princess_of_ida | IC Inbox

[ It lets her breathe deeply, some indescrible ache released out of her body as Ianthe weaved her spells. Gilia let her eyes fall shut, her body loosening her grip to more drap completely around her, and keep her close, settled warmly as one. ]

I love you too.

[ She murmurs it into her hair, brushing against her gently. ]

Is it so hard to remember when I am not here?

Yes. [A sad truth.] It's... difficult to believe it's real when I can't hear you, touch you, feel you, even see your face. Like it's just part of a script that can be redone, rewritten at any time on flimsies.

She reminds me that she's the only one who will ever love me, and... that's always been true, regardless of what I do and feel and try so... [She drew in a shuddering breath.] She gets so angry at me. So angry.

[ She keeps her face buried into the top of Ianthe's head, watching the door, watching the world pass by. ]

Like Godfinn, then.

[ She lays there. ]

Is it worth it? Has the Duchess given what she said she would or is this just another game of hers to keep us torn against each other?

[Ianthe wanted to argue that it wasn't like that. That Coronabeth wasn't like Godfinn. That it was different, because Gilia truly was beautiful and lovely and worthy of all the suitors that could have been if her brother hadn't wanted her to be nothing but a hermit crab. Ianthe was just... Ianthe. No one even looked her way unless Coronabeth was involved.

... but she didn't have the energy for that.]

She's promised to uphold her end and will teach me Resurrection. She did say the timing wasn't right, because of the political situation. My knowledge of Resurrection would undermine her status given the Blackguard are trying to replace her.

She gave me a choice. [And this was why Ianthe believed her.] I could stay with her in the castle and start learning immediately, fully become her student. I would... disappear from everyone here.

Or I could return, continue living my life, until things stabilized. Then she will gladly give me lessons openly.

[It was obvious what choice Ianthe made or she wouldn't be in her wife's arms. Though it wasn't an easy choice, from the tremor in her body.]

[ Her hands stay soft, gently hold and carress her in slow strokes.

And she stares at the wall with the slow burning rage she finds has built with everything she had heard since she woke. Up and up and up. Her hands do not turn cruel, her touch does not falter, but she fixes on that wall. ]

Because you are a threat to her. To the rest of us, she holds our death like a toy above her head while she encourages her people to kill one another. [ she smooths a piece of hair, her voice light and soft. ] You are the one that can challenge her even now, and she knows it.

[ She doesn't chastise Ianthe about it, because it was still true. What choice did Ianthe and her desperation have? There was only one. ] What will you do when there is another excuse not to teach you?

I don't want to rule this place. I don't want to rule any place.

[That has always been true. She never wanted to be Crown Princess of Ida even though she should have been one Corona not being a necromancer was confirmed at age six. Even in saving the Empire, it was her sister that would be the gave, the ruler, beloved by everyone, while Ianthe stayed power in the shadows. The dynamic they've always had. The six months where Ianthe had been running the Empire while John fucked off had pushed Ianthe very close to a breaking point, having to be like her sister and lead.]

I don't want to be a god. I just want to save my sister, save the Nine Houses. She let me observe Iggy's Resurrection. [That was something.]

I don't know what I'll do, Lia. You're the only one that wants me here. [Not true, but Ianthe wasn't thinking about Peony right then.]

That isn't true. Alina spoke to me, and she would not be so hurt, if she did not love you, still.

[ She gently leans down to tilt Ianthe's face up to her. ]

Do not let Iggy's death be free. You paid for it with his life. You are owed it. If she does not keep her word, you remember it. But do not trust her. [ She kisses Ianthe firmly, not as a romantic gesture, not in missing, but as a seal to mean her words. That she does not hate her, but she wants her to listen. ] You do not want power, because you know like I do, that it is agony. Only fools want the throne. It is a noose. It chokes, consumes, breaks you down.

And worst of all, it gives you a sickness in your mind. Because even knowing that to be true, you know there is always someone who wants it more, who thinks they can rule better, but the only way out of your noose is death. So even if you do not want it, I am sure of it: she is afraid of it, and she is afraid of your desires and if the horror in my heart is right, she will lead you about on this quest as long as she has too. Always enough to hope, never enough to sate.

Alina doesn't love me--

[It was said half under her breath and the only thing she got out before Gilia silenced her with that kiss. Like pressing a brand to her lips so she would feel it every time she wet then with her tongue.

As Ianthe listened, some of the woman she was underneath all the composure, and elegance, and even the necromantic brilliance, peaked through. The vulture, the scavenger, the viper that could and wound lie in wait, and even the monster this place had pulled from her were evident in her currently lilac eyes.]

I will have what I want, one way or another. It is not in her best interests to make an enemy out of me. She is not stupid. She has to know the very few ways to turn me against her.

[ She cards her hand back from her temples, cupping Ianthe's face between her eyes and sees that beast, that calculating daughter of noble houses, and does not flinch. Does not look away from her blood and her pain, and all suffering inflicted and taken.

Rather that she meets it, as what she is - the heir of an ancient house, so pure in her faith that her Holy-Father gave vision, the daughter, sister, niece and Queen of her own that could destroy cities and knew all that was beneath her, raised to power and duty from the moment she first drew breath. ]

You are Prince Ianthe Naberius, daughter of the Third House, Lyctor and Necromancer unparelled, Saint of Awe. Do not let her forget it, or cheaply make you her hound, and if she does, may she regret it. I bid that to you, as your wife.

Edited (word change) 2024-06-10 17:17 (UTC)

[She was the first in ten thousand years to chive lyctorhood, and she did it without the study notes, having reverse engineered the Eightfold Word megatheorem through various trials. If Zlatka went back on her word, Ianthe would just have to do it the long (really long) way. She did believe the Duchess would teach her, if only because Zlatka wanted to leave this fucking place as much a the rest of them, but she knew what John was doing, what he did when the lyctors of old betrayed him and how he controlled Kiriona. Best remember that applied to Zlatka as well. Ianthe would have Resurrection.]

I am a patient hunter, my love, but I am still a hunter. Though I may seem to be at her beck and call, I am just biding my time. I'm always biding my time. I won't forget who I am, though it may look like I have. I remember.

[Because shame was a privilege. Ianthe leaned in to kiss Gilia. Kiss her wife like she should have when she awoke.]

[ There she was, there was her wife. Fearsome and worthy of all she had worked for, not begging for scraps from a petty lord that dangled what she wanted on a string.

She melted below her, her arms circling her, kisses her full and hard and unforgiving to it. She loves her, and she will hold it her to this, for better or worse, with no respite. The tears slip, an expected relief that it hurt she had to wake to this mess and fight for this from the minute she opened her eyes to this horrible thing that has happened.

But she loved her, and for that, she hung on with both hands. ]

[Ianthe kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. With love and longing, conveying her fear and loneliness, and everything that had been in those moments she left messages to Gilia while she recovered.

She kissed away the tears and pressed her lips lovingly to the new scar. Ianthe could remove it, but she liked scars. It didn't make Gilia any less beautiful, but if her wife ever asked, she would see to it.]

[ Her fingers curled into her hair, cupping the back of her head to keep her warm and close, kind and near.

At least until her strength began to fail her again, and she had to fall back into the pillows again with yet another coughing fit. Exhausted from her short stint sitting up right. ]

I am sorry, much seems to be beyond me, at present.

Edited 2024-06-15 22:07 (UTC)

You don't apologize for anything.

[Ianthe shifted to slip her bone arm underneath Gilia and lay on her side, cradling her wife.]

Rest, Lia. I'll keep feeding you thalergy in a slow steady stream. I have plenty. I'll stay as long as you want me.

[A phrase with two meanings.]

[ Spirits it felt so good to be wrapped up in her arms again, her whole body going lax, where she felt safe and supported. Had her close at hand, her body becoming still from her coughing. ]

Just make sure you do not exhaust yourself as well, my love.

If I tire, I'll just sleep. I... haven't been doing that. Much.

[If at all. She almost said she was a bottomless well but Gilia knew that she had limits. They were hard to get to, but they were there. Nevermind that she would let herself go back to that ugly hag if it helped heal Gilia.]

[ Gilia took her arm and secured it in closer as she felt herself pulled down by exhaustion again. ]

Stay right here, that is all I desire.

[ But the sincerity of her intention is ruined somewhat, by the yawn she makes a second late, exhausted and wide. ]

[Her arm tightened.]

Alright. I got you. [She snuggled down, pressed a kiss to Gilia.] And thanks... for still loving me.

For this life, and always.

[ She whispered, so close to the edge of sleep, that only a minute later, she is gone to it again. ]

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