Tears I Cry
By Seniya
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark,
the real tragedy is a man who is afraid of the light.
Chapter Five
…
Two years had passed since that day, she had grown of course, she was taller now, older; she supposed that her face had changed as well, though she wasn't certain; she'd always made it a point to never pay any attention to her outward appearance.
The unruly tangle of detestable red hair now extended to her waist, she had never bothered to shorten it; Caleb had once told her he liked it long.
She knew why.
Life, as she knew it was slow, painfully so. One awoke, and then whiled away the next few hours until they could drift back into that comfortable slumber; it seemed now that everyone preferred their dreams to their reality.
She couldn't blame them.
Metamoor had never been restored since the battle, the earth itself was derelict, houses were in shambles; everywhere one turned they were reminded of pain, of death.
That's why Will chose to remain inside. She didn't need to be reminded of what she had done, her dreams gave her enough of that.
Her memories had long returned, and soon after that the constant bombardment of whispers in her mind had ceased.
She knew why…there was no longer any need to torture her once that knowledge had been given to her.
…
"You haven't eaten anything"
"I'm not hungry", He knew better than to argue, he had long realized that it was meaningless telling her exactly how pale, thin or sick she was becoming. She seemed to enjoy it actually, refusing to heed what she was doing to herself, or to him.
He knitted his fingers in her hair, painfully aware of the way she froze at his touch.
When he smoothed away the tangles, she wondered if in his mind the strands appeared longer, thinner…blonder.
She tugged her head away, returning her gaze to the miserable landscape; behind the overwhelming mountains she could see the last rays of sunlight which coated the sky.
He didn't leave; she wasn't surprised, as he never did.
……
They had been married for months now, not out of love, she had been convinced, but out of duty. They were the only two left. It had made sense at the time, it had seemed logical then.
She could still remember the ceremony, all the glares, the false smiles, the well wishes. All those people pretending that they didn't think that it was her fault that their families had burnt to death…
It was pathetic.
……
She couldn't understand Caleb. She would never pretend to, but he claimed to understand her…arrogant bastard.
She hated the way he looked at her, as if he knew, as if he could possibly know. He didn't hear the screams; he wasn't forced to relive the same sequence of ghastly events every night. He didn't have to watch his friends die over and over…
She hadn't even ever told herself all that lay in her mind, so how dare he think that he had the right.
……
She believed in some strange almost incestuous way he cared for her. At the very least, he loved what she reminded him of.
He would stare at until he grew weary, he would hold her in his arms, almost apologetic, and beg her to tell him what was wrong. She would burst into uncontrollable sobs, and he would hold her until she was done, and then he would resume his staring.
The pattern of events seemed to make him happy.
She hated him; of that much he was certain. Their relationship had been strained before, but now, it was almost unbearable. It was her fault, clearly, although it wasn't fair to blame her for any of this.
He remembered the overpowering feeling of hope that he had felt years ago when she had been found…alive. Following that came the anxious anticipation when she had lain, motionless for four years.
He imagined that it was during that time he had become enamored with her, the silent beauty of her face, and the tender curves of her body.
All of it, all of her filled him with an emotion so powerful that he knew he should fear it.
He didn't remember what he'd expected when she awoke, but he knew, it hadn't been this. In the day, she would look, for hours at nothing, unspeaking, unmoving; at night her screams kept him awake and her cries prevented him from ever finding out why.
She didn't want to be here, as her silence told him. But here, she was trapped; there hadn't been a portal in a decade, not since before the war.
And now the crystal had been lost…home to her probably seemed like a distant memory.
The sadistic part of it all was that he was relieved that she was confined here with him. She couldn't leave him.
He refused to imagine a world where she wasn't by his side, he loved her in such an intense way…but yet she refused him. They had never been intimate, the only time they had discussed she had responded in her dead, shell of a voice that what he wanted to take from her wasn't there. He knew he'd just have to be satisfied with that.
He fancied that he would just have to be satisfied with his dreams of her, and even they couldn't replace the reality.
…
…
"Will, where are you?"
His voice echoed tauntingly around him, through the darkness of the house, he struggled to make out any sign of a response. Then she appeared, her whiteness offered a strange contrast with the dimness of the room.
"I'm here" she called, her voice was barely above a whisper, when she noticed his gaze upon her, her eyes fell, and her hands awkwardly sought refuge in the shock of red hair.
Standing there between the door way; she took his breath away. The urge to taste her was so strong in that moment that he could barely suppress it. His blood burnt at the thought of her flesh pressed seductively against his own…he imagined her taste; sweet, untouched…God he needed her.
"Is something wrong?" the sound surprised him; it jolted his drifting thoughts back to reality.
"No, well, yes…some men from another camp, they've been captured by Phobos…a group of us are going to get them back"
For a moment, something emerged beneath the inexpressive façade, but only for an instant, for soon it had vanished, as though it had never been.
It was Caleb who continued, "Are you sure that you'll be alright when I'm gone?"
She offered him a smile as a retort; it was a lifeless, painful expression, one that never quite seemed to reach her eyes.
"Yes, Caleb, I'll be fine"
He went closer to her, drawn to her by some unnatural force, she stiffened when she realized, but he didn't stop…he just wanted to touch her, he needed something to remind him why he was doing all of this, he needed a reason to come back home…
"You're so small…promise me that you'll eat something"
"I don't want…" she stopped, "Alright, I promise…be careful" she finished ineptly.
In the moments after, she returned to the solace of her room; closing the door behind her.
And for awhile he stood outside the wood, listening as she sobbed, hysterically, wondering if perhaps those tears were being shed for him, unlikely, he concluded. But still, he remained; hanging onto the hope until from outside a shout summoned him to go.
…
The moon smiled to herself, happiness, a foreign emotion for her, coursed through her being for the first time in years.
Pain, she could feel it, it excited her in a way that she hadn't thought possible, not for years. She had long given up on the prayer that once again there would be such a blood bath as the one she had seen all those days ago, although the occasional fires and lynching did help.
But now, perhaps she had given up far too soon, yes, for now she could see, that the worse had yet to come.
…
She hadn't remembered falling asleep.
…
She awoke drenched in sweat, to screams, just like she always did. The odd thing about this time was that now the screams weren't her own.
All around her grew the flames, the heat from them devoured the surroundings, and outside the screams grew louder, more desperate.
The smoke wrapped its claws about Will, refusing to release her. The colors swirled in their mystifying pattern, the reds and the yellows, out of them both grew faces, familiar ones…why yes, she could just make out Cornelia. Her lovely tresses framed that perfect face.
A voice in her head told to her to run. To escape, that somewhere beneath the layers of hurt and resentment, that she really did want to live, to survive this. She didn't believe it, and in any case she declined to obey it.
Instead she fell; silently urging the flames on, the faces there grew bigger now, more plentiful. They began to call to her, "I'm coming" she answered. Now all she could do was to wait.
…
Fate however had a different plan prepared. The ground beneath her caved, and she could feel herself falling, hell must be her destination she decided, for she knew that after all she had done, there was the only place that would accept her.
The inferno around her vanished, replaced by an even more terrifying darkness, that was all she recalled, soon Cornelia's screams had lulled her off to sleep.
…
There was light here now, in this place, it wasn't soft and reassuring as she had hoped, but it was harsh and cold, much like she was accustomed.
Shit.
She wasn't dead. That damned crystal, she knew, why didn't it let her go?
Towering above her was a woman; her features remained unclear despite the daylight, though her clean, earthy scent was lucid. She dragged an aged hand through her hair, purring a song within her.
For once she didn't mind it; she reminded her of something that she had tried for so long to hang onto, her mother. She felt safe, protected and wanted. She prayed it would last forever, but God never answered her prayers.
"Get out now, the lot of you, we're here" the voice came from outside, and for the first time, Will realized that they had been moving.
The hand evacuated her locks, and turned to shaking her shoulder. "Wake up now dear, it's time to go"
Slowly, grudgingly she arose, allowing the mass of red hair to dance along her body. "Where are we…" she asked. Her eyes toured around the carriage.
The woman didn't answer, her eyes focused, hard on her face. "You're…" the woman began, but soon stopped. Her hands dropped to her side, the lines on her sun burnt face tightened. "We are at the castle now" she answered, all signs of warmth gone.
Around her she heard the whispers, and felt the stares. She knew her face must be growing hot.
The man outside called again "Hurry up!" he shouted.
…
The sun was just beginning its daily race across the sky. The hues of dawn peered out from behind the clouds that tried, in vain to conceal them.
Above her stood the castle, even in the day it was frightening. For Will it was worse, for inside lay all of her greatest fears, combined in one man, who she knew lay there waiting.
Running was useless, she thought about attacking, but she knew she couldn't, it would only be a matter of time before he realized who she was, and then…
Will returned her gaze to the same grey haired woman from before. "Why have they brought us here?" She indicated to the women that stood around her.
"You mean you don't know?"
She shook her head. The woman answered "All the men have been killed, it was a trap…King Phobos, he did it" the woman's voice broke for a moment, and her eyes sparkled with stubborn tears.
"His men killed the children in our village, they burnt it to the ground, and then they took the women".
Her words hung in the morning air, heavy, they refused to fall. "All of the men" Will began, that meant that Caleb was…
Oh God.
She felt, something grow within her, grief, was it? She couldn't tell. She didn't understand these emotions anymore. But she knew that she hadn't wanted Caleb dead.
She missed him.
"Let's go" the man called again, indicating towards the entrance of the building.
Tears started to fall, uncontrollably…why was he gone? Why was he chosen, when she was the one who wanted death.
It wasn't fair.
A matured hand grasped her shoulder. "Don't cry dear, he's in a better place now, he wouldn't want you to be sad"
Will nodded. But the tears kept streaming, she wanted him back. She had never known it until now, and she would have never admitted it even if she had, but she'd loved him. She honestly had, and now that he was gone…she had nothing.
She was just as guilty as he had been, using him to cling onto those fragile memories of her childhood.
In that moment Will recognized, that she'd never been more alone.
…
The interior of the fortress was more miserable than the outside, if that were possible. The walls were laden with portraits of curious looking people, who stared back at you with a vengeance that was almost fatal.
The winding halls brought them closer to that place. She knew what lay there, him. And she knew what he would do when they arrived, he would take them, one by one, and have his way with them, then, when he grew tired of them, he would throw them away. She had known it to be done countless times before.
Now, would be no different.
…
Will watched, her unresponsive face set, as the women around her were taken, one by one, into the room. Some went willingly, some fought, but none returned.
Now, it was her turn.
She walked, her features carefully hidden behind her hair. She hoped he wouldn't recognize her, she knew that she was praying for the impossible. She'd been with him for years, but still…it couldn't hurt.
…
The doors shut behind her, she still didn't look up. She could sense his gaze upon her, bitter, callous, just as he was.
"And what's your name?" his voice seeped into her being, it made her want to melt, she hated what he could do to her.
She didn't react; perhaps out of mulish pride, perhaps out of fear.
"Can't you talk?"
He paused for a moment, and then he stood. She could picture him perfectly in her mind, his long robes fluttering behind him with his every motion; she imagined how he would look at her, hungrily, recklessly. She closed her eyes, and let the pictures consume her.
He came closer; she could smell him, his masculine odor. She swallowed.
And gasped.
His hands drew a line along her face, trailing the area along her cheek. Reflexively she took his hand in her own, trying to prolong the sensation of his body against hers.
"What's your name?" he repeated.
"Wilfreda" she answered, and then scolded herself for her ignorance, "Lily" she finished.
"Lily" he responded, a twinge of amusement in his words "An earth name is it not?"
"I believe so"
"Red hair" he muttered.
Her eyes still did not meet his.
"Cadmus" he called "Ensure that she is taken to some bedchambers"
And then he walked away. "You may do what you choose to the others".
Next, he sickened her once more, by telling her in that icy voice, "I once had a wife with red hair".
…
"What did that last one…Lily look like Cadmus?" It hurt more than just Phobos' male pride to have to ask.
"Pale sire…she's very thin, with long red hair"
"Her eyes…"
"Brown…I believe sire"
Phobos nodded, using the blurs and patterned swirls to create a path to his cushioned throne.
"Red hair…" he whispered, pausing as another cough overtook him.
"Your medicine my Lord?"
"No" he replied in as gruff a manner as he could muster. "I have Paris for such a thing…where is he?"
"Within the dungeons, my lord, he went to check on the newly captured women"
Phobos nodded.
"One more question about this girl…does she resemble…the deceased queen?"
"Your forgiveness my lord, but I was not yet employed here in the castle when your queen was alive"
"No…" he stroked his chin, and then decided to stand up, floundering; he made his way to the door, and slowly along the corridors to the east wing.
Only he was assured of the King's absence did Cadmus mockingly remark, "Enjoy it while you can, my lord"
…
…
…
The pale night lights caught serenely in her hair, causing an eerie type of elegance. She stood with her back facing him, and moved only slightly when she heard him enter, she held herself exceptionally upright, with the stature of a queen.
Wearing only a plain white gown, she seemed almost angelic in his eyes, if only he'd still believed in angels.
…
"Get on the bed" he commanded, falling out of the temporary spell she had cast on him.
A breeze tousled her locks, and carried his words. But still her gaze never left the outside.
'Didn't he recognize her?' she wondered. She had been told of how different she looked…but it was impossible to believe that her face had been altered to such an extent by time.
He could barely manage to make out her figure standing still by the window…if it hadn't been for the distinctive hue of her hair, he would have needed a guide to accomplish this mission.
"Didn't you hear me--move"
"I heard you" her voice flowed, calm, defiant. "I simply don't have any intentions of obeying you"
The expression sounded nonsensical to his ears, never before had he been so blatantly refused, much less by a woman.
"Are you playing a game with me—don't you think that I saw the way you behaved around me just now?"
She didn't respond to his accusations, his words, not his anger seemed to have astounded her. For the first time her eyes met his; they were colored an impassive brown, coated in an unimaginable pain, but beneath that lay his answer.
She wouldn't do this willingly.
…
"Do you dare challenge your king!" he approached, his steps hastened, fueled by his growing anger. He reached her much quicker than she would have expected, and impulsively, he grabbed her arms, pinning her against the wall.
She refused to even flinch.
"I should have you killed for your insolence"
"Do you think I care?" she seemed almost glad to speak those words, now, Phobos realized that she was a different breed than those other wenches he had every night.
"So do you crave death" his breath lashed out against her exposed neck, intoxicating her soul, and sending chills down her body. "Well then, perhaps, a more suitable punishment would be to keep you alive"
She gasped despite herself; the full danger of the situation had finally revealed itself to her. The need to escape overpowered anything else, she needed to run, she couldn't be left here…not alive, not with him.
"Still" he continued, his tone more condescending than ever, "if you will not do this to save yourself, then perhaps you'll do it to save another"
Will's gaze flew upwards, staring into his face with a mixture of confusion and boldness.
"Those women you came here with, I don't suppose that they are as idiotic as you, it would be such a shame if their lives were to be taken away"
His eyes watched her blindly; she knew returning the gaze would be pointless, there was nothing to be found beyond those icy blue depths, for he was soulless.
"You will serve me woman, one way or another" his voice was a husky rasp, it terrified her, and for the first time she allowed the panic to show in her face.
She knew she was overcome, never again could she allow the blood of another to cover her hands. Her eyes closed, and she tried, vainly to merge with the darkness that surrounded her.
Years ago, she would have given anything for this…but now…
…
She bowed her head, her answer to this matter. Phobos smiled to himself, sensing her surrender, he stood back, allowing himself a moment to admire his reward.
Slowly, carefully, he moved to undress her, undoing the threads that protected her modesty. She inhaled sharply, trying her hardest to ignore the sinful sensations she felt when his fingers brushed against her newly exposed skin.
"Gods…don't they feed you" his fingers rested along her waist. The words were lost in the warmth of the moment; she didn't appear to have heard his comment.
Her sweet surrender had only strengthened his arousal, he had wanted her since he had first captured her sweet face in his gaze, and now she was finally his.
The thought of throwing her down and taking her now was tempting, to say the least, but he wouldn't, no; he would hear her scream his name tonight, and in that would lie a greater triumph.
Her breath became short and labored; soon the rise and fall of her almost skeletal chest had become more frequent, as slowly her body rioted against her mind.
Leisurely, he drew closer still, allowing his hands to glide freely over her exposed flesh. His motions drew a gasp from her lips, he was taking her to a place where she couldn't remember ever going before, a place that she desperately wanted him to take her.
A heat arose in her body, the likes of which she had never felt before; logic warned her against this behavior, but slowly it faded away into a puddle of desire beneath her feet.
…
Boldly, in a move that made her chest want to collapse, he claimed her mouth in one swift movement. His tongue whispered secrets against her lips, demanding entrance into her core, and she complied.
His hands rained over her face, blindly, moving to memorize each feature, drawing from her another moan.
Within moments their tongues had become acquainted, and his was dancing with hers in an erotic competition, she matched his forceful motions, with an identical vigor.
The kiss went on.
By now she was too far engrossed to care about the obvious embarrassment she knew that she should be feeling about her nakedness or to give a second thought about anything but quenching the ongoing fires now raging in her stomach.
This was all so familiar, so wonderfully familiar.
He pulled away only to litter kisses along her neck, her fingers knitted in his hair, she was envisioning all that was to come, and she couldn't suppress the excitement.
…
He journeyed lower pausing to greet her magnificent breasts. He smiled to himself, he could take her now, and she wouldn't even care; he had successfully claimed every inch of her just as he had planned.
He pushed his face against the soft section of flesh, inhaling its smooth scent. She gasped, and her eyes jolted open, her shroud of darkness gone, as well as her urge to leave.
His fingers trailed along a curved scar that slashed across her chest, a sole blemish on an otherwise perfect frame.
He parted once again, this time to lead her along the path to his bed.
…
His lips found hers again, sometime as they were rolling amongst the sheets, their limbs intertwined, it could almost seem that in another world, they would be lovers.
Soon he had discarded his own clothing, and he stood above her, in his entire masculine splendor, his hair cascading about them like a golden cocoon.
Will still couldn't make out his features through the darkness, but the few rays of moonlight allowed her to see the pure yearning in his eyes. She writhed along the coverings, impatiently awaiting his final and greatest assault on her body, he had won, she was defeated, and for once she was too far gone to be concerned.
Sweat poured from their bodies, merging in the space between themselves, the fruit of their lovemaking.
…
She felt the sudden pressure at the space between her legs. "Say my name" came his gasp.
"Go to hell" her voice seemed far too hoarse for her to recognize it. In a swift motion he had thrown himself inside of her, and following his actions a pain, white hot and undying, sliced through her body.
She screamed, seeking to remove herself from the hot embrace, but he held her fast, every part of her was truly his now, in every way possible. They were one.
His tongue snaked along her neck; words were whispered against her damp skin.
…
Such an engaging symphony the art of love is, the sweet ignorance of where one ends and the other begins, and finally the ultimate release from the dreadful fantasy, as the strings which hold us together break, hence plunging us into a river of everlasting desire.
…
The art of such things however, seemed lost on Phobos, he hovered above her when it was all finished, his weight supported by one strong arm. He stared into her face, seeking…something, something that he couldn't seem to find.
"I was told that you were married" he muttered at last.
"I was" her body ached, as did her heart, she had never felt more disgusting in her life; she had allowed him to violate her body, for what had to have been the hundredth time.
"You were a virgin"
The words surprised her, and pierced a place inside her spirit. He was lying, she concluded finally, he had to have been, she had lived with him for years, and he was trying to convince her that he had never once touched her.
His fingers brushed a sweaty lock of hair from her face.
"So, did they lie to me lady"
Her voice was gone, lost, she imagined beneath the layers of bewilderment.
…
"Or perhaps" he hissed "Perhaps it's just that your husband refused to lay a hand on you, yes, that's it, because he wanted another, or because the mere sight of you sickened him".
Her hand met with his face with a dull thud. He showed no signs of surprise however or anger, merely humor.
"So that's it then"
In spite of herself and the situation, she could already feel his provocation hardening within her.
"Don't you ever strike me again" he said, an ugly smirk covered most of his face. He melted their lips together, and once more he began his erotic dance.
…
He was right about his philosophy, and he had lashed out against an oversensitive nerve. But what bothered her was, she hadn't really known which husband she'd been upset about.
…
Author: And more sex! Yay! I always knew that Sandra Browne would come in handy (not that I recommend you small children who snuck past the M rating to read those). But yes, Will's with Phobos…again. Things are going well…sorta.
For Phobos to be sick, the powers she gave him must be going away, this means a lot of different things for the plot, which I will; of course explain to you in chapter 6.
If you have only just skipped to the last chapter, I redid the entire story. You know; since I know you don't REALLY understand all my sub plots and hints; so go back and read it over. Its better now; I swear.
If you don't feel like it; never fear, I put in some new things, to clarify, please do this; or chapter 6 will be a bitch for you.