mirror image AU

[eiattu_pride]

It was a newscast. Just some stupid, little newsfeed that he was watching in between meetings, practically inhaling his noodles while keeping half an eye on the chrono. The holoannouncer, perfectly made up, almost plastic-looking, had to raise her voice above the sound of sirens.

"...and again today, a riot injured six people and killed a seventh in the city of Peraz. I'm here live at the scene, where rioters smashed windows, defaced public property, and attacked bystanders. Killed was fourteen-year-old Kiana, a student at the local high school walking home after classes finished for the day." A picture of the girl was already hovering next to her, and Rial had dropped his fork. She looked like a miniature Isplourr, red hair, a light spray of freckles, a mischievous grin.

"Her family could not be reached for comment. Priamsta decals and slogans have been splashed over the walls, including one rather dramatic quote." Whoever was controlling the holocam had zoomed in on a wall, painted brightly.

WHERE IS YOUR EMPEROR NOW?

And that's why Rial's sat in the shared royal quarters at 2130 hours, staring into the bottom of a bottle that had been full, he's quite sure, just a minute ago. Hour ago. Some time ago, anyhow.

He wonders vaguely where Isplourr is. Isplourr. It's easier to call her that, now, living with her. And sometimes (though he won't admit it) he likes seeing her smile when he uses that name.

He'll probably try and find her, in a moment. Once he peels himself off the couch.

Comments

[fighting_mad]

Isplourrdacartha Pernon slips through the front door, waits for it to close behind her, and then leans against it for a long moment, her eyes closed. She wears the fitted, elegant purple-and-gray skirt and tunic combination that has essentially become her uniform, with the purple sash that signifies her status as the consort to the emperor.

That was, she thinks, the longest press conference that she has ever presided over, and one of the most horrible.

She kicks off her shoes and drags herself through the hallway toward the living area, pulling her long hair loose of its low, neat ponytail.

[eiattu_pride]

Oh. There is is. Excellent, he's been waiting up and everything, even if it hasn't actually been for her.

"You're late," he observes, with just a hint of a slur to his words.

[fighting_mad]

She stares at him for a moment, hair loose and framing her face, and then she says, "Rial. Are you drunk?"

[eiattu_pride]

There's a moment of considerable thought, and then he nods, dropping his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"I am. Why're you so late?"

[fighting_mad]

"Jarni scheduled an emergency press conference." She comes around the sofa, pulling her sash off over her head, and she sits down on the small part of the couch that he isn't taking up. "Reassuring the people that we will keep them safe." She holds her hand out wordlessly for the bottle.

[eiattu_pride]

"'s nice of her."

Rial peers at Isplourr for a minute, considering, and then hands the bottle over, flopping back a little further into the couch. "Real nice. Y'know, a kid died today. Fourteen. Red hair. Freckles. Liked zoneball. Was walking home from class when some bastard threw a shiv into her back 'cause she was wearing the government's crest on her backpack. 's that called keeping the people safe?"

He indicates himself with one hand, vaguely.

"How t'kriff 'm I supposed to keep people safe when they just keep dying every day?"

[fighting_mad]

She considers the bottle for a moment, then takes a long, wildly uncharacteristic swig straight from the bottle. That accomplished, she sets it on the floor, tucked against the side of the sofa, where he would have to go past her to get it.

An 'I know' dies on her lips, as he indicates himself and goes on, and something in her chest tightens. "Rial..." she says, and she lays her hand on his knee. She knows what his reaction will be, she knows he'll push her away, but she does it anyway. She does it for him, because he needs the contact and he needs the comfort, her pride and her pain be damned.

"You're working toward peace, my prince. You're doing the best that you can. There isn't anything that you can do that you aren't already doing to stop the Prims, to keep people safe."

[eiattu_pride]

He doesn't move away from her hand. Maybe that's the first indication that he's a little different right now, maybe not. Maybe it helps when he turns to face her, and puts a hand on her shoulder, holding, like he's trying to steady himself.

"But they're not safe. They're not. An' it all comes down to me, Isplourr, me. They want answers. I've gotta give them. I don't know all the answers anymore."

And then because she's close and he doesn't know the answers, not now, or what he's doing or why he's doing it he leans and kisses her, for a moment, before pulling away, returning to his previous position holding onto her shoulder.

"I don't know," he whispers, and looks like maybe he's going to cry.

[fighting_mad]

It isn't like how she had always imagined it.

In her mind, her handsome prince would take her hands in his and tell her gravely how wrong he had been, that he was madly in love with her and always would be, that she was beautiful. He would call her Isplourr. He would kiss her. It would be the perfect kiss; soft and gentle, like that one in the stables that she can't get out of her mind, like the way he kissed her in their wedding.



He's drunk.

He tastes of whiskey and desperation, and he's only kissing her because she's there, a warm body, and it doesn't mean anything, and she should be happy that he's kissing her, she thinks vaguely as she kisses him back, but all she really wants to go is go cry.

All she can do, for a moment, is stare at him numbly.

But he needs her. He needs her and she won't leave him, won't ever leave him, and she murmurs, "Come here," and shifts to wrap her arms around him, guiding his head onto her shoulder, if he'll allow her.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial curls forward into her, head on her shoulder, holding on to her as tightly as he can and struggling not to give into the urge to cry. She's a warm body, here, holding him and he's kissed her and now he isn't exactly sure what to do except to hold on and hope that he's not just made the biggest mistake of his life.

So he clings to her, silently, eyes shut, and hopes.

[fighting_mad]

She stares up at the ceiling, arms tight around him, one hand stroking his back. It takes a moment or two for her to trust her voice enough for speech.

"You'll find solutions, Rial. You'll find answers," she says, with the confidence only to be found in true believers, even if her voice is thin and quiet. "I have faith in you and your abilities. Look at everything you've done for your people so far. You'll figure it out, and -- and everything will look so much better when you're sober, my prince." She hides a kiss in his hair, and could slap herself for it. "I promise you."

[eiattu_pride]

"Okay," he says, miserable and tired and hiding in her, holding her, feeling like he's just a little kid hiding in his mother's lap again.

He's quite content, in fact, to stay like that forever. If Isplourr will let him.

[fighting_mad]

She rubs his back, slow and quiet, and she holds him close, and if, after a time, her face becomes wet with tears--she never used to cry like this, never used to be good at doing it without a sound or a tell--she doesn't say a word about it.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial falls asleep like that, eventually, holding her tightly, not seeing the tears.

Things, he feels, will look better in the morning. After all, that's what Isplourr said.

And she's got to be right.

[fighting_mad]

Isplourrdacartha waits for a time, until his breathing has become deep and even and he is quite clearly dead to the world. She eases herself out from under him and gently lays him down across the sofa. She pulls off his boots, tucks a pillow under his head, and covers him with a blanket.

As a last thought, she leaves two painkillers and a glass of water on the table beside his head.

And then, pale and silent as a ghost, she picks up the whiskey bottle, slips through the apartments and into her bedroom, tucks the bottle into her sock drawer, and she crawls into bed.

[eiattu_pride]

Morning comes distressingly soon for Rial, who wakes up to a distinct feeling of not being in his own bed and a suspicious feeling of hangover. The hangover is confirmed when he sits up and his head protests by feeling like someone has taken a vibroblade to it.

Wonderful. Although he does notice painkillers and water, so that's good.

After about twenty minutes, he emerges from his room, showered, dressed, and slightly more presentable, only to see that Plourr's door is open. Poking his head inside, he sees her, asleep, and a tiny fragmented memory slots into place.

"Oh, kriff," he murmurs, because...he kissed her. Wonderful. Wonderful. And it's not like he loves her, (not like she looks beautiful where she is, now, lying on the bed) not like that at all.

But.

He doesn't move, watching her sleep, counting her breaths as if petrified she'll slip away in front of his eyes.

[fighting_mad]

They're slow, even breaths that he's counting, even if she's asleep fully-dressed on top of the covers, with her head on the mattress just below a pillow.

She's fast asleep.

[eiattu_pride]

Eventually, Rial wanders out to make caf. While he's waiting, he wanders back in, this time taking a seat against the wall.

Standing guard.

[fighting_mad]

When Isplourrdacartha's eyes slowly open, the first thing that she registers is the sunlight right in her face, pouring through the open curtains. She blinks once, twice, and she slowly pushes herself up, covering a consulsive yawn with her hand and starting to stretch--

The second thing that Isplourrdacartha registers is someone sitting on her floor over by the door.

She starts, sitting up quickly and going to grab the covers -- except that she isn't under them. Drat.

"...Rial?"

[eiattu_pride]

Rial was just starting to doze off again when she wakes, so you'll forgive him a quick jump.

"Ah - Isplourr! I just...um...I made caf."

When in doubt, he has learned over the years, offer caf. It tends to get people in a happy sort of mood.

[fighting_mad]

"You're in my room," she points out, sitting up higher--and hurriedly crossing her legs as she realizes she's wearing a skirt. "You've never been in here before."

Much less sitting on the floor, watching her sleep.

[eiattu_pride]

"It's a nice room?"

He's struggling a bit here, Plourr, help him out.

[fighting_mad]

She's staring at him.

Rather a lot.

But she says, after a long moment, "Did you say something about caf?"

[eiattu_pride]

"Uh, yeah, it's in the kitchen."

He gets up, stretching, and wanders into the other room. "Want any?"

[fighting_mad]

Rial has never made the caf before; not once. Isplourrdacartha is always up first to make it, or a member of the kitchen staff.

Thoroughly bewildered by now, she calls, "Yes, please."

She climbs out of her bed and strips off her formal outer tunic, leaving her in the skirt and tank top, and as she passes her dresser on her way to the closet -- she sees the whiskey bottle tucked into the top drawer.

She makes an immediate, rare half-dressed foray outside of her room. "Rial?" she says, "Rial. If this is about last night--"

[eiattu_pride]

He's pouring caf when she appears, and he glance sup, looking at her guiltily. Because of course the fact of the matter is that it is, but...he doesn't know how to say that.

(she looks nice like that, his mind fills in, pretty.

he ignores it)

"I - suppose. Yes."

[fighting_mad]

"Careful!" she yelps, and she lunges and catches his hand with the pot before it can pour too much caf on the counter, or (more importantly) on his other hand.

She lets go, a second too late for it to be comfortable.

She looks up, her hair soft around her face. "You don't have to," she says, softly. "I don't know if you're apologizing or trying to thank me, but -- you don't have to."

[eiattu_pride]

"Um, thanks," he says, and hesitates as she speaks. After a moment, he turns back to the counter and puts the caf down, staring at the counter instead of at her face.

"Look, last night...Isplourrdacartha, last night I did something that I think I should have done a long time ago."

[fighting_mad]

Her heart thunders in her ears.

She can almost hear her blood sing through her veins.

But he isn't looking at her, and that -- he can't mean the kiss. He can't. He means opening up to her, he means getting drunk, he means worrying that way over his people's safety.

He doesn't mean her.

Her voice is steady. "What?"

[eiattu_pride]

Rial turns, and moves to her side, one hand going to the side of her face and bending his head down to kiss her.

(there, his mind says, attaboy, you did it

he ignores it

in a smug fashion)

[fighting_mad]

Oh, oh, oh he did mean her, he did mean that kiss-- She has time for that and for widening eyes, and then she can feel his mouth pressed to hers and she melts up into him. She kisses him desperately, strong, as if this is the last chance she'll ever get (and it could well be) and he'll change his mind and pull away (and she still thinks he will).

Her hands hesitantly rise, as if of their own accord, and wind into his tunic-front, pressing against his warm chest.

She loves him loyally, fiercely, and it's in her kiss; she wants only him for the rest of her life, and it is there, too.

She clings to him, and she will not cry, she will not, but she doesn't want him to pull away from her (again), to reject her (again) -- and she's pretty damn sure it's coming.

[eiattu_pride]

It's a long, long moment before Rial pulls away, and even then, there's something different about it. Not rejection, his hands still hovering on her shoulders, not pulling away because he hesitates like he just wants to press into her body forever.

"I - I don't," he starts, and then shakes his head helplessly. "I don't want to hurt you, Isplourr, and I - I want this. I do. I just don't know how."

[fighting_mad]

She stares up at him, frozen, brown eyes wide and luminous, her hands wound tightly into the fabric of his tunic.

"You--" She tries again. "You want what?" she manages, her voice low and her face inches from his.

[eiattu_pride]

"This," he says, low and soft and bringing a hand forward to touch the side of her cheek. "You. Us."

He can't say it without it seeming rude, he thinks.

[fighting_mad]

Her eyelashes twin dark smudges against her skin, she unconsciously leans into his hand. She swallows, and she opens her eyes again.

She is beginning to smile, tiny and fragile and disbelieving.

[eiattu_pride]

Rial's smiling too, although it's quiet, almost anxious. This is good. This is what he's been needing, wanting, and now -

- well, now it's his.

[fighting_mad]

"This is... You want to be married?" She hesitantly, slowly, raises her hands, and rests her curled fingers on either side of his neck.

"Really married."

She's asking, unsure and fighting not to get her hopes up, reminding herself that she could be misunderstanding.

[eiattu_pride]

He nods, silently. She's reacting to this - well, to be honest, he never did think about how she might react, but he's not exactly positive this is good.

"If you wish."

[fighting_mad]

"You know what I wish, Rial, you know what I have wished for a long time now." The words pour out of her, her voice thin, and she abruptly stops.

Isplourrdacartha opens her hands on his neck, and she says quietly, "I want to be with you. That is all that I wish. But I don't know what you wish."

[eiattu_pride]

"To be with you."

His voice is calm, steady, not faltering in the least. He's methodical about everything, and, it seems, this is no different. "To be your husband."

[fighting_mad]

"But--" she says, her voice perpetually quiet, and this is the point, this is what she has been trying to figure out, "more, than -- than now?"

[eiattu_pride]

"I don't understand what you mean."

No trace of anger.

[fighting_mad]

Her hands would be twisting in her lap, by now, if they weren't on his neck, and her face -- she's distressed by how poorly she's expressing herself.

"We're married now, and we're not--"

She cups his jaw in her hands, leans up and presses her lips to his, sweet and slow and closed-mouthed, but not chaste.

"--like that," she says, very quietly, dropping one of her hands to run her fingers along the back of one of his. She looks back up. "More."

[eiattu_pride]

"Oh. Yes, I see." He smiles, then, carefully like he's not quite sure what he's doing, but trying it out anymore.

"I'd like that. More."

[fighting_mad]

That's all she needs to hear.

She loves him, but she isn't about to demand the same of him; she won't rush him.

She only needs to know that he wants her. That--

"You care for me," she says, in low wonder, "oh Rial--" and she abruptly throws her arms around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder.

You don't know how long I've wanted this, you can't know--

[eiattu_pride]

Rial's got an armful of countess-consort, and he blinks, before carefully folding his arms around her and holding tight.

He's not great at knowing what to say. In fact, right now, he's not sure what to say at all. So he stays quiet and holds onto her, bending his head down to carefully, hesitantly press a kiss to her hair.

[fighting_mad]

The move is rewarded by the way that she smiles against the bone of his shoulder. She sits there for several minutes, letting the warmth slowly seep into her, letting herself suspend her disbelief.

He isn't going to pull away. He's holding her, he kissed her hair -- he cares for her.

When she leans back, her eyes are red-rimmed and a little damp, but she's smiling, broad and shaky and wildly elated. "How is your head, my prince?" she asks, one hand on his jaw and the other on his head, and she's almost laughing as she presses a slow, gentle kiss to his brow.

Her prince.

Her prince.