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Musings of my restless mind |
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So.. sometimes I really get into my writing. Other times it's a struggle to force the words to stop dancing in my head and actually make it onto paper or monitor as the case may be.
Lately I've had some serious writers block. It's easier to write my name on a piece of paper 500 times than it is to get a coherant paragraph of a story out and it's starting to bother me. So much to say, and no way to identify with my thoughts. It's frustration to say the least.
Maybe tonight I'll fall back to some of my old writing exercises such as something I call blabber mouth. Just writing the first thing that comes to mind and continue on by writing everything that follows and sort it out later. We'll see.
 Hannah · Tue Oct 10, 2006 @ 07:52pm · 0 Comments |
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May not be suitable for younger viewers. |
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Two nights after the assassination of my husband, I stumbled from bed near midnight, unable to rest. I thought to take my ease in one of the libraries overlooking the garden, for I loved to watch the foxes creeping through the brush, but as I passed down the hall I heard a yelp from one of the rooms near Jalisar's lair. It was some hapless servant, no doubt, fallen prey to my vicious stepson, or that beast he called a servant.
I did not want to investigate further. I tried to put the whole thing from my mind, but halfway to the library I turned on my heel and crept back. If Jalisar was hurting someone, I would have to stop him. I could not bear to allow that sort of thing to happen in my house.
Light spilled from under a study door, and I heard Jalisar's voice.
"What do you mean, another heir?" I winced at his tone.
The reply was rushed and shaky. "He made provisions for someone to take the girl out of hiding and make her Queen in your place. His wishes were quite clear."
My heart skipped a beat. The will! Somehow, Jalisar had learned of it. I stood, wordless. I wanted to cry. If she, Visania, this unknown girl, had not been in danger, I could have forgotten it. But Jalisar would hunt her down now. Kill her. She was trapped, as I was trapped, and did not even know it. I could not bear it if she died. I had hoped to forget, but now I had to act.
I held my breath and pushed the latch down. It turned smoothly and silently, and I felt the door give under my weight.
"Where is she? What is her name?"
"Ah! I -- I -- I don't know!"
I eased the door open, peered inside. The man that Jalisar had by the neck and shirtfront was the hired scribe who had taken down my husband's will. His hands were shaking and sweat stood out on his lip. Jalisar looked ready to tear him into fifty-seven pieces. "He made me leave the lines blank, and filled her name and the name of her foster family in himself. I never saw it, I swear!"
I breathed a sigh of relief. Jalisar snarled, flung the poor scribe into a chair, which went over backward with a loud thud.
"That clever old fool. So," he said to the scribe. "You can tell me nothing more?"
"No, My Lord. I know nothing, My Lord. Oh, Gods, M-my Lord!" The poor man scrambled up, stammering frantically as Jalisar slid his sword from its sheath.
I pushed the door open. "Jalisar!" I barked, just as he drew his arm back for the killing blow. Jalisar straightened as though slapped. His blue eyes fixed on me and I forced myself to stand up straight. I still could not hide my shaking. "You will not kill this man. Not in my house." I turned to look at the scribe. "Go, Sir. Please, go quickly."
He ran without a backward glance, colliding with several tables in the hall.
Jalisar strode toward me, backed me against the door, which he slammed. I made myself meet his eyes. He smelled like the outdoors, like moonlight and the oak woods around the manor. Critically, he took my chin in his fingers and roughly turned my face from side to side, scrutinizing my features, searching for something. I shook under his hands, looked down, looked at the floor, at his fine boots, at the line of my sleeping-gown across my feet, at anything but him.
"He never had you, did he?" Jalisar asked, in a voice like a velvet noose.
I shook my head, knowing that I was dooming myself to rape or worse, but unable to lie.
He nodded as though he'd expected nothing less. "I do mean to marry you, when the time comes," he told me. A cruel little smile quirked his lip and I stifled a sob of fear. "Oh, I know I frighten you. But I promise I won't force myself on you. I can wait until you come to me on your own."
I bowed my head. "Why not take me now?" I whispered, because I had to know. He stroked my shoulder, gently pressing his fingers into the flesh of my arm. "Why wait?" I could barely force the words out past the block of ice in my throat.
"Poor Julisa. So frightened." He petted my hair, almost tenderly. "I want you willing. We will go to court, you and I. We will stand before the Empress. I will become Serpent King beneath the Star, you will be Queen, and it will be your gentle hands, your kind words, that still the rumors, that quell the unrest. Were I to rape you . . ." Here he leaned forward, forced me back against the door. He put a hand on my waist, trailed it down over my hip. His breath stirred against my lips. "It would ruin your innocence, your sweetness. And I need you. Already people in Avallon are in love with you. You are a legend, do you know that? They speak of the sad phantom Queen, locked away by the old and wicked Serpent King. I freed you from that. I will bring you out to the light. They will love me for it." He smiled. "Do you see? You are quite safe with me. Quite."
But now he was rubbing the back of his hand against the swell of my belly, sending shivers into the pit of my stomach, burning me through the thin fabric of my gown. His fingers brushed my thighs, and he closed his eyes briefly, pressed his hand to my mound. I shrank back against the unyielding door, the knob pressing painfully into the small of my back, and he felt me, then leaned forward and kissed me, his fingers pressing deeper, barely hindered by my gown. I gasped as he rubbed at me roughly, the roughness of his fingers catching on my shift, brushing against my most secret places. Finally he gathered the silk out of the way with his fingers and rubbed his palm over my naked sex, still kissing me so fiercely that I feared I would never be able to breathe.
His fingers were rough, he made no effort at gentleness. I had never been touched there, and when he slipped a finger between my folds and rubbed it back and forth, I jumped. He pushed it all the way into me, his knuckles grinding against my button as he explored my virgin passage. I was panting now, trying to escape, but unable to move more than a couple of inches in any direction.
He licked at my mouth and I bit his lip savagely, trying to twist out of his grip, but he pinned me there, thrust another finger into me and pressed them against my inner wall, probing, searching. I don't know what kind of sound I made, but it must have been interesting, because he laughed against my throat, pulled his fingers out and tasted them, then leaned in and kissed me again. I tasted me on his tongue.
I trembled head to foot, knowing that I must bear the unbearable long enough to find the heir. To find the her, I must live. To live, I must obey this man.
My mouth opened to him as I went shivering and slack with fear, and he growled then, and shuddered violently, as I was shuddering, and hauled himself away. I had been leaning against him a little and I staggered forward, confused. He grabbed me and opened the door.
He was cold again, all in an instant. "Go," he said, and pushed me out into the hall.
I fled to my rooms, closed the door and dragged my dresser in front of it. The night was very long, and I spent all of it staring at the ceiling, wondering what would have happened had he not sent me away.
Hannah · Tue Oct 10, 2006 @ 07:48pm · 6 Comments |
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