song_tra_bong | (no subject)

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Much as she likes the bar, Mary Anne figured it was time to do a little exploring in her new home. She spent most of the afternoon walking the beach before returning to the castle. After taking a wandering route through a library, a ballroom and a weapons cache, she's back in her room, standing out on the balcony and enjoying the sea air.

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"You're certain of that?" she asks in a quiet, conspiratorial tone. "You trust Ruin, a personification of absolute bottom, to tell you all his heart holds?"

She won't say no.

She can't say no.

She bites her tongue instead, until she can taste blood.

A slow smile.

"Didn't think so." She leans back a little, feeling slight vertigo at the height. "Did you know about our son? It's something he's hidden from me. Whatever happened to the baby I gave my life, love, and humanity for. You'd think he'd have some mercy..."

"I don't know."

Her mouth is dry and she has to pause a moment before continuing.

"I don't know what happened to him."

"Secrets. I would have thought someone in this family, or my own, could have told me, but Ciaran--" she looks pointedly at Mary Anne, as if proving something by knowing his name, "--has shielded his fate from everyone. I wonder why that was."

Her eyes flicker to Mary Anne's left hand, and there seems to be a spark of relief in them as they shift away.

She doesn't flinch at the name. Plenty of time for her to learn it.

Her left hand curls unconciously into a fist.

"Everyone has their secrets."

"They do."

Her eyes flash.

"He was my son. And Ciaran is still my husband."

Coira surprises even herself with that second statement.

She pales sharply.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He had sensed Mary Anne's tension.

Now he stands in the shadows, listening to these women.

One who holds his heart.

One who held his heart.

He hasn't seen Coira since that damned night, and now... with her sitting so near his present lover--

"It means nothing," he says finally, stepping forward. "A promise long broken."

"'Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone. I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One. I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done,'" Coira quotes, her eyes on Ruin. "Our lives are immortal, Ciaran."

Ruin takes Mary Anne's hand and pulls her closer to him. "You left, Coira. Your choice."

She stumbles nearer to him, still watching Coira.

blood of my bone of my heart oh my heart

Her fingers twine with his, grip tightening until her knuckles are white. She stays silent, watching.

"Time means very little for us. You've dallied about for centuries."

Coira hops down from the railing, coming closer to the couple.

"What happened to our son?"

Ruin's body stiffens. "I don't know. I don't much care, either."

Slowly, cruelly, she smiles. "You are a terrible liar. You always have been." Coira leans up and presses a lingering kiss to Ruin's lips, then steps back, smirking at Mary Anne. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, and perhaps we can... chat again sometime."

Coira walks from the balcony, disappearing into the castle, her footsteps vanishing after only half a dozen. Only when the sound of the ocean rushes into his ears does Ruin exhale a ragged breath.

Her hand hurts from holding on so tightly to his. She doesn't let go.

She wants to carve that smirk off of Coira's face.

She wants to scream at him, at the sky, at Fate itself until her lungs are empty.

She wants to ask him if he still loves her. Coira. Either of them.

She does none of these things, instead just leaning against him and resting her head on his shoulder.

He releases her hand and wraps his arms around her, kissing the crown of her head.

"My Queen," he breathes into the silken locks, closing his eyes.

(love her, Legs... love her love you but it's you my choice is you)

She sighs, low and rough. One hand curls lightly in the fabric of his shirt (an anchor).

"Hi, lover," she whispers.

He looks out over the sea, craddling her to his chest.

"An eventful day?" he asks with a wry chuckle.

"Something like that."

No laughter in her tone just yet.

"You have good timing."

She doesn't ask how long he was standing there.

He nuzzles her ear.

"Yep. Always come when the worst is about to happen." His grip tightens. "I love ya, Legs. Don't worry too much about Coira."

He didn't say not to worry at all... just... not worry too much.

She smiles faintly. "Love you, too."

Beat.

"And I won't."

Not too much, just enough.

"Come to bed," he whispers, smiling against her cheek now. "It's late."

("Haven't you wondered about it? About who he thinks of when you give him your body?")

"Of course."

She turns her head to kiss him lightly, repeating against his mouth, "Of course."

He pulls her toward her room, kissing her gently.

It was so strange, being gentle, not wanting to hurt.

(this is wrong you always want to hurt need to hurt must hurt pain and pleasure sex and blood and lust and need and)

"Bedtime for the Queen and her humble servant," he teases as he begins to strip her.

"Servant, maybe. Humble--"

She tugs his shirt over his head.

"Hardly."

He laughs, shaking his head.

"You saying I'm full of myself, Legs?" He tugs her to the bed, pressing close.

"You? Perish the thought."

She pulls away, falling back onto the bed.

"Just saying maybe...humility isn't your strongsuit."

"Not in the slightest."

He lays beside her, eyes on her face.

"You okay, Legs?" he asks quietly, seriously.

"I don't know."

She runs a hand through his hair.

"But I think I will be."

He smiles before kissing her again. Ruin pulls Mary Anne into the curve of his body, holding onto her tightly.

"If the ancient Celts had had divorce papers... I would have filed them long ago," he murmurs.

"I know you would have, lover. I know."

She presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

"Can we...not talk about her any more right now?" she (whispers pleads prays) asks.

He nods.

Instead, he moves to kiss her neck, shoulders, chest.

Caresses, touches, claims and learns.

A reassurance to her.

A reassurance to himself.

Kisses and touches are returned.

(haven't you wondered)

Tracing and memorizing, as if she should forget.

(haven't you wondered)

Or lose.

(haven't you wondered)

She has wondered, but not tonight. The morning, perhaps, but not tonight.

(terrible liar)

Not tonight.

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