DISCLAIMER: The characters and the setting belong to Ryo Mizuno. The city of Raiden was taken by Eiyuu Kishi Den, a ROLW fansite, I do not know if a settlement of dark elves there is canon or just a roleplay construction. The only things I own are name of the unnamed sister and the OCs Shira and Victhar.

AN EXPLANATION: This is manga-based. If you have watched just the anime, you can't possibly understand it because Jiba and his sister didn't feature in it (what a loss of a storyline...).
Basically, there is a curse upon dark elven twins; any pair of twins born to a dark elven mother will share only one soul. This half life usually kills the twins before their first birthday. Jiba and his sister (who does not have a name in the manga) were twins. Their mother sought the help of Wagnard to save her children, and he agreed. By using necromantic magic, he bound the portion of soul belonging to the weaker female twin to a demon, then bound both to the stronger Jiba, thus allowing him to live, but apparently this life was not a bed of roses and he wanted nothing better than to free his sister, getting to the extremes of helping the mage Wagnard in his scheme to revive the goddess of destruction in order to reach his goal. Throughout the storyline, he behaves like a loving brother even if his sister is little more than a raving, murderous beast. The manga ending sees the two reunited in a single complete person by the hands of Neese, but this endidng didn't satisfy me.
What if Neese could give them freedom for real, as two separate people?

WARNING: this will contain a lemon, nothing graphic, but quite fluffy. But still, it is twincest, so if this is not your cup of tea, do not read.
Really...
No flaming me.
You have been warned!

Enjoy and review!

Jiba felt like he could never get enough of watching her smile.
After all they had endured, after all the fighting, all those years, they had finally found peace, finally found completion.

He remembered what happened in the dungeons in Marmo, that fatal, eternal moment when the girl had not known if she was Neese or Naneel, when the world had been on the brink of destruction. He remembered asking the goddess for deliverance, pleading for freedom, for having his sister restored to him and remembered being almost destroyed in the conflagration of energy. He did not know what happened in those momentous instants when everything had been in danger of annihilation, he could not have cared less about the world that had always shunned and mistreated him and his sister. He only cared for her, anguished at her silent pleas for freedom, felt her unnameable rage and suffered for her. What did he care if the world ended, if only she could be free?
He did not remember anything, except that when he woke up feeling empty and confused, she had been right beside him, totally real and as confused. She no longer had soft but powerful, white wings and sharp, black talons, but she was so beautiful... She stared at her hands and at her body with soft wonder, tears gathering in her golden eyes and falling on her dark-skinned, perfect face, free of monstrous glee and fury at last. He remembered extending a hand and touching her soft, warm skin and asking himself if it was real or just a delirium, a shared dream like they always had. He remembered her smile: he had never seen or felt her smile for real, without murdering intent, before. It was the most beautiful sight ever. Slowly, his sister crawled to him, she didn't know how to walk, and flung her arms around him, hugging him so tight that he almost couldn't breathe, her forehead touching his, her tears falling on his face. Over her shaking shoulders, he saw the mage, Aldo Nova, smiling softly and knew it was not a dream. "We made it, sweet sister… – he breathed, letting his own tears fall free and mingle with hers – We are safe. It is all over." His sister didn't answer, she didn't know how to talk, but hugged him tighter still, making a low keening noise in her throat. "It is over. It is over. It is over." he repeated as a mantra, as a lullaby, caressing her hair, soothing her.

It had not been easy getting accustomed to this new life. The loss of connection, being unable to tell how she felt or what she thought as if the thoughts or feelings were his and having to rely on his senses to tell, scared him. He felt incomplete, head-blind, but seeing her so blissful, engaged in exploring the world she had experienced so little in those long years, learning with a burning need for knowledge, more than made up for his loss and made him feel slightly the egotist for noticing it at all. Maya, this was the name he gave her, since their mother didn't even bother, didn't know anything of the world and he had to teach her the most basic things, from walking to speaking, to washing and dressing herself. In a way, nothing had changed, he was still the elder responsible sibling and it didn't discomfit him in the least. He enjoyed having to care for her, felt proud at her every accomplishment, however small. In a way, he was for her not just a brother, but also a loving parent and a friend. He was her world, and she his.
When she finally learned to speak, her first word was his name and he actually cried tears of joy upon hearing it. He loved the sound of her voice, her stumbling upon unfamiliar words and stubbornly repeating them until she got them right. Later on, he could listen to her talk for hours. Everything was new and beautiful for her and seen through her eyes and her words, the world seemed more beautiful than the harsh and cold place Jiba knew it to be.
He loved when she walked unsteadily using him as a support, leaning upon him and laughing. "I look like an old woman like this…" she would say, smiling, but she would accept his help, and even now that she could walk and even run as a gazelle, she still liked to thread her arm with his and walk calmly beside him in the forest.
They had to move from Marmo, for obvious reasons, not last Luzev's wrath, but he had managed to find a passage to Raiden, a city of outcasts where other dark elves lived. There in the forests, with the help of the spirits, he had built a home for them both, away from the villages but not far. He wanted privacy, but felt like he could not isolate his sweet sister for ever. She was bound to want some other company beside his, sooner or later, and, even if he dreaded the moment when she would go away, far from him, he was fully ready to make the sacrifice and let her go. He wanted her to be happy, even at the cost of his own happiness.
He could ask nothing better than live like this forever, waking up every morning curled beside her (she would never sleep alone, it gave her nightmares, she said, and who was he to complain after all?), working in the fields while she played and sang (her voice was so sweet, better than any other music), watching her grow from a scared little thing in the body of a beautiful woman into that splendid creature, but it would be cruel and selfish to confine her, to keep her for himself forever.

When he first took her to the village, two years later, after having forestalled the moment for as long as possible, she stared wide-eyed at everything: she had never seen so many people together. Granted, she had been to Marmo and many other places, while she was a mere spirit tied to his soul, and she had escaped from fallen Marmo with him in the first days of her real life, but those were nightmares and these confused memories, like the very first memories of a young child.
She was beautiful. She stood out even among others of her race, tall and graceful and innocent. Jiba noticed that he had not been the only one to notice and felt like strangling the bastards who dared set eyes on his Maya. Fuming silently, he had taken her to the bazaar, to purchase small commodities he could not craft. She drank in the sights and smells of the place greedily, curious as a cat, eliciting smiling but worried glances from the salespeople. Maybe some of them thought she was a bit retarded from her childish behaviour, but she was far from it. Let them think what they wanted, he shrugged.
Jiba knew that it was very unlikely that Maya's curiosity and her lively nature would be sated by a single visit to the accursed place. She didn't ask, but he saw the pleading in his eyes and almost felt her yearning for it, for the hustle and bustle, for the noise, the smells and the sights of the wonderful place, almost felt it as if they still were one, and could not refuse. He took to chaperone her there every week to explore and took the habit of buying her a little present every time. Oh, how she would look at him with eyes full of gratitude and tenderness and flung her arms around his neck and kiss him on his cheek.
The first time a giggling girl came to ask Maya out to play with a group of other maidens, his sister shirked back, wary, and sought refuge with him, as usual, but the girl came again the next week and the week after that and Maya gave in, asking him for a permission he didn't have the heart to refuse.
He had to keep telling himself that he was happy if she was happy, and she looked nothing less than deliriously joyful when she played with her newfound friends. If they found it strange that she didn't know any of the games they played, they didn't voice their concern and Maya's progress in their society was unhindered. As he gathered, most of the village assumed they were orphans and refugees form the war in Marmo, which in fact they were, and therefore entitled to their sympathy and to being a bit strange.
As the warm season got by, Maya started to go to the market most days, leaving him alone at their house. He tended to the fields, waiting for her return and feeling lonelier than ever. He felt mutilated when she was not around, but he steeled himself and endured. Every time she would return with a broad smile on her face and hug him and he would feel like a piece of a puzzle clicking into place again. Over supper, she would talk to him of her adventures with her friends, of their games and their conversations, of her feelings and impressions, and his loneliness would abate. Some nights he almost felt like he was connected to her again, particularly when they went to bed and she would curl against him, sleepily biding him good-night and falling asleep with her head on his shoulder. On those nights, he would remain awake a bit longer, just to hear the sound of her breath and to inhale that sweet smell of flowers and earth that was hers and hers alone, and he would feel deeply content and safe, relaxing gradually and sinking into oblivion in his sister's arms.

Jiba felt happy but he knew deep down that happiness would not last. It never did. He also knew exactly that the beginning of the downfall would be when his sister discovered men. The death knoll of their happy secluded life sounded on a pretty spring evening, roughly a year after he had first led her to the market. Maya returned from her trip to the village, unsmiling for a change, but pensive and almost melancholy. Jiba knew from the start that something was wrong, but she wouldn't tell him what. Her idle conversation on anything and nothing, which he usually found so endearing, was grating on his nerves. Only at the end of the meal she told the truth. "Shira has introduced me to her cousin Victhar." she said as if it was unimportant, but he saw her blush and knew himself doomed. He didn't say anything and kept his featured schooled into a reassuring smile, but deep inside his heart was sinking. It was just a matter of time, he knew, before he would be left behind when she went on with her life. It may not be with this guy, it may not be this time, but the stage was set for the show. She would fall in love, fall hard, and marry and leave him alone in the house he built for her, but he must not think of it. It was natural, it was good: she was just growing up. If he loved her so much as to be willing to destroy the world for her, he could bloody well let her take ownership of the life he had strived to give her.
During the following months, Jiba tried to forget that she ever mentioned the boy and she didn't mention him again, in fact. Could it be that she sensed his discomfort and tried to hide from him? He couldn't tell, but he was more than happy to leave well enough alone. Who knows, she might have already dumped the guy, or may never have hooked up with him to begin with…
His tenuous hopes were horribly crashed one late summer evening. He was rushing to the village to buy a new handle for his sickle when he almost collided with a blissfully oblivious couple of youngsters who were kissing each other like there was no tomorrow. It took him a few moments to realize that the girl of the couple was his Maya. Eyes closed, arms flung around the boy's neck (might he be that Vic-something she had talked about months ago?), she seemed to be enjoying the moment. The boy held her flush against him, hands on her waist, almost possessively. The world seemed to stop for a moment. Jiba wanted nothing better than to fling himself at the boy and beat him within an inch of his life. Even if Vic-whatever was taller and broader than him, Jiba was sure he could make short work of him; after all he had been alone on the streets of Marmo since day one, had been in war and had killed more people than he cared to remember. From a practical point of view, he could beat the sod to a pulp, he surely could, but why did he feel this horrible impulse to do it? His sister was happy, that was clear, why he couldn't feel happy for her? Why did he want to tear her away from that embrace? Why did he feel as if his heart was shattering?
Jiba turned on his heel, unheeded, and ran as fast as he could towards his home, never stopping, then kept running, until he was totally exhausted, until he couldn't take a step further and collapsed to the ground. Sprawled on his back in the fields, Jiba contemplated the darkening sky above him, cold and unfeeling, so splendid even if it was a horrible day, totally uncaring. There was no justice in the world.
Jiba didn't tell Maya what he had seen, he didn't mention it in any way and she didn't volunteer any confession. It was alright, the last thing he wanted was to hear her tell him of his virtues, of how she liked to be with him and all that sweet small -talk. The mere thought of it made him sick at heart. He didn't rejoice in the fact that she had found a boyfriend, but he forced himself not to hinder it. He had stopped going to the market altogether, delegating the duty of shopping entirely to Maya. He told her that it was so that she took increasing responsibilities, but, in truth, he didn't want to go to the village lest he saw that boy. He hated him with everything he was and didn't trust himself enough to keep calm if the boy crossed his path.
As a consequence of his inner turmoil, even the relationship with his sister was straining. Maybe picking up his melancholy or maybe because happier and more momentous thoughts occupied her mind, Maya was less talkative than usual during the evenings and uneasy silence filled the house. She may have stopped talking to him, but, when they went to bed, she clung to him even more fiercely. It was as in their first weeks together, when she would hold on to him as if he was the only solid thing in a flood and never let go.
Even if usually he viewed it as a curse, Jiba was actually grateful that their thoughts and feelings were not connected anymore. When he lay awake beside her at night, savouring her nearness until it lasted, he couldn't help but thinking and feeling things he shouldn't, un-brotherly, dark, disturbing things. He should be the one to make her happy; he should be the one to hold her close during the day as well as during the night. He gazed at her innocent, sleeping form and he had to fight with all his might against the temptation of claiming her lips with his, of tasting heaven for a mere moment. How could he be so depravate?

Stewing in his unholy feelings, tormented by jealousy towards the carefree boy his sister loved, Jiba grew still more indrawn. He was still gentle towards his sister, even more so, sweet to a fault, but silent, with a tangible melancholy edge. Their conversations seemed forced at best, he unwilling to talk lest she discovered his shameful secrets and she distant, as if wondering, and most times they shared an uneasy silence over their supper, only to curl into each other's arms all more fiercely, like the scared children they still were facing a thunderstorm.
In fact, the atmosphere felt tense and electric as if a storm was brewing, both figuratively and materially. Autumn was fast approaching on cold winds, with its load of gelid rain, but there was still much to do in the fields. Jiba toiled alone. He didn't care about fatigue and boredom. As long as Maya was happy, what if he suffered? What if his heart burst under conflicting, unnameable emotions? To tell the whole truth, he enjoyed manual labour; it allowed him to stop thinking, focusing on the rhythmic, repetitive motion, to stop anguishing, to exhaust himself.
He was all sweaty from the day's labour, that afternoon, when he walked home, shirtless and empty-headed. The day was sullen: dark, billowing clouds nursing a nascent storm, the light metallic and sickly. Jiba had the feeling that something important was going to happen, something not necessarily good, but big. Walking through the woods, he took a shortcut through a meadow and there, under the shade of a big, shaggy bush, still sporting most of its summer leaves, he found Maya, entangled in a passionate embrace with her beau. Her blouse was unlaced and her pert breasts peeked out, her hair dishevelled, her lips locked with her lover's, while his hands roamed freely upon her chocolate skin. For a moment, Jiba could only stand and stare, marvelling at how he had never noticed that her naked skin was so enticing, after all the times he had had to help her change in the first months. The horrible two-headed beast, lust and jealousy, reared up and roared within him. How easy it would be, to heft his spade and dash the boy's head, to kill him once and for all, this idiot who dared touch his Maya. His whole body screamed in need, urging him to move, to do it, but some better part of him, the part that truly loved his sister and not just coveted her, resisted and knew it was not the way. If he truly loved her, he must let her live, must let her be free. He had fought so long for her to be free, how could he curtail this freedom now, because it didn't lead her the way he wanted? Yes, letting her free was the right thing to do, even if it hurt so much, much more than any wound he had ever sustained, even if he had been almost gutted by an axe. Tears falling on his face, Jiba dropped his spade and ran, ran as fast as he could, whipped by branches, snagged by thorn bushes, heedless of the direction. It didn't really matter where he went, as long as it was far, as far as possible, far enough that he couldn't hurt her, that he couldn't ruin all that he had built for her. If the only way to let her live happily, unthreatened, was removing himself from her life altogether, so be it.
Jiba ran without pause, ran until his lungs burned and his legs felt weak, kept running even when the autumn storm unleashed his fury of freezing rain and chilly, cruel wind and didn't stop running even when he felt his muscles go numb from the cold and his head grow light from fatigue. "Keep running, do not think, do not suffer, run. If you love someone, let them go. Run…" he repeated to himself like a prayer. Almost blinded by the rain and the darkness, he stumbled into a protruding root and fell sprawling to the ground, regained his feet and fell again, unable to muster the strength to rise again. He rolled over on his back and stared at the merciless sky. The world spun around him like a carrousel, rain falling into his eyes and mingling with tears. Jiba felt the darkness approaching. His last thought was for her.

A voice, so sweet, reclaimed him from the embrace of the darkness. "Maya…" he rasped. His throat was sore and raw. He felt both cold and hot at the same time, trembling hopelessly like a leaf in a gale, but still tried to get up. "Shhh… Do not fret. It is all over. I'm here." she said, gently holding him down and wiping his brow with a wet cloth. He shivered harder and she swaddled him tighter in the blankets, curling herself against him to add her warmth to that of the cloth. "I'm here, melanion. I'm here, you are safe." she repeated and he could feel her tenderness and concern, deep inside him, could feel her love enveloping him as if it was another, much warmer blanket, and let himself relax. As long as they were together, they were safe.

Jiba didn't know anything of the hours or days that passed since he had fled from the meadow. He had fragments of memories, but vague and foggy as dreams, more feeling than fact: Maya mopping his brow with a wet cloth, her warmth fighting the chill in his own body, her hands holding him gently while he thrashed. He was lying on a bed, feeling weak as a new-born kitten, a vague pain spreading in his chest. Even opening his eyes was a herculean effort. He was home again, in their room, in their bed and had no idea of how did he get there. Maya was there as well, sitting on the only chair, which had been moved next to the bed. She looked exhausted, dark shadows spreading under her eyes, but upon seeing him open his eyes she seemed to regain her vitality. With a cry of inexpressible joy she jumped from the chair and knelt beside the bed, grasping his hand and peppering it with kisses. "Maya?" he asked weakly, puzzled by her behaviour. She lifted her head from his hand and he saw tears glistening in her golden eyes. "I thought you would not awake. I thought I had lost you…" she whispered, lifting his hand and pressing it against her cheek tenderly.
"How long?..." he croaked, his voice breaking into a coughing fit. Maya helped him sit up and rubbed his back soothingly while he coughed his lungs out. "A week. – she whispered, helping him to lie down again after the fit subsided – A week you have been dancing on the edge of life and death, slipping in and out of consciousness, raving and convulsing." Her face was streaked by tears now. "Sometimes I thought you would not make it. – she confessed, caressing his cheek and brow – But you were always the fighter, I should have known better. Still, I couldn't stop thinking… I was so afraid…"
Still a bit dazed by fever and surprise, Jiba didn't know what to do or say. "I-I am sorry…" he stammered weakly. Maya shook her head fiercely and silenced him with a delicate finger on his lips. "Shh… It is not your fault. – she murmured – If anything it is mine. I feel so guilty… Could you ever forgive me, melanion?" Beloved. She had just called him her beloved. Jiba remained speechless, hoping it was not a mere trick of delirium, and Maya took it as an invitation to explain herself.
"I didn't want to make you suffer, I swear. I just wanted to learn. I had to." She said, but Jiba was none the wiser, upon the contrary, if possible he was even more baffled. Maya shook her head. "Victhar – she said and Jiba winced at the mention of the hateful name – Shhh… No, do not fret. He was nothing, nothing. – she reassured, caressing his face lightly, with mere fingertips, and he shuddered involuntarily – You were so kind to me, so gentle, always helping me, always giving me everything I needed, and I could give you nothing in return, so I decided that I would learn how to make you happy." She took a deep breath, as if steeling her resolve. "I love you so much, brother, so much that I feel like bursting, but I knew nothing, I didn't even know myself to begin with, so I had to learn. I wanted to know more about love, before I disappointed you. This was the only way I could think of learning how to express my love for you…"
Jiba stared at her, completely shocked. "You wanted to learn… - he whispered and she nodded – How to love… Me?" She nodded again, deadly serious.
"You love… Me?" he asked again, his soul torn between a terrible hope and an equally terrible resignation. Maya nodded again.
"Sisterly?" he insisted.
"No. – she said sadly, shaking her head – Like this…" she didn't do anything, externally, but he felt like a dam had been torn to the ground and, through their old connection, all her love for him crashed into him. No, it was not sisterly affection: it was want and need and longing, it was desire, possession, it was the burning need to be as close as possible again, body and soul, to be together, whatever happened. It was the same sentiment against which he had hopelessly fought for all those months. "Maya…" he breathed, lifting a trembling hand to her face, wiping away her tears. "How?..." he asked, and even if he was too weak to complete the sentence, she knew his meaning, like no other ever could. "We have been interwoven together so tightly for so many years that even the gods could not separate us completely without destroying us. – she said – I noticed early, but I kept the connection closed. I didn't want you to love me just because my feelings affected yours. I wanted you to love me for myself…"
"I do. Oh gods, help me, I have always loved you. – he cried, struggling to a sitting position – I fought so hard to stop, but I couldn't."
Maya pressed him back into the bed and quirked an eyebrow to him. "Why?" she asked, puzzled.
"The boy." he replied closing his eyes in shame.
"I am so sorry… - Maya cried, hiding her pretty face in her hands – He was nothing, just a tool. He could not compare to you and every time he touched me, I wished it was you. Oh, why, why didn't you tell me? Why did you avoided me and grew cold towards me?"
"I – I was afraid. – he admitted, looking her straight into the eye, laying his soul bare to her, as it should be – I was afraid that you would be disgusted by me, that you would feel a prisoner, that you didn't love me back… I couldn't. I didn't have the courage. I'd rather be miserable than hurt you, melisse…" His hand traced her features again, thumb ghosting on her lips, so soft, so desirable, centrepiece of many of his darkest, un-confessable dreams. And to think that his dreams would have been a mere step away... Maya smiled, possibly overhearing his reflections, dipped her head, her lips touching his gently, the tip of her tongue tracing them, and he came undone. Finding strength only the gods know where, he buried his hands in her long silky hair and crashed his lips into hers, devouring them hungrily. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and she whimpered against him. His hands roamed on her skin, tugging at the blouse; he felt fierce satisfaction from her when he tore it apart and slid his hands on her breasts, caressing them gently as if she was so delicate and precious, while she rained kisses on his face and neck. He felt like drowning in a whirlpool of shared ecstasy, lips and mouths eliciting new forms of bliss while they explored each other reverently with feverish caresses and kisses, moans and whimpers. Jiba had though nothing could be better than this, until she straddled him and slid herself onto his painfully erect manhood, joining them as one. Engulfed in her warmth and her love, he screamed. They both screamed, as pleasure became so intense that it bordered on pain, blinding, searing, setting their nerves on fire. He held on to her with everything he was, pushing into her while she rode him deliciously fast and hard, eyes locked with his, and that was it: they both fell hurtling towards a blinding white abyss, reaching the peak of pleasure together. He didn't know how long they lied exhausted in the same position in which they had collapsed, only that it was almost as blissful as the lovemaking had been. What did it matter how long they slept, as long as they were in each other's arms? "I would die happy now, in your arms." he whispered, brushing a lock of silvery-blonde hair from her sweaty forehead. "Live. Live to love me day, after day, after day and never let me go." she replied deadly serious, slipping off his now-soft member and collapsing onto the bed beside him. He hissed softly at her movement and closed his eyes. "To the end of the world, until I have a breath of life left in me, I will always love and protect you, melisse, I swear." Jiba hugged her tight and buried his face in her neck. Her scent was divine.
Maya snuggled closer to him, embracing him. As they fell into deep sleep together, they knew that pain and desperation were behind them. They were safe, finally and irrevocably, into each other's arms.