Leviathan's Daughter
GoldenEagle
Author's Note: This has some adult content in it, mostly concerning the whole abuse issue. That's why it's rate R. Maybe R was a little too much, but, just to be safe... Anyways, I stayed up till three writing this, so you better like it! Hmph! We see more romance in these chapters, and some more of Dillandau, who seemed to do a dissapearing act in the last few chapters. He doesn't make too much of an appearance in this installment, but atleast he's there! Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Two
Persephone sat up slowly as the door to her room opened. She could see the silhouette of a man, tall and strong in the doorway. Her heart lept. "Folken?" She asked timidly.
"Not quite, love." As he stepped forward, the door shut behind him, and Persephone could see her visitor in the dim light. Her eyes went wide, her heartbeat increased in terror.
"Chawner." Her body trembled violently, her being shaken to the core. He walked slowly up to her, his movements suave and smooth. "Please, don't... Chawner. Please don't hurt me..." Her voice had become a whimper and she pushed herself against the head of her bed.
A hurt look crossed his face, and Persephone knew the look was genuine, no matter how twisted it truly was. "I would never hurt you. You know that, Perseph." The concern in his voice sickened her as he kneeled down on the bed in front of her. She pressed back as far as she could go. But still he came forward, an obsession and insanity in his eyes.
"You always hurt me." She said as hot tears fell from her clenched shut eyes, despite her attempts to hold them there. Chawner had been one of the men... One of those who had come to her that one night, after too many drinks... Ripped away her innocence, poisoned a piece of her. Yet Chawner had become obsessed. For some reason, he thought he loved her. Perhaps he did. Yes, she was quite sure he did love her in some twisted way, a strange and piluted love he believed he could force on her. It had been him that came back, so often... She shuddered as she felt his lips on her neck, his hands forcing hers against the head of the bed.
Through passionate kisses and nibbles he spoke to her. "I would never hurt you." She felt his tongue draw lazily across her jaw line. She moved her head to the side, her face clenched along with her whole body. "I'm glad you're okay, Persephone." He whispered against her clenched lips. "I needed you. Damn that man for keeping you there with him." He pulled back quietly, and she opened her eyes out of pure curiosity. "Why do you fear me so much? What did he do to you?" he asked in a painful whisper. Persephone wanted to fight back, to say something, but she was still to weak. Too weak... Tears coursed down her face as she clenched her eyes shut again. "I'll show you how to love again, Persephone. That man will never touch you again." With that his lips fell frantically over hers and she cried harder, though silently, as he forced her mouth open with his tongue. It was time to fade away...
And yet, within her there was a strength building. A strength that was not her own, it would seem. She ran her finger tips against the side of his hand. He pulled back, his eyes lowered in a lustful haze. Persephone forced a smile that didn't go with her tear stained and cold eyes. "I want to touch you." She whispered. He smiled fully at this, his every dream consisting of those words. He released her wrists and she reached up, quietly, and cupped his face, bringing him to her. Their lips met softly and she brought it deeper, her tongue running across his bottom lip. He answered and their tongues met. It was all Persephone could do not to vomit as she started to concentrate.
Chawner first thought it only the warmth of his passion as he felt her palms hot against his face. But soon the heat became uncomfortable, and with a flash of fire and a momentary sizzle, Chawner fell backwards, screaming. He fell of the bed, his head hitting the floor. He pulled himself up to a nearby dresser and stared at the mirror, speechless. Two hand shaped marks of burnt and melting flesh shown on his face. He turned angrily to Persephone, who was trying to stand without falling. "Why, you little bitch..." He launched himself at her and she fell, pushing herself against the wall, glass shattering as she tipped over a nearby table. His hands reached around her throat and she felt her breath leave her. "You bitch. I'll show you what happens to those who rise against me-" A strangled noise fell through his lips and Persephone coughed and gasped as his grip around her neck loosened. She tried to catch her breath as she looked up, the man before her falling backwards, blood rushing through his lips. And as he fell, the other man before her was revealed, bloodied sword still in his hand.
Their eyes met and, for a few seconds, nothing was said. And then a sob roared through Persephone's lips and he was kneeling down in front of her, words of concern and joy and pain issuing from him. His hands touched her face, her bruised neck, her hair... And the Prince of Fanalia helped her rise, shaking and unsteady, from the floor. Whispers still fell from him and he pushed forward, kissing the tears from her cheek, kisses falling on her chin, and finally his lips rested on her forehead. He yearned to meet her lips with his own, but not after this... Not so briefly after the twisted love she had just seen.
And she let him comfort her, her breath slow and even, her eyes closed in a single, short moment of utter peace. He rested his forehead on hers and she gradually opened her eyes. She met the steel gaze of Folken. She smiled, new tears dimming her vision. "So, I guess you would be my Knight in shining armor, hm?" She said slightly sarcastic. He stared solemnly back at her, his eyes only a couple of inches from her own, his breath warm against her face. "My Prince come to save me at last?" She smiled at this.
"I'll always come for you, Persephone."
Chapter Twenty-Three
They walked out of that room together, both their faces filled with a new rigid strength. By then, people had started to take notice of the strange events in that room, but, despite the lifeless corpse that lay back there, no one stood in the way of Folken and Persephone. Alone, their strength would have been intimidating. But, side by side, the power they drew off each other was terrifying.
They reached his Guymelef silently, no word need be said between the two. Folken took the main seat and offered out a hand to Persephone. She jumped into it, despite her weakness, and laid her hot, spinning head against the cool metal as the hand curled gently around her, making sure not to hurt her. With that, the two left, and, thirty-five minutes later, found themselves back "home".
************
Soldiers stopped and stared as the two passed them, hand in hand. By this measure, he led a stumbling and exhausted Persephone towards her room. They were nearing when a voice cried out.
"Persephone! You're back!" She turned weakly at the voice and a true, real smile, though small, flitted across her lips. Dillandau threw his arms around her and she stumbled back a bit, only to find herself pushed against Folken's chest. The teenager looked up at her. "I thought you were going to die!" He said, as if making light hearted chatter. "That would have been a great loss. You're a great warrior." His excited eyes reached up to Folken's. "Did you see what she did? An entire city! All burnt, charred, ash..." His eyes were that creepy red color and Folken frowned.
It was the remembrance of the battle that brought it on. She remembered the feeling of losing control of the fire, the panic and fear. "Persephone?" Folken asked quietly, quizzically, as he felt the slightest bit of a tremor run through her against his chest. And then her head snapped to the side and the shaking threw her from his chest. He gripped her shoulders and she jerked wildly, like a fish out of water.
Dillandau had taken a step back, his eyes wide in shock. "Wh-What's wrong with her?" he asked in a small voice, a strange, painful emotion he did not recognize seeping into him.
Folken held her down against the floor, his face cold and hard as her eyes rolled back into her head, her legs flailing against the cold metal. "It's a seizure." He said quietly, almost unheard by Dillandau. And then, where no one but himself could hear, he muttered, "So, even now Fate cannot let her go untouched." He loosened his muscles as Persephone's convulsions faded into small, continuous shivers and a brief flinching every few seconds. Folken lowered his head quietly, the voices of curious and concerned soldier surrounding him. With a weary sigh, he scooped her up, pushing through the crowd with her limp in his arms.
"Folken, she will be all right, won't she?" He turned to Dillandau, the boy standing tall, his hands behind his back. But, in the far recess of his eyes, there was a fraction of a tear, and the side of his face twitched once or twice as the teenager tried to force it to be calm.
Folken forced a reassuring smile. "Of course." He said calmly. "Of course. You think a little fit like that's going to hurt her?"
Dillandau lost momentary control of his emotions and a relieved smile cracked his face before it was forced away. "Good. Lord Dornkirk would skin us if we let her die." With that he left Folken, standing on the inside of the room, Persephone still motionless in his arms.
As he closed the door he smiled a real smile, however dim it was. Perhaps Persephone was right. Perhaps there really was more to Dillandau than what met the eye.
GoldenEagle
Author's Note: This has some adult content in it, mostly concerning the whole abuse issue. That's why it's rate R. Maybe R was a little too much, but, just to be safe... Anyways, I stayed up till three writing this, so you better like it! Hmph! We see more romance in these chapters, and some more of Dillandau, who seemed to do a dissapearing act in the last few chapters. He doesn't make too much of an appearance in this installment, but atleast he's there! Enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-Two
Persephone sat up slowly as the door to her room opened. She could see the silhouette of a man, tall and strong in the doorway. Her heart lept. "Folken?" She asked timidly.
"Not quite, love." As he stepped forward, the door shut behind him, and Persephone could see her visitor in the dim light. Her eyes went wide, her heartbeat increased in terror.
"Chawner." Her body trembled violently, her being shaken to the core. He walked slowly up to her, his movements suave and smooth. "Please, don't... Chawner. Please don't hurt me..." Her voice had become a whimper and she pushed herself against the head of her bed.
A hurt look crossed his face, and Persephone knew the look was genuine, no matter how twisted it truly was. "I would never hurt you. You know that, Perseph." The concern in his voice sickened her as he kneeled down on the bed in front of her. She pressed back as far as she could go. But still he came forward, an obsession and insanity in his eyes.
"You always hurt me." She said as hot tears fell from her clenched shut eyes, despite her attempts to hold them there. Chawner had been one of the men... One of those who had come to her that one night, after too many drinks... Ripped away her innocence, poisoned a piece of her. Yet Chawner had become obsessed. For some reason, he thought he loved her. Perhaps he did. Yes, she was quite sure he did love her in some twisted way, a strange and piluted love he believed he could force on her. It had been him that came back, so often... She shuddered as she felt his lips on her neck, his hands forcing hers against the head of the bed.
Through passionate kisses and nibbles he spoke to her. "I would never hurt you." She felt his tongue draw lazily across her jaw line. She moved her head to the side, her face clenched along with her whole body. "I'm glad you're okay, Persephone." He whispered against her clenched lips. "I needed you. Damn that man for keeping you there with him." He pulled back quietly, and she opened her eyes out of pure curiosity. "Why do you fear me so much? What did he do to you?" he asked in a painful whisper. Persephone wanted to fight back, to say something, but she was still to weak. Too weak... Tears coursed down her face as she clenched her eyes shut again. "I'll show you how to love again, Persephone. That man will never touch you again." With that his lips fell frantically over hers and she cried harder, though silently, as he forced her mouth open with his tongue. It was time to fade away...
And yet, within her there was a strength building. A strength that was not her own, it would seem. She ran her finger tips against the side of his hand. He pulled back, his eyes lowered in a lustful haze. Persephone forced a smile that didn't go with her tear stained and cold eyes. "I want to touch you." She whispered. He smiled fully at this, his every dream consisting of those words. He released her wrists and she reached up, quietly, and cupped his face, bringing him to her. Their lips met softly and she brought it deeper, her tongue running across his bottom lip. He answered and their tongues met. It was all Persephone could do not to vomit as she started to concentrate.
Chawner first thought it only the warmth of his passion as he felt her palms hot against his face. But soon the heat became uncomfortable, and with a flash of fire and a momentary sizzle, Chawner fell backwards, screaming. He fell of the bed, his head hitting the floor. He pulled himself up to a nearby dresser and stared at the mirror, speechless. Two hand shaped marks of burnt and melting flesh shown on his face. He turned angrily to Persephone, who was trying to stand without falling. "Why, you little bitch..." He launched himself at her and she fell, pushing herself against the wall, glass shattering as she tipped over a nearby table. His hands reached around her throat and she felt her breath leave her. "You bitch. I'll show you what happens to those who rise against me-" A strangled noise fell through his lips and Persephone coughed and gasped as his grip around her neck loosened. She tried to catch her breath as she looked up, the man before her falling backwards, blood rushing through his lips. And as he fell, the other man before her was revealed, bloodied sword still in his hand.
Their eyes met and, for a few seconds, nothing was said. And then a sob roared through Persephone's lips and he was kneeling down in front of her, words of concern and joy and pain issuing from him. His hands touched her face, her bruised neck, her hair... And the Prince of Fanalia helped her rise, shaking and unsteady, from the floor. Whispers still fell from him and he pushed forward, kissing the tears from her cheek, kisses falling on her chin, and finally his lips rested on her forehead. He yearned to meet her lips with his own, but not after this... Not so briefly after the twisted love she had just seen.
And she let him comfort her, her breath slow and even, her eyes closed in a single, short moment of utter peace. He rested his forehead on hers and she gradually opened her eyes. She met the steel gaze of Folken. She smiled, new tears dimming her vision. "So, I guess you would be my Knight in shining armor, hm?" She said slightly sarcastic. He stared solemnly back at her, his eyes only a couple of inches from her own, his breath warm against her face. "My Prince come to save me at last?" She smiled at this.
"I'll always come for you, Persephone."
Chapter Twenty-Three
They walked out of that room together, both their faces filled with a new rigid strength. By then, people had started to take notice of the strange events in that room, but, despite the lifeless corpse that lay back there, no one stood in the way of Folken and Persephone. Alone, their strength would have been intimidating. But, side by side, the power they drew off each other was terrifying.
They reached his Guymelef silently, no word need be said between the two. Folken took the main seat and offered out a hand to Persephone. She jumped into it, despite her weakness, and laid her hot, spinning head against the cool metal as the hand curled gently around her, making sure not to hurt her. With that, the two left, and, thirty-five minutes later, found themselves back "home".
************
Soldiers stopped and stared as the two passed them, hand in hand. By this measure, he led a stumbling and exhausted Persephone towards her room. They were nearing when a voice cried out.
"Persephone! You're back!" She turned weakly at the voice and a true, real smile, though small, flitted across her lips. Dillandau threw his arms around her and she stumbled back a bit, only to find herself pushed against Folken's chest. The teenager looked up at her. "I thought you were going to die!" He said, as if making light hearted chatter. "That would have been a great loss. You're a great warrior." His excited eyes reached up to Folken's. "Did you see what she did? An entire city! All burnt, charred, ash..." His eyes were that creepy red color and Folken frowned.
It was the remembrance of the battle that brought it on. She remembered the feeling of losing control of the fire, the panic and fear. "Persephone?" Folken asked quietly, quizzically, as he felt the slightest bit of a tremor run through her against his chest. And then her head snapped to the side and the shaking threw her from his chest. He gripped her shoulders and she jerked wildly, like a fish out of water.
Dillandau had taken a step back, his eyes wide in shock. "Wh-What's wrong with her?" he asked in a small voice, a strange, painful emotion he did not recognize seeping into him.
Folken held her down against the floor, his face cold and hard as her eyes rolled back into her head, her legs flailing against the cold metal. "It's a seizure." He said quietly, almost unheard by Dillandau. And then, where no one but himself could hear, he muttered, "So, even now Fate cannot let her go untouched." He loosened his muscles as Persephone's convulsions faded into small, continuous shivers and a brief flinching every few seconds. Folken lowered his head quietly, the voices of curious and concerned soldier surrounding him. With a weary sigh, he scooped her up, pushing through the crowd with her limp in his arms.
"Folken, she will be all right, won't she?" He turned to Dillandau, the boy standing tall, his hands behind his back. But, in the far recess of his eyes, there was a fraction of a tear, and the side of his face twitched once or twice as the teenager tried to force it to be calm.
Folken forced a reassuring smile. "Of course." He said calmly. "Of course. You think a little fit like that's going to hurt her?"
Dillandau lost momentary control of his emotions and a relieved smile cracked his face before it was forced away. "Good. Lord Dornkirk would skin us if we let her die." With that he left Folken, standing on the inside of the room, Persephone still motionless in his arms.
As he closed the door he smiled a real smile, however dim it was. Perhaps Persephone was right. Perhaps there really was more to Dillandau than what met the eye.