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

[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.