"Until The Fall" - 42/48
Title: Until The Fall
Author: Rissy James
Characters: DG, Cain, Azkadellia, Jeb, Glitch, Raw, Tutor, the Queen, Ahamo, and some old & new OCs
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.
Extras: Cast Page on livejournal.com
Warning: This chapter is rated NSFW...
Chapter Forty Two
The magical drain coupled with the long weeks on the road had taken their toll, and DG was little more than an exhausted heap of skin and bones. When it was all said and done, she wouldn't remember the drive through the city. She'd vaguely recall the cold night air slipping into her coat, and big steady hands that kept her upright. There would be a flash of a bath, less visual memory and more the lingering scent on her hair come morning.
It was before dawn when she awoke; the day was raw and new ahead of her, unwilling yet to let go of the night. Yesterday seemed a distant memory, but the shiny red scar on her hand, healed because of Raw, was only proof that it was anything but.
She sat up in the single bed, her legs moving between the unfamiliar sheets. Cain's Bellicose apartment was quiet, but for the drone of the city outside her window. In the hours between midnight and dawn, this district was one of the calmer ones, but even so, as she climbed out of bed, the cobwebbed shadows of the fluorescent lights shining in through the curtains whispered across her skin.
It was stuck in her head that they were leaving for the Northern Island come first sun-up. She looked around for Wyatt, but saw nothing to betray him but his duster hanging on the back of the bedroom door, boots off to the side, and one of his clean shirts from the bureau covering her own body. She glanced down and realized she'd buttoned it lopsided after her bath.
Her bare feet padded quietly on the worn-out hardwood as she went looking for Cain. There wasn't much apartment to search; she found him seated at the kitchen table, his chair angled out. His feet were bare and propped up on the corner of the table, his shirt unbuttoned and hanging open. He watched out the window, his face in shadow. He'd probably heard her get out of the bed.
“Mornin',” he said quietly. She looked at the clock; 4:30 am.
“I couldn't sleep any more,” she said, standing in the door-frame at the end of the short hallway. Her fingers played absently with a shirt-cuff.
The silence that stretched between them was strung out far thinner than any she could remember. He'd opened the kitchen window a crack, and the sounds from the street sneaked in under the pane, adding their own night-time flavour that eased the strain in the room. The nights on the road had been full of nature's gentle rhythms; the noises of a city night told her just how far she'd come from the day before.
Finally, Cain let his legs drop from the table and beckoned for DG to come closer. “Well, get over here,” he said when she hesitated. Walking over, she let him guide her down into his lap, her legs across his and his arm around her back. She anchored herself with an arm around his neck; only when she was situated did she seek his eyes. She caught them easily, the piercing blue now a pale grey in the poor light.
“Sleep, you ever heard of it?” she asked.
Cain managed a weak half-smile. “'Lot on my mind.”
She sighed, unsure of what to say. If something was bothering him, he wouldn't give it up to her just because she started to pry. He trusted her implicitly, she knew that without question, but he just wasn't one to open up in the first place. So, she did the only thing she knew was right: she kissed his temple and leaned into his embrace, her thumb stroking the back of his neck.
“The -” he began, and then stopped. He licked his lips and shifted; she sat up straighter. “The 'Coats that I could get to talk to me, they - Zero was locked up. They said they found him missin' when they went lookin' for you.”
DG nodded, keeping her lips pursed; this time of reckoning with Cain had been long in coming, and she'd do anything she could to help relieve his mind and break the tension she knew he still bore.
“Jeb told me it was you that let him out,” Cain said with a disbelieving shake of his head. “The only part I can't figure out is the why in hell you'd do it.”
“I couldn't - Cain, I wasn't going to leave him in there to die,” she defended weakly. God, DG, after all the times Zero left Wyatt to die? He's going to resent you for this, her mind berated her. She refused to make eye-contact; what was done was done, no going back.
Cain put a hand on her jaw and guided her to look at him. When she peered at him through reproachful lashes, he shook his head again. “I gave up worrying about Zero a long time ago, DG,” he said. His conviction made her tremble down to her marrow. “I did it for my son, for Adora's memory, and never looked back. That isn't what concerns me.” He stopped, and frowned, and dropped his hand away from her face. She closed her eyes at the loss of touch. “If the royal army catches him, you can't be steppin' in to save him. Not a second time. You understand me, Princess?”
She bit her lip, and opened her eyes to meet his again. “Do you think they will catch him?”
He ran his free hand down her arm, gripping her elbow when he came to it. His fingers flexed unconsciously as he sat in quiet thought. Finally, he said, “If he's not accounted for among the Longcoats in the camp, they'll be lookin' for him. If they arrest him, it'll be the gallows.”
DG was at a loss for words. She fidgeted in his lap for a moment before he gave her a squeeze.
Then came another difficult query. “What did you say to him?” he asked her.
She closed her eyes again at the memory of the cellar dungeon and the heavy keys; all past and gone, so short a time ago. A day, or less? “I told him to go back to where we'd found him,” she said. “And not to expect us to come looking for him again.”
Cain heaved a deep sigh, one that she felt go all the way through him as she pressed against him. “Then it's over,” he said, trying his best to be dismissive but sounding so very uncertain. “No need to waste time thinkin' on it any more.”
“Wyatt,” she murmured against his temple, wanting to comfort him, but in the next second his hand was snaking around her neck, pulling her down to kiss him fiercely. With the next stroke of his lips, he deepened the kiss, his tongue playing lightly with her bottom lip. When he pulled away, she whispered his name breathlessly once more. The hand tunnelled through her hair gripped the back of her neck, keeping her forehead pressed to his.
“I love you,” she whispered, inhaling his lingering taste as the breath moved past her lips.
He kissed her again, as much of a response as she needed. “Want you,” he said instead. DG swallowed the words as he offered them to her, lost underneath his heavy touch; his hands were bold as they moved over her body, knowing the valleys and plains of her. She arched into him as he cupped her breast, running the pad of his thumb over the material covering her again and again.
He held her steady as she moved to straddle his lap, tucking her knees tightly against his hips as her feet rested on the floor; the chair gave a single protesting creak. She rolled her hips forward against his stomach as she leaned in to claim his mouth. Her body was reacting to his every touch, every breath, and she knew if she didn't keep a level head, he'd have her at his mercy and send her spinning faster than you could say “Old Brick Route.”
Cain groaned as DG pressed her warmth against his bare stomach; he'd been half-hard the whole while she was in his lap, but now he began to ache for her as she pressed her lips to his. Her touch was slow but deliberate; she wanted to play, wanted to tease him and see if she could get him unravelled. His hand returned to her, flicking open the top buttons of her - his - shirt to sneak his hand inside the fabric. She was shameless in her little get-up, the only thing standing between him and every part of her were a few flimsy plastic buttons and a pair of very damp panties.
He tore his mouth away from hers. His hands went south, tugged at her hips. “Stand up, Darlin'.”
She lifted her head and stared at him through an ever increasing fog. No doubt however that she'd heard what he'd said. He rubbed his hand over her backside, guiding her hips to grind against his abdomen a second time. She moaned, and he lost her eyes again as her head went back. “Stand up,” he repeated firmly.
DG complied easily, a wicked gleam in her eyes as her mind came back down out of the clouds. Cain spread his legs far enough for her to stand between them. Sitting up straight, he started his hands at the backs of her knees and continued up to her waist. He hooked his fingers into her panties, pulling her forward. The shirt parted where it wasn't buttoned, giving him free access to the soft flesh of her belly. He ducked his head to press an open-mouthed kiss just above her navel as he slid her panties down her legs. She stepped out of them, and glanced down at him nervously.
DG's blue eyes stayed locked onto his as his hands returned to her hips. She was shaking, and he wondered if she was flushing that lovely shade that always overcame her when she let herself go. Carefully, he positioned her legs to the outside of his own again; though she straddled him, he kept her on her feet, standing over him so that he could see and touch all of her. He could smell her arousal as she moved so close to him, and he considered laying her out on the table and devouring her until she screamed. No, he was too selfish, and he could admit that. He wanted her, and he sought the bliss that only she could provide.
He ran a hand between her legs to test her, stroking her gently. With a stifled moan, she rocked into his hand. Surprised by her unhindered response, encouraged by that sweet little cry, he pressed two fingers into her. Her knees trembled as she fought to stay still for him. The feel of her, slick against his fingertips, broke what little patience for foreplay he had left.
When he pulled his hand away, DG seemed to sense what he was thinking; she straddled herself on his knees and reached for his belt. Cain watched every flick of her wrist and twist of her fingers as she freed him; he eased his pants down a few inches only before dragging her closer to him, finding her lips and kissing her hungrily. He positioned himself and roughly drove as deep as he could with one stroke. She cried out as he stretched her, fingernails finding purchase in his shoulders.
DG's eyes slammed shut as Cain's mouth went to her neck. Bracing her feet firmly on the floor, she tried lifting herself up only to have the movement restrained; his hands squeezed her hips and guided her to rock forward on him as she'd done before. His grip didn't let up as she followed the rhythm he set; it was slow, excruciating, and after a few minutes she thought she might die from pressure from which there seemed to be no relief.
She stole kisses from his lips when he was distracted by the sight of her body. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her breasts into his chest, but he refused to let her change the pace. She leaned back a bit, changing the angle instead and causing him to swear under his breath. She grinned, even as he growled at her and pulled her back to where she'd been; he locked his arms around her waist.
It stretched out, his attempts for dominance over her, and her flashing him a rebellious smile every step of the way. When he felt his inevitable surrender to her approaching him, his right hand dipped between her legs to graze a thumb over her center, his left still splayed over the small of her back, urging her hips faster.
“Harder,” he demanded; the edge in his voice sent a shimmy through her spine. She came, hard and blinding, glad for the hand that guided her, because God damn, she would have stopped otherwise. As her tremors stretched out into forever and her hands sagged weakly on his shoulders, Wyatt pulled her hips down hard and finished with a hoarse shout. He leaned heavily into her, both hands going to her bottom to keep her hips completely still as he pulsed within her.
She was still trembling when he lifted his head away from her chest. “What brought that on?” she asked, her eyes fluttering closed as he shifted beneath her, sending more aftershocks through her. He made no move to leave the tight confines of her, and she mused over how perfect the warm fullness felt.
“Because our stay up north has gotta be quiet and borin',” he said, giving her a half-smile. Sighing, she nestled against him, her head on his shoulder, and let the seconds on the clock tick away.
***
After the disastrous trip into the Western mountains and back out again, DG had thought she'd seen enough snow for a while. However, when the forest floor outside the car was soon patched with glimpses of white, she smiled in anticipation. Even with its sad, dark history, DG loved the Northern Palace. The only way to erase the memories of the old life was to forge brand new ones. It would take time, but she could make it home again.
As the grand doors were swept open for her, DG was greeted warmly by the staff. Cain came in behind her, his eyes drawn upward to the vast ceiling. Of all the royal residences, this one intimidated him the most. A steward crossing the hall made straight for them, and Cain was hard pressed to contain his frown. There wouldn't even be a chance to settle in before they were right to business once again.
“Your Highness,” the steward said with a curt bow.
There was a pause before DG realized she was being addressed. Embarrassed, she laughed. “Oh, hi, um... Michael?”
The steward - Michael, evidently - smiled. “Yes, my lady,” he said. Cain glanced over to see DG shift uncomfortably over the specific title. “Her Royal Highness has requested your presence immediately upon arrival.”
“Really?” DG asked, not hiding her disappointment. “I can't go get changed first?” She gestured down to her attire; she'd absolutely refused to give up his old shirt, and her jeans were worn ones.
“Your mother insists,” Michael said, not unkindly. He motioned for him to follow her.
With one reluctant look back at Cain, DG handed him her single bag. She reached up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek before hurrying across the hall toward the grand staircase. When she reached the banister, she looked back. Cain was already gone.
“The captain will be shown to his room,” Michael said, stopping a few stairs above her. “Your rooms have already been prepared for you, and you can settle in after your meeting.” He was smiling at her as if she was supposed to be pleased, but these sleeping arrangements left a lot to be desired. Her feet growing a little heavier, she followed Michael to her mother's new suite. It was as far from the old rooms as possible, where the memories of their haunted past were boarded over and locked up.
The first glimpse of her mother was enough to break through any dark thoughts that might have held on. DG ran across the room and all but flung herself at the woman as she stood waiting with arms wide open. A happy grin spread itself unbidden across DG's face, and she pulled back to see her mother smiling too, her lavender eyes shining.
“I received word from your sister of your success,” her mother said.
DG's smile faltered, almost went out completely. Wow, not even a 'hi, how are you'?
“It wasn't just my success,” she said instead. “I could never have gotten close to the temple if it weren't for Je- Lieutenant Cain. If Lady Catt weren't so distracted by Azkadellia then -”
Her mother gave her a half-smile, and shook her head. “DG, my darling, don't worry. You aren't here to go over reports with me.” She led her daughter away from the door and the two sat together on a cushioned bench, beautifully wrought but damn uncomfortable. “Tell me of the Emerald.”
“I... couldn't do it all by myself,” DG said. “I did everything I was supposed to do - or thought I was supposed to do. I thought it didn't work... if it had worked, the stone wouldn't have had enough power left in it to protect me. Something inside of it shattered during the fight with the witch.”
“Where is it now?”
“Az wanted it kept at the Treasury until I go West,” DG explained. There would be historians and documentarians pouring in and out of the palace until that time. She was glad she would miss most of it by staying North for a few days. The unwind time was much needed, though it was hard to get into the habit of relaxing. It would all be better if Cain were able to stay with her the whole time, but his duties in Central City wouldn't keep as long as hers would, and he only had two days.
“You still intend to go through with your plans?” her mother asked gently.
DG nodded. She thought of the broken stone and the Commander. “Unless we want another confrontation with the Outlanders. I doubt they'd be so secretive about it a second time.” She had no doubt that the Commander would be well aware of what had gone on in the Black Forest, and would be raging with impatience to get his hard, gritty fingers on the stone.
“This treaty you've formed is tentative at best, DG,” her mother warned.
DG didn't know how to explain to her mother the confidence she had in the handing over of the Emerald to the Commander. She may have only made the promise to secure her life and Wyatt's, and to give her the time she needed to complete the task bestowed on her, but she meant to keep her word.
“The Emerald will seal it, you'll see,” she reassured her mother, trying to instill some of the faith she instinctively felt.
“And what of these Longcoats, my darling?” her mother pressed; it was then that DG wondered if her mother were truly interested at all, or if she were only feigning curiosity at the behest of Azkadellia or Andrus. Either way, to DG's tired mind, the answer would always be one and the same.
“I don't know,” she said honestly. She didn't know how the fate of the captured Longcoats, twice traitors against the Zone, had fallen into her hands. She wouldn't have her sister sign an order to execute hundreds of men, nor would she have them banished into the desert, which was ultimately an equivalent to execution, anyway. No, she didn't know what she was supposed to do, and hoped for more guidance upon returning to Central City. Ambrose was the only one she thought might be able help.
“You've done admirably,” her mother said, brushing off her daughter's insecurity to take both DG's hands between her own slender, pale ones. Her mother's touch was cold, but DG found it almost refreshing, and she managed another weak smile.
“Cain was -”
“Captain Cain is to be commended for his efforts,” her mother squeezed in. DG frowned; she didn't know how much Cain would like the term 'commended'.
Her meeting with her mother wound down into storytelling. An hour later, when her father finally joined them, she was laying on her mother's bed, telling her mother of some of the things she'd seen; descriptions of the Black Forest, of the Commander's base underneath the desert. She left out her visit to the Reader's Parlour, thinking her mother likely to faint if she brought it up; while her mother would know of the visit, the topic would probably never come up out of the impropriety of the entire thing.
“DG!” Ahamo called, and she jumped up to greet him, a more enthusiastic embrace than her mother's, without the fear of crushing gowns or catching earrings. “Good to have you back.” The wide grin on his face was infectious, and she mirrored it, mostly because it had been so long since she'd been around happy faces.
Later on, her father walked her to her rooms while her mother dressed for dinner, an event long planned before her arrival that she had the bad luck to be in time for. She'd been roped in before she could blink once the topic had come up. Cain as well, she was informed by her mother.
“I'm pushing for something a little less formal tomorrow night,” her father explained by way of apology. The dinner guests had already begun to arrive downstairs, and every window she passed, DG could see a new set of headlights in the distance winding down the long driveway to the palace. “The captain would join us, of course. Just the four of us. How does that sound?”
As much as DG had missed her parents, the thought of a private and all too uncomfortable supper party made her cringe. She could barely imagine sitting through the ordeal by herself, let alone forcing Cain to do it with her.
Ahamo kissed her on the cheek, noticing none of her reservation through his own contentment at having her safely beside him. “I'm real proud of you,” he told her, opening the door to her suite for her. “The reports out of the Southeast gave your mother and I a scare.”
DG sighed, already damn sick of the pride of others, especially when she could have done nothing without the support of those that helped her. “Scare doesn't quite cover it, Dad,” she said, wanting very much to escape into her room and shut the door.
He smiled apologetically. “You're right, I'm sorry. See you at dinner.”
As the door closed behind her, DG pressed her back up against it. The first thing her eyes laid upon was the dinner dress hung up on her dressing screen, beautiful and tempting; her mother must have gone to great lengths to have the dress ready for her arrival.
DG crossed the room and ran her fingers over the skirt. If she could slip this on as armour, be invincible; she could be like her mother, and speak softly and move gracefully and laugh and love as easily as breathing. The thought of all the people downstairs, mingling in the great hall as they waited for her mother and father made her stomach churn. She'd always managed to shove those kinds of butterflies down where she couldn't feel them fluttering away inside, but now she felt vulnerable and only wanted to hide until everything had died down and she could feel normal again. In charge of herself. Until she could deftly navigate her life without so much as a ripple; now, she felt as if she'd fall in clumsily with a splash.
Running her hands through her hair, she looked around the room, anywhere but at the brilliant glass beads dancing in the lamplight. The suns were setting, but her windows looked out into the infinity of a faded winter day. Her one small bag, containing its one small thing had been brought up and was resting on the bed.
Finally, she gave up on avoiding her fate. Before someone came looking for her, she dressed slowly and carefully. Crinolines layered carefully, stockings buttoned to garters, feet encased in pretty little silver slippers, DG checked herself over in the mirror. Pretty as a picture, confident as a peacock, but for her eyes wide as saucers. She stared at herself, wondering why she was holding her breath.
It took her a moment to realize she was waiting for the mirror to react some way. For the reflection to shift, for someone to yank her away from the looming doom of a society dinner.
Nothing happened.
Isn't that what you wanted? It's over, and you're happy about it... remember that part? You just need to let it sink in, she reassured herself, but she was anything but. With one more glance at the beads flowing down her skirt, she turned on her heel and retrieved her bag. The book was heavy in her hands, and the leather felt cool as she pulled it out. She ran her finger down the spine thoughtfully. In a few days time, this headache would be out of her hands as well.
Still...
DG left her room soon after, her slippers making an absurd amount of noise in the empty hallway. She stole away, her feet carrying her in the opposite direction of the dining hall.
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