound. As she approached Touchstone and Sabriel's room, she heard the noise again and realised what it was.

"Ooh Touchstone, harder, more, please."

Lirael had never been so embarrassed in her life. There were many things that she didn't ever want to hear, and hearing her sister and brother in law having sex was right at the top of that list. She turned around and rushed back the other way, completely forgetting where she had been going in her haste to get away.

--

Lirael tried to stop herself from blushing as she looked at Sabriel and Touchstone talking at dinner. She told herself to stop being stupid, that they were adults and of course they had sex, but she couldn't entirely banish the mental image of Touchstone in the heat of passion. She wondered what expressions crossed his face, she wondered what noises he made (she hadn't listened to find out) and she wondered what the friction of his bare chest against hers would feel like.

'Why am I thinking this?' she wondered, mentally slapping herself. She wasn't attracted to Touchstone, not in the slightest. He was technically two hundred years older than her, for goodness sake (although, she thought, in reality it was only twenty years, as he'd been imprisoned as a statue for a few centuries), and he was her brother in law! Half brother in law, a voice in her head pointed out. Lirael shook her head in frustration. She was not attracted to him. She'd just been stuck in Abhorsen's House for too long, and the lack of male company was getting to her. That was all.

--

It took three years for Lirael to admit to herself that she did lust after her sister's husband. Once she admitted it to herself, she dropped the Clayr tradition of sleeping with any attractive man that looked her way and threw herself into travelling the Old Kingdom, searching out Dead creatures to destroy. And the further from Belisaere she travelled, the less she had to see him.

Lirael hated herself for being attracted to Touchstone. She couldn't look at Sabriel without feeling a horrible black pang of guilt flooding her chest, and she couldn't look at Touchstone because the feeling of intense lust filled her lower body and mingled with the guilt, producing a maelstrom of emotions that made her want to scream. She wished she could just leave, stay at Abhorsen's House all year except when Touchstone and Sabriel came to stay, and then she could go out hunting the Dead. Or maybe she could go visit Nick, who'd moved to Edge after the defeat of Orannis.

A strange feeling circled around her chest for a few moments before settling in her heart. It took her a few minutes to realise that it was lust – lust for Nick. She'd wanted Touchstone, and only Touchstone, for so long now that she hadn't recognised the feeling of wanting someone else.

Her mind made up, Lirael sent off a message to Edge to inform Nick that he would have a visitor in a week's time. She didn't bother asking. She supposed that after so many years of experiencing her aunt Kirrith's abrasiveness, some of it had rubbed off on her. It only surfaced when she badly wanted something, though. And now she wanted Nick.

--

Their relationship was never based on anything other than lust and sex. They would have been friends with benefits, but there wasn't the care and affection that came with the title of friend. They certainly weren't lovers, for exactly the same reason. They were just fuck buddies who had chosen to spend their lives together.

Lirael didn't really care whether or not her family approved. Her Clayr family certainly didn't object – most Clayr never went beyond one-night stands. Her Abhorsen family, though… Ellimere had long since stopped speaking to her, and Sam refused to let his children visit the House. He worried that they'd be corrupted by Lirael and Nick's wild ways.

The rejection had hurt, at first. But then Lirael had started to wonder why. Why did she always have to give up what she wanted to do to suit other people? Why wouldn't they accept her as she was? If they really cared about her, would they not stick with her, whatever choices she made?

Lirael began to turn cold, and bitter, and icy. She resented her family for rejecting her, and she resented herself for being who she was. But every time Nick pulled her down to the floor of the cellar, or dragged her into an alcove near the dining hall, or interrupted her in the shower, she couldn't bring herself to send him away from her. Sex made her feel alive, if only for a short time. The waves of pleasure softened her heart and she looked kinder upon the world for a few hours.

--

Eight years later, Sabriel and Nick were attacked by the Dead as they flew from Belisaere to the House. It was the first time in over a decade that Sabriel had encountered such a large group of Dead creatures, and Lirael later wondered if the two of them had died because Sabriel had lost her touch.

Lirael threw herself into being the Abhorsen. She searched the Old Kingdom high and low for the necromancer who was to blame for her sister's death, but the sorcerer appeared to have vanished.

On the rare occasions that Lirael visited the palace in Belisaere, Touchstone always avoided her, finding some obscure kingly work to do. Lirael and Sabriel looked so similar, the only difference being their personalities and ages… and the fact that the one he loved was dead.

Touchstone woke up in the middle of the night, once. He'd been ill for days, a chest infection confining him to his bed with a high fever. A cool hand rested on his forehead and long, soft black hair brushed over his bare chest as she leaned forward.

"Sabriel?" he'd asked. "I thought – I saw you dead! How –?" An elegant finger had rested on his lips and the dark hair falling forward had tickled as she'd shaken her head.

"It's me," Lirael had said softly. "Lirael."

Touchstone had scrutinised her face, looking for the cold Lirael-ness that would distinguish her from Sabriel. But he hadn't found it, only an odd look of caring and something else. It was a familiar look, but he hadn't seen it for a long time. A moment later, he realised it was the look Sabriel had had in her eyes before they spoke of love. Did – did Lirael love him? he wondered, but decided he was delirious. She'd avoided him for years, only speaking to him when necessary. Those weren't the actions of a woman in love.

Lirael drew back sharply, trying to pull her icy mask back together. She moved away and walked to the door, but Touchstone called her back on impulse. He got out of bed, and clutched the table for a moment as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He staggered over to Lirael and looked down into her brown eyes.

Eyes the same as Sabriel's. Eyes that held the same love.

His gaze swept down over her face – the same aristocratic nose, the same pale lips, the same cheekbones. He noticed her eyes moving and realised that they were flitting over his bare chest. Just as Sabriel's used to do. They had the same features, the same mannerisms, the same voice. Touchstone felt as lonely as ever, but he wondered if Lirael would be able to cease that lonely ache.

Lirael's eyes swept up and met Touchstone's. She realised what he planned to do. But she was still surprised when his lips crashed down on hers and his arms pulled her against him.

She'd wanted this for so many years. Wanted it, but hated herself for wanting it, because he wasn't hers to have. But now he was free, and maybe he would come to love her as she him. But however much Lirael told herself that it was right, the kiss felt wrong. There was none of the sense of newness that comes with kissing someone for the first time, and Lirael suddenly realised that she didn't want this any more.

Touchstone looked at her in confusion as Lirael pushed him away.

"I can't do this," she said, turning away from him and letting her hair fall around her face. He hadn't seen her so vulnerable in years.

"I can't. I won't," she said, stronger this time. She turned back to face him.

"I'm not Sabriel, Touchstone… Torrigan," she said. Touchstone's heart ached. Sabriel had often called him that when she had something important to tell him. "I'm not Sabriel. I – I may love you, but I know you'll always be in love with her. And I'm not willing to be used so that you can pretend she's still here. I – I guess I don't love you enough for that."

Touchstone stared at her. He hadn't consciously meant to use her. But now when he thought about it, he realised he had been. He'd thought to cover up the pain of losing his love by replacing her with a double. He sank down on the floor.

"Sabriel…" he murmured softly. "I'm sorry."

That time Lirael knew he wasn't thinking of her, wasn't pretending that she was Sabriel. She crouched down beside him.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered to him. Touchstone sagged sideways into her arms, resting his head on her shoulder. Lirael tightened her arms around him, resting her dark head on his curly one. She couldn't have him. But somehow… somehow this felt better than the romance she'd once wanted.