"Until The Fall" - 11/48
Title: Until The Fall
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, the Queen, Ahamo, and some old & new OCs (updated 03.09.09)
Pairing: Established Cain/DG; established Jeb/Az
Rating: M
Summary: Sequel to " Of Light". After an annual of living in the O.Z., DG sets out to complete the task given to her by the Gale. Soon, she must learn that there is always more to everything than first meets the eye. (updated 03.18.09)
Extras: Cast Page on livejournal.com (updated 03.26.09)
Warning: This chapter wanes slowly into "M".
Chapter Eleven
As DG closed the bathroom door behind her, she took a moment to lean back against the supportive wood. Her heart, though not pounding, seemed to be skipping away on her just the same. A hand over her chest, she looked around the bathroom, her eyes finally settling on the footed bathtub. Pushing herself away from the door, she moved across the room, set in the stopper, and turned the taps. The taps squealed when she twisted them to set the temperature of the water, and she could hear the pipes groaning. Such noises didn't distress her - in fact, strangely, she found them rather welcome. But, then again, she'd grown up in an old farmhouse.
Moving without thinking, she drew the curtain over the window, and then shimmied out of her pants. As she picked them up off the floor and folded them, she admired them unabashedly. The jeans she held were hers; the material was stiff, familiar. Though they'd require a little breaking in, and though they were more a workman's style than something feminine, she honestly didn't care. She felt, strangely, like she'd grown up too much in the past year - annual - and sliding her legs into a pair of jeans was a little like reclaiming a piece of herself. Why it felt like that, she didn't know, it just felt good and she wasn't about to question it.
As she placed the folded pants on the vanity of the small sink, her eyes purposefully avoided the mirror. But as she straightened, crossing her arms over her front to grip the edge of her tank top, readying to peel it off, she felt the slightest bit of a breeze tease through her hair, an instantaneous sensation that was over before she'd known it had happened. Letting go of her shirt then, and turning slowly around, she saw nothing. She checked the window, only to find it shut firmly. Shaking her head, her eyes fell upon the water that was inching its way closer to filling the tub, and then...
She felt a sharp tug on her hair, strong enough to jerk her head back, and painful! Whirling again, she saw nothing, no one; her hand flew up to her hair, massaging her now sore scalp. Then, another tug, just as hard; it was a consistent pull. She opened her mouth, drew a breath, her lungs ready to form his name but as she called out to Cain her voice was lost in the wind rush that surrounded her as she was yanked bodily from the room, not by any physical force but by what, she didn't know. She was flying fast and she saw nothing, surrounded only by a black, oppressive... nothingness...
And then with a sudden thump, her momentum stopped and she landed hard; she let out a surprised “Oh!” simply because she had to make a noise, to hear herself, to hear something other than the deadening surging sound of her motion that had so abruptly silenced. The darkness was clearing, and oh Lord, was she dizzy. She put a hand to her forehead, letting the room spin for a moment.
Wait... room?
Oh no, she thought, as she tried to swallow away the initial swell of panic. What just happened? Where am I?
Moving her hand away from her face, she dared to take a look around, and was immediately relieved to see herself in a familiar place. The lights were dimmed, but she could make out her surroundings enough to know she was back at Alta Torretta. Though the room was not necessarily discernible, she knew, just knew, that she was in the palace. Whether it be the smell of the air tickling her nose, or the quiet hum she heard now, that was so familiarly the sound of a Central City night, she wasn't sure.
“Oh, thank Gods,” said a soft voice, and the jumble of where, how, and why in her head suddenly slid into the beginnings of understanding.
Azkadellia.
DG was about to climb to her feet when she came to an embarrassing realization. She was currently, and quite plainly, without pants. It could be worse, she told herself, she could have pulled you out of the tub. Or worse, you could have been underneath - and the thought cut short as she said, “Cain's not gonna be happy when he notices me gone, Az.”
“Ohh,” Az said with a slow exhale. “I didn't think of that.” Following the sound of her sister's voice, she saw Azkadellia, wearing a long black negligee, collapsed limply into a large wing-chair. The deep red colour and high back of the chair reminded DG of a throne, but the woman that had fallen into it looked nothing like a queen.
“Are you okay?” she asked, and the moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished them back. You and your stupid questions, DG, she chided herself. She'd had this conversation with her brain once before, the day she'd let a ragged shell of a man out of an iron suit after eight annuals of mental torture. 'Areyouokay?' she'd asked him... no, DG, he's very obviously not okay.
“Sorry,” Az said, shaking her head. She looked up at her sister with a stunned expression on her face. “That was harder than I thought it would be.”
DG studied the room as she spoke to her sister. “What exactly did you do?” she asked; the room was massive, and it came to her clearly that she was in the Queen's bedchamber, once her mother's and now Azkadellia's. A room that had seen some of the greatest women in the history of the O.Z., unguarded and completely as they truly were, without the weight of their crowns bowing their heads. And here was Az, washed out and pale and broken, and DG, confused and unprepared... how fitting.
“A summoning spell,” Az said dismissively, as if it weren't a big deal, but she looked near-drained.
DG's mind, however, was back in the bathroom. There was no way she'd get back before he realized her missing. Resigned, she sighed. She brought her knees up to hug them against her chest, the broad flashes of white flesh drawing Azkadellia's attention.
“Why aren't you wearing pants?” her sister asked, plainly knocked temporarily off her mental course.
“I was getting ready to take a bath,” DG explained. Az nodded in understanding, before a horrified look crossed her features.
“I'm sorry, Deeg,” she whispered, looking so amazingly contrite that it made DG's heart hurt.
“Don't worry about it,” DG said automatically. “But do you think you could help a girl out?” She motioned with her hands to her naked legs. Azkadellia was out of the chair in an instant, crossing the room to the massive wardrobe; after a moment of rummaging, she came up with a silky robe. DG tossed it on gratefully, and once she had it belted closed, she grabbed her sister in a crushing embrace.
“I'm sorry I left like that.”
Azkadellia sounded forgiving as they pulled apart. “Don't worry about it, DG. We've all got things that need to be done. Its best to just get it over with, isn't it?”
DG frowned, unsure of who Azkadellia was trying to convince. “Maybe,” she said. “But why did you... summon me here?” She tried out the unfamiliar word, which felt odd on her tongue. Truth be told, she could very easily become deeply angry with her sister for the thoughtless intrusion. She bit back the lash-out she felt rising. Azkadellia's actions, while hasty and discourteous, were not without reason. Need was plain on every inch of her sister's face, from the sadness in her eyes to the downward tug at the corners of her full lips.
Standing now, hugging herself in the middle of her sister's suite, she felt so ridiculously torn on the issue that she was very sure she wanted Az to be the one doing the talking. I left the water running, DG thought absently.
It took Az a moment to start speaking, as if she were having trouble focusing her thoughts into coherent words. “I've just finished meeting with Andrus,” she said finally. “There's news out of the Southeast, and its not good.”
“...I might tell you to stay out of the Southeast...”
DG's brow furrowed, as she tried to shake away the strange, random thought. “How not good?”
Azkadellia let out a small laugh then, barely more than a push of air through her lips, and it chilled DG to the bone. “Longcoats are amassing,” Az said after a moment of searching the floor. She'd returned to her chair, and now sat a little more regally, having regained a bit of her bearing in her sister's presence. “The generals will be sending their spies into the Black Forest to try and find out who is at the head of it.”
“...Stay out of the forest after dark, DG...”
DG bit her lip, unsure of how to respond to her sister. Military matters were not her strong point. She knew the Black Forest encompassed many 'spans' - which in her best guess was near to a couple hundred square miles - taking up parts of both the southern and eastern provinces, and that it was uninhabited, much farther south than the tree-dwellers of the Eastern Guild made their homes. Most of the forest was impenetrable; none of the books she'd read contained any information on it other than its name, and none of the maps she'd seen showed anything more than a hazy green expanse labelled boldly, ominously, as the Black Forest... or not at all.
“...In the darkest corner of this country...”
“DG?” Azkadellia said softly. “Are you all right? You look like an undead.”
Her attention snapped back to her sister, her eyes focusing on Az's worried face; her mind had drifted once again. Frowning, she tried to pick up the thread of conversation she'd dropped, knowing she was meant to respond. “So I'm assuming you want us to avoid the forest like the plague,” she finally managed weakly.
Az's eyebrows perked up with interest. “Plague? What plague?”
“Never mind,” DG said with an aggravated sigh.
“Well,” Azkadellia said slowly, succinctly moving on, “it might be best if you stayed out of the Southeast all together. Stay to the West of the Qualdin bastion at Morrow... unless...” Here Az paused, as her eyebrows knit together in thought, and DG held her tongue, not wanting to interrupt. “DG,” she said so abruptly that the younger woman's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Have you decided where you're going to start looking for... a way?”
DG took a moment before answering. “I'm meeting with one of the elders in Milltown tomorrow, I'm hoping he might have some insight, but other than that...”
Azkadellia gave pause, contemplating her words carefully, a silence that seemed too palpable for DG's liking. When her sister finally spoke, it came as the thinnest whisper. “You might go see the Reader.”
“The Reader?” It was a term that she hadn't crossed before, and she struggled to make some sort of coherent connection. “You mean, a Viewer?”
Az shook her head; studying her sister, DG realized Az was paling more by the second. “No, the Reader. She... she makes her home in the Realm of the Unwanted. She's... well, a sort of fortune teller. The -” And here she paused again, drawing a shaky breath. “- The Witch consulted her about the location of the Emerald. Now, she wasn't able to give the Witch an answer, of course, but its possible the magical protections on the Emerald have weakened since the Eclipse... or perhaps the Witch didn't ask the right question. You only get one.”
It was the most her sister had ever spoken of the Sorceress that had held control over her for so long. Even though DG was proud of her sister for facing her demons, she couldn't stop herself from looking skeptical over what Az had just suggested. “A fortune teller? As in palm readings and cards?”
Azkadellia gave her sister an indulgent smile, albeit a weak one, and shook her head. “Not quite. She's not some roadside hawker... although, I do believe her business extends out into the streets of the Realm.” DG didn't like the way Azkadellia's mouth formed the word 'business', as if it were a term no good lady should have dripping from her lips. “If you asked the right question, DG, she might be able to tell you how to complete your test.”
DG smirked, though the wheels in her head were already turning. “Wouldn't that be cheating?”
“I don't think it matters, DG. But... you might have a hard time convincing Wyatt Cain its a good idea.”
“Why?”
“The Reader's Parlour isn't somewhere a princess should be seen,” Azkadellia said, and by the way she pursed her lips together, DG knew the subject was closed.
With a sigh, DG shrugged her shoulders. She wondered absently just how many minutes had passed since she'd been pulled away from Milltown. It couldn't have been more than fifteen, but it was already too long, stretching on too far. “Going to the Realm won't take us too close to the Black Forest?” Though the Realm was unmarked on any map, she knew it was close to the forest, a few hours ride southeast of Finaqua.
“Not if you're careful.”
DG gave a slow nod. “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “You have to send me back before Cain really freaks out on me.” She frowned at the very thought; though none of this was her fault, and he would be easily diffused, the first few minutes of facing him wouldn't be pretty... not pretty at all. Unless... “Oh,” she said suddenly, “is Jeb on his way back to Central City?” If she returned with news about Jeb, it might deflect a little bit of Cain's initial anger. Knowing how incensed he was going to be, DG could almost hear the low growl that he would greet her with.
Azkadellia's eyes widened slightly, and she seemed to struggle with her words before finally speaking. “Lieutenant Cain has been chosen by the generals to lead the infiltration team into the forest. I don't know when he's going to be returning.”
Oh, great. I really wish I hadn't asked, DG thought, now bound to relay this information to Wyatt. She might have to save it for when she'd managed to calm him down. She held out a hand to help Azkadellia out of the chair, and as soon as her sister was standing, she gave her another hug. “How are you holding up?” she whispered into her sister's ear, when she'd tucked her chin over Az's shoulder. Much to her surprise, or perhaps not much of a surprise at all, Az seemed to shrink in her arms, her shoulders falling and a deep exhale escaping from her.
“There's no time to dwell on it, DG,” Az said, sounding suddenly much younger and much older at the same time.
“You're probably right about that,” DG said, tightening her embrace, “but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't take time to deal with what happened, Az.” The perfume in her sister's hair was making her dizzy, but she didn't pull away or let go. She knew she had to go, and she knew it had to be soon, but she couldn't just walk away again. “Tell me that you're going to be all right,” she said, her words soft and coaxing. She felt her sister nod.
“Ambrose is making sure to take care of my well-being,” Az told her sister as she pulled away. They held their hands between them for a brief moment, the soft shimmer of white light radiating from their skin a great comfort to both sisters.
“Well good,” DG said with a sad smile, watching her sister's face carefully. “I'll come back and kick his ass if he doesn't take care of you while I'm gone, and make sure to pass that on.”
Az gave a small smile. “I will.” She took a step back. “I should send you back. Are you ready? It might be a bumpy ride.”
DG laughed, as it couldn't be any rougher than the first trip, and it was all still more pleasant than a travel storm. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“Keep your destination in mind,” Az said with a nod. “I don't know exactly where I pulled you from, so it's going to be hard to send you back to the exact same place. You might end up on Milltown's Main Street.”
DG frowned, and gave a sigh. “All right... well, I'm keeping the robe, then. And hey,” she said suddenly, “promise me you aren't going to do this again. I'm sure there's another way of sending me a message without having to magic me halfway across the Zone to deliver it in person.”
“I promise,” Az said sadly, realizing her mistake for not the first time, and she tried to give her sister an apologetic smile. The sisters hugged one last time. When they'd separated, DG screwed her eyes shut.
“Hold onto something,” her sister said.
Hold onto what, exactly? she thought, and she couldn't help but laugh, but the sound was lost in the sudden wind rush that swept over her.
***
Wyatt Cain moved on impulse, crossing the small bathroom in two strides. His boots splashed in the water that had run over the floor, as he turned off the taps to cease the flow. The taps complained loudly at his strong grip and jerking motions. Straightening, he took in the bathroom, every corner. The room was completely and utterly empty, devoid of anyone but him.
He took a brief moment to retrieve his revolver from the bedroom. Checking the cylinders quickly, although he knew it to be loaded, he returned to the bathroom. He walked around the bathtub, situated in the middle of the room, and went to the window.
Practically ripping the curtain off its rod as he shoved it out of the way, he gripped the sash hard and pushed it upwards. He was hit immediately with a blast of cold wind. How it could be so damn cold in August was beyond him, but the thought distracted him as he checked the balcony that ran from one end of the building to the other, connecting all of the rooms. Not a soul outside.
Where the hell did she go? he wondered, as he pulled himself back into the bathroom and shut the window.
Moving faster now, he tucked his revolved into his belt, not wanting to waste time putting on his holster. He tried to quiet his heavy boot-falls as he made his way down the hallway to Hass's room. Frowning, he rapped sharply on the door. After a moment, and the sound of some fumbling on the other side, the door was yanked inwards.
“Captain,” the corporal said, surprised to see Cain. “Is something wrong?”
Cain gave a curt nod. “DG's disappeared.”
A tremor shivered through Hass's face before his mask of seriousness broke into a grin. He was barely able to hold back the snort of laughter as he asked, “Got away on ya, did she?”
Cain bit back a growl, as he he jerked his chin sharply towards the window that could be seen on the opposite wall of Hass's room. He hadn't thought Hass's special scouting talents would come to usefulness so soon. “I want you to circle the village, see if you can find her.”
Hass nodded his understanding, as he stepped backwards from the door. “You think she's gone outside?” he asked, crossing the room and pulling open his window, as Cain had done minutes before in the flooded bathroom. Cain could only shake his head, grumbling to himself as he shut Hass's door; as he pulled it closed behind him, he heard the muted sound of the shapeshifter's change.
In his own room once again, he checked around for DG, as if she may have magically reappeared, but the room was empty and silent but for the drip, drip, drip of the water in the bathroom. He grabbed his coat and headed downstairs, planning on checking out the perimeter of the building. On his way across the entryway, the landlord came out of the back dining room, alerted by the sound of his rushed footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Can't sleep?” MacGruder asked.
Cain shook his head, barely stopping for a moment at the door, the handle already gripped in his hand. “No,” he said, keeping his voice firm and even, though he was beginning to feel the tug of adrenaline, as every minute that went by did so without DG's return. “Thought some fresh air might help.”
The landlord nodded. “Stay close, sir. Wouldn't want you spooking up one of the residents.”
Cain frowned as he headed out onto the porch. Making sure the door shut quietly behind him, he didn't let his lungs adjust to the bite of the cold air as he headed down the steps, slowly moving through the narrow walkway between the inn and the hardware store next-door. Creeping silently, he didn't draw his gun but kept his hand hovering near the grip of the revolver, his calloused fingertips brushing the polished wood. In the rear-yard of the inn, he found nothing but a picnic table drowning in knee-high, dry summer grass, and a well-worn path leading to a row of storage sheds near the back of the property; beyond that, the woods began.
The falcon lost in the darkness cried out, long and lonely. Continuing on his circular path around the inn, he cut across the yard and around the other side of the inn, passing by the dimly lit windows of the office, and the private rooms of the innkeepers. As he stepped up onto the porch, he could have sworn he heard footsteps on the balcony above his head, but when he stopped to listen he heard nothing, and shook his head at his own foolishness. The echoes of his own feet hitting the dull wood beneath him had the hairs on his arms raising.
Get a hold on yourself, Wyatt, he chastised himself firmly as he headed back into the inn, the warm air causing his cheeks to prickle. Though the landlord gave him a welcoming nod of acknowledgement as he crossed to the stairs, he did not come out of the back rooms, and Cain was glad for the lack of conversation. Mounting the steps two at a time, he made his way quickly to his own room.
In his haste, in his recklessness to just find her already, he'd left his door open. Planning on walking right by, to see if Hass had returned, he was surprised to hear... sounds coming from within his own room as he passed. Doubling back a few strides, he stopped in the door frame and listened hard.
Water... splashing, but not running. A deep, feminine sigh, and a few grumbled curse words. His fingers curled around the grip, and he withdrew the revolver from his belt. Calmly, he pulled back the hammer as his slow steps moved him farther into the room, and then -
“Put it away, Cain. It's just me.”
The voice was DG's, and she sounded miserable. Disarming his gun and tucking it back into his belt, Cain walked quicker now, until he'd come into the doorway of the bathroom, and took in the sight before him.
DG had emptied the tub, and now stood in her underwear, and something he was sure would be classified as a shirt, by her definition. From somewhere, she'd snagged a mop and was now diligently cleaning up the flooded mess of the bathroom. The absurdity of it, a princess mopping the floor in her panties, kept him from entering the bathroom properly to stand over her and demand where she'd gone. Instead, his brain, working a bit more properly now at the sight of her at the very least safe and sound, told him he needed to notify Hass of the fact that she was fine.
Frowning, and holding back the lash of words his tongue had ready, he pointed a finger squarely at her. “Stay here, I'll be right back.”
She grinned innocently at him, leaning on the mop-handle. “Oh come on, Tin Man. Where am I gonna go?”
Clenching his jaw, he shot her a patronizing look and walked out of the room, down the hallway to the corporal's room. He knocked on the door, but after a minute realized he must not have returned yet. He opened the door a crack and peered inside, only to find the room empty, as he'd suspected.
With a sigh, Cain crossed the room to the open window and climbed through out onto the balcony. He took these moments to calm down, as he moved down towards his own room, to where he could see DG moving about in the bathroom, a shadow behind the curtain. Wherever she'd gone, he'd know in a few minutes.
Looking upward, the sky was clear, and after another few minutes on the balcony, he could see the faint, black shape of a bird coming towards him, wings widespread. The falcon landed, perching on the wooden railing for a moment before shifting, and the corporal was hopping down and standing straight next to Cain as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.
“I didn't see her Captain. I suggest that -”
Cain shook his head. “There's no need. She's back safe.”
Hass gave a deep sigh. “Well, thank the Gods for that, then. Where did she get to?”
“Gonna find that out here, shortly,” Cain said. He waited for Hass to climb through the window before following, and when he stood up inside the corporal's room, ready to say goodnight and head back to DG, he found himself instead watching the young corporal looking like he had something to say, the stumble and catch of a child with a secret.
“Make it quick, Corporal.”
“Um, I was thinking about what the princess said this evening,” Hass said, and then he paused, clearing his throat. “Has anyone mentioned going to see Cynthia to her?”
Cain gave a quiet growl, and the corporal's eyes widened. “You keep talkin' like that, Hass, and you're gonna be nursin' a black eye.” He left the room without another word, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. His steps carried him purposefully to his own room, and when he had the door at his back, he shrugged out of his coat and called out for DG.
“I'm almost done,” she responded, and he could still hear her wringing out the mop, then the slosh of it hitting the floor again. Grumbling but patient, Cain waited for her, flicking open the cuffs of his shirt, tugging it out to hang loose. He'd just started unbuttoning himself when she finally came out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a towel. When their eyes met, he could feel the panicked jump inside of her at his harsh glare, but he didn't let up. As he opened his mouth to speak, she immediately threw her hands up.
“Don't freak out!”
Frowning, Cain felt himself deflate a little. “Where?” was all he asked her.
“Az pulled me out and summoned me to Central,” she said quickly, apologetically. “And don't worry, I already made her promise not to do it again. Awful way to travel, it made me dizzy.” She ran a nervous hand through her hair. “I'm really sorry.” Her wide blue eyes bore into him deep, deeper than he'd ever thought he'd be letting her get. Sighing, he gave up on his buttons.
“Why would your sister summon you?”
DG shrugged. “There's news out of the southeast from the generals.”
Cain nodded. “They figure they've got the Longcoats cornered in the Black Forest,” he said, and though he noticed her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, he noticed she didn't question his knowledge. “So your sister gave the order for them to head on in, eh?”
“Yes,” she said resignedly. “She said Andrus wants Jeb to lead the spies.” She bit her lip, and tried to quell a shiver that ran through her. She was cold, still damp from cleaning the bathroom. A thin quilt was hung over the end of the bedstead, and he passed it to her. As she wrapped it around herself gratefully, she asked him, “Are you worried about Jeb?” The query was soft and tentative.
Cain looked away from her, concentrated on the tasks at hand he could find for himself; he placed his revolver on the bedside table, hung his duster up in the closet. “Yes,” he said slowly, carefully forming the words for her. “But Jeb is a soldier, and was a grown man long before we stumbled across each other again. He can hold his own.”
Thick silence fell over the room then, strains of quiet that hung in the air like smoke, ready and waiting to be broken with the breath of words. Neither spoke, as DG crossed the room to the window, to stand huddled with a blanket around her shoulders, looking out into the darkness, or perhaps merely at her own reflection in the glass. Cain watched her, as he always watched her, waiting for her to speak. She said nothing, however, and it was strange that he, of all people, could find silence uncomfortable.
“Az said...” she whispered finally, and stopped. She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder until their eyes met, before slowly turning the rest of the way. “Az suggested we make our way to the Realm of the Unwanted to see the Reader. Az said that she -”
Cain resisted an urge to shake his head. “Your sister suggested you go see the Reader?” It was a name he'd heard too many times today to make him feel comfortable. Into the Realm wasn't somewhere he wanted to be taking DG in the first place, it ran too close to the southeast, too close to the supposed Longcoat activity. He found his voice hardening as he continued to speak, but he couldn't stop the influx of sudden protectiveness. “And what did your sister suggest you do about the Reader's price?”
DG's eyebrows knit together; she was confused, it was plain on every inch of her pale, sweet face. “Az didn't mention anything about a price... she just said I had to ask the right question. She said I only get one. What's wrong with -”
Cain interrupted her, his voice sharp. “An annual of servitude for one question, DG. If you want an answer, you accept the price before you ask your question! An annual, Princess. Is that a sacrifice you're willin' to make?” He frowned, as he could see her decision clear on her face before she spoke, and his heart tightened, his jaw clenched as he realized that something as serious as an annual of self-sacrifice was just another price she was willing to pay to absolve her guilt and complete her task. He stared at her, mouth slightly open, as she began to speak.
“What other choice do we have? If it means she can tell us how to destroy the Emerald, maybe its worth it, Cain,” she said firmly, stubbornly, and Cain forced himself to close his eyes, so as not to see the determination settling on her face. She didn't know, couldn't know, and how could he tell her just what kind of sacrifice she'd be making? “And maybe... maybe if I explain things to her, she'll -”
“Fool's hope,” he snapped.
“Well, I'm heading to the Realm in the morning,” she said, so damn inflexible that one of these days she'd break fighting herself. “I have to try something, Wyatt.” She sought out his eyes, beseeching him to understand, the quivering blue pulling him in, though every nerve of his being told him this wasn't their best option. Anger was rising in him, not directed at her, but rage at these circumstances beyond his control, the fact that she was right about one thing... what other choice do we have?
Not many, Darlin', but this isn't something you want to be seein', he thought, finding himself suddenly sad. Crossing the room then, he stood in front of her and put two hands on either side of her blanketed hips. Her eyes were pleading with him, whether from fear or uncertainty or desire, he couldn't discern.
“It'll be two days ride to the Realm,” he said quite calmly, trying to convey that he wasn't going to fight her on this. She smiled up at him then, letting go of the blanket as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling her scantily-clad body impossibly close to his, pressing her curves into his hard lines.
DG leaned her head back slightly, waving a hand over Wyatt's shoulder to turn off the lights, casting them into darkness, as she found his mouth with her own, pressing sweet kisses to his lips. He responded quickly with a fierceness all his own, frustration and tension causing him to cover her with crushing kisses, bruising her lips as he slid his hands upwards under the soft cloth of the thin, tiny shirt. She moaned beneath him as he felt the flutter of apprehension beneath her skin. Wrapping two arms securely around her waist, he lifted her off her feet and took her to the bed, drawing back the blankets with one hand before dropping her unceremoniously between the sheets.
She was giggling as she reached for him, accepting his heavy body into the cradle of her thighs, as her legs clutched at his still-trousered hips. The caress of her mouth was frantic as she was fuelled by every emotion coursing through her. There was no restraint in any movement now as he braced himself with one arm, bringing the opposite hand up, running under the fabric of her shirt to cup her breast, thumbing the nipple roughly. DG cried out, arching into his hand; the strangled mewl escaping from her throat shot straight to his groin, all his blood rushing fast, the slam of arousal nearly knocking the breath out of him. He was quickly forgetting himself, taken over by need, as she reacted strongly to his every ministration.
“Clothes,” she muttered under her breath, as she grabbed him by the back of the head so he couldn't move. The darkness of the room did nothing to quell the heat shooting from her eyes, he could feel her sight roving over his face, and he sat back to allow her this time to breath, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. When she growled impatiently at him, the sexiest little sound, he smirked; seconds later, she was sitting up and pushing at him with her hands towards the edge of the bed. Taking the hint, he stood on the floor; she was yanking at his belt and zipper with her little hands the next second, deftly working through the clasps and fastenings, her fingers continually skimming the hardness she felt through his pants.
DG ducked her head, and in the dark an image flashed through his mind of her lips wrapped around him, and Gods, it was too much for him to handle. Too much time had gone by since he'd had her, and he throbbed at the thought of burying himself deep within her. Lacing a hand through her hair, he gently pulled her up to him, capturing her mouth in a possessive kiss, his tongue claiming hers in a slanted rhythm.
Repositioning onto her knees before him on the bed, DG finished unbuttoning his shirt as he kicked off his boots and trousers. Gripping the edge of her shirt, he peeled it up and off of her, lowering his mouth to the creamy flesh, catching a taut nipple between his teeth before pulling it in and sucking softly. Her fingers left his shirt to grip the back of his head, nails running along his scalp. He moved his mouth, tracing paths of warmth along her skin to the other breast, paying equal attention as he felt her softness under his lips. When she pulled away and crawled up onto the bed properly, he followed her, on his knees before to grip her panties in his fingers and slide them down her legs. He took her right leg and lifted it, kissing the inside of her knee, running his hand down the smooth skin around to her bottom, pulling her towards him as he hooked her leg upwards over his shoulder.
Guiding himself to her entrance, he gave a gentle thrust, sliding in unimpeded; her other leg swung up over his hip, her heel pressing into his tailbone as she dragged him closer, forcing him in deeper. A sigh of completion escaped her, as a groan of appreciation spilled out of his mouth. So unbelievably tight and wet, a homecoming like no other as her walls pulsed around him, bringing him to the edge so very fast.
“Wyatt,” she murmured, her hands reaching up to run over his chest, her fingernails flicking over the nipples through the abrasion of chest hair, making it hard for him to concentrate as he began to move slowly, hands on her waist, pulling her body towards him as his hips surged forward of their own volition. The old bed creaked slightly at the rocking motion they created together. Her breathing began to hitch, soft sighs mingled with tiny cries of pleasure. There wasn't enough light for him to see her properly, only to feel her; letting go his death-grip on her hips, thoughts of bruises absently crossing his mind, he ran his hands up her abdomen, the small soft swell of her belly, the ridges of her ribs, the soft curve of the undersides of her breasts. She was mumbling incoherently under her breath again, words that sounded like please... close... Wyatt...
The sound of his name tumbling from her sweet mouth caused another rush of arousal, pushing him closer to climax. Growling now, moving faster, deeper, he leaned down, letting her leg slip off his shoulder to catch on the crook of his elbow. The change in angle caused the princess beneath him to moan, arching her back into him, and oh Gods, she was there, coming all around him, squeezing rhythmically; she whimpered under his lips as he pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth, and in the next instant, with one hard thrust, he let go, his entire mind wiping blank but for the flashes of white behind his eyes, as he swallowed back the cries that came with his release.
DG's hands gripped at the collar of the shirt he had managed to keep on, dragging his head back to hers, breathing into him as she kissed him again and again, promises and questions and answers all wrapped up in the gentle brushes of her lips. Shaking now, Cain rolled away from her, taking only a moment to shrug his arms out of his shirt before gathering her to spoon against his chest. She covered them with the blankets that had been kicked to the end of the bed.
“Get some sleep, DG,” he managed to say as he struggled to catch his breath. Already he could feel the rest of his body lulling into the safety of sleep. It would be only a manner of minutes before his mind followed suit; he lifted his head only briefly to make sure his revolver was still situated on the nightstand.
“Mmm,” DG moaned, sounding satisfied and tired. “Goodnight, Wyatt.”
“Night,” he whispered into her hair. The two settled back into the pillows, and for the first time in the annual that they'd known and loved each other, they fell asleep in the same bed, secure in the fact that they'd wake up in each other's arms. Anything beyond that could wait until tomorrow.
Author's Note: Cain and DG continue in the next chapter with lots of fluffy conversation that wouldn't fit in this chapter, which has now been officially deemed the Chapter That Wouldn't Die. Longest. Chapter. Ever. Feel free to leave me a comment, they continue to be helpful (even if its just muse stroking).
Table Of Contents:
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20
21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30
31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40
41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, the Queen, Ahamo, and some old & new OCs (updated 03.09.09)
Pairing: Established Cain/DG; established Jeb/Az
Rating: M
Summary: Sequel to " Of Light". After an annual of living in the O.Z., DG sets out to complete the task given to her by the Gale. Soon, she must learn that there is always more to everything than first meets the eye. (updated 03.18.09)
Extras: Cast Page on livejournal.com (updated 03.26.09)
Warning: This chapter wanes slowly into "M".
Chapter Eleven
As DG closed the bathroom door behind her, she took a moment to lean back against the supportive wood. Her heart, though not pounding, seemed to be skipping away on her just the same. A hand over her chest, she looked around the bathroom, her eyes finally settling on the footed bathtub. Pushing herself away from the door, she moved across the room, set in the stopper, and turned the taps. The taps squealed when she twisted them to set the temperature of the water, and she could hear the pipes groaning. Such noises didn't distress her - in fact, strangely, she found them rather welcome. But, then again, she'd grown up in an old farmhouse.
Moving without thinking, she drew the curtain over the window, and then shimmied out of her pants. As she picked them up off the floor and folded them, she admired them unabashedly. The jeans she held were hers; the material was stiff, familiar. Though they'd require a little breaking in, and though they were more a workman's style than something feminine, she honestly didn't care. She felt, strangely, like she'd grown up too much in the past year - annual - and sliding her legs into a pair of jeans was a little like reclaiming a piece of herself. Why it felt like that, she didn't know, it just felt good and she wasn't about to question it.
As she placed the folded pants on the vanity of the small sink, her eyes purposefully avoided the mirror. But as she straightened, crossing her arms over her front to grip the edge of her tank top, readying to peel it off, she felt the slightest bit of a breeze tease through her hair, an instantaneous sensation that was over before she'd known it had happened. Letting go of her shirt then, and turning slowly around, she saw nothing. She checked the window, only to find it shut firmly. Shaking her head, her eyes fell upon the water that was inching its way closer to filling the tub, and then...
She felt a sharp tug on her hair, strong enough to jerk her head back, and painful! Whirling again, she saw nothing, no one; her hand flew up to her hair, massaging her now sore scalp. Then, another tug, just as hard; it was a consistent pull. She opened her mouth, drew a breath, her lungs ready to form his name but as she called out to Cain her voice was lost in the wind rush that surrounded her as she was yanked bodily from the room, not by any physical force but by what, she didn't know. She was flying fast and she saw nothing, surrounded only by a black, oppressive... nothingness...
And then with a sudden thump, her momentum stopped and she landed hard; she let out a surprised “Oh!” simply because she had to make a noise, to hear herself, to hear something other than the deadening surging sound of her motion that had so abruptly silenced. The darkness was clearing, and oh Lord, was she dizzy. She put a hand to her forehead, letting the room spin for a moment.
Wait... room?
Oh no, she thought, as she tried to swallow away the initial swell of panic. What just happened? Where am I?
Moving her hand away from her face, she dared to take a look around, and was immediately relieved to see herself in a familiar place. The lights were dimmed, but she could make out her surroundings enough to know she was back at Alta Torretta. Though the room was not necessarily discernible, she knew, just knew, that she was in the palace. Whether it be the smell of the air tickling her nose, or the quiet hum she heard now, that was so familiarly the sound of a Central City night, she wasn't sure.
“Oh, thank Gods,” said a soft voice, and the jumble of where, how, and why in her head suddenly slid into the beginnings of understanding.
Azkadellia.
DG was about to climb to her feet when she came to an embarrassing realization. She was currently, and quite plainly, without pants. It could be worse, she told herself, she could have pulled you out of the tub. Or worse, you could have been underneath - and the thought cut short as she said, “Cain's not gonna be happy when he notices me gone, Az.”
“Ohh,” Az said with a slow exhale. “I didn't think of that.” Following the sound of her sister's voice, she saw Azkadellia, wearing a long black negligee, collapsed limply into a large wing-chair. The deep red colour and high back of the chair reminded DG of a throne, but the woman that had fallen into it looked nothing like a queen.
“Are you okay?” she asked, and the moment the words were out of her mouth, she wished them back. You and your stupid questions, DG, she chided herself. She'd had this conversation with her brain once before, the day she'd let a ragged shell of a man out of an iron suit after eight annuals of mental torture. 'Areyouokay?' she'd asked him... no, DG, he's very obviously not okay.
“Sorry,” Az said, shaking her head. She looked up at her sister with a stunned expression on her face. “That was harder than I thought it would be.”
DG studied the room as she spoke to her sister. “What exactly did you do?” she asked; the room was massive, and it came to her clearly that she was in the Queen's bedchamber, once her mother's and now Azkadellia's. A room that had seen some of the greatest women in the history of the O.Z., unguarded and completely as they truly were, without the weight of their crowns bowing their heads. And here was Az, washed out and pale and broken, and DG, confused and unprepared... how fitting.
“A summoning spell,” Az said dismissively, as if it weren't a big deal, but she looked near-drained.
DG's mind, however, was back in the bathroom. There was no way she'd get back before he realized her missing. Resigned, she sighed. She brought her knees up to hug them against her chest, the broad flashes of white flesh drawing Azkadellia's attention.
“Why aren't you wearing pants?” her sister asked, plainly knocked temporarily off her mental course.
“I was getting ready to take a bath,” DG explained. Az nodded in understanding, before a horrified look crossed her features.
“I'm sorry, Deeg,” she whispered, looking so amazingly contrite that it made DG's heart hurt.
“Don't worry about it,” DG said automatically. “But do you think you could help a girl out?” She motioned with her hands to her naked legs. Azkadellia was out of the chair in an instant, crossing the room to the massive wardrobe; after a moment of rummaging, she came up with a silky robe. DG tossed it on gratefully, and once she had it belted closed, she grabbed her sister in a crushing embrace.
“I'm sorry I left like that.”
Azkadellia sounded forgiving as they pulled apart. “Don't worry about it, DG. We've all got things that need to be done. Its best to just get it over with, isn't it?”
DG frowned, unsure of who Azkadellia was trying to convince. “Maybe,” she said. “But why did you... summon me here?” She tried out the unfamiliar word, which felt odd on her tongue. Truth be told, she could very easily become deeply angry with her sister for the thoughtless intrusion. She bit back the lash-out she felt rising. Azkadellia's actions, while hasty and discourteous, were not without reason. Need was plain on every inch of her sister's face, from the sadness in her eyes to the downward tug at the corners of her full lips.
Standing now, hugging herself in the middle of her sister's suite, she felt so ridiculously torn on the issue that she was very sure she wanted Az to be the one doing the talking. I left the water running, DG thought absently.
It took Az a moment to start speaking, as if she were having trouble focusing her thoughts into coherent words. “I've just finished meeting with Andrus,” she said finally. “There's news out of the Southeast, and its not good.”
“...I might tell you to stay out of the Southeast...”
DG's brow furrowed, as she tried to shake away the strange, random thought. “How not good?”
Azkadellia let out a small laugh then, barely more than a push of air through her lips, and it chilled DG to the bone. “Longcoats are amassing,” Az said after a moment of searching the floor. She'd returned to her chair, and now sat a little more regally, having regained a bit of her bearing in her sister's presence. “The generals will be sending their spies into the Black Forest to try and find out who is at the head of it.”
“...Stay out of the forest after dark, DG...”
DG bit her lip, unsure of how to respond to her sister. Military matters were not her strong point. She knew the Black Forest encompassed many 'spans' - which in her best guess was near to a couple hundred square miles - taking up parts of both the southern and eastern provinces, and that it was uninhabited, much farther south than the tree-dwellers of the Eastern Guild made their homes. Most of the forest was impenetrable; none of the books she'd read contained any information on it other than its name, and none of the maps she'd seen showed anything more than a hazy green expanse labelled boldly, ominously, as the Black Forest... or not at all.
“...In the darkest corner of this country...”
“DG?” Azkadellia said softly. “Are you all right? You look like an undead.”
Her attention snapped back to her sister, her eyes focusing on Az's worried face; her mind had drifted once again. Frowning, she tried to pick up the thread of conversation she'd dropped, knowing she was meant to respond. “So I'm assuming you want us to avoid the forest like the plague,” she finally managed weakly.
Az's eyebrows perked up with interest. “Plague? What plague?”
“Never mind,” DG said with an aggravated sigh.
“Well,” Azkadellia said slowly, succinctly moving on, “it might be best if you stayed out of the Southeast all together. Stay to the West of the Qualdin bastion at Morrow... unless...” Here Az paused, as her eyebrows knit together in thought, and DG held her tongue, not wanting to interrupt. “DG,” she said so abruptly that the younger woman's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Have you decided where you're going to start looking for... a way?”
DG took a moment before answering. “I'm meeting with one of the elders in Milltown tomorrow, I'm hoping he might have some insight, but other than that...”
Azkadellia gave pause, contemplating her words carefully, a silence that seemed too palpable for DG's liking. When her sister finally spoke, it came as the thinnest whisper. “You might go see the Reader.”
“The Reader?” It was a term that she hadn't crossed before, and she struggled to make some sort of coherent connection. “You mean, a Viewer?”
Az shook her head; studying her sister, DG realized Az was paling more by the second. “No, the Reader. She... she makes her home in the Realm of the Unwanted. She's... well, a sort of fortune teller. The -” And here she paused again, drawing a shaky breath. “- The Witch consulted her about the location of the Emerald. Now, she wasn't able to give the Witch an answer, of course, but its possible the magical protections on the Emerald have weakened since the Eclipse... or perhaps the Witch didn't ask the right question. You only get one.”
It was the most her sister had ever spoken of the Sorceress that had held control over her for so long. Even though DG was proud of her sister for facing her demons, she couldn't stop herself from looking skeptical over what Az had just suggested. “A fortune teller? As in palm readings and cards?”
Azkadellia gave her sister an indulgent smile, albeit a weak one, and shook her head. “Not quite. She's not some roadside hawker... although, I do believe her business extends out into the streets of the Realm.” DG didn't like the way Azkadellia's mouth formed the word 'business', as if it were a term no good lady should have dripping from her lips. “If you asked the right question, DG, she might be able to tell you how to complete your test.”
DG smirked, though the wheels in her head were already turning. “Wouldn't that be cheating?”
“I don't think it matters, DG. But... you might have a hard time convincing Wyatt Cain its a good idea.”
“Why?”
“The Reader's Parlour isn't somewhere a princess should be seen,” Azkadellia said, and by the way she pursed her lips together, DG knew the subject was closed.
With a sigh, DG shrugged her shoulders. She wondered absently just how many minutes had passed since she'd been pulled away from Milltown. It couldn't have been more than fifteen, but it was already too long, stretching on too far. “Going to the Realm won't take us too close to the Black Forest?” Though the Realm was unmarked on any map, she knew it was close to the forest, a few hours ride southeast of Finaqua.
“Not if you're careful.”
DG gave a slow nod. “Okay,” she said with a sigh. “You have to send me back before Cain really freaks out on me.” She frowned at the very thought; though none of this was her fault, and he would be easily diffused, the first few minutes of facing him wouldn't be pretty... not pretty at all. Unless... “Oh,” she said suddenly, “is Jeb on his way back to Central City?” If she returned with news about Jeb, it might deflect a little bit of Cain's initial anger. Knowing how incensed he was going to be, DG could almost hear the low growl that he would greet her with.
Azkadellia's eyes widened slightly, and she seemed to struggle with her words before finally speaking. “Lieutenant Cain has been chosen by the generals to lead the infiltration team into the forest. I don't know when he's going to be returning.”
Oh, great. I really wish I hadn't asked, DG thought, now bound to relay this information to Wyatt. She might have to save it for when she'd managed to calm him down. She held out a hand to help Azkadellia out of the chair, and as soon as her sister was standing, she gave her another hug. “How are you holding up?” she whispered into her sister's ear, when she'd tucked her chin over Az's shoulder. Much to her surprise, or perhaps not much of a surprise at all, Az seemed to shrink in her arms, her shoulders falling and a deep exhale escaping from her.
“There's no time to dwell on it, DG,” Az said, sounding suddenly much younger and much older at the same time.
“You're probably right about that,” DG said, tightening her embrace, “but that doesn't mean that you shouldn't take time to deal with what happened, Az.” The perfume in her sister's hair was making her dizzy, but she didn't pull away or let go. She knew she had to go, and she knew it had to be soon, but she couldn't just walk away again. “Tell me that you're going to be all right,” she said, her words soft and coaxing. She felt her sister nod.
“Ambrose is making sure to take care of my well-being,” Az told her sister as she pulled away. They held their hands between them for a brief moment, the soft shimmer of white light radiating from their skin a great comfort to both sisters.
“Well good,” DG said with a sad smile, watching her sister's face carefully. “I'll come back and kick his ass if he doesn't take care of you while I'm gone, and make sure to pass that on.”
Az gave a small smile. “I will.” She took a step back. “I should send you back. Are you ready? It might be a bumpy ride.”
DG laughed, as it couldn't be any rougher than the first trip, and it was all still more pleasant than a travel storm. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“Keep your destination in mind,” Az said with a nod. “I don't know exactly where I pulled you from, so it's going to be hard to send you back to the exact same place. You might end up on Milltown's Main Street.”
DG frowned, and gave a sigh. “All right... well, I'm keeping the robe, then. And hey,” she said suddenly, “promise me you aren't going to do this again. I'm sure there's another way of sending me a message without having to magic me halfway across the Zone to deliver it in person.”
“I promise,” Az said sadly, realizing her mistake for not the first time, and she tried to give her sister an apologetic smile. The sisters hugged one last time. When they'd separated, DG screwed her eyes shut.
“Hold onto something,” her sister said.
Hold onto what, exactly? she thought, and she couldn't help but laugh, but the sound was lost in the sudden wind rush that swept over her.
***
Wyatt Cain moved on impulse, crossing the small bathroom in two strides. His boots splashed in the water that had run over the floor, as he turned off the taps to cease the flow. The taps complained loudly at his strong grip and jerking motions. Straightening, he took in the bathroom, every corner. The room was completely and utterly empty, devoid of anyone but him.
He took a brief moment to retrieve his revolver from the bedroom. Checking the cylinders quickly, although he knew it to be loaded, he returned to the bathroom. He walked around the bathtub, situated in the middle of the room, and went to the window.
Practically ripping the curtain off its rod as he shoved it out of the way, he gripped the sash hard and pushed it upwards. He was hit immediately with a blast of cold wind. How it could be so damn cold in August was beyond him, but the thought distracted him as he checked the balcony that ran from one end of the building to the other, connecting all of the rooms. Not a soul outside.
Where the hell did she go? he wondered, as he pulled himself back into the bathroom and shut the window.
Moving faster now, he tucked his revolved into his belt, not wanting to waste time putting on his holster. He tried to quiet his heavy boot-falls as he made his way down the hallway to Hass's room. Frowning, he rapped sharply on the door. After a moment, and the sound of some fumbling on the other side, the door was yanked inwards.
“Captain,” the corporal said, surprised to see Cain. “Is something wrong?”
Cain gave a curt nod. “DG's disappeared.”
A tremor shivered through Hass's face before his mask of seriousness broke into a grin. He was barely able to hold back the snort of laughter as he asked, “Got away on ya, did she?”
Cain bit back a growl, as he he jerked his chin sharply towards the window that could be seen on the opposite wall of Hass's room. He hadn't thought Hass's special scouting talents would come to usefulness so soon. “I want you to circle the village, see if you can find her.”
Hass nodded his understanding, as he stepped backwards from the door. “You think she's gone outside?” he asked, crossing the room and pulling open his window, as Cain had done minutes before in the flooded bathroom. Cain could only shake his head, grumbling to himself as he shut Hass's door; as he pulled it closed behind him, he heard the muted sound of the shapeshifter's change.
In his own room once again, he checked around for DG, as if she may have magically reappeared, but the room was empty and silent but for the drip, drip, drip of the water in the bathroom. He grabbed his coat and headed downstairs, planning on checking out the perimeter of the building. On his way across the entryway, the landlord came out of the back dining room, alerted by the sound of his rushed footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Can't sleep?” MacGruder asked.
Cain shook his head, barely stopping for a moment at the door, the handle already gripped in his hand. “No,” he said, keeping his voice firm and even, though he was beginning to feel the tug of adrenaline, as every minute that went by did so without DG's return. “Thought some fresh air might help.”
The landlord nodded. “Stay close, sir. Wouldn't want you spooking up one of the residents.”
Cain frowned as he headed out onto the porch. Making sure the door shut quietly behind him, he didn't let his lungs adjust to the bite of the cold air as he headed down the steps, slowly moving through the narrow walkway between the inn and the hardware store next-door. Creeping silently, he didn't draw his gun but kept his hand hovering near the grip of the revolver, his calloused fingertips brushing the polished wood. In the rear-yard of the inn, he found nothing but a picnic table drowning in knee-high, dry summer grass, and a well-worn path leading to a row of storage sheds near the back of the property; beyond that, the woods began.
The falcon lost in the darkness cried out, long and lonely. Continuing on his circular path around the inn, he cut across the yard and around the other side of the inn, passing by the dimly lit windows of the office, and the private rooms of the innkeepers. As he stepped up onto the porch, he could have sworn he heard footsteps on the balcony above his head, but when he stopped to listen he heard nothing, and shook his head at his own foolishness. The echoes of his own feet hitting the dull wood beneath him had the hairs on his arms raising.
Get a hold on yourself, Wyatt, he chastised himself firmly as he headed back into the inn, the warm air causing his cheeks to prickle. Though the landlord gave him a welcoming nod of acknowledgement as he crossed to the stairs, he did not come out of the back rooms, and Cain was glad for the lack of conversation. Mounting the steps two at a time, he made his way quickly to his own room.
In his haste, in his recklessness to just find her already, he'd left his door open. Planning on walking right by, to see if Hass had returned, he was surprised to hear... sounds coming from within his own room as he passed. Doubling back a few strides, he stopped in the door frame and listened hard.
Water... splashing, but not running. A deep, feminine sigh, and a few grumbled curse words. His fingers curled around the grip, and he withdrew the revolver from his belt. Calmly, he pulled back the hammer as his slow steps moved him farther into the room, and then -
“Put it away, Cain. It's just me.”
The voice was DG's, and she sounded miserable. Disarming his gun and tucking it back into his belt, Cain walked quicker now, until he'd come into the doorway of the bathroom, and took in the sight before him.
DG had emptied the tub, and now stood in her underwear, and something he was sure would be classified as a shirt, by her definition. From somewhere, she'd snagged a mop and was now diligently cleaning up the flooded mess of the bathroom. The absurdity of it, a princess mopping the floor in her panties, kept him from entering the bathroom properly to stand over her and demand where she'd gone. Instead, his brain, working a bit more properly now at the sight of her at the very least safe and sound, told him he needed to notify Hass of the fact that she was fine.
Frowning, and holding back the lash of words his tongue had ready, he pointed a finger squarely at her. “Stay here, I'll be right back.”
She grinned innocently at him, leaning on the mop-handle. “Oh come on, Tin Man. Where am I gonna go?”
Clenching his jaw, he shot her a patronizing look and walked out of the room, down the hallway to the corporal's room. He knocked on the door, but after a minute realized he must not have returned yet. He opened the door a crack and peered inside, only to find the room empty, as he'd suspected.
With a sigh, Cain crossed the room to the open window and climbed through out onto the balcony. He took these moments to calm down, as he moved down towards his own room, to where he could see DG moving about in the bathroom, a shadow behind the curtain. Wherever she'd gone, he'd know in a few minutes.
Looking upward, the sky was clear, and after another few minutes on the balcony, he could see the faint, black shape of a bird coming towards him, wings widespread. The falcon landed, perching on the wooden railing for a moment before shifting, and the corporal was hopping down and standing straight next to Cain as if nothing out of the ordinary had taken place.
“I didn't see her Captain. I suggest that -”
Cain shook his head. “There's no need. She's back safe.”
Hass gave a deep sigh. “Well, thank the Gods for that, then. Where did she get to?”
“Gonna find that out here, shortly,” Cain said. He waited for Hass to climb through the window before following, and when he stood up inside the corporal's room, ready to say goodnight and head back to DG, he found himself instead watching the young corporal looking like he had something to say, the stumble and catch of a child with a secret.
“Make it quick, Corporal.”
“Um, I was thinking about what the princess said this evening,” Hass said, and then he paused, clearing his throat. “Has anyone mentioned going to see Cynthia to her?”
Cain gave a quiet growl, and the corporal's eyes widened. “You keep talkin' like that, Hass, and you're gonna be nursin' a black eye.” He left the room without another word, resisting the urge to slam the door behind him. His steps carried him purposefully to his own room, and when he had the door at his back, he shrugged out of his coat and called out for DG.
“I'm almost done,” she responded, and he could still hear her wringing out the mop, then the slosh of it hitting the floor again. Grumbling but patient, Cain waited for her, flicking open the cuffs of his shirt, tugging it out to hang loose. He'd just started unbuttoning himself when she finally came out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a towel. When their eyes met, he could feel the panicked jump inside of her at his harsh glare, but he didn't let up. As he opened his mouth to speak, she immediately threw her hands up.
“Don't freak out!”
Frowning, Cain felt himself deflate a little. “Where?” was all he asked her.
“Az pulled me out and summoned me to Central,” she said quickly, apologetically. “And don't worry, I already made her promise not to do it again. Awful way to travel, it made me dizzy.” She ran a nervous hand through her hair. “I'm really sorry.” Her wide blue eyes bore into him deep, deeper than he'd ever thought he'd be letting her get. Sighing, he gave up on his buttons.
“Why would your sister summon you?”
DG shrugged. “There's news out of the southeast from the generals.”
Cain nodded. “They figure they've got the Longcoats cornered in the Black Forest,” he said, and though he noticed her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, he noticed she didn't question his knowledge. “So your sister gave the order for them to head on in, eh?”
“Yes,” she said resignedly. “She said Andrus wants Jeb to lead the spies.” She bit her lip, and tried to quell a shiver that ran through her. She was cold, still damp from cleaning the bathroom. A thin quilt was hung over the end of the bedstead, and he passed it to her. As she wrapped it around herself gratefully, she asked him, “Are you worried about Jeb?” The query was soft and tentative.
Cain looked away from her, concentrated on the tasks at hand he could find for himself; he placed his revolver on the bedside table, hung his duster up in the closet. “Yes,” he said slowly, carefully forming the words for her. “But Jeb is a soldier, and was a grown man long before we stumbled across each other again. He can hold his own.”
Thick silence fell over the room then, strains of quiet that hung in the air like smoke, ready and waiting to be broken with the breath of words. Neither spoke, as DG crossed the room to the window, to stand huddled with a blanket around her shoulders, looking out into the darkness, or perhaps merely at her own reflection in the glass. Cain watched her, as he always watched her, waiting for her to speak. She said nothing, however, and it was strange that he, of all people, could find silence uncomfortable.
“Az said...” she whispered finally, and stopped. She turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder until their eyes met, before slowly turning the rest of the way. “Az suggested we make our way to the Realm of the Unwanted to see the Reader. Az said that she -”
Cain resisted an urge to shake his head. “Your sister suggested you go see the Reader?” It was a name he'd heard too many times today to make him feel comfortable. Into the Realm wasn't somewhere he wanted to be taking DG in the first place, it ran too close to the southeast, too close to the supposed Longcoat activity. He found his voice hardening as he continued to speak, but he couldn't stop the influx of sudden protectiveness. “And what did your sister suggest you do about the Reader's price?”
DG's eyebrows knit together; she was confused, it was plain on every inch of her pale, sweet face. “Az didn't mention anything about a price... she just said I had to ask the right question. She said I only get one. What's wrong with -”
Cain interrupted her, his voice sharp. “An annual of servitude for one question, DG. If you want an answer, you accept the price before you ask your question! An annual, Princess. Is that a sacrifice you're willin' to make?” He frowned, as he could see her decision clear on her face before she spoke, and his heart tightened, his jaw clenched as he realized that something as serious as an annual of self-sacrifice was just another price she was willing to pay to absolve her guilt and complete her task. He stared at her, mouth slightly open, as she began to speak.
“What other choice do we have? If it means she can tell us how to destroy the Emerald, maybe its worth it, Cain,” she said firmly, stubbornly, and Cain forced himself to close his eyes, so as not to see the determination settling on her face. She didn't know, couldn't know, and how could he tell her just what kind of sacrifice she'd be making? “And maybe... maybe if I explain things to her, she'll -”
“Fool's hope,” he snapped.
“Well, I'm heading to the Realm in the morning,” she said, so damn inflexible that one of these days she'd break fighting herself. “I have to try something, Wyatt.” She sought out his eyes, beseeching him to understand, the quivering blue pulling him in, though every nerve of his being told him this wasn't their best option. Anger was rising in him, not directed at her, but rage at these circumstances beyond his control, the fact that she was right about one thing... what other choice do we have?
Not many, Darlin', but this isn't something you want to be seein', he thought, finding himself suddenly sad. Crossing the room then, he stood in front of her and put two hands on either side of her blanketed hips. Her eyes were pleading with him, whether from fear or uncertainty or desire, he couldn't discern.
“It'll be two days ride to the Realm,” he said quite calmly, trying to convey that he wasn't going to fight her on this. She smiled up at him then, letting go of the blanket as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling her scantily-clad body impossibly close to his, pressing her curves into his hard lines.
DG leaned her head back slightly, waving a hand over Wyatt's shoulder to turn off the lights, casting them into darkness, as she found his mouth with her own, pressing sweet kisses to his lips. He responded quickly with a fierceness all his own, frustration and tension causing him to cover her with crushing kisses, bruising her lips as he slid his hands upwards under the soft cloth of the thin, tiny shirt. She moaned beneath him as he felt the flutter of apprehension beneath her skin. Wrapping two arms securely around her waist, he lifted her off her feet and took her to the bed, drawing back the blankets with one hand before dropping her unceremoniously between the sheets.
She was giggling as she reached for him, accepting his heavy body into the cradle of her thighs, as her legs clutched at his still-trousered hips. The caress of her mouth was frantic as she was fuelled by every emotion coursing through her. There was no restraint in any movement now as he braced himself with one arm, bringing the opposite hand up, running under the fabric of her shirt to cup her breast, thumbing the nipple roughly. DG cried out, arching into his hand; the strangled mewl escaping from her throat shot straight to his groin, all his blood rushing fast, the slam of arousal nearly knocking the breath out of him. He was quickly forgetting himself, taken over by need, as she reacted strongly to his every ministration.
“Clothes,” she muttered under her breath, as she grabbed him by the back of the head so he couldn't move. The darkness of the room did nothing to quell the heat shooting from her eyes, he could feel her sight roving over his face, and he sat back to allow her this time to breath, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. When she growled impatiently at him, the sexiest little sound, he smirked; seconds later, she was sitting up and pushing at him with her hands towards the edge of the bed. Taking the hint, he stood on the floor; she was yanking at his belt and zipper with her little hands the next second, deftly working through the clasps and fastenings, her fingers continually skimming the hardness she felt through his pants.
DG ducked her head, and in the dark an image flashed through his mind of her lips wrapped around him, and Gods, it was too much for him to handle. Too much time had gone by since he'd had her, and he throbbed at the thought of burying himself deep within her. Lacing a hand through her hair, he gently pulled her up to him, capturing her mouth in a possessive kiss, his tongue claiming hers in a slanted rhythm.
Repositioning onto her knees before him on the bed, DG finished unbuttoning his shirt as he kicked off his boots and trousers. Gripping the edge of her shirt, he peeled it up and off of her, lowering his mouth to the creamy flesh, catching a taut nipple between his teeth before pulling it in and sucking softly. Her fingers left his shirt to grip the back of his head, nails running along his scalp. He moved his mouth, tracing paths of warmth along her skin to the other breast, paying equal attention as he felt her softness under his lips. When she pulled away and crawled up onto the bed properly, he followed her, on his knees before to grip her panties in his fingers and slide them down her legs. He took her right leg and lifted it, kissing the inside of her knee, running his hand down the smooth skin around to her bottom, pulling her towards him as he hooked her leg upwards over his shoulder.
Guiding himself to her entrance, he gave a gentle thrust, sliding in unimpeded; her other leg swung up over his hip, her heel pressing into his tailbone as she dragged him closer, forcing him in deeper. A sigh of completion escaped her, as a groan of appreciation spilled out of his mouth. So unbelievably tight and wet, a homecoming like no other as her walls pulsed around him, bringing him to the edge so very fast.
“Wyatt,” she murmured, her hands reaching up to run over his chest, her fingernails flicking over the nipples through the abrasion of chest hair, making it hard for him to concentrate as he began to move slowly, hands on her waist, pulling her body towards him as his hips surged forward of their own volition. The old bed creaked slightly at the rocking motion they created together. Her breathing began to hitch, soft sighs mingled with tiny cries of pleasure. There wasn't enough light for him to see her properly, only to feel her; letting go his death-grip on her hips, thoughts of bruises absently crossing his mind, he ran his hands up her abdomen, the small soft swell of her belly, the ridges of her ribs, the soft curve of the undersides of her breasts. She was mumbling incoherently under her breath again, words that sounded like please... close... Wyatt...
The sound of his name tumbling from her sweet mouth caused another rush of arousal, pushing him closer to climax. Growling now, moving faster, deeper, he leaned down, letting her leg slip off his shoulder to catch on the crook of his elbow. The change in angle caused the princess beneath him to moan, arching her back into him, and oh Gods, she was there, coming all around him, squeezing rhythmically; she whimpered under his lips as he pressed a kiss to the side of her mouth, and in the next instant, with one hard thrust, he let go, his entire mind wiping blank but for the flashes of white behind his eyes, as he swallowed back the cries that came with his release.
DG's hands gripped at the collar of the shirt he had managed to keep on, dragging his head back to hers, breathing into him as she kissed him again and again, promises and questions and answers all wrapped up in the gentle brushes of her lips. Shaking now, Cain rolled away from her, taking only a moment to shrug his arms out of his shirt before gathering her to spoon against his chest. She covered them with the blankets that had been kicked to the end of the bed.
“Get some sleep, DG,” he managed to say as he struggled to catch his breath. Already he could feel the rest of his body lulling into the safety of sleep. It would be only a manner of minutes before his mind followed suit; he lifted his head only briefly to make sure his revolver was still situated on the nightstand.
“Mmm,” DG moaned, sounding satisfied and tired. “Goodnight, Wyatt.”
“Night,” he whispered into her hair. The two settled back into the pillows, and for the first time in the annual that they'd known and loved each other, they fell asleep in the same bed, secure in the fact that they'd wake up in each other's arms. Anything beyond that could wait until tomorrow.
Author's Note: Cain and DG continue in the next chapter with lots of fluffy conversation that wouldn't fit in this chapter, which has now been officially deemed the Chapter That Wouldn't Die. Longest. Chapter. Ever. Feel free to leave me a comment, they continue to be helpful (even if its just muse stroking).
Table Of Contents:
1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10
11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20
21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30
31 - 32 - 33 - 34 - 35 - 36 - 37 - 38 - 39 - 40
41 - 42 - 43 - 44 - 45 - 46 - 47 - 48