post-series.
Fragile
It happens after the crowd disperses, after the nobles return with their knights, after the high double doors close to their royal chamber. It never comes on a schedule, always appearing sporadically and with little to no warning. The only thing they can be thankful for is that the poison's presence has been slowly dissipating over the years. It's a slow process, but there's still progress they can label.
Tonight is such a night.
She sits at her vanity, removing her jewelry and taking the pins out of her hair to let the long black locks sway down her back. Taking a brush, her eyes catch his in the reflection of the mirror. She smiles warmly. He doesn't.
His eyes are tinted.
It's this detail that leaves her stiffening in her seat, her hand pausing in the middle of brushing her hair. It has been months since she's last seen him this way, and she knows just what to expect.
They can fight it together for the rest of their lives, but nothing can stop the poison from running in their veins.
Closing her eyes, she puts the brush down and breathes. It's never a game of who will come out on top when that side of him appears. She knows he's far too strong to ever be taken under completely. But all it takes is one small crack for it to spread across the glass.
He's already standing behind her when she rises, turning to meet his sharp gaze. She refuses to fall, refuses to listen.
Kraehe.
But she still winces when he uses that name.
He takes the opening to reach for her and push her to the bed, crawling on top of her with a dark sneer on his face. She can see it waver, as if it doesn't belong there, as if that small part of him is fighting tooth and nail to keep that cruel look on his expression. Leaning back, she does not resist. At least, not physically. But she's come to learn other ways to defy over the years, so her eyes remain strong as he caresses her.
His fingers run over her neck, collarbone, breast. He lifts a strong fist—relaxes—and then points, sliding the tip down to where he can feel her pulse the strongest as it beats with vitality.
Give me your heart.
Again she closes her eyes, and in response to his gesture she reaches for his hand. When she takes it he tries to jerk away, but her grip is true as she brings it closer and flattens it out into a palm, pulling it to her chest. She lets him feel the beat, lets it sink in as her red eyes open and stares to his own.
It is already yours.
End