Chapter Text
"Has it ever struck you that life is all memory,
except for the one present moment that goes by you
so quick you hardly catch it going?"
✽ Tennessee Williams ✽
Irie thought it intriguing that people claimed to remember specific instances of their childhood. A sun-dappled afternoon spent with friends; a brisk winter evening tucked away inside.
For her, the years of her life before were muddled. Hazy. As if something remained just on the edge of her subconscious, a wisp away - they felt hers and not hers.
In hindsight, she could lay the blame on the lack of charged moments, either negative or positive. Oh, her servants tried, but a simple look from her mother silenced any merriment within the castle. Until her sister was born - there were few positive moments after that. Moments when her cheeks would flush red with her happiness, with her laughter.
Before long, the moments lessened once more. She was the Crown Heir, after all. With the dawn of her eighth year came sharper words, harsher timetables, so she did what she could.
She could hardly be faulted when she began disappearing during the day.
There was something about the woods on the edge of their land that called to her – it was not enough to stare out of the window during lessons, she wanted the feeling of the grass under her toes. She needed to feel the sunlight along her skin and the breeze brush her hair off her shoulder. She wished to run away from the angry shadows of her parents, even though their servants protected her as much as they could.
She could not drag her little sister along, young as she was, so for a time it was a different sort of lonely. Until- him.
A certain young lord who lived nearby, a chance meeting between them; they boy whom would meet her out in the woods for their “adventures”.
Raha, she would come to know him as. Irie, she had introduced herself as, recalling the hero in her storybook. She had the most fun of all with him, re-enacting the legends of heroism she read to Narantuuya under the cover of night.
Young Lord Iksalion, her mother would remind her. And with a glare, would order her to stop referring to herself as "Irie".
The first time she saw the boy with bright red hair and mismatched eyes at a ball, she had launched herself at him. Amid the gasps and guffaws, for it was hardly proper for any young lady to embrace a young Lord in such a way, Lord Iksalion – no, Raha laughed against her horns and pushed her carefully away.
He always did that, when she got too close. Dagasi knew that, now.
.
.
“Dagasi, have you given thought on how you wish to schedule and decorate the castle for your commencement?”
The fork full of food paused on its way to her mouth. “M-my commencement?” Her 20th year was still more than a year away from beginning. “Should the planning really begin already?”
“Of course, darling. With your not-so-secret betrothal to Lord Borel, it may be more of a moot point, so perhaps we should plan for the wedding to be at that time.”
Her stomach dropped. “Th-the what. You- you have not mentioned him in years and now all of a sudden-,” she had allowed herself to hope. The memories flashed as she reeled, the whispers of the maidservants that followed her when she first began her moonsblood. When her mother told her about her inevitable marriage to Young Lord Borel, it had felt abstract, and for reasons beyond her, it had hardly been mentioned again.
She had been foolish to think that she would have been able to choose her consort, to think that her mother had somehow forgotten – she tried to ignore the flash of crimson come and go in her minds' eye.
“Whatever do you mean, darling? There have been other, more pressing matters, but the lack of mention never meant that it was null. ‘Tis quite normal in our line to have arranged marriages. Not to worry, the eldest son is quite amenable.” Dagasi stared, wide-eyed and gaping, as her mother misunderstood her distress and continued tucking into her meal.
“Amenable? Of cours- and if I desired a love match?” She heard a small sigh from her father at the other end of the table, but it was her mother who rolled her eyes with a resigned smile and a shake of her head.
“My darling, you can’t be serious-,”
“If I am?” The condescension in her mothers’ eyes made her blood boil. “I- I grew up, watching you and father drift further and further apart as the years went on, and that is what I thought marriage was.” Her mother’s eyes hardened, but she continued. “Convenience, a partnership, nothing else. And then… I saw the parents of my friends, how Lords Waters and Augerelt dote on each other just as much as they dote on Miss Waters. How Ra- Lord Iksalion, the son of two ‘cold, unnerving researchers’, as you’ve called them, speaks of their love with reverence. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. That is what I want!”
“Dagasi Sagahl, you are to be the queen of Eorzea. For many in our position, marriage is borne of convenience. You are not allowed the same- opportunities-,"
“Is that what you were told too? Is that the lie you believed and now are trying to have me swallow? I will not have it, mother! I deserve to love and be loved! To marry my best friend, to miss him terribly when he’s gone and to rejoice when he smiles at me. I refuse to give up on love for my mantle!” She watched as every word turned her mother’s eyes even angrier.
“You cannot speak to me in this way! For generations, this family ha-,”
“What does it matter to me what this family has done before? Why must I succumb to these old ways when it does not have to be like that anymore? How many lords and ladies and dukes and duchesses have married for love, mother? Many, by my count! And you say that even as the next in line to the throne, I cannot be afforded the same pleasure? I have all else at my fingertips but love?”
“Dagasi…the matter is closed. You have been promised to Lord Borel since you both were mere babies and it is utter foolishness that you think you can run away from that. Selfishness.”
“Oh, my apologies, I must have agreed to this somehow when I was still nursing! How silly of me!” She pushed her chair back harshly, unable to remain in the same room a second longer. “And it is not as if you’re the bloody queen of this nation, you could do whatever you wish! You could break this, but you won’t!”
“Dagasi!” She looked back into her mother’s eyes, but saw nothing but frustration.
As always.
“If you will excuse me, I no longer have an appetite.” She ignored the calls from both of her parents, her father finally deciding to weigh in, and swept out of the room.
“Please,” she said to Montague, feeling him open his mouth to speak as he fell into step beside her. “I do not want to hear anything in defense of them right now.”
“As you wish, your grace. Though, between you and me, I was not planning to.” She turned to gape at him as they walked, and he winked. She smiled at that, her rage quieting at his support.
.
.
“What do you know of the Borel family?”
“The Borels? Ah, I think mum and dad have worked with them previously, and the son – cannot remember his name – was kind enough when we have interacted. Why?”
Irie groaned, falling backwards into the grass with her hands over her face.
“Irie…what?” He heard her mutter something too low to catch. He reached out and gently pulled her wrist away, ignoring the slight spark under his fingertips. “Irie. ”
A lavender eye met his. “I have been promised to their son – Aymeric, is his name.”
G’raha had always believed in the power of words, a reveler of the beauty of knocking the ego of another down with calm barbs and a smile. He never imagined that one sentence would near bring him to his knees.
“What?” He gasped, voice cracking in- in not shock , because this was inevitable. Just as inevitable as his love for her, it was inevitable that he would live to see her marry someone else. The queen’s daughter, the heir to the throne- of course would not marry the son of the court’s scientists. Would not marry a simple historian, a man who preferred excavations and studies to balls and state meetings.
Knowing this did not make his love for her any less true; his hope any less all-encompassing; his disappointment any less all-engulfing.
Irie groaned, seemingly unaware of the whirl of his thoughts for her own. “I know. It’s- ugh! When I proposed the idea of a love match, because we’ve seen so many in the past decade, my mother might as well have laughed in my face! For generations, this family has forced their children to marry those they do not love. It’s insanity!” She fell quiet after a loud huff and he smiled, despite the pain in his heart.
“I am sorry, Irie. Perhaps....perhaps it will not be so bad?” He winced at her loud groan.
“Honestly, Raha, that would make it worse. Just on principle.” He chuckled at her wry smile.
“Do you…know when this will happen?” He suddenly feared for his place in her life, should she marry before he was ready.
Not that he would ever be ready.
“Though I tried to argue and threaten, it seems that it will happen on my 20th birthday.” They both shuddered, though for different reasons – so little time was left to them. “Nothing short of catastrophe will stop it now.”
“On your commencement? That is…bold,” he chose the word carefully, and she snorted, sitting up and tucking her knees under her.
“She said it would be a moot point to announce the betrothal.”
He remained silent for a moment, and she was unwilling to say any more as she stared out into the field.
“Like I said, he was always kind in our interactions,” he said carefully, though his heart stung with every word. “Even now, he tends to keep the company of Haurchefant Greystone and General Varlineau rather than with others of his so-called station.”
She laughed at that, turning on her side to face him. “Well, at least we will have that in common perhaps. Ignoring the ridiculous rules of our society for the ones we truly care about.”
He blushed at that, looking away. “I-I suppose so. Your family simply yielded to your stubbornness of keeping me in your life. M-miss Waters as well.” He added quickly.
She hummed and tapped her cheek in thought, unwittingly drawing his eyes to her lips. “I think it was around the time I vowed to run away, and they realized I was serious. Though my sister is the favorite, they knew she does not have the spirit to rule and there was no way they would have another child or yield the throne to a cousin.” His eyebrows rose in surprise, though she did not seem to notice. “Although, even if I did have the guts to run away, I doubt I would be very useful out in the ‘real world’.” She added, her tone turning morose. He gaped at her self-deprecation.
“What do you mean?”
“W-well, if I were ever to run away, I could no longer count on my servants or my family’s coffers. So, what would I do? I do not know how to cook or clean properly, I hardly have any talents that could turn into trade-,”
He could not bear to hear her speak in this way about herself. “Irie, you are the most intelligent and well-rounded person I know. I’m serious!” He added at her disbelieving expression. “You read, write- you are skilled at the lute, though I’m still better than you,” she snorted at him, rolling her eyes. “You get to know people and remember them – I’ve lost track of how many friends you’ve made at random gatherings, only to meet with them again and pick up where you left off. You’re not bad at all with a bow and a master of horse-riding-
“A-as flattering as hearing this is, Raha, I don’t think I could make a living with any of that.”
“That’s not what I mean and you know it. Truly, Irie, I think you could do anything you put your mind to. It might be hard at first to unlearn your privilege but…I would have faith in you.”
She just looked at him at his words, a soft smile tugging at her lips. Lips he so wanted to tug between his own. He cleared his throat, “And, of course, I wouldn’t stop being your friend. I- I would support you.” It felt too close to the truth.
He attempted to fight against the images in his mind of a version of her that was not tied down to tradition, to the throne. A woman he could have courted properly, could have asked for her hand and, if he was just lucky enough, could have married.
“Thank you, Raha. Though I still think you’re just trying to make me feel better about myself, it worked. I hope you know that I have the same faith and appreciation for you.”
He gulped at that. “Thank you, Irie.” They sat for a moment in companionable silence, content to feel the cool autumnal breeze. It would soon be too cold to stay outside for lengths of time, and he would miss their horse rides very mu-
"Although...," she trailed off, her tone teasing. "It would be simple enough to marry into a noble family. It would not compare to life in the castle, but...Raha, I am joking. Well, mostly." She winked at him, and whatever modicum of normalcy he had been holding onto vanished as he flushed. He looked away as she giggled.
.
☾
“Do you think I will be a good queen, Raha?” Irie asked, pausing suddenly in her drawing.
Once the good queen and her consort grudgingly accepted the boy their daughter had become best friends with, they were allowed to spend time together in the drawing room of the castle.
Raha looked up in surprise. “Of course you will.”
Her eyebrows rose and felt a smile tugging at her lips. “You think so? I am not always sure, with how strong and commanding mother is – can I really be like that?”
“You do not have to be exactly like her, Irie. You...you do not have to be anything like her at all, really. You can be your own person and have your own approaches to problems. You will be an excellent queen, your grace.”
“Raha,” she not-whined, pouting at him. “You are embarrassing me!”
“What! 'TIs true! I would never lie to you, Irie. I think you will be incredible. You should not worry about it.” He said it so simply, so matter-of-fact, that she just sat and watched him as he worked for a few moments.
“Thank you, Raha.” He simply smiled at her and looked back down at his work.
If she looked back and thought about their journey together, she would point to here. This moment, with the sun shining in from an open window as he squinted down at the paper in front of him – she loved him.
☽
.
The memory returned to her as they sat in a similar study, three short years later, each busy with their own work yet sharing a pot of tea between them. The sound of quills scratching against paper and the tap, tap, tap of fingers against wood filled the space, accompanying the smooth melancholy of the room. Raindrops pitter-pattered against the closed window and the wood crackled and popped as the flames claimed them, the smokey aroma swirling around them.
It had been a long while since her mother had forced a chaperone between them - they had the bliss of privacy for their conversations and spent many an hour making stupid jokes or discussing the world's history at length.
Considering that every time she looked up from her work, she had to fight the temptation to get up and climb into his lap, perhaps the queen trusted her too much.
No, she thought wryly as her eyes tracked the lines of his hands. She knows that he is intimidated by her.
“Raha…do you remember that promise we made when we were children?” The sound of her own voice startled her, as she had not been expecting to say the words out loud. Her breath caught as he looked up at her, crimson hues a bit glazed over from his work.
She wished to drown in those eyes forever, she knew now, and she wondered if he felt the same.
“I- Irie, forgive me, but we made several promises in our youth,” he chuckled, holding her gaze. Bluffing. Redirecting. As always. She frowned at him. Was he playing the fool?
Perhaps he did not love her like she did him, like she hoped and wished for? The thoughts of him, of his hands in hers and on her body, of his damnable lips, had been plaguing every moment of her free time.
Perhaps he knew of her feelings, for she felt them reverberate through her every action, every word in his presence, and did not wish to see her cry.
Perhaps.
“Ah- ah, that’s…understandable,” she laughed halfheartedly, wincing. She looked down at her hands as she weighed her next words on her tongue- should she just say it? Give no more chance to ignore what she felt, even if it was unrequited?
Would it be selfish of her, to lay her feelings down at his feet knowing she could do nothing, even if they were reciprocated? Only six months remained before her birthday and subsequent wedding, yet with each passing day she found she could hardly bear to keep it from him. Lord Borel was meant to come to the castle within the next few weeks and she knew that once he did, their time together would be much more limited.
Her heart cried out at the thought, of the coming loss of this beautiful man; her very best friend.
As her silence dragged on, she could feel his gaze shift across her face. “Irie? Will you tell me, my friend?”
She looked up at him and smiled. She leaned forward and took one of his hands in both of hers and-
“Heir Sagahl!” She dropped his hand in a flash as her maidservant burst into the study. “Your mother has fallen and requires your support, your grace!”
Her blood ran cold. A thousand emotions swirled within her at those words, the softness of the previous moment completely forgotten. “What?” She whispered hoarsely as she stood from her seat. She felt a hand at her back, and she blinked, her vision spinning.
“Your father and the royal chirugeons are with her now – we are not sure what happened, but she needs you, your grace.” She swayed where she stood, the images of her mother lying prone in a bed- a woman who had never showed her an ounce of weakness, of softness- it was nearly impossible to imagine.
“Go, Irie. While I would go with you for support, I believe my presence would only aggravate the queen further.” She blinked up at him, frowning slightly, before nodding. She turned to follow the servant out, but he made a small noise behind her and grabbed her hand. “Tell me…,” he paused, taking a deep breath and meeting her eyes again. “Please, tell me what promise once you have a moment, all right?” She nodded, struck dumb at the look in his eyes before bustling out of the room.
It looked like longing.
.
☾
“Do you know what I found out from my mommy and daddy, Irie?”
“What did you bother them about now, Raha?”
“I did not bother them!" Irie giggled at his pout. "I wished to know about what marriage even means, considering Daphne is all, um, fluttery about it.”
“Fluttery?”
“Irie!” He scowled as she giggled louder at him. “More importantly, I found out the best thing! Marriage is about living together with your best friend – forever!”
“Oh! Really?” She sobered and sat up, eyes sparkling.
“Yes! So, when we are old enough, we will get married – right?”
“Hm, yeah, that makes sense! You are my best friend, Raha.”
☽
.
“So, when are you going to confess to Lord Iksalion?”
Dagasi gaped at her friend. “W-what do you mean?”
“Dagasi,” her friend chided. “You have been in love with the man since birth-”
“Ryne, we met when we were 8!”
“-and he is obviously so in love with you too. I cannot possibly imagine what is stopping you?”
“Ryne! I am promised to someone else – it cannot happen.”
“’Gasi, you are telling me you two would not sort something out? Listen,” she sighed, setting down her teacup and taking Dagasi’s hands in hers. “I have watched you both be utterly besotted with each other for what feels like my entire life. You do not want to at least tell him?”
Dagasi gulped and looked down at her half-empty teacup. “Ryne...well, I almost did, but...then my mother collapsed. And since then, everything has felt so perilous, so unsure- no one has talked about any future plans, even though I feel like we should - she is not...not getting better.” She took a deep breath. “It has been weeks at this point, and it has halted Lord Borel’s visit entirely. My father has taken over in the interim, but if she does not…,” she trailed off, not willing to speak the danger into words.
“Oh, love, I am so sorry.”
“Oh, Ryne...it is...not okay, but...there is not much love lost between us.” She sighed, her grasp on Ryne’s hands tightening as she watched the younger girl frown at her words.
Truly, she could not quite come to terms with the idea herself. Her mother had been a constant aggravation in her life, but- a constant. Like her inevitable betrothal to Lord Borel, the idea of her death also felt abstract. An improbability.
“Then accept my apology for what seems like an impossible situation. Have you met your fiancee yet?”
“I mean, we have met before.”
“Is he handsome?”
“Yes, Ryne, Lord Aymeric Borel is quite handsome. I just cannot understand how I got promised to a man from the Northern colonies.”
“Aymeric?!” Her friend cried, shocked. “Wait, of course, that Lord Borel. Oh, ‘Gasi, he is such a sweet man! And very handsome. Honestly, you could do a lot worse.”
Soft blue eyes appeared in her minds’ eye, hazy with the years since their last meeting, and she felt a little warm. Ryne might have been younger than her, still technically a child, but she had the right of it.
“You are not wrong.” She murmured, not quite willing to admit it.
“Though I understand about being frustrated by one’s feelings. I swear, any moment I try to articulate to Gaia what I’m feeling, she runs away!”
Dagasi tried to hide her small smile, having witnessed this very thing. “Perhaps you make Lady Leonhart nervous too, Ryne. You two look good together, but you are still so young – you react one way to liking someone, but that does not mean everyone does.”
“I know that but- still,” she pouted.
“Listen to your Crown Heir, Ryne,” Dagasi said, head in the air and tone lofty. “Whether it is this fine young lady or the next, you will find love.”
“I do not want a ‘next’ one!”
Dagasi giggled at her vehemence.
.
.
The humor of the afternoon faded entirely when she returned to the castle.
“Your grace, come quickly!”
She rushed to her mother’s bedside – she was not proud to admit that she had spent very little time with her over the past weeks. It had been easy enough to make excuses to avoid seeing her mother in this way.
But now, as she stood in the doorway, watching as her mother clung to life, it was hard to remember why those reasons were so important.
Naran stood solemnly by the doorway, and they nodded at each other as she passed. The easy friendship between them as young girls had faded since her marriage, and Dagasi felt a harsher pang of guilt.
“Mother?” She whispered as she neared, matching sets of lavender eyes meeting as the queen turned to her.
“Oh, Dagasi, my darling,” she rasped, reaching out a hand. “My beautiful and strong daughter. How much it pains me for you to see me in this way so soon.”
Dagasi had never heard her mother like this in her entire life. She stood stock still for a moment, unsure if she was dreaming, before taking her mother’s hand.
“You- are everything I wanted to be, my darling. Everything I wish I had been when I was young and in love. I can only hope that you do not make the mess that I have. That my enemies die with me, and you can move past it all.”
Dagasi blinked at her. “Wha- mother, what do you mean? Enemies? You-,”
“I am so proud of you.” Dagasi’s breathing stopped. “I wish I had not been so afraid to say that out loud before this. I thought that if I were allowed to show a glimpse of happiness, it would be taken away. But you, both of you,” her eyes flitted to the opposite side of the bed where Naran now stood. “You both will be so much stronger than I.”
“Mother…,” she trailed off, feeling the grip on her hands weakening. "No, mother, wait-"
But her mother only sighed and closed her eyes, a small smile pulling at her lips.
Dagasi watched, eyes wide and mind buzzing with confusion and grief, as her mother took her last breath.
…
She saw more than felt Naran beside her, her mouth moving in what she suspected was denial. In her periphery, she watched her father lurch forward to grasp the hand in hers, his mouth moving wildly. His expression contorted in- in anger. In fear. In anguish.
Whichever it was, as they called to her mother while her lips remained sealed, she did not feel it.
She felt numb. And she knew. Her mother was gone.
.
.
“Why does this hurt?” Her voice was devoid of emotion, every inch of her subdued as she sat staring sightlessly outside. “I- Raha, I- I am unashamed to say that I hated my mother. We never- never smiled, laughed, never got along. I was always enormously jealous of the relationship you have with your parents, that Ryne has with hers. I could count the times she smiled at me on one hand and yet – she is gone. She is gone, and there is a- a hole in my chest that I do not know what to do with.” Her lavender eyes pierced him, and he kneeled before her and took her hands.
“Irie- it is okay to grieve. She was- is your mother. Whatever it is that you are feeling, it changes nothing about who you are, or who she was. She was the queen, loved by her people, who deserves her rest, but-” he paused, waiting for her eyes to meet his. After a moment, listless lavender met burgeoning crimson and he held her gaze. “She never treated you the way you deserve.”
"You should have heard the way she spoke to me, at the end. It- I do not think I have ever heard her voice so soft, so kind. If it were not for the panic of the castle, I would not believe it real." She let out a strangled laugh, turning her face into his hand. "She- she said she was proud of me. That I am every- everything she wished to be. It is- was as if she was possessed. Either in the moment, or throughout my life, I- it sounds utterly ridiculous, but- well, where was that my entire life?" She shut her eyes tight, a shudder wracking through her frame.
"Shh, Irie, please. Breathe with me, deep breaths," G'raha soothed, pulling her gently to face him again. He watched as the tears welled in her pale eyes. "You are allowed to wonder, to be- to be frustrated.
The dam broke.
With a choked gasp and small whine, she threw herself into his arms and tucked herself into his chest. He sat frozen for a moment, unable to move as she sobbed, before his arms wound around her smaller frame. He pressed his cheek against her head and rubbed her back, attempting and failing to calm his heart.
I love you. His mind whispered. I will do anything to never see you cry.
He was a coward.
“I am here for you always, dear-dearest” he stuttered on the endearment, not expecting it to come out. “Whatever you need of me, I will always happily provide.”
He knew not how long they remained there, in that stasis. He did know that he would allow her all the time she needed of him, of comfort.
He pretended it was purely selfless reasons that guided his arms to tighten around her, that led his cheek to rub gently against her horn as she cried. His heart skipped a beat when her grip on his shirt tightened.
She sniffled against his chest and pushed against his arms to look up at him. Tears streaked her lovely face, catching on her cheek scales. His hand came up to wipe them softly away and he held her gaze for a moment.
Her hands rose to hold his between them as her eyes darted across his face. “You.” She murmured, bring his hand to her lips.
“I- Pardon?”
“I need you. Just you. All of you. I need,” she paused, a small, hysterical laugh bubbling from her throat. “Raha.”
“Y-yes?” He was not panicking.
She smiled at his panicked tone. “I love you.”
It was a wonder for a single sentence to bring him to his knees.
His breath left him at her words, his grip on her arms loosening as his heart thumped.
G’raha believed in the power of words, but in this he believed action might suit better. He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, tasting the salt of her tears as she kissed him back.
After a few moments or a century, he leaned back. Here they were, sitting on the floor after her mother – the queen - had passed away, yet the sparkle in her eyes was at odds with her tear-stained cheeks.
“Heir Dagasi Sagahl,” he murmured, pulling her closer, resting nose to nose. “Irie. I have loved you for what feels like forever. From the moment you found me in the forest and we played heroes, though I did not know it yet.”
She sighed, nosing against him idly with eyes closed. “I will always be Irie to you. And I have loved you for years, and your presence was beginning to compromise me.”
“Compromise you?” He asked, eyebrows rising.
She squinted at him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. His heart stuttered.
“I want you.”
His heart stopped.
“I imagine you everywhere, all the time,” she carried on, unaware or uncaring of how her words had killed him. “But…I do not know what the future holds. I- my mother is dead, and during her decline there was no mention of my marriage, of- of the throne, or anything- but I do not know if it will remain this way. Raha,” she held his gaze, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks. “I love you. I want to be yours in every way, I wish to be your wife. But I do not know if I can.”
There was a part of him, which grew larger with her every word, that wanted to steal her; to whisk her far away from this place so they could live in peace. To give in to their desires, to their love, and live together free from obligation.
He took her lips between his instead, smiling at her surprised moan. His tongue slipped in to tease along hers and her grip on his shoulders tightened.
Not breaking the kiss, he pulled her up and into his lap proper, pausing for a moment to rearrange her skirts. Twin moans sounded in the study as his hands settled on her hips and dug in slightly. She shifted above him, and he chased her breathy gasps as he kissed down her cheekbone and neck.
“Whatever happens,” he growled against her neck, nipping at her skin to hear her moan. “You are mine.”
“Yours,” she moaned back, chasing the pleasure between her thighs as she ground down against him. She felt the hard length of him through the many layers separating them and burned for it. “It is not fair- it is not fair to either of us, but I cannot pretend any longer. Oh, Raha.”
“What do you need, my heart?” He asked between kisses of her neck.
“A-all of you. Now, here, please.” She pleaded, desperate to have him take her over completely.
“What?” He squawked, taken aback. “A-are you sure? Now? Irie- there is no rush, my heart- we can go some-,” she shushed him with a harsh kiss, a sharp nip on his bottom lip.
“No.” She sat up in his lap and stared defiantly into his eyes. “We can go back to my rooms after, I just- I need you. Now.”
As if he could possibly argue against that. He would just have to hope that no one would come looking for them.
“As you wish,” he said, his hands moving immediately under her skirts to push aside her pantalettes. She whimpered at the feeling of his hands suddenly being there, where she had dreamed of for so long. How many times had she touched herself, pushed herself to the point of crying out his name as she clenched around her fingers, and now- she would have him.
Her scales parted for him, and he explored her gently, his fingers catching on her pearl. She whimpered and leaned heavily against him as he toyed with her, pressing against her with a deliberate pressure. He shushed her moans with his lips, his fingers pressing gently into her cunt and curling.
“Oh, my heart, you are so wet for me already,” he murmured, fingering her open steadily as she writhed in his lap. “Am I the first to know you in this way?”
“I-if you do not count myself,” she replied shakily. “I have brought myself t-to ecstasy many, many times t-to thoughts of you, my sweet love. None of it compares.”
“Irie- fuck, how could you say that to me?”
“W-what?”
He leaned away from her to look into her eyes, noting how dark they appeared with her pupils wide and limbal rings dark.
“It makes me want to have you right now.” Coupled with his fingers, the filth he whispered against her lips had her nearly there already.
“You can have me any way you want.” She panted. “Oh, yes. ” She purred as a second finger joined the first. His fingers curled against the spot inside of her that made her sing and oh- she shattered, crying out against his lips and trembling. She felt his fingers leave her after a few moments and felt the jingle of a belt buckle.
Soon enough, his cock sprung to attention as her senses returned to her. She licked her lips at the sight, wondered at how heavy he might feel on her tongue, but his hand brought her chin up. “Oh, my heart, there will be time enough for that. Allow me.”
He moved her loose pantalettes to the side and she shifted up, resting her heat right above the head of his cock. He whimpered at the tease, and she grinned, storing the image for later before she caught the head of him at her entrance. They both moaned loudly as she sank slowly to take the full of him – ilm by ilm, she whimpered and rocked her hips against him as she went.
She marveled at the feeling of him, of how utterly he eclipsed her. How could she feel so full yet so at ease?
Sitting on the floor of a random study in the castle, mere hours after her mother had passed, was not the perfect, loving first time either of them had fantasized about.
Her mother had already despised him - what was one more reason?
To have her moan needily above him as she acclimated to the length of him, trying to keep her quiet enough so as to not rouse suspicion, made it all the better.
He would have time enough later to see just how loud she could be.
They sat still for the moment, staring into the other’s eyes, before he brought her in for a deep kiss. She rocked against him, and he moaned, his tongue sliding against hers as he began to move.
“Please,” he heard against his lips, and he could not deny her.
After a few moments, they found their rhythm. He watched her eyelids flutter with each thrust of his hips, felt her breath wisp over his face as she gasped and moaned against him.
After a few more moments, or an eternity, Irie reached her second peak. He felt her pulse and shudder around him, her mouth dropped open in a perfect ‘o’ against his lips as she dug her nails into his shoulders. Gods, how he wanted to hear her scream.
A few more, and with her name on his lips, he followed suit, spilling deep inside of her and groaning as she took every drop.