Undesired

I was drunk. So sue me. Nothing inappropriate, really. Maybe some implications, but nothing else. I can't do citrus.

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At night, when the company was asleep, he'd often stay awake. Yes, some people reprimanded him, saying he was foolish in holding on to his sins so long. But it was not possible. Atoning his sins was his first priority. Even as of right now, he knew this, letting out a weary sigh. It was a sigh coming from a man who had endured much trials and confusion within his life. It was a sigh coming from a man who simply did not know what to do.

And yet, as innocent as he tried to act, there was one thing that could keep him on the brink of sanity.

Her.

She.

Whatever the hell grammar indicated.

At night, when the company was asleep, he'd often go not to his room, but to another. He knew it was not right. His conscience consistently nagged him. Guilt invaded every corner of his mind, but at times like these, he was oblivious. Pleasantly, pleasantly oblivious.

He sometimes wondered if he was the bigger victim to perversion rather than that foolhardy chosen. He chuckled quietly to himself at this thought.

But it was not a matter of wanting her body or her love. It was a matter of remembrance. Yes, even now he relished the dreams of another similar lover - luscious, silky strands of pink running so smoothly through his fingers, those blue eyes igniting his heart and betraying her own emotions, and yet so cleverly veiled by her unwavering loyalty.

Regal Bryant had been, indeed, a handsome man back then. Perhaps more than the chosen, but then again, he was not to judge looks. Crazy modern hormone driven people had different tastes than those many years ago. The chosen, he grimly assumed, was in for a rude awakening when people saw through his flirtatious mask.

Sighing, he slightly rubbed his sore wrists together. If it was possible for hands to remain claustrophobic, then he was the primary example. The shackles always managed to bother him, and he dared not answer the questions of curious people on the subject of dressing and undressing. It was disturbing as it was.

Again, he futilely tried to appease the pain. Yes, he was using this as a distraction. A distraction from his inner most desires, his cravings and secrets and the haunted memories of pleasure.

Shuddering, Regal suppressed his temptation all too long, before finally giving way. He vowed, like every other night, that this would be the last, knowing he was only hurting himself.

Without a sound, he opened the door without much difficulty, turning the handles with the shackles, peering down the empty hallway. The inn in Meltokio was not far from being grand itself, with cozy rooms spread throughout the building. He ventured near the right of the hallway, sidling near a wall, arriving at his destination momentarily. Inching his way towards the door carefully, for there was still moonlight out, he unraveled the fabric of time itself as he turned the doorknob.

All this he did inaudibly.

He entered the room, relishing each interaction with the soft carpet, lit by the moon itself. The silvery orb was much too bright, but it provided sufficient light.

Carefully, he made his way towards the figure lying in bed, making sure her breathing was not irregular. It would do no good if she was awake. He preferred it when she slept; it reduced the amount of complications.

As always, Regal silently occupied the chair next to the bed, doing nothing for a while, until finally averting his gaze to her figure.

She reminded him so much of her!

It was wrong, Regal had admonished, so very wrong to think this way, but out of love, it was inevitable.

Her hair was not tied up in two, but instead let free, the luminous pink strands coiling up near the base of her feet. Her clothing was the traditional fighting outfit she usually wore.

The blanket nearly covered the nape of her neck. Her eyes were closed, and for a while, he did not believe this girl had adopted a taciturn demeanor. She seemed so normal that it was painful to face the truth.

Slowly he extended both his hands (as they were bound together), and with one rough, calloused finger, stroked her face. Her skin was too soft- soft wasn't even the right word. Satiny, velvety, silky. Any of those would have done. Regal inched closer to her sleeping form, breathing in her scent. It smelled...innocent. Like the jasmines and wild lilies blowing across a meadow. It was...

He instead switched the topic of interest, slowly pulling down the blanket down to her feet. Her body was petite, much too small, as was the body of a twelve year old, but Regal was intoxicated. She was just like her sister. Alicia.

Alicia had small features - every part of her was delicate, like fine china, or perhaps porcelain. The resemblance between the two was clear by now.

Regal slowly touched the collar of her clothes, trembling just a bit. Beneath his fingertips he could practically taste the wonderful sensation of the innocent. He could feel the adrenaline pounding. He even managed to unbutton the very top, hardly significant, but allowed him a clear view of the base of her neck and the cruxis crystal. He touched this, and more, as his fingers curiously traveled downhill from there. As to be expected, she wore no underclothes or anything of the sort. Fingers absently drew circles around the two rosebuds, emitting a soft sound from the girl’s throat.

Startles, he quickly drew his hand back as if scalded, but it seemed she was making noises in her sleep. Sighing in relief, Regal turned his attention to the base of what seemed to be a cropped cloak. Hesitantly, he reached under there, feeling her thighs, traveling up this time.

He touched her gently, in the middle, where things had once been forbidden. He thought he had brought out a small reaction, but perhaps it was just his imagination.

With a soft groan, Regal let his hands retreat. Gods, what was he doing? This was wrong. This was wrong in all aspects. This was worse than what he had done before – defiling his loved one’s only sibling.

He nimbly covered her body with the blanket, buttoned the collar, let his hands linger above the cursed crystal, and hastily made a trip back to his room. Never again would he do this. Never again would he fall so easily to the voices of temptation. Never again…never again…

Never again..


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A few seconds past when the door closed, and she woke up, shivering. She vaguely remembered the rough touches administered to her skin. She remembered his dark silhouette leaning over, his scent, his soft voice, and her own feign.

She sat there for what seemed like an eternity, hands trembling only slightly as they made their way towards her neck.

She sat there, thinking, feeling calm and collected as she sat in the midst of a pool of satiny blankets, the sensation once lost, now found.

And she could only whisper three words, not out of love.

“Regal…touched me.”

There were many things to contemplate after that.

Oh, many, many things..