Homelands Pt. 02 Ch. 06

It was no wonder she was a bit testy. I wouldn't last long in this place.

"Two years or so, in the Homelands," I said. "How long has it been in here?"

"Can't tell," she said. "In case you haven't noticed, there aren't a lot of clocks around. Or a sun. Or anything. But it wouldn't shock me to know that it had been more like ten."

"Sorry. I didn't know." I started to say more, then swallowed the words.

She peered at me from the corner of her eyes. "So, what, you came here to gloat? To insist that you're actually the most benign dictator the court has ever seen? Because, let me tell you, Frank, I just don't fucking care."

"No," I said. "I've come to-"

Brianna shook her head. "No, really, I don't care. At all. I'm sure I was wrong about you, in all kinds of ways. Great. Swell. I was wrong about a lot of things. Probably even deserve this fate. But whatever you have to say, I'd rather you just leave me alone."

I reached across the bench and took her hand in mine. Despite her words, she didn't resist. In fact, I felt her Libido soar at that simple little gesture, and not because I'd put any effort into trying to elicit such a response. I wondered what must it be like for one of our kind to go a decade without knowing the touch of another person.

"I don't think anyone deserves this fate," I said. "Jack might have thought he was doing you a favor by exiling you instead of Devouring you, but even so, this is extreme."

"Right," she said, "like being Deirdre's personal sex slave. That must have been so hard on you. It's a wonder you made it out alive."

"That's all right," I said, giving her hand a squeeze. "You're entitled to a few of those. I'd be a bit cagey too, if I were you."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Okay, obviously I'm projecting a little. Thank you, Captain Sensitive. What do you want me to say? This has been a total fucking nightmare. Part of me would love to tell you that I could do another ten years without any trouble, because I can't stand the thought of you seeing me like this, but, yeah, this is positively unbearable, and it's kinda got me in just a little bit of a pissy mood. If you don't like that, you can go shove a spiked mace up your ass."

"How would you like to leave?"

Brianna opened her eyes. "Please, don't fuck with me, Frank. I know I'd deserve it if you did. But don't. I don't think I could take it."

I lifted her hand up and kissed it. "I'm serious, Brie. I want you to return to court."

"What? Are you crazy? No way." She tucked a curl of red-brown hair behind an elfin ear. "I mean, yeah, I'd love to leave this wretched place. But I thought you were talking about transferring me to one of the softer prison worlds. Now, that, I'd really appreciate. But you'd be a fool to let me return to court, and I don't want to besides. Couldn't bear facing everyone again. Not after what I did."

I slid closer to her, wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and kissed her head. She moaned softly and laid her head on my shoulder. "Brie, you didn't do anything that bad."

"I Devoured my parents. Because I could."

"Okay, you've got a point there," I said. And she really did. Maybe this was a bad idea. Nonetheless, I said, "But that doesn't mean you can't come back. You've obviously had time to reflect on what you did, and suffered for it."

My cousin leaned up and kissed me on the cheek. "That's, well, that's really sweet of you, Frank. And I don't want to sound unappreciative. Knowing that you can forgive me, after the way I delighted in torturing, terrifying, and manipulating you, meas a lot to me. But I don't even know if I trust myself. What if I'm duly repentant now, sitting here in my abyss, but go right back to my old ways once I return? How do you know I won't try to depose you? What credibility could anything I say now possibly have?"

"Did you enjoy sitting on the throne?" I asked.

"How do you know I didn't?" she asked. "With all due respect, you don't know anything about me. Never did. You saw what you wanted to see."

"Okay, so I shouldn't have presumed. Now I'm asking, did you enjoy it?"

She sighed. "I guess I didn't really understand you either, because I have to admit that it genuinely surprises me that you apparently consider it to be an unbearable burden. But I've got to say, as much as I regret some of what I did, I'd be lying if I told you that I hated having all that power. Doesn't that prove what a terrible person I am?"

"No."

She pulled her feet up onto the bench and tucked them behind her. "How do you figure?"

"I don't think you'd be scared of returning if you were."

"Bullshit," she said. "You don't think some of the most wretched people in history have been aware that they were monsters? Haven't you ever heard that most serial killers confessed that they'd wanted to be caught? Please tell me you're not still this naive."

"I don't think that's you though."

"I guess I'm one or two shy of serial."

I frowned at her. She just kept staring at me with those emerald green eyes, unrelenting. But when I kissed the top of her head again, she leaned into it.

"Fine. If you don't want to come back, you don't have to. I'll let you stay in self-imposed exile as long as you like. And I'll move you to one of the more bearable prison worlds. But I'm going to keep visiting you, and one of these days, I'm going to talk you into returning."

"Why?" she asked. "What did I ever do to make you think that's a good idea?"

It was a good question.

"Maybe it's what I did," I said. "I've had time to think about things too. Time to step back and try and put myself in your shoes. Time to think about what I was willing to do to get to where I am, and what I'm willing to do to stay there. I think you were wrong about me in some ways, yes, but not by nearly as much as I wanted to think. I'm not sure I like what I've become. I guess that showing you mercy helps ease my conscience."

She sat back upright, pulled away from me. "In that case, you can go fuck yourself."

"What?"

Brianna crossed her arms under her breasts. "I don't want your pity, Frank, and I sure don't want to be responsible for your redemption. It's hard enough carrying the weight of the chains I forged for myself, let alone someone else's."

"I'm not asking you to be responsible for anything. I'm going to do this because I think I should, and that's all there is to it. If you say 'no' a thousand times, I'll keep coming to see you, and keep asking you to come home. And you can just keep right on refusing, if that's what you feel is best. What's important to me is that you have the choice."

The stiffness went out of my cousin's back. I thought I felt a faint stirring in her Libido. Not lust. But maybe...affection?

"I just might say 'no' a thousand times, you know," she said, though the edge had left her voice. It was almost hard to remember she'd once had the cutest voice.

I put my arm around her once more, and with a sigh, she leaned back against me.

"So, how does Aunt Ellen like being your Shadow?"

"She's not. Iva is," I said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She's-"

Brie shook her head. "Oh, I know, it makes perfect sense. I just didn't think you'd be willing to explain to your mother why you chose another woman."

I laughed. "Well, she certainly didn't love it. I'm not sure I'm done paying for it either."

Brie smiled softly. "I missed you, you know."

For a moment, I was too stunned to respond. Then I said, "Probably missed everyone."

"I don't just mean while I've been stuck here. Even while I was still queen, and you were Silas' captive. Or his sister's. Whatever. You drove me crazy, and when you were taken captive, I didn't feel as bad for you as maybe I should have. But despite that, I still missed you. Missed your touch. Your voice. Your lame sense of humor. The way you can be the most arrogant, self-impressed bastard alive and yet still somehow be capable of the kind of selfless behavior for which our kind is somewhat less than renowned."

Finally, we kissed. Tenderly, at first. But with growing intensity. And hunger. Before long, she was straddling my hips and dry humping me. My hands ran over her body, hiked up her little skirt, sought out her small but round ass.

Brianna was out of practice. And I'd grown a lot stronger since we'd last seen each other. But she hadn't forgotten how to make me cum from a mere kiss.

When I hooked a few fingers in her panties and pulled them aside, though, she sat back sharply, forcing me to withdraw my hands.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

"It's just that...I was thinking about Devouring you. Just now. I mean, I seriously considered it. Really, really wanted to do it."

"Your emotions must be going crazy," I said.

"No, Frank. Fuck. Stop trying to make everything okay, will you?" she asked, throwing her hands up. "You know what stopped me? It sure as shit wasn't my conscience. I sensed how powerful you've become, and it frightened me. That's it."

"I see," I said. Though I didn't believe it was as simple as that.

Brianna slipped out of my lap. "I think you should take me to my new prison and then go. And don't come back too soon."

#

Though Wendy hadn't said a word in protest when I told her I had to cancel my afternoon meeting with her, I knew she wasn't likely to forgive me for it any time soon. And that was only partly because she would miss my tongue. We had a great many matters to discuss. The First Wintry Court had waited to make sure that this king was going to last more than a week before sending an ambassador, and Iva assured me that if there was one ruler worth taking more seriously than Silas, it was Daphne.

But I'd put off having this conversation with Mom for entirely too long.

As it happened, one of the minor nobles whose face I recognized but couldn't put a name to was just leaving Mom's chambers when I arrived.

"Hard at work, your majesty," Mom giggled, fanning her sweaty pussy with a bare hand.

"So I see."

"Hmm. That's a tone." She slipped out of bed, flipped her hair back, and cleaned herself up. A beige silk robe appeared from nowhere, wrapping itself around her without any help from her hands. "I've Devoured one little lordling for you, now. Still one more to go, but, technically, that's infinitely many more than when last we spoke," she said, with a smile.

"That's not what I came here to talk about," I said. Then, forcing a little warmth back into my voice, I added, "But that's good. I didn't doubt you'd eventually do as I'd asked, but it is best if that's done sooner rather than later."

"I know, I know," my mother said. She sat in front of a vanity mirror and ran a brush through her hair, though it was hardly needed. Her black mane could not have been more beautiful. "Why so serious? You're making me nervous."

I guess I hadn't adjusted my tone as much as I'd thought. "It's nothing."

"Honey, if this is just the way you're going to be all the time now that you're king-"

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," I said. "It doesn't have anything to do with me being king," I added. "This is personal."

"Oh," Mom said, putting her brush down. She turned around, holding the right armrest of her chair with her left hand. "Okay, so let's talk. Should I fix us a drink?"

I nodded.

"This isn't a 'yay, good news, happy time' kind of talk," she said. It wasn't a question. "Right. No frozen margaritas then." She flashed a grin at me, which I forced myself to return. But it must have been obvious that it was feigned, because Mom's sincere grin turned into a frown, and quick. "Here," she said curtly, handing me a rocks glass filled with three fingers' worth of caramel colored liquor.

I took a sip. Fine, single malt Scotch. Extra peaty. Very smoky. I took a deep, satisfied breath and exhaled slowly.

"Please tell me this isn't about rough sex. I've said all I intend to say about that."

"It's not," I said.

Mom tried the Scotch. She coughed, stuck out her tongue, and made various and egregious sounds of disgust.

Which was nothing compared to her reaction when I told her about Iva.

Everything there was to tell.

I'm not sure exactly what I said. It was almost like I wasn't really in my body at that point. Like when I divided my consciousness. If I'd forgotten to create any other bodies, that is. And had also forgotten to leave any behind in the first one. I guess it wasn't alike at all, but it was the only comparison that came to mind. Somehow or other, though, it all came out. How I'd known what she had planned for Patrick. Had given her the green light in exchange for her agreeing to stay on as Shadow. The way I wasn't sure what I felt for her, that it didn't compare to what Mom and I had, but I couldn't deny that it was something much more powerful than what I felt for anyone other than Mom.

For a long while after I finished, we sat in silence. I finished my Scotch, and Mom refreshed my glass without a word. Her own sat untouched but for that first taste.

"Well, aren't you going to say something?"

"You should have told me. A lot sooner," she replied.

"Yes, I should have," I said.

"And don't tell me it was because you've been too busy with work," she said.

"No, I know," I said. "I wasn't. I was just too cowardly to-"

"Damn right it was cowardly," she said. "And don't think that by agreeing with me you can calm me down, mister."

I tipped my glass back silently.

She picked up her glass, tossed the Scotch onto the carpet, and poured a shot of tequila into the glass in its stead. When she slammed the newly summoned bottle down, I thought for sure it would crack. The shot disappeared momentarily. Then was followed nearly as quickly by another. After she took a patient sip of her third shot, she said, "I'm not going to tell you that I wouldn't have been mad if you'd told me earlier. I would be. Because, honestly, this fucking sucks, Frank. And I shouldn't have to pretend that the only reason I'm upset is because you didn't tell me in order to also be upset about that."

"You're right," I said.

"Would you fucking say something in your defense!" Mom tossed her glass at me. I ducked my head in time to avoid it. "You're trying to make it hard for me to be angry at you, and that's no fair either."

"It's not like we're in a rela-"

"Oh, are we back to that old line, then?" she asked. "Would you perhaps like to remind me again how I once told you that it was just sex? It's been so long since I heard that."

I stared at my feet.

"Do you want to know why I Devoured your Grandpa Dick, Frank?" she asked.

Before I could get the "Yes," out of my mouth, she started to answer.

"He wanted to overthrow Kaitlin. It had been more than sixteen years since I'd talked him down from the brink the first time, when an issue I'd thought resolved flared back up. He'd grown incensed about...nevermind what he was upset about. I'd made my family swallow their objections when I married House Farrier's only remaining son. Which I did so no more lives would be lost. And I still wondered if it was worth the price."

I gestured for her to continue. Then immediately regretted it.

But, thankfully, she was too wrapped up in her story to realize that I'd given her another good reason to throw something at me.

"I'd managed it once, though," she said. "Held the whole damn court together. With my cunt. How do you like that? Mommy spread her legs, and lives were saved."

The vein in her forehead was throbbing. I forced myself not to cringe.

"So how else was I to do it again? Why, with my magical cunt, of course. So I took my father inside me, and he's never left." Mom summoned a new glass and took another shot of tequila. "I did it for you, you ungrateful little shit," she said. "My father assured me that Gus wouldn't dare lift a finger against his own children. But your father has never loved anyone the way he loves those Farrier women. Cindy most of all, maybe, but his mother only slightly less. There was no way in hell I was going to let my father gamble with your lives. So I saved Kaitlin's life, though not out of any love her. And I told her to exile Tara again. Did you know she'd come back? It was our mother that exiled her in the first place, but Kaitlin had allowed her to return. The reason you never met your aunt until recently, the aunt you've traded away like a pile of poker chips, is because I didn't want her to carry out our father's last wish."

I took a few steps towards my mother, arms outstretched to hug her. She batted them away and turned her back to me. "Aren't you glad we're opening up to each other?"

Though I thought there was a better than even chance that she'd elbow me in the ribs or kick me in the balls, I decided to try hugging my mother again anyway. To my great relief, she let me. She offered a little token resistance, but after a few moments, pulled my arms tighter around her and leaned her head back against my chest.

"I love you," I said. "I don't mean that like I did when I said it as a child."

"Frank," she said. "You could not have possibly chosen a worse time to tell me."

"I mean it. I-"

"Stop," she said. "I don't know if it would upset me more if you did mean it or if you were just saying it because I'm mad at you. But either way, keep that to yourself. You know that's not...that's just not something you should say."

I kissed the top of her head.

"I Devoured the most important man in my life in order to protect you. And now her daughter is taking you away from me. I wish I hadn't stopped him."

"She's not," I said. "No one's taking me away from you."

"What about your blushing bride to be?"

I didn't respond.

"Between those two, and let's not forget Wendy, I'm never going to see you."

"I'll stop-"

Mom sighed. "It's not that. I don't care you if you never stick another finger or tongue inside Wendy. She's still going to get more of your time and attention than I will."

She snapped her fingers and handed me the envelope that appeared.

With my mouth and one hand, I pulled the letter out. It hardly said anything. Some Bobby character wanted her to travel to the First Wintry Court to speak with him. Wouldn't say why, but he swore it was something she'd want to hear.

"Pretty cryptic," I said. "You can't-"

"I'm going," she said.

I started to argue, but thought better of it. "When?"

"Tomorrow," she said. "As of now."

Those three words cut deep. She hadn't decided how to respond.

But I knew I couldn't talk her out of it. "When will you return?"

"I don't know," she said.

Without a word, I led her over to the bed and stripped her robe off.

For a while, I simply studied her magnificent form. I'd never quite gotten my mind to accept that she was built the way she was, and half the time I looked at her, I felt as if I was seeing her for the first time. Except, for all I knew, this was going to be the last time.

The only visible hair on her body was a well-trimmed triangle over her little kitten. The black curls were cut close against her body, and didn't obstruct my view of her swollen, pink lips in the least. Her clitoris had not yet decided that it was ready to join the party. Her labia were thick and puffy, begging to be sucked.

As fascinated as I was by what was between her legs, and I was fascinated, I couldn't deny my eyes the pleasure of thoroughly drinking in the rest of her divine beauty one last time before letting her go. She did not have the kind of body women's magazines glorified. Rather, she personified an older conception of beauty, the kind that one found in fertility statues. Her hips were broad and rounded and her waist impossibly narrow in relation to them. A glass tube filled with sand that had her proportions would be better suited to marking the passage of an afternoon than an hour.