Fill the emptiness inside me (Long, Transcripted Scene)

[trueikon]

The corridors of the castle were largely empty but for the servants going about their daily tasks, here and there one of them stopping to eye the unfamiliar Sidhe who meandered through their demesnes with one hand trailing over the tapestries. Even these simple beings could tell that there was something different from other Sidhe about this fey platinum beauty.

"I beg your pardon Mistress, but do you know where I might find his Excellency Curran Wellsworth?"

The chambermaid colored prettily as she realized she’d been caught staring and stammered out a hasty reply, unnerved by the look in his black eyes that spoke of both the knowledge that others had been staring and a near child-like indifference to the attention.

"The Courtyard mil...Highness."

Shahriel smiled, offering soft-spoken thanks as the nervous maid dropped a hurried but deep curtsey that nearly tumbled all of the sheets in her arms to the floor and scurried off with a squeak to continue her duties.


He watched from the top of the steps as Curran worked through forms with his broadsword, a tiny smile playing at the corners of his mouth. So beautiful, in spite of it all, his indomitable TrueHeart. The years had been kind enough; though he was far too young for that witch’s lock, it added a dignified air to the too-soon-Grumped Fiona and softened some of the harshness of the quiet pain about him.

'I did that. I still don’t ...don’t remember when, but I did it.'

Not for the first time, he bit his lip and sighed at the burning ache within him. How he wanted to go down those stairs and watch. To stand beside him and laugh again, and slide easily into the comfort of his embrace. The storms quieted in the solace there, but it was no longer his haven.

'Your Heaven’s a lie.'

The thought came unbidden, tears stinging his eyes as another painful scrap of memory slipped between the veiling mists and unfolded in his mind’s eye. The anguished, heartbroken look on Curran’s face, and how his own heart had broken at it. How he had remained firm because he knew he would drown in that love…that storybook fairytale love, if he didn’t.

He shook his head. It had been the harshest truth he could offer at the time, and true none the less because the Heaven that Curran had by his side was not the Heaven of so long ago in Arcadia. This Heaven had been corrupted and perverted by Vittorio, broken down until it served any being that needed its warmth and not simply the Angel to whom it belonged. It was a truth that had broken his own heart when he realized how true it was, and what would be required to make a lie of the lie.

'How much I hurt you. I haven’t the words, my Israfeli…but I am so…so sorry.'

*********
“Would you like a partner, love?”

Curran, so intent on the dummy before him, hadn’t heard the footsteps as Shahriel approached and froze hearing his voice. A quick step to the side avoided the drunken sway of his dubious stuffed partner as he turned to face the approaching Sidhe, not quite managing to look completely at him.

“You're not dressed for battle..."

"Well...no, but I can change. Unless that's a convenient reason to say no because you'd rather not."

"Were you going out?"

And just where would I go, you silly man? I do not know this place, and the city is surrounded by places where the Dream is gone entire…and all that I want, here, is standing right in front of me. Rather than give voice to the thought, instead he shook his head negatively and slid his hands uncomfortably into the pockets of the tightly fitted and stylishly ripped jeans that Dylan had picked out for him when they’d gone shopping.

"I was just wandering, looking for someone to talk to."

Curran glanced upward at him, an unreadable expression on his face as he moved toward a rack of weaponry. "Steel or practice blades?"

"What would you prefer?" He’ll choose wooden. I know. Shahriel stepped forward, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it aside and beginning to roll his shoulders and his neck as well as stretching his arms to loosen them in preparation.

"I don't want to hurt you." Such a quiet murmur, and so few words to convey such a wealth of meaning.

"Nor I you. I suppose that it will be practice blades then, won't it?" Watch…he won’t give you his all either, for the fear of hurting you. He’ll hold back. And can you blame him? Be silent awhile, or join me…it’s uncomfortable like this, thinking apart.

Curran watched him for a moment as if entranced, or perhaps as if he could hear the internal monologue before blinking and nodding. He turned away, giving his attention to the weapons rack. "Daggers were always your preference...I'm not sure if that's..." He stopped short. "What kind?"

Oh love...please stop. It can’t stay this way forever…it’s killing me. "I prefer paired weaponry. A broadsword and dagger or paired swords."

Curran nodded again, picking out two swords to test their weight and balance. After a moment he nodded and tossed them one at a time toward Shahriel, a slight smile of appreciation gracing his features as each was plucked neatly out of the air and set to rolling through nimble fingers as easily as if they were daggers instead. “Good reflexes.”

"Thank you...this is one of the few things I'm good at, really."

"And singing."

Much as you, yes, my Israfeli…we love to sing. “That makes two, yes.” Shahriel watched as Curran picked out a single broadsword for himself and moved out toward the center of the practice area. The casual poise on the balls of his feet spoke of a great deal more experience with a sword than he’d known when last they stood in a practice field together and Shahriel could not help but to smile. So beautiful, even when the dancing with steel....

"So, what're you waiting for?"

The taunt took him off-guard, so lost in his own reverie that he nearly laughed. More the fool, for letting the man distract him by walking. "Your leisure." He kicked off the tennis shoes that Dylan had bought and moved out to join him, one sword held forward the other laid back flat against his forearm. "I wish I could still dance, too."

Curran took his turn to watch Shahriel move, poised on the balls of his feet. "I'm fairly sure you can if you tried." He blinked again, shaking his head quickly, something nearly angry appearing in his eyes afterward and he beckoned. "Well, come on then."

Very well then, love. Let us see how much you hold back. Shahriel moved with a speed belied by his size, turning in a spin, the sword laid back against his forearm lashing out viper-quick in an arc toward Curran, his second sword held in close to guard his vulnerable torso.

"Are you wroth, milord?" He hadn’t missed that spark of anger, but he didn’t understand it at all. He’d done nothing at all to make Curran angry, but the telltale crackle of lightning was there all the same.

Curran grinned, baring his teeth in an expression that nearly ventured beyond smile and into a snarl as he blocked, turning smoothly with the movement to dance closer on the outside of Shahriel’s arm and ending the move behind him.

"I'm not your lord.", he grunted. "You outrank me."

You may say that if you wish, love, but Love Conquers All, and I am yours by right. Shahriel turned on the ball of one foot, pivoting mid-spin to come about facing Curran and on guard again, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. I’ve missed this, though...

"But you are, and Title be damned, so move past that and come at me."

A growl rumbled in the chest of the Fiona as he stepped forward to send the flat of the blade arcing down toward Shahriel’s legs.

"Let's see if you can still dance then."

The Prince laughed, spinning again, this time around Curran’s side, knocking away the blade with a rapid succession of taps from both swords and ending this one just behind Curran with swords up and precious little space between them. The words were meant to come out with an even, easy, bored joviality but Shahriel found his voice betraying him as they came out at little more than a whisper.

"It would seem that I can, so long as there's a blade in my hands...milord." I remain undone by you. Any semblance of dissembling I once possessed comes to naught, when you are here.

The other Sidhe huffed irritably, lightning sparking and striking more visibly in his eyes. "Easily remedied”, he said as he brought the blade back up in hard strike, aiming clearly to remove one of the blades from his partner’s hand by sheer force.

There was no laughter in the Scathach now, startled by the raw fury of the strike, the blade spun into the air from a careless hand as he danced back warily, his remaining blade coming up to a guarded pose. Have I truly angered him? How?

"Again I ask...are you wroth?"

Curran’s eyes widened rather suddenly, the lightning bleeding quickly from them as he slowly lowered his blade.

"Did I hurt you?" No more than before.

Shahriel shook his head, letting his blade lower slowly as well. “Of course not, love. You well and truly startled me though.” He dared a glance over at Curran, the tumultuous blend of emotions on his face defying understanding.

The Fiona nodded slightly, turning away and moving over to where the other blade landed. "I’m sorry" he murmured as he picked it up, headed back toward the rack, busying himself with putting both blades back. "That's probably enough practice."

Shahriel padded over on silent feet to join him, placing the third in its place with a soft, "As you say, milord." and turning back toward his discarded clothing. The Fiona sighed, reaching and closing a hand on Shahriel’s arm before he could move fully away.

"Wait..."

Platinum braids swung down to obscure his face as Shahriel stopped and turned back toward his counterpart without meeting his eyes.

"Aye, milord?" Speak with your voice, fool. The affectation of breathy whispers is beneath you! A fine thing coming from you, whose voice is trained to perhaps a third of what we share now. We can’t help it, so just shut up.

"I'm not angry...with you, anyway."

The words turned his face upward to face Curran’s, tucking his thumbs into his beltloops. "Alright. What's got you wroth then?"

"I think that's the first time we've touched at all. We've been in the same room, but...It's like we're afraid to." Curran released his arm with a nearly reluctant expression that turned quickly to tension as Shahriel raised a hand to touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw with a soft smile.

"I'm anything but afraid to, but I don't know that I'm allowed, Curran. That's the other reason."

The Fiona swallowed, taking a breath nodding as his eyes closed. "It doesn't hurt. Not like you think." He paused, his eyes opening again and focusing on the pale-haired beauty before him, so like and unlike the Sin he’d once known. "I just watched us taking our vows."

Again, memories rose, a tumult that swept over him and drowned him in the juxtaposition of the vows and Oaths they’d sworn both here and there. Shahriel sighed heavily under the weight of the sudden revelation and stepped closer, sliding his arms around Curran's waist in a tentative, gentle embrace. As he lay his head on the Fiona’s shoulder, relaxing into the rightness of it, he said softly, "I'm so sorry, love. Why did you do that?"

Curran sighed again, pausing a moment before quieting to simply hold him, turning his head to rest his chin atop his head. “It was a dream....kind of. It's hard to explain. A choice was being offered. A choice to leave everything behind.”

The Scathach frowned slightly as he considered what that might mean. A chance to be without us forever…? He fought to steady his voice and was proud of the easy confidence within it as he said, "I know you made the right choice...but that is a cruel choice to offer you." If...if he dreamed of our vows...was the choice to leave it all behind and be with us forever, instead?

“Maybe. There wasn't really a choice.”

Of course not, boy. Their love has conquered ours. Shahriel blushed faintly with embarrassment as he stepped back from Curran, trying to pull away and hide his face and his humiliation. “No of course not.”

“Leaving it all behind sounds attractive, until I remember that everything and ...everyone I love are here.” Curran paused, as if searching for words and managed a softer, “So...I wasn't angry at you. Just..angry”

The flush remained, burning brightly in Shahriel’s cheeks as he tucked his thumbs back into his beltloops and searched for a way to divert the conversation from his obvious blush and the selfish hopes that had given rise to it.

“I wonder if I can go back to Arcadia or not.” Oh *that* was clever…he’ll see through that.

“You have a fae soul. Of course you can.” The consternation was plain on Curran’s face as he spoke, as was the brief stab of fear in his eyes at the possibility. Shahriel raised a hand to brush a stray braid behind an ear, holding his silence a moment. I’m not at all certain, love…I wish I could reassure you, but I just don’t know. “It's not quite the same though...I'm not like other Fae...”

“Besides, I can't leave you here.”

Such a simple phrase. So few words…and yet….Shahriel’s heart soared, exulting in the love it saw in Curran’s eyes when he spoke them.

“As much as duty, and Dylan were reasons not to take that offer....you were. You keep me here.” Curran shook his head as if to clear it, grimacing and forging ahead determinedly. “Look. We can't be afraid to be in a room alone. Its nuts.”

“I'm not afraid...”Oh and how I’m not…at least… “…not for myself.” But for you and Dylan, because I’m this close to you…

“I'm never going to stop loving you....and I'm never going to stop wanting you. But pretending I have is stupid. When you came down the stairs just before...” He paused, looking at Shahriel intently for a long moment before turning away again to continue. “I love Dylan. I do. But I've always loved you. Always.”

Shahriel’s throat threatened to close as he listened, and for several minutes, the best response he could muster was a nod. It shouldn’t hurt this much, to hear that a man loved you…but then, most men didn’t say that they loved you in the same breath that they reaffirmed their love of another.

“And I don't recall loving anyone but you. If I did, it wasn't enough to come through the mists...the way you did. I've forgotten anyone but you.”

A vulpine face floated at the edge of his memory, closing his fingers about a silver locket with a fox and dragon before the mists carried it away again. Curran shrugged uncomfortably, saying, “There were others...I don't know how...much or how little you loved them. I just don't want us to be...unable to do this.” He reached out again, pulling the pale haired Sidhe into his embrace. Shahriel sighed, relaxing into the familiarity of this solace and resting his head on the Fiona’s shoulder again gently. I love the way he smells of spring and rain and sweat.

“If this is all we're allowed, Shahriel, then I want it. We've given up enough else.”

“I pity the thing that would take you from me, love. They’ll feel the ire of the dragon within.”

Curran shook his head negatively, closing his eyes and resting his head against Shahriel’s. “I'm not going anywhere. It was just one of Merlin's tests. To see if I would give away the pain of being Tristan. But I can't...there's too much that's good about this life. Real pain and real love and real joy are worth more than empty bliss.”

Shahriel’s throat thickened again, choking off the words his heart longed to speak, the useless pleas to come away with him. Instead he nodded, lowering his head again.

“This much, then. This much we can have.”

“I thought I would never touch you again.” Did…did his voice catch, there? Oh Goddess the cruelty of this.

“I had to debts to pay...demons to overcome. I am here...now.” It will have to be enough…for both of us.

Curran whispered, in answer, “Don't be afraid that your touch pains me. It does in its way, if only because it makes me want you. But it's more a comfort. It's a reminder...that nothing, nothing has ever broken our connection. Even our own worst follies.” Shahriel nodded the tentative smile fading away as he squeezed his TrueHeart tighter and whispered the only words he could muster.

“I'm sorry.”

“Please don't be. I'm as responsible.”

“And yet…” Shahriel paused to allow himself a wry chuckle at the irony of this minor quarrel, as if they were yet married and making up after a spat. “I remain sorry.”

“You didn't forget me. You couldn't have given me a greater gift. You love me. That's all I've ever wanted from you.”

“How could I forget you? You're the truest, most beautiful and right thing that's ever happened to me, Curran Wellsworth.” The smile came back to Shahriel’s face, it’s normal childlike wonder replaced with a wry knowing that spoke only of the Ailil of old. “Don't make me beat you with yon stick.”

The Fiona smiled, lifting his hands to cup his TrueHeart’s face while he looked down at him intently. “Knowing you love me, makes me happy. Never doubt that I do love you.”

A long held resolve within broke in that moment, feeling the gentleness of Curran’s hands on his face again. It was too much, too familiar…He won’t kiss you, as he used to…not if you don’t say anything. I want him to…but it will hurt so much, Sin. It will help, love. I promise. It’s not just for me…it’s for you too. You’ll know the sweetness of his lips and have that to hold on to. Trust me, this once. Shahriel nodded, though whether to himself or to Curran’s words he himself could not say, pressing his lips together and wiping away the moisture that had gathered in his eyes and threatened to spill as he steeled himself to say the words.

“Once. Just one last...it will help.” The last kiss he’d promised. The last kiss that would break their heart all over again. That last solace…to feel the sun, however briefly.

Curran lowered his head slowly, his lips brushing Shahriel’s lightly with the softest of sighs, and kissed him, as he used to. Shahriel nearly froze, fighting the urge to lift an arm and twine his fingers in the man’s hair, to pull him closer still and fill the hollow space in his middle with their love. Too soon, it was over, Curran drawing away from the gentle embrace though the sweetness of his lips yet lingered on those of his once-husband.

“I'm going to go for a ride. Cloud is restless, and I need to shake off the last of this dream.”

Shahriel nodded mutely, biting his lip and lowering his eyes to the ground. For but a moment in time…he had been complete again.

The Fiona smiled gently his expression clearly wanting more, and just as clearly controlling himself. “Next time, I'm not going so easy on you. I'll use two blades.”

“Mayhap I'll use four.” Shahriel forced a bittersweet smile to his lips, tracing his tongue across them and tasting love anew. “Be careful, milord. I shall see you...when you're back” he trailed off lamely as Curran laughed softly.

“I'll still best you.” His face softened as he leaned down to gather up the shirt and hand it back to his counterpart, eyeing him up and down once more. “By the way, good choices. Told you shopping came naturally.”

You’re a King now. Hold your head high, no matter what. Shahriel nodded to himself as he raised his head to regard Curran again, the smooth, composed expression on his face belied by the tears staining his cheeks, and yet neither managed to detract from his unexpectedly regal posture. He forced his voice to a calmness he didn’t feel so he could respond.

“Oh...Dylan helped me quite a bit. He's a good soul.”

Unfooled, Curran reached out to embrace him again, briefly, reaching up to wipe away a tear. “Please don't cry. We still have this. We're still both here. We have so much.”

Shahriel nodded and kissed his cheek briefly, shaking his head afterward. I may be a King, but I still belong to him. “I can't rightly bottle it up anymore. I've had a belly full of wearing a calm mask. Forgive my tears, milord...they're as much joy as pain. Go. Ride the wind.”

“I've hurt you. I was selfish.”

Courage gave him the easy laugh that rolled from his chest, but all the same, it loosened the tight bands that seemed to be constricting it until he couldn’t breathe. “I asked for what I got.”

“And for what I wanted and was too afraid to ask for.”

Exasperation rose in Shahriel as he murmured, “Oh please. Quit being such a bloody nobleman and go ride your bloody horse before I call Prism and go riding *with* you, just to be certain that you do it.” Please leave, love. I can’t bear to break in front of you. You’d worry.

“Thank you.”

“Always.” Always, and forever…until eternity comes, thou, Curran Wellsworth ap Fiona, shalt have me in thy keeping. Pray that I keep those words, this time.

Curran’s arms tightened around him for a moment, as if he had heard the words and Shahriel wondered if he hadn’t forgotten himself and said them aloud, until he stepped back again to vault easily onto Clouds back. As the clatter of hooves and the sound of sparking electricity rose around him while the steed took to the air above the courtyard and away, Shahriel finally relaxed, certain that he hadn’t said them.

He watched the flight for a few moments, unable to tear his eyes away from the Count and his noble steed until they vanished from sight behind a cloud. Freed from the preternatural hold, he moved over to the rack once more, skin striating and rippling with strange prismatic scales in a terrifying transformation. The extra pair of arms that had grown from between his shoulder blades took up a pair of swords even as his own natural limbs did and he turned back toward the center of the courtyard to take out his pent up emotion on the practice dummy.