Summary: Movieverse, post twitches II, Aron/Miranda, angst, continuation.
Disclaimer: I do not own this. If I did, it would not be a kid's movie. This is not a kid's story. I have not read the books and do not intend to because I like messing with the movie characters. The books may well be better than the movies, but since it is the movies' faults and inaccuracies that inspire my subplots… being too correct would destroy my material.
That medicine really does work miracles, Aron thinks to himself. A mere day from his collapse a he feels far healthier that he has, literally in decades. And hungrier… a lot hungrier. Waiting for the rehearsal to end was like torture.
So now, he is standing and waiting for the dinner to begin, feeling a bit like an impatient child, trying to have an intelligent, if one-sided conversation with what appears to be a donkey.
Then Miranda enters the hall, and all conversation stops. People turn to look at her, or deliberately do not look at her at all. A few smile at her, as if to put her at ease. Aron finds himself wondering how the rehearsal dinner of a small wedding came to have this many politicians attending anyhow. The entire affair was practically a ball, in and of itself. Aron suspected many of the politicians had not precisely been invited.
If Miranda is disturbed by her less-than-cheerful welcoming, she gives no sign of it. Inclining her head as if the room had gone silent out of respect instead of to gawk, she smiles at the twins from across the room and walks over to stand with him.
"Everyone's staring at me" Miranda whispers to him, a little self-consciously.
"Well, you do look stunning in that dress." He says helpfully, if not particularly originally.
Miranda's eyes light up at his complement. Casually, she shrugs, "Well, I suppose with everyone seen talking to me being swallowed by the darkness for 21 years, my friendships aren't exactly current."
"I… I guess not. I only really know Ileana, Karsh, and the girls."
Suddenly, Miranda grins broadly, "Would you like to go through this the way we used to at court functions?"
"Split up, be charming to as many people as we can in one hour, eat dinner, then dance the night away together?" He clarifies.
"It's a small group. I expect we can talk through them in half the time without anyone feeling slighted." Miranda replies still smiling, "But something like that."
"Can we start with dinner?" He asks, gesturing to a buffet of what appears to be chicken wings, chips and salsa, and various other appetizers.
"Are you that hungry?" she asks with raised eyebrows, still grinning.
"Famished" he answers sincerely
She laughs, "I'll keep them busy for you, go eat."
When they have both finished eating and socialized as much as he can stand Aron gestures to the dance floor. "Would you like to dance," he asks softly.
"I'd love to," Miranda answers, "But I'm not sure I know how to dance to this." Aron realizes that the dance, a slow song from the girls' dimension, is not one he knows either.
"Um… maybe we can figure it out." He says, fumbling, trying to imitate Ileana and Karsh, who are making the dance look easy.
Cam spots them, smiles and rushes over to help them. "Here," she says confidently, "Dad, put your hands on her waist."
"And mom, put your hands on dad's shoulders." Alex finishes helpfully, "Just sort of hug and sway."
"Thanks girls," Aron says. He notices that he and Miranda are standing closer than any other couple seem to be, but decides he does not care.
In fact, he pulls Miranda closer still and prepares to dance the night away. "I love you," he whispers, just to see her smile again.
"You're still a divine dancer" Miranda comments, later in their rooms.
"So are you," he responds in a deep voice.
Miranda hesitates for a moment and then, to his shock, starts to unbutton his shirt. "You look good." She says shyly.
"I…" Aron answers incoherently as the room becomes all too warm.
"Let's go to bed," she whispers seductively.
He stares at her, agape, sure that he must have misunderstood her.
"Yes, I mean it like that…" she says, a little timidly, "Don't you want to?"
"Of course I do…" He says hurriedly. "It's just… are you…"
By way of an answer, she kisses him. "I'm sure."
He looks deeply into her eyes, "If you want to stop…."
"I wont." She interrupts.
"What changed?" he asks softly.
"I … I'm not going to die." She whispers.
"What?" he breathes.
"I'm not going to die. The inquiry acquitted me when I was expecting…" she trails off.
"You were expected them to have you executed?" Aron asks, shocked.
"Well…yes." She starts to talk much too fast, "Because I didn't see how they could void the bigamy charge without confirming the adultery charge, and I knew how they stand on technicalities, and Thantos changed all the laws so that adultery against a king is an automatic death sentence."
Her speed doesn't flag, "But they didn't convict me, and I'm not going to die, and we'll have maybe forty or fifty more years together, and we're going to… to grow old together, and I want to forget and just pick up where we left off and I know that to think we can is stupid and naïve and I don't care and…" The phrase chokes off in a sob.
He stops Miranda's rant by kissing her, feeling both relieved and heated when he feels her passionately return the kiss.
She takes a breath, her face nearly touching his, "And tonight I realized that I… I want you." Miranda speaks fiercely, "Thantos, may he burn forever, is not going to deny me this anymore."
Finally, she glances at him and says at a normal pace, "Why don't you take the lead because I don't really know what I'm doing." She blushes .
Aron raises an eyebrow, having expected that Miranda would want to keep as much control as she could.
"I don't mean coercion or dominance," she explains lightly, "Like dancing,"
"Like dancing," he echoes as he gently leads her to their bed. "If anything feels wrong," he tells her as he pulls back the coverlet "Stop me."
Miranda nods gravely, and then settles herself against the pillows.
"Are you comfortable?" He asks affectionately resting on his side next to her, and, at her encouraging nod, leans over to kiss her.
"We are going to live." Aron says when they break for air.
Another kiss, longer, deeper this time, "We are going to grow old together."
"And I am going to love you," He gasps as Miranda pulls him back down and tangles her fingers into his hair.
"Forever." Their mouths muffle that last word
Then, she's crying, and he's crying, and he feels good, and he hurts, and it's sweet, and it's bitter, and he can't process the infinite complications of what he's doing, and he's overwhelmed in its simplicity.
Aron pulls back "Too much?" he gasps.
"Not enough" she counters breathily.
He kisses the tears from Miranda's eyes, kisses the corners of her mouth and the stern line of her jaw.
She finishes unbuttoning his shirt and helps him out of it, tossing it to the foot of the bed.
Aron lightly brushes her neck with his lips, trying to find the place where he knew, 21 years ago at least, she had liked to be touched.
Her amulet chain is in the way. Aron finds the clasp to remove it and, inexplicably, she tenses.
Though Miranda does not attempt to stop him, her expression worries him.
Then he understands. When she uses the amulet, they are, magically at least, evenly matched. Without the charm, Miranda will be weaker than him, in enchantment and physical strength both, powerless by comparison.
Aron won't ask that of her. He moves his hand away.
Suddenly, Miranda, in a sharp gesture tears the amulet from her neck, snapping the delicate chain in the process. She throws the talisman away from her with such anger that he fears she's damaged it.
Miranda's eyes search his, daring him to challenge her action. Aron says nothing, though his eyes are drawn to her chest, rising and falling rapidly.
"I trust you," she declares.
As Miranda snaps her fingers to dim the lights and pulls him on top of her, Aron feels shaming tears come to his eyes again.
"I trust no one but you."