Between Love and Hate (Sølvi versus xxplaywithmexx)

[Cal]

((This is a continuation from a PM RP.)

As Solveig stepped out of their carriage, her eyes took in the building before them. It felt uncanny. There was something about it.. the gravity of the situation suddenly seemed to weigh upon her. After tonight, they would have to dance their dance far more careful. They were to go to an unknown kingdom, to unknown people, straight into the devil’s den. Not that they were unfamiliar with acts of the devil..

Her eyes moved from the Goosefeather Inn to Daycen who was standing besides her. She felt an involuntary smile tug at her lips. Their relationship had developed into something so unhealthy, full of debauchery and sin. It was beyond wrong, they were dancing to the devil’s song, and if they were to be ever found out, a fate worse than death would surely greet them. Solveig nearly pounced Daycen right then and there. The smile was reserved just for him, a brief, intimate smile.


When her eyes danced back to the Goosefeather Inn, her apprehension returned. They had to discuss what they were going to do about Brianen and the marriage proposal. This mission was a reconnaisance one, they had to scout if the Kingdom had enough means, military and otherwise, to resist a war. They had to discover if it was beneficial for Daycen to be married off to the wench. Daycen marrying Brianen would mean Solveig’s betrothal to General Achard. It was a feat neither sibling wanted to accomplish or see through.

They needed a battle plan. A strategy. At the moment, they had neither. Neither sibling could stay away from each other long enough to form a normal sentence, let alone discuss their future. It made Solveig smile again, despite herself. They had a few more hours together before they would have to put up the charade of loathing brother and sister. General Achard was well on his way to some godforsaken mission she sent him on, Brianen was back at her kingdom, all pining away over Solveig’s brother. The little cunt would never be able to get close to Daycen, not his cock nor his heart.

Then again, Daycen’s heart didn’t really belong to Solveig, did it? The thought came to her unbiddingly. Their relationship was carnal and of the flesh. There was no room for expressions of love and caring. Heck, not two fortnights prior, they were ready to slit eachothers throats.

Solveig snapped out of her thoughts when the innkeeper approached them. He was full of bows and words of courtesy, and Solveig slipped into her role easily enough. Despite the fact that her and Daycen had changed their relationship from hate to lust, she was still the greedy stuck-up little princess. “Innkeep, we’ve had a long journey, spare us your drivel and escort us to our chambers. And a hot bath better be waiting for me.”

Whilst she had enjoyed her and Daycen’s little playtime in the carriage, and it was absolutely exhilarating that she could still taste his cock upon her tongue, the carriage ride had been long and as comfortable as carriage rides would go. She wanted a hot bath, her brother’s fingers on her skin and his cock buried deep inside her. Solveig knew that they would have to wait, though. Sneaking around in the palace was treacherous and difficult enough. In this inn, where the walls were thin and they could get caught even more easily? No. They’d have to wait.

And so they were taken to their chambers. Prince and Princess had opposite rooms in the far left wing, as befitting to their status. The guards had rooms at the end of the corridor, giving them peace, but not nearly enough. Little twin’s screams would be heard. The inn was rented out to the royal ensemble, however, the grand hall of the inn was filled with patrons. Old men and young women, looking for entertainment and drinks alike. They would be gone by the end of the night, but Solveig still grimaced and shot a disapproving look to the Innkeeper. He flushed crimson, and instantly started making excuses. He didn’t anticipate the arrival, only having received the raven a few hours prior. The guests would be gone soon, he ensured.

Cretins, all of them. Solveig didn’t spare them another glance, they were not worthy of that.

They arrived at their chambers, and Solveig shot Daycen a last look over her shoulder before she disappeared in her room. It was small, mundane and really below someone of her rank. It would have to suffice...

Solveig had half expected Daycen to come knocking on her door. Unfortunately, he didn’t, either he had grown smart and wise, or he was otherwise being occupied. Daycen was raised in the ways of warfare, was captain and held command over the royal army.. it was his duty to check out the Goosefeather Inn. Find trapdoors, secret passageways, and ensured the safety of their party.

--

Solveig was pleased that a bath had been prepared for her, after all. After an hour of bathing and another half hour of making herself presentable, Solveig emerged from her chambers. The clothes she wore was simply and befitting of someone of her status. A long, high-wasted emerald green skirt, and a lighter green hued bodice. Her long black hair was still slightly damp, bound together in a tight ponytail. Solveig looked every bit the part of dutiful princess.

And this dutiful princess was absolutely famished. She knew the royal ensemble would not be waiting for prince and princess to supp. But, she was required to make an appearance, mingle with those beneath her. She honestly didn't understand how her parents had ever endured it.

Hopefully, by now, the other commoners had cleared out. She briefly considered knocking upon Daycen’s door, and lingered for just a heartbeat.. until she decided against it and moved down the corridor. The guards were already downstairs, from the sounds of it, a ruddy bunch.

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

Daycen was plenty content to allow his sister to do the talking, only a quick “Ah, me as well, Inkeep.” at the mention of the bath. His sister saw to it that he was left just a bit unclean, in more ways than one. Instead of immediately following along, he began his patrol, a quick enough search. The Inn, so lucky to be situated along such a highly traveled road, there was no doubt visitors of royalty frequented plenty enough for it to be safe. It could not hurt to get a run of the place, so duties were fulfilled.

Ah, of course, the milords and the princes came pouring from the peasants mouths with the utmost sincerity. As if their acknowledgment was something Daycen so desperately craved or, perhaps, their depraved minds wondered if it might win them some favor. Suffice it to say, the prince wouldn’t remember a single face of the mingling commoners, shuffled away just as quickly as possible without being rude to the folk. There was nothing he offered for them to wonder such, obviously, as he greeted each with the courtesies taught, maintaining the image he and his royal family had upheld with perfection. Buried just beneath the surface of the charade, he condemned the entirety of the people. His mood bitter with the news still so fresh on his mind, eating away.

The respite felt with his sister in their carriage ride, the distraction, only now did he realize just how important it was that she was near. Whatever they were, this mess of forbidden lust, he needed her. The kingdom had been his only care in this world, yet now another reason crept into his life, another reason to stay. The princess. Solveig. His dear twin sister.

The Goosefeather Inn had been appropriately investigated, or so he deemed, and not a moment too soon. He was ready for whatever privacy the room granted him. The embrace of a warm bath. Most of all, the warmth of his sister. Yet, he knew it was hardly the time or the place. All too quickly had he realized though, this desire was nigh impossible to ignore.

A polite dismissal towards the remaining patrons and a not quite as curt exchange of words between well-known guards, all the feigned laughter and even some genuine, and then he made his leave.

The bath was only lukewarm by the time he lowered himself into it and near chilly by the time his naked body was climbing out. Still, it did the trick well enough. He felt refreshed, his body a bit sore for all the wrong reasons. He and his sister had fucked with nothing to hold back and it was fantastic, but there was hardly time for recovery before the carriage ride and his sister’s relentless assault on his manhood, leaving him absolutely famished, as she put it.

Even so, he did not climb into bed, though it did cross his mind for but a moment. Once dried off and clothed, dressed simply in leather breaches and loose top. He didn’t bother for presentation; he was finished with his greetings, far as he was concerned. His hair was mussed and a bit tangled from the bath. He didn’t look quite so much the prince proper, though as vibrant as ever. He would still be hard-pressed to be taken at word for a commoner.

After some moments of pacing, he finally slipped from the room, looking first to Solveig’s door, yet found her out of the corner of his eye instead. A wicked smile played at his lips, though no words were shared. He glanced to be sure the corridor was empty, just before taking her hand and tugging her into him for their lips to meet. The wait had seemed too long. It was still strange, this tenderness in opposition to their usual rough and, really, abusive interaction. He let it linger, deep and a bit playful, his tongue brushing into her mouth to tease hers.

He pulled her towards the room. “Do you think it’s possible to keep that dirty mouth of yours shut, dear sister?” He asked, his hand at the knob his door, though he released her hand.

---

The good General Achard had arrived late. He being preoccupied with the Princess’s mundane task, a simple mission not to be carried out by one of his caliber, though it would not do to simply refuse. His suspicions only made the leave all the more unbearable. Despicable brother and sister, he couldn’t help but feel that he had missed some chance to discover more of whatever this was. He tried his best to keep his mind open to other possibilities, but it kept coming back to the notion that the Prince and Princess were fucking.

Before their leave of the castle, Achard had sought out the kitchen boy who had run off from the servant girl. The boy had been executed, trespassing where he should not, on castle grounds. It seemed a harsh punishment to the General unless, of course, the boy had seen something he should not have. It reinforced what he suspected, to an extent. The rest, he could only go with what was ultimately a hunch, as the boy’s widowed mother could only sob through the fact that he was quiet all night, saying nothing. Probably terrified. Achard figured. For good reason.

By the time he entered, the Inn was aglow with crackling fire, the majority of the patrons gone and those lingering drunk or finishing meals they were promised. Achard’s outfit wasn’t large, he only took a handful of men with him and they found seats and mead easy enough in the common hall. He had a room in the same corridor as the twins, or so the Innkeep informed him, fitting of his status, though hardly as important as royalty. He would be sharing with two other of his guards, though he was assured of just how large it was. He went to remove the bulky steel armor he wore, proceeding with slow, tired, steps to the door. It was a casual enough glance over, but it was plenty. Thought to be out of sight, the Twins, just as valiant prince Daycen lowers a hand away from Solveig’s own. He felt his entire body go rigid with some perverse excitement, catching them in the act, before he calmed himself down a second later. With nothing to do now, he slipped inside of his room.

Sleep was hardly the top priority now, he would wait, he would catch them and Solveig would be his. And if Daycen is sent away, he’ll rule by her side. Achard would get the title and the lady and her endless loyalty. His face, roughened with the stubble of a beard, formed into a wicked grin.

 

[Cal]

The sudden brush of a touch at her hand made her turn and face her brother. Soon enough, a frown began to crease the lines of her forehead. She let Daycen’s hand drop from hers as he meant to guide her back into his chambers. This odd display of affection, of near sensitivity, didn’t sit well with Solveig. It was a huge change from what had transpired the previous night. The rough, brutal, near violent fucking Daycen had forcefully submitted her to. She had become addicted to it.

Now, he seemed as meek and coy as a kitten. She didn’t want a kitten, couldn’t care less for a kitten. And so Solveig drew her hand back and scoffed at her brother, a haughty, condescending little noise coming from her. “You have to try a lot harder than that, brother.” Solveig wasn’t satisfied with just the prey. The hunt, their hunt was far too intoxicating to let go. Daycen was not meant to be kind to her. They were not friends. They were barely lovers. They were two twisted individuals, nothing else.

Anything more than that, Solveig simply did not want to think about. That in itself was far more dangerous territory than what brother and sister were doing and had been doing thus far. No, just sex was enough. Just sex was all that she required of her brother. And he better damn well get that through his head.

Fueled by the new spark of anger, her smaller frame shoved Daycen up against the wall next to the entranceway. Instantly her arm came up to press against his throat, raising herself to meet Daycen’s taller stance by standing on the tips of her toes. A near feral grin began to spread across her lips, before she hissed words of venom once more. “The journey made you weak. If you want something, you bloody well take it.” Asking her to keep it down.. what a meek, idiotic little kitten.

“Prince..” she scoffed again, condescending, before she took a step back, her bright green eyes gazing at the male splitting image of herself. The same overwhelming sense of self-love threatened to bubble to the surface and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to tear her brother’s clothes off. However, he needed to learn a lesson. She wanted him angry. There was no room for tenderness in their twisted relationship.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the princess, not I.” There, that should do it. Near giddily she waited for that spark that would ignite in Daycen’s eyes. The way he set his jaw, the way his hands would ball up into fists.

Their ‘moment’ was interrupted by one of the guards who suddenly seemed to appear and looked as if he was about to shit himself for interrupting the royal pair. “My l-liege” he nodded to Daycen “Princess” a deeper nod to Solveig. “Your presence is r-required downstairs.. the innkeep, he has been plagued by bandits. He hoped to discuss it with you over supper, Prince Daycen.” The guard, white as a sheet, waited for either sibling to speak.

Solveig would be the first.

“Great. I’m starving.” She gave her brother no second glance as she moved past the guard and down the stairs. Once there, she was met by smells that made her mouth water and sounds that made her feel strangely at ease. Solveig had a superiority-complex, that much was true, but she often longed for human interaction other than her servants and her trainers. They never forgot who she was. Princess. Royal heir.

They all looked so at ease. So happy, enjoying themselves without a care in the world.. somewhere she heard her name being mentioned, the poor man had no idea Solveig was near as he boasted.

‘That princess! Eesh, give me an evening alone with her and she’ll barely be able to walk come morning!” laughter met his words, although that died down soon enough as she approached and the first of the man’s friends realized who she was.

“An evening alone, huh..”

Silence met her words. The music died.

Solveig came to stand before the man, whose alcoholic deep flush threatened to disappear instantly. She eyed him up and down with disdain. Not too long ago, she would have had his head. But things were changing. What point was there to hold up the perfect façade when she’d willingly get ploughed by her own flesh and blood?

She grinned a little grin then. “You’d need a week, at least, from the looks of it.” She wiggled her pinky finger in front of his face, and for a few breathless seconds, no one spoke a word.. until the boisterous man started chortling, his mind too clouded with alcohol to think straight. Soon his friends couldn’t hold their laughter either, and before she knew it, she was laughing with them. Solveig relieved the big man of his ale mug, and took a big swig. Let Daycen deal with the bureaucracy. She enjoyed the attention, the sudden lapse of normalcy.

She was still better than all of them. Could still crush them with a single command. But tonight she joined in. Tonight, she laughed and ate with the commoners who she had so often referred to as filthy. An hour passed, her eyes caught glimpses of Daycen talking to the innkeep, until she was disturbed by a particularly balsy singer. He danced around her with his lute or flute or whatever the fucking thing was, trying to seduce her with his sing-songy words. He was a youngling, a heartthrob to many girls, Solveig was sure of this. But, all she could think of was how annoying and incompetent he was.

Everything paled in comparison to her brother.

Fuck.

She peeled herself free from the handsy singer, she did not bother excusing herself, she was the Princess after all, and moved to the cellar. Solveig had every intention to help herself to some of the innkeep’s wine. Stingy bastard was probably keeping it to himself. And so down the steps Solveig went, the noises of the inn getting more distant, but only slightly.

“Ah-ha. Knew it.” She muttered to herself as she laid eyes upon the big oaken barrels.

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

It didn’t take long at all for the princess to snap Daycen out of his display of affection. The occasional tenderness between the two was certainly as absent as it could possibly be from his sister’s side. He immediately felt a fool, a bit embarrassed, but far angrier. How dare she speak to him in such a way? Clearly, she had forgotten her place, he convinced himself once more, as he so often had.

The rage was boiling inside of him, despite being acutely aware that this was the very reaction Solveig wanted. The sister knew the brother, to be sure. His fists did, indeed, ball into fists. His eyes narrowed and creases tightened his handsome face, a fearsome look across his features with his upper lip beginning to move upward into a snarl. It seemed she needed to be reminded yet again. And he was just about to when…

The adrenaline rush had him trembling as he tried to calm himself near instantly. Only seconds away of grabbing his dear sister and taking her against the wall. His breath was ragged when he exhaled, acknowledging the guard. “Very well, then. Tell the innkeeper I will join him in a moment.” He managed to get through, as it seemed Solveig wasn’t about to offer up her own niceties. More than a bit frustrated, Daycen returned to his room to adorn himself in something more suiting for his station.

He would choose something simple, but effective. With the summoned help of a couple of servant girls, he adorned himself in the fine clothing of his home kingdom. A short, navy blue, overcoat hung tight over his shoulders. The buttons remained unclasped, showing a shade of blue lighter for a buttoned vest, embroidered with their sigil. Plain white beneath that. The collar of the jacket rose close around his neck. Dark, fitting, breeches fit into boots just as dark.

Already thoroughly pissed from the encounter with Solveig, the bother to dress himself back to royal standards only fed the aggravation. Alas, a prince must do his part. And so the conversation of bandits and supper and drinking came. All the while his eyes wandered toward the festivities of the room with Solveig mingling with the commoners. His appetite was ruined. Even the drinks tasted bitter, though he could handle as much for the sake of the effect.

“I’d be happy to personally drive these bandits from your lands, Innkeep, but an outfit of the Kingdom’s finest men will have to do for you.” Daycen joked lightly and the Innkeeper expressed oh, many, many, thanks, milord.

Daycen promised he would send a messenger on the morrow, as none would dare pester him this fine evening. Another cup and another, the appropriate amount of leisure conversation and such. Gods, would it ever end? He found himself scanning the room for his sister again, watching her slip away from a grabby bard and then away from the crowd. He was surprised there was none to be escorted away and put to the sword.

Their meeting was wrapping up, the details given and the promise made. The bandits could truly be only a threat to an Inn and its road. Daycen was certain it could be handled swiftly with little, if any, casualties. Primitive mountain dwellers with their rusted, dull, swords and baskets for armor. It would be a pathetic display against an armed unit. The thought of battle excited Daycen, though it wouldn’t be his own. He was off to play at weddings and plots.

If the prince couldn’t get the satisfaction of combat, there was another way to put this energy to use. “Don’t worry yourself a second more, all will be taken care of.” Daycen ended with as he stood, bidding his farewell and all of that. He went in search of his sister now.

The drinking left his body warm and the clothes that gripped his body all the more uncomfortable. He tugged at the collar, loosened the vest and the undershirt. He found her, the barrel of wine looking to be her goal. “The fucking mouth on you, princess.” He spoke with disdain. The way she got to him, it was like nothing else. He grabbed at her wrist and tugged her to him, no matter her position or what she was currently sipping away at. His free hand came up and went down as he gave a hard slap against her pale cheek. He wanted to bruise her pretty little face, let her find an excuse for it tomorrow.

He pushed her back against the heavy barrels. “I want something, sweet sister. And I’m going to take it.”

 

[Cal]

She didn’t know when or how she noticed him first. Perhaps it was his scent that hit her nostrils even before he spoke. Maybe it was the rustle of air as Daycen descended down the stairs, or it could have been simple twin-intuition. She knew he was there. Expected him to be there, and if there was one thing Solveig had learned, was that her brother did not disappoint. Not when it came to this. Not when it came to his rage and his desire and his goddamn perfection.

With a loud pop, her lips released the bottle of red wine. Holding it by the neck, she let her hand drop to her side before he grabbed her free wrist. Instantly, she was yanked to him, his words making her shiver all the same. “Looks like y-AH” her words were cut off before she could even form a proper sentence. The noise of distress followed the quick, hard, loud slap against her pale cheek. Her mouth was tainted red. Red from the wine. Red from the cut on her lip that her teeth pierced. Bastard. That’d leave a fucking mark in the morning.

Why did she keep forgetting just how bloody strong he was?

She raised her chin in defiance then, her cheek already reddening and despite herself she felt tears glisten in her eyes. That hurt. Before she could pick up on her sentence, she was shoved against the wooden barrel as it groaned in response. The rowdy sounds from the patrons above them was loud enough to drown out some of the twin’s noise, but they’d have to be careful. Anyone could descend down the stairs. The music could suddenly stop, and then they’d hear. They’d find out. It was fuel to the fire. The worry was nothing compared to the excitement.

“Oh really, brother dearest?”

Solveig finally found her voice, before she raised the half empty bottle of wine to her lips and took a big gulp of the lovely red berries. Her lips came out stained red once more as she leaned her head back against the barrel, regarding her own with slight disdain. “Did you finally find your balls again, Dice? Or was it my dress you wanted? I bet it’d suit you.” The sneer, the condescension, it was apparent in her voice, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

No, her eyes spoke of one thing, and one thing only. The desire to spread her legs for her brother, to have him take her against the barrels, against the walls, wherever the fuck he wanted her, she’d gladly comply. The memories of the night before came flooding back to her instantly. Her screaming, moaning, whimpering voice. Begging her brother for more. Last night she was his. She submitted to him fully, exclaimed that she was his to hold and to keep and toy and fuck.

But, it wasn’t that easy. One sibling always needed to conquer another. The force, the anger, the near hatred.. it was integrated into their dynamic. In the end, they always came to each other willingly.. but it was as if the wickedness of their relationship always had to have an undertone of forcefulness. The hunt was always at the forefront of her mind. And so, she raised the bottle to her lips again, keeping her eyes on her brother. She felt the liquid invade her mouth, the alcohol prickling her tongue and shallow cut on her lip.

Solveig remember the terror that had gripped her heart and made her undergarments wet when she had seen her brother’s handsome face get twisted by the rage only moments earlier. Being the little masochist that she was.. she promptly spat the red liquid straight into her brother’s face. The grin that curled along her lips was feral once more.

“Show me what you got, darlin’ brother.”

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

The sudden spew of red into his face came as a surprise. Daycen recoiled and his eyes instinctively shut. The scent flooded his nostrils and then the sting came, at both eyes and nose with whatever he managed to breathe and shut in. The taste was at his lips, the mix of wine and saliva, his bitch of a sister desecrating his face with her foul behavior. Some of the spittle marked and stained the collar of his clothing, leaving tiny red dots.

“Gods, Solveig, you fucking cunt.” He spoke through the fabric of his lower undershirt as he brought it up to wipe away the insult, leaving it ruined as well. He was infuriated and his expression show. It wasn’t even about conquering his little twin now, he was blind with rage. The prince reached out to grab at the back of his sister’s head, taking a handful of hair at the base of her ponytail as he led her to the nearest wall of the cellar, not far off. Just beneath a dirty, corroded up, window. He promptly slammed her into the surface with all his strength. Whatever pain she felt, he didn’t give her a moment of respite.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, sister.” Daycen started, bringing his left hand to grab at her face, his thumb pressing against one side and fingers on the other, forcing her to look straight at him. His right arm was brought across her chest, keeping her pinned against the wall. “And I don’t care, but I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” His hands went to the top of her bodice and grabbed opposite sides at the collar and tore at the fabric with a hard downward motion, enough to take Solveig down if he wasn’t pinning her quite so.

It was ripped some of the fabric away, leaving half her bosom exposed and whatever she wore beneath. He left her unsecured, momentarily, and if she wouldn’t have time to recover enough to react, he would reach down and undo the frustration that was his breeches, tugging them down his body only partly before his semi-rigid cock felt the cool cellar air. The familiar rush returned, but this was about far more than such. This was punishment. Although, perhaps he had forgotten just how much Solveig enjoyed her punishment.

Exposed now, he lowered a bit, letting his hands begin to hike up the long skirt his sister wore until he found the bare flesh of her thighs beneath. With a quick stride upward and little struggle, he brought his sister up and against the wall, the back of her head nearly meeting the window now. He had her pinned between the wall and him, her hips at his. It was a bit of a struggle, but with the support of the wall he kept her propped with one arm under her right side. His left went to guide his member to her, only moving the panties to the side as his cock found and remember the entrance that belonged to him. Only the head penetrated at first, the mushroom tip slipping its ridges along her walls only enough to tickle.

“Tonight Solveig, sweet sister, you hurt.” He spoke, watching her face, his own slightly reddened from the wine still. And then, his hips moved in a rough thrust and brother began to fuck sister yet again. This time, more than ever, Daycen was pounding his sister with the vilest intent since the first night. Only to punish, show he was stronger. Now with a very strong desire to leave his sister wrecked and so very thoroughly abused. Whatever it would entail.

The music still came happily from upstairs as they remained hidden amongst the shelves and barrels. It was far more dangerous than ever before and if Daycen could dare think rationally for more than a few hours, he would realize it. Instead, he felt it more important to teach the princess this lesson amongst the company of knights, patrons and a very nosy General. One of the many thorns amongst this twisted rose of passion the siblings had found through lust of power. So forbidden, this sweet flower of his sister and the fit of her pussy around his eager cock. As with every blossom, the petals must one day fall.

 

[Cal]

Their relationship was a destructive one, that much was certain. She was almost giddy with anticipation as she saw the rage cross her brother’s features. Always so easy and quick to anger. Hatred was safe, much safer than the ridiculous display of emotion he showed earlier. Simply put, Solveig did not know how to deal with her brother’s show of affection. How do you go from hating someone for years and years, to go to something completely else in a matter of weeks. No, this hatred, Daycen’s force, was something Solveig was comfortable with. Expected. Needed. Craved

The yank at her hair nearly made her cry out with sheer glee. She almost had herself convinced that Daycen knew this was all part of the game, their game. That this was their twisted dance of foreplay. Her composure faltered slightly when she was slammed into the wall. Daycen didn’t hold back, his strength unleashed upon her, and knocking the wind straight out of her. Her body would bruise and her body would ache come morning. Still gasping for air, she couldn’t reply and couldn’t do anything but have her head tilted up by Daycen’s forceful fingers.

It hurt, the way his thumb pressed into her right cheek and the rest of his fingers in her left. She glared up defiantly, accepting the challenge readily. There was a little unlady-like huff of frustration as she tried to shake her head free of his forceful grip, but found she was unable to. And then the rip came at her bodice, and Solveig’s eyes widened incredulously. “What the hell Dice! I need to get to our chambers like a princess not a 2-coin whore!” her breasts half-exposed to the cool air in the cellar, she could not help but to feel the adrenaline rush over her features as she heard her brother undo his breeches.

Despite the words, she did not put up a fight as she was raised from the ground, Daycen’s prying, devilish fingers crossing her thighs and inching closer to her already soaked cunt. She wanted him, she wanted him more than she wanted anyone or anything else. Her face was a beautiful cocktail of excitement, anger, lust and a hint of fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear that Daycen could take her life at any second, his strength far more superior than hers. And fear.. fear for the future. That fear, at least, Daycen took away the instant she felt the tip of his cock push at her tight little entrance.

And then his words washed over her and she fucking shivered, not bothering to hide from her brother what kind of impact he had on her. She could never hide from him again. She had acted juvenile and petty upstairs, she wanted him angry, and now she got him angry. Angry, possessive, brutal, dominant. All traits her brother possessed and she loved him for it. Loved?

Solveig’s thoughts did not linger. In fact, they flew straight out of the window the moment brother thrust himself fully into sister, a cry leaving the latter’s lips. There was, once more, nothing sweet about their union. It was a necessity, a carnal need for each other’s bodies. Her arms came to wrap around Daycen’s neck and back, her nails digging into to the fabric, hanging on, trying to gain enough leverage for her hips to meet her brother’s.

It was to no avail. She was at his mercy, being fucked up against the wall, into the wall of Daycen could, her slick walls gripping her brother’s cock in a tight embrace as he ruined her, over and over again, thrusting his hardness into her aggressively, violently. He had not fucked her like this since their first night, when he needed to teach her a lesson after she had tried to kill him. Not even their last night at the castle, when Solveig had tried to very poorly get rid of Achard. Daycen had shown her that night that she belonged to him. The punishment had been cruel, but near loving.

There was nothing loving about this. There was simply no room for it. And Solveig reveled in the moment. The music coming from upstairs, the ignorant peasants, not knowing what brother and sister were doing, not knowing that they were committing to the high Gods and low alike..

“Ah GODS! Dice! YES! AH~hN!”

The scream was peeled from her throat soon enough and one hand found its way in her brother’s hair. In the midst of her punishment, she managed to grab a fistful of hair, yanking his head backwards slightly, or attempting to do so. Solveig wanted to see his face and she wanted him to watch hers, she wanted them both to realize what they were doing. She wanted the splitting image, male and female, to watch each other. She wanted to kiss him, she wanted to bite him, she wanted him . A dark chuckle escaped her lips as she watched Daycen, sweat starting to drip down her brow, her neck, her half-exposed chest. This was the Daycen she knew. This was the brother she grew up with.

Ruthless. Violent. And hers.

The hiss came soon after.

”Mine”.

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

The satisfaction of each and every expression of fear his sister gave him was beyond anything else he could think of. He felt betrayed with her treatment after their rough, violent, morning but perhaps Daycen misunderstood. Both his own plethora of raging, unchecked, emotion and his sister’s. The jealousy was apparent, but it could have only been jealousy for the very notion that someone else was getting what he wanted. What he believed, now more than ever, was his. Like that of a youth when another boy would steal his favorite toy. Yes, this was it. Solveig was a fucktoy, his dolled up princess, his sister, his twin.

At least, this is what he did the best to convince himself of. For now, it worked. It kept him relentless in his assault. Ruthless, uncaring, and delivering exactly what he promised her in the beginning. Pain. Punishment. So when she began to act as though they having a grab at their game of struggle, he reminded her the point of this fucking. She would suffer.

He speared her hard, thrusting his thickness deep into, stuffing her as he rammed to the hilt. He grunted with such exertion. His hands came away from the hold, effectively pinning her to the wall with only the weight of his body and the assistance of the hard wall to his sister’s back. He reached back and roughly pried her hands away from him, his head tugging roughly to get her fingers out of his hair, leaving it roughed and mussed. He let his strong grip hold at each of her wrists during the awkward, but quick, struggle then slammed them back against the wall so they were raised up and on either side of the small window.

He released the hold and grabbed at her hips again, under her skirt, rough gropes along her bare thighs and around her ass cheeks as he propped her higher again, a better angle for his cock to thrust upward into her, reaching deeper than ever. He held her in place like this for awhile, grunt, almost growling, as sweat began a noticeable sheen over his skin. It was only the rigorous training that had him capable. The same practice for battle and endurance under extreme duress. And here he was, putting it to use to fuck his sister such a deliciously thorough manner.

His member glided back and forth against her slick tightness, throbbing and pulsing, every ridge to be felt by his sister as he occasionally slowed to graze the spot he was growing increasingly familiar with. It was easy to listen for now, her pathetic exclamations and approval as he treated her. It might wash her body and mind with pleasure now, but before long he would have her flinching each time he found it and used it to his advantage.

He was leaking precum, the stickiness mixing with his sister’s juices and just creating this delightful sound of sloshing wetness. Gods, how it excited him. But it wasn’t about his pleasure and the anger was doing a hell of a job holding off any sort of release. Daycen felt he could fuck for hours. Suddenly, again, he pinned her. To the hilt. His face was at hers and he let a hand fall from her hips and back to her face. He trusted enough that she would try her best to keep him buried inside of her, so he hardly expected her to slump away from him. Even if she had shifted lower, it was only onto his cock, impaling her, getting what may be an insane bit deeper inside of her. It was absolutely intoxicating. The environment was utterly forgotten.

The left hand at her face gave another smack. Lighter than the first, but it was still quick and harsh. “She the fuck up, sister. You keep that fucking mouth shut.” His hand went to her throat, thumb at her neck just as he had done once before. He leaned in, letting his lips meet hers for a second before teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, tugging sharply back, hard enough to break skin with the nip. Before she could react or not, he pressed down on her throat.

The pressure was hard and he would watch her face in the dim light of the wine cellar, the flickering oil lanterns casting shifting shadows about the place. Any of them could be the Innkeep fetching or wondering patron. But careless Daycen hardly considered the window, the most obvious. So, on he went now, his hand at Solveig’s throat and cock giving a slow build-up to faster, harder, thrusts. He only held her with one hand against the wall and kept replacing his grip, letting her slip a bit onto his hardness before situating her better for fucking.

Daycen took her as an object. Yes, that's what she was, he told himself again. His fucktoy. His dolled up princess, his sister, his twin, ruined. Oh, she was certainly his. But tonight, in this moment, he cared nothing if she thought of him as hers. As far as he was concerned, she had done it to herself.

 

[Cal]

Solveig made a whimper of annoyance when her hands were removed, unable to hold on, but instead forcefully pinned against the wall behind her. Daycen’s ruthlessness continued, unrelenting. There was a slight struggle and suddenly she felt his hands at her hips and then ass. She wrapped her legs around her brother’s waist a bit tighter, in apprehension perhaps, as she felt her ass cheeks be spread more, her hips angled more, his cock pushing into her more, harder, deeper. She had never felt him this deep before, unmoving. The noises of pleasure ceased as Daycen remained buried inside her and for once Solveig was muted into silence.

She didn’t know what to do. It was.. of course it was fantastic, her brother buried inside of her, but that deep and without moving? Without the thrusts? It was.. strange if not uncomfortable, it pushed against her insides in an odd manner, as if someone reached inside and grabbed a fistful of.. something. There was no where to run for it, even as she tried to wiggle away, his cock stroked that thing inside of her that was neither pleasure or pain. Before, she would howl whenever Daycen would fuck her and strike that spot deep inside of her.. now it was different. Now, it seemed as if he knew how to manipulate it.

“Hn.. Dice.. Don’t..”

She looked at Daycen’s face, and he would be able to see the sudden shock of fear that invaded her eyes. Finally, she started to come to grips with the situation and the fact that it was out of her hands. The slap at her cheek made her realize further just what kind of a mood Daycen was in and what she had done to push him there. There wasn’t much that she could do except hiss from the sting at her cheek, before any words were choked right out of her. Her brother would be able to feel the impact it had on her, as his fingers gripped at her throat. The walls around her brother’s cock tightened and pulsed instantly, both in arousal and trepidation.

Solveig eagerly met his lips, hungrily, suddenly craving a bit of affection. Her lips and tongue sought his, but she too was denied of that, instead she was left with a cut lip. She cried out instantly, cursing loudly and trying to wiggle away from him again. It only made her impale herself further on her brother’s cock, which consequently made her cry out again. She was at her brother’s mercy once more, although this time.. this time she feared she might have pushed him too far. This time, she had not a single shred of control over the situation. She was his to fuck. His to toy with. His to use.

It was both exhilarating and frightful at the same time.

To make matters worse, the hand was at her throat, squeezing, depriving her of air. She gasped and struggled and mewled pathetically, before she reminded herself that she was a fucking princess, she did not deserve to be treated like this!

And then he started to slowly thrust himself into her again, deeper, harder, faster, with every single thrust. Solveig could hardly breathe as he fucked her, owned her, claimed her. Hardly speak. That didn’t stop her from trying though. “Hn-HN! D-Dice!” It hurt and she didn’t want to say it hurt, but she wanted him still, silly little thing. She had brought this judgement upon herself. The anticipation of rough fucking was shattered, and Solveig was left in uncertainty. “Ah-AH Dice! Its! Please! I cant!”

Through the flickers of light, Daycen would be able see a slight regret cross her features, and the little pleading noises started to tumble down her lips. Her brother, she was his, from now until forever. Her pride was slowly shattering, with every single strike and every single thrust, she felt her anger slip away. Another thrust, another, her cunt soaking wet, wet for her brother, coating his cock with her excitement, feeling how it threatened to spill and trickle down her thighs.

“PLEASE! Brother! Listenn- “ a gasp for air, a struggle against his body, hers starting to drench in perspiration, ruining her beautiful little skirt and bodice. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! I need-!” What did she need? More? Harder? Faster? The painful coil in her stomach from his aching deep thrusts begged to be released.

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

Daycen watched and studied every contorted expression of anguish and fear and, of course, regret. It was what he wanted, absolutely, but he wanted more. He wasn’t done. He would relinquish the hold at her throat, temporarily to let his sister gasp and suck at air that had become suddenly so precious. After the tease of life, he would press again, applying the hard pressure to keep her bumbling words coming with struggle. He wasn’t in the right mind to listen to anything.

He leaned against her, his head coming to press and rest against the side of her face. The sting of the slap would still be fresh. Daycen’s hair was damp with sweat and wine. He used her to keep him upright and steady, the his dominance coming at a physical price. He caught his breath and fought to keep his orgasm at a distance. It wasn’t easy. That dull pain was there, just under the head, throbbing and beggin its own release. How fantastic it would be for release. To erupt and fill his sister, relieving himself, calming himself. But it wasn’t time. He wasn’t ready. She deserved this as far as he was concerned.

The result of a broken, spoiled, mind. Fragile as their egos were, the complicated nature of their relationship had him cracking. His sanity was an odd thing of jumbled thoughts and confused affections. This incestuous bond of theirs, so obviously fucking corrupt and yet brother couldn’t get enough. He feared he would never get enough. He fucking loved that he might never get enough. His sister had his mind splintered, much as it was his own fault, and her taunting wouldn’t be forgiven. He was the Prince. He was supposed to be heir to the throne. Instead, chaos. This sister fucking, it drove him mad and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Perhaps it was the Gods cruel brand of punishment. Perhaps this was simply what happened with such a taboo of incest. Craving and fucking and loving the sister. Loving? It could not be, they couldn’t allow it to be. And yet, here Daycen was, so very unsure.

And so he fucked her harder, rougher, deeper. Faster and Godsdamned gloriously, much at her expense. The reaction at his still cock inside of her was something he suddenly craved again and so he would have it. His hips bucked upward, thrusting his erection between his sister’s legs, the shaft keeping her petals parted and the begging head swollen, ready to burst his seed into the princess. He stopped once he felt he was deep as he could manage. He ached, torturing himself to get to her, it was overwhelming. He wanted release, stuffed and unmoving within dear Solvi.

It never came. He used his body to shoves hers back against the wall again as the forceful pounding suddenly continued. The euphoria took his entire body as his manhood assaulted the wet, sticky, mess between them. The shaft glided along the soaked walls, the wet noise still a constant between them as he rammed her time and time again. It wouldn’t be much longer now, it was fast becoming impossible to hold off another second.

--

General Achard had given more than a few knocks to bother the prince and princess’s doors. Neither answered. It was a bold move, absolutely, but Achard had had his fill of wine and the suspicion was the foremost of his thoughts. This didn’t help matters. It was getting late, the celebrating outfits continued in the great hall below, but neither sister nor brother were found.

The man wore far more comforting clothing now. His armor kept in his room and he wore simple cloth with the embroidered pattern of his house vibrantly displayed on his upper right chest, so no confusion could be had to who he was. He strode through the Inn, eyes sharp and never finding. He ventured outside, past the royal, extravagant, carriage and the many horses gathered about in the stables. He was beginning to wonder, maybe, if they simply ignored his pestering or had truly fallen deep asleep from the ride.

Achard wondered around to the side of the building, the urge to piss suddenly coming over him. He was just about to pull free his flaccid member before his ears caught the stifled noises. If it wasn’t for his incessant need to follow this through, he might not have caught the sounds at all. Oh, the unpleasant sounds. His face went aghast though, however, by what I saw. He bent and peered through the dirty window, squinting through the ruined glass and making out the man. Prince Daycen taking a girl in the cellar. It might not be a sight to surprise on its own, but once his eyes noted just who his royalty was fucking, his chance was presented.

“Foul incestuous whore.” Achard muttered, disgusted, and he spat then lingering far beyond anything appropriate, watching the two siblings. Watching Daycen pound away. Then, Achard wondered, if it was, indeed, rape. Solveig pinned and struggling, crying out, muffled apologies. He felt the urge to interrupt, save her, suddenly in dismay.

Seconds soon enough, he’ll be sure, watching and listening for Princess’s protests or sounds of pleasure.

 

[Cal]

Her brother wasn’t speaking, he didn’t utter a word, even his grunts and groans were kept to a minimum. It unnerved her greatly, but all she really wanted was to breathe. She needed the air. She had to! Little gasps left her parted lips, small, glorious, lovely little choking noises coming from her. And then Daycen granted her the small respite and Solveig’s parted lips sucked in the dampened air around them. Her lungs ached and burned for the fresh air, almost coughing, barely containing herself. Another gasp of air, and another, and then his hand was back at her throat.

Brother had sister trapped, cornered, subdued.

The noises that now left her were broken, little sounds, the corruption wrapped around her mind and body. She could hardly breathe, and between trying to gasp for air and struggling to beg her brother for release, she could hardly think straight. The way he kept fucking her like that, feeling the head and full girth of her brother’s cock drive itself into her over and over again. It spread her whole, stretching the walls of her weeping pussy as he kept his thrusts up. Briefly she wondering just how the hell her brother could keep it up. His strength and stamina kept surprising him, his self-control made her jealous. Especially because she was such a delightful little mess.

And then he want harder, faster, deeper still. Fucking her tight little hole over and over again, her brother, her godforsaken perfect goddamned brother.

Solveig’s eyes started to cross. She could feel a tingle that spread from her thighs to her legs to her knees, all the way to her feet and toes. Solveig could feel the ache and coil in her stomach expand, and she knew her brother was going to fuck the sense right out of her. Her arms somehow found themselves around Daycen’s back again, holding onto him tightly, desperately, almost lovingly. Her head pushed against the wall behind her as her back started to arch, and then she could feel it, building with a rapidness that left her breathless and desperate.

The wet, sloshing, noises from between their thighs, the stuffy air, the feeling of Daycen’s face against her sore cheek.. The screams came shortly after, not even caring who would hear, tempting anyone to find out just what they were doing.

“P-Please! Br-rother! A-AHN! YES! Godfuckingdamnit Dice! Fuck me! Ha-arder! OH Gods Yes right there! P-please, cum, cum with me brother, cummhnnnn inside your sister!”

Her legs tightened around Daycen’s waist, her walls squeezed around his hard, rampant cock, her body shuddered, her head snapped back again as her lips were parted in a breathless moan, if only for a second. She was so, so goddamn close, just a little.. she grabbed a fistful of his hair again as the orgasm crashed into her instantly, the coil exploding in her stomach, her walls clenching and pumping around her brother’s cock, incoherent screams leaving her lips as she her whole world turned bright.

“Ohgods!-Yes!-FuckfuckFUCK!YES-FuckDiceahhhNn-dontstopneverstop-myloveiloveyuNNN-fuckharddnnnnnnnn”

Aching, mindblowing seconds turned into minutes, and soon she’d slump against him, her entire body shaking. She had never felt as if she belonged to someone, but Daycen made her feel this. Daycen made her belong. Daycen made her his. She was his for now and forever. In that lucid, insane moment, she convinced herself that they were going to be together forever. She made her promise herself not to act so juvenile again. She’d undoubtedly try to pull something like what she had done, again.. but for now, she was content.

Soon, though, she would realize what she had screamed out. She would realize a fear of a whole different caliber. And who knew how Daycen or sister would react..

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

In an instant, everything collapsed. The ruthless fucking finally broke her and, it seemed, him along with it. Daycen could hardly be sure of what he wanted or expected to happen after such treatment, but the results came nonetheless.

When Solveig wrapped herself around him again, he didn’t shut her away. He let her arms grip him, her legs squeeze him, and his body press firmly against her. Now his cheek moving against her own in a fit of passion, his cock absolutely throbbing and aching for the release his sister began. Her convulsing body and gripping, tight, soaking fucking cunt enveloped the stiff, swollen, member within. It was felt fat with the need to release, gliding so very deep into his dear sister for a final time.

The prince twitched and pulsed inside of his twin sister, the torrent coming just after. His seed gushed from his head, the release itself a very unique sort of ache. His body trembled and shudder, his hips jerking upward and inward, letting it spurt deep and leak back, coating his cock and Solveig’s clenched walls. Their climaxes met and mixed into a soaked mess, creating this slimy and positively fantastic feeling with him still inside of her. He kept her hoisted up now, with both arms, significantly easier. He panted, still rocking and dripping, every last bit to be milked.

Her words were as ear, loud and booming, the blood pulsing within as is. He hardly heard what she said, hardly registered. It was slow realization for something that had happened so fast. He found himself reacting by pressing harder against her, wanting to be closer. To hold, but damned this position he had to keep her held between them, his cock inside of her. He only offered grunts and pants and agitated moans, his focus having only been keeping his release held off through the entire encounter.

Now though, while not exactly thinking any clearer, he was at least thinking and acknowledging his sister as something other than his naughty fuck object.

“Ah-Gods, Solvi.”

He managed to breathe out, against her ear as the intensity began to subside. He was sensitive beyond anything he had ever felt and moving in and of itself was a difficult notion to consider. He would slowly soften inside of her before pulling out and slowly letting her slide downward between him and the wall. He wasn’t sure what he could say. He wasn’t sure if she meant it. Daycen had thought the very same on more than one occasion, confused and aroused and who knew what the fuck else.

His mouth went to hers, giving a soft kiss over her swollen lips, still moist from the cut. His eyes closed and he breathed her in, her the scent of her perspiring body, the scent of her soaked sex. It was intoxicating, as always. Whatever had happened to this point, he always came back to the realization that his sister was his and he would be hers. Before, it was only to the extent of their new found, unholy, sessions. It would only be refusing the truth not to notice the evolution of his feelings.

However Solveig felt, those words muttered in passion, Daycen couldn’t help but offer her some comfort, having now spoken them. It felt as wrong and as dirty as anything else and yet, something not unexpected for siblings to exchance. When they were young and innocent, they exchanged their I love yous and this made the utterance so terribly demented.

He wasn’t sure if he should acknowledge, exchange it, nor was he sure if Solveig would even want such a thing. He wasn’t sure if he wanted it. So much uncertainty. What it could lead to was terrifying. As with all their sin, it was also exhilarating.

It was only the problem they immediately knew of. Sorting whatever the fuck was happening to them out. Neither would know Achard had overheard and watched and plotted.

 

[Cal]

The way her brother’s body shuddered against her, the way he pushed and groaned and moved against her as he came, it was hers and hers alone. She was the only one who was privy to this, it belonged to her as much as Daycen did. It was her right. It was a twisted little turn-on that made her moan feebly as she felt his hot seed shoot deep, deep inside of her body, her cunt, her womb. Oh what an unholy crime they had committed again. Little did they know that they were about to repent for their sins. If Solveig had just taken a moment to herself to make her realize that what they were doing was completely and utterly unnatural, maybe she wouldn’t have had to deal with what would happen. The consequences were bound to happen. She had not taken the necessary precautions. The severe implications of the foul fuck-sessions were, however, not on the forefront of her mind.

No, instead, she started growing very still. The female twin felt hollow and lost, and most of all angry, angry at herself. It started to grow inside of her even as she felt her brother slip out of her, her cunt making a noisily wet sound, as she felt some of her brother’s seed dribble out from between her swollen, sore lips. Her legs feeble, her body half slumped against the wall, half against her brother to hold herself up for support. As she came down from her high, her anger and self-hatred increased, only subdued momentarily as Daycen claimed her lips again. There was a near tenderness to it, her lips pressing against his, her tongue seeking out his, not to fight or claim dominance, but to seek some kind of comfort.

She pulled back then, resting her head against the wall to watch her brother, her damp, sweat-sheen chest rising and falling a bit less rapidly, her body no longer shaking uncontrollably. She watched him with a dull anger, her eyes shining brightly. Was she on the verge of tears? All she wanted was to escape, escape from the words she had uttered. It had not been discussed between them before, it was as if that was more taboo than their incessant need to be physically close to one another. Now that she had uttered those fucking words, it was out in the open.

Could she attribute it to the heat of the moment? She was trying to find a way out of this mess, and the little twin started to look like a deer caught in the headlights more and more. The silence stretched. Why wasn’t Daycen speaking?! Why didn’t he say or do anything! Why should she have to defend herself! People said a lot of things during the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean a word of it. Did she? No, she couldn’t. There wasn’t a future between them, there was no world in which the brother and sister could come out unscathed. They both needed to find a suitable partner. She tried to picture Daycen lying in bed with another woman, and bile rose to her throat, instantly feeling nauseous and disgusted and fucking greedy. Daycen was hers.

And that was the proof, really. The proof that the growing tightness in her chest was not because of her hatred for her brother. Had it, really, somehow manifested itself into something more? Into.. Love?. A frightened look invaded her eyes. No, she couldn’t think about it. She didn’t dare. She liked what they had now, their fucked up little twisted fairytale. Why complicate that with emotions and affections? She had hated Daycen for showing that side of his just moments before. Hated because it meant it could grow into something more. Solveig was being reduced to a frightened little child, and frightened children never do anything with reason. In an instant, she pulled herself away from her brother, feeling embarrassed and tiny and on the verge of tears.

“I have to go.”

She mumbled, and pushed past Daycen, wincing as she felt the mess rub between her thighs. She covered herself up as best as she could, the torn bodice hanging about her frame in tatters. Solveig nigh but ran up the stairs, away from her brother, like she had that first night. Luckily for her, there was a coat rack just at the top of the stairs, and she wasted no time in wrapped one of the cloaks around her body to cover up most of her sordid state. Afterwards, she’d retreat to her chambers, bar the door, strip out of her clothes and curl underneath the blankets.

Solveig tried hard not to cry.

--
Come next morning, Solveig would be waiting at the carriage. She was not in any gear suited for a princess on a journey, no. She was in full horse-riding gear, crop and all. That morning, she had decided she would not spend the next leg of the journey in the carriage with Daycen. Sister was avoiding brother as best as she could. He had not spoken to her last night. He had barely acknowledged her, and it stung despite the fact that Solveig didn’t even know if she wanted her brother to share those feelings.

When Daycen would step outside, he’d be able to see her standing beside a horse, geared and ready for her to ride. The clothing was snug around her lithe form, the treated soft stretch tights revealed the long slender legs she was so proud of. The leather knees and seat patches were in their Kingdom’s colours, bright so that she would be seen from afar. She had disregarded her cute little heels for long riding boots, the leather reaching all the way to her knees. The leather had been treated and tight on her skin so that they wouldn’t caught in the stirrups. Her arms were unrestricted by too much clothing, having opted for a vest instead, so that she had full movability should something absurd happen, like if they were under attack.

As always, Solveig had a distinct air of pride about her, her chin raised high despite the bruises that riddled her neck. A reminder of Daycen’s lovely fingers around her throat. She acknowledged him briefly, nodding her head into his general direction. Daycen would be the only who could see just how unraveled Solveig really was. On the outside, she was picture perfect. Her clothes tight fitted, her hair bound back in a ponytail once more, her skin impeccable. She was just a tad more fidgety, though. Her eyes a bit uncertain when she regarded her brother. And yet, despite her turmoil, her heart lurched when she saw him, her stomach coiled. Her libido in overdrive, she wanted him again, and almost regretted not spending more time together in the carriage…

But no. She had to get away. She had to gather her thoughts.

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

Daycen​

The dawn’s sun cascaded its rays all about the gathering party. Their entourage was falling in line and they were all but ready to set out for their trek to the neighboring kingdom and, of course, Daycen’s future. Such a future that seemed more and more inevitable with each passing hour. He and his sister had conspired to find some way to distance themselves from the alliance, but it seemed their own pact may have disintegrated with the disaster that came the night before. It left Daycen anxious in his own sort of way. More so than any other of their forbidden encounters.

He hadn’t known the princess would take to setting off alone, outside of their royal carriage, but he wasn’t too surprised to find her mounted atop a horse, ready to ride. Ready to be away from him. It was becoming clear to Daycen that his sister still wasn’t quite ready to accept what their relationship was fast evolving into. For that matter, neither was the prince. Perhaps a kingdom apart would do them so good and stomp out these unholy incestuous cravings. It was the most logical train of thought, but Daycen had hardly managed to keep such running thus far and doubted he would now. This proved true enough as his eyes were still drawn to his twin.

When their eyes met, Solveig averted her gaze quickly enough and a frown crossed his features for but a second. The end of this trip may very well be the end of whatever they were. Relief. The prince tried to force himself to think. This dangerous game was some insanity wrought up with nothing more than clashing egos. They were going to ruin each other. But Gods, what he wouldn’t do take her from that horse and lead into the stables and fuck her senseless. No matter how many times he would try to get rid of the urges, here they came bubbling to the surface. Now would be as good as time as any to cross into the carriage.

So he went, dressed much fairer than his sibling. For that, a tinge of embarrassment, turning to a bit of rage came to be. If one were to ride, it should have been him, by his men. Too late now, it seemed.

The sigil of their house atop the right breast of a black doublet made of fine velvet. The trim was of gold, lining the collar and along the edge of where it crossed one half to the other, each button the shape of small phoenixes, again their sigil. The breeches were of the matching black, leading to boots of the same. His hair was neat and washed and brushed, befitting a prince after a rough day of travel. He could have met the young Brianen today and be fit to marry her well enough.

Without another look to his sister, he stepped into his own method of transportation and the knights and royal guard fell into line, along with the following peasants and supporters whom would cling and should praise until their feet ache and they ventured back to wherever it was they crawled from.

--

Half the day had passed with hardly an event to notice. The scenery was as beautiful as ever along the road connecting one country to the next. It was maintained at a near constant pace, as these were the most often traveled. The entire ride should have been calm, peaceful, with nothing more than numbness in the legs from too much damn sitting to worry about. The bandits who had troubled the Inn wouldn’t dare to attack bother men properly trained surrounding an escorted prince and princess. Especially upon the Royalroad. No cause for worry came until they found the huge bridge blocked with debris and ruined carts and carriages.

They entered the chaos so suddenly, Daycen was hardly warned before arrows pierced his transport. Temporary shock took over, his mind ticking through the process of understanding just what was happening. When he did, he took to action, instinct kicking in as horses outside began to whinny and men began to shout. The barbaric cries of bandits boomed about.

It was an ambush. A cry from what sounded close enough to commander of the Royal guard came to his ears as he stepped out, such folly as it was, without armor or weapon, Daycen was a fighter.

“Milord, you are not armed for combat, remai-“ Roland Overmarsh’s warning was abruptly cut as an arrow opened his throat and stuck, blood oozing from his mouth as he fell from his horse. Daycen acted, adrenaline pumping and anger building. Where was his sister? Was she alright? He would have to find out after. He took Roland’s half helm upon his own head, retrieving his castle-forged steel sword and dirk. He turned just in time to strike down a scantily armored bandit, protected by little more than rags and the horned helmet atop his head, which now leaned grotesquely away from half his neck, Daycen’s slash not beheading the man cleanly enough. It did, however, work well enough it made no difference. The attacker was dead.

The knights were scrambling, but the Royal guard held formation surrounding the carriage, or so it seemed from this side. His sister had best be under protection. The skirmish was small and already the barbarians were being brought to heel. What had they hoped to accomplish? They attacked with so few…

The sharp pain came as sudden as the attack itself. Daycen looked to find an arrow lodged into his right shoulder blade. His sword hung uselessly now, but he managed to jam and twist the dirk into another would-be beast of a man, wielding a massive axe that would have easily split his skull in two. Instead, it was the axe-man who sputtered blood from his mouth and fell back to squirm and agony, Daycen’s dirk still stuck in his belly. By then another arrow found Daycen’s left thigh, forcing him to kneel. Then, from behind, a sudden bash to the back of the head darkened his world.

Achard​

The ambush was over and the King’s men and Royal guard prevailed, just as they should have. In no small thanks to the one General Achard and his trailing outfit. It was almost a disaster, however. When the General decided to hire the bandits, the promise of gold had their attention well enough, but it seemed they couldn’t quite find it in themselves to ignore the bloodlust. Sure enough, the animals wouldn’t get their second half of the fee in anything but steel.

The General had commanded of them to ambush and perform a quick strike, only killing if absolutely. In regards to any of the knights and guard. The prince was to be decommissioned. A light wound. Instead, the bloody woodsmen nearly killed him and would have if Daycen hadn’t actually managed to be half a capable fighter. Achard himself brought the blow to his head to knock him unconscious. He wouldn’t doubt the headstrong prince would have ventured out in some futile attempt at vengeance for his Father’s men and his own outfit.

After the attack, the bandits were to flee and the deal would have been complete if not for them mucking it up. Instead, the General gave the order to follow and kill every last one. The encampment itself would suffer the consequences by some other hand. He supposed he got what he paid for, but it wasn’t so easy to find a trained sellsword or assassin in the middle of the Royalroad.

Achard’s men joined with the Kingdom’s in an effort to strengthen the defense in case another attack may come. The General knew it would not, but this would only strengthen the bonds and approval of his marriage to the princess. Now, to find Solveig, in due time and ensure his future as her King. First though, they needed to clear the mess from the bridge.

 

[Cal]

The day had passed uneventfully. Solveig was left to stew in her own thoughts and misery for the most part, not even the joy of riding took her mind off the pressing matter at hand. The words she uttered. Their unholy union. It was unacceptable what they had done, what she had said. But now, now she found she had nowhere else to go. They had reached a point of no return. And somewhere, a voice at the back of her mind said that she belonged to none other than her brother. Her mind, her body, her soul. He owned her as much as she owned him, and the thought frightened her beyond belief.

She clicked her tongue against her teeth, urging her steed to ride ahead. She had to get away, if only for a little while. Away from the guards and the carriage, away from the fussy servants, away from her unfortunate situation. And for a moment, Solveig’s mind went wonderfully blank. Suddenly, she saw no more servants and guards as she rode on, feeling the wind in her hair and on her face, making her eyes tear up, her cheeks flushed, her heart raced as she urged her steed further and further, faster and faster. Her brief moment of joy was short-lived, she knew she could not venture too far. After all.. she was the Princess.

The thought almost felt bitter. Foreign. What was a Princess without her Prince? Daycen was to be Prince to someone else.. not to her. She made up her mind then. Things had to end. It had been an infatuation, nothing else. They could not see each other again, not the way they had. They had to go back to their old ways of resentment and hatred. There was no Daycen and Solveig. Even if the marriage with Briannen would be sabotaged by the twins, there would be another suitor for her and for Daycen.. it would never end. She had to harden her heart for what was to come. Daycen was going to fuck other women. He was going to impregnate the bitches. He was going to marry some whore, eventually, and take her as his Queen.

And where are you going to be, little Solvi? You’re going to be nothing. The thought stung, but it helped her. She and her brother.. no, she and Daycen, it had to end.

With that thought in mind, she galloped back to the party, but as she approached, she noticed something was very, very wrong. It took a moment, a heartbeat to realize what was going on, and then she dug her heels into the spurs and bolted towards the carriage. She saw Daycen from a mile off, she knew it was him, and her eyes widened in horrified surprise as she saw how the arrow in his shoulder and his knee took him down.

Faster!

Her heels dug in more, her horse whinnying loudly in protest. And then, a cloaked figure approached her brother amidst the chaos.

NO!

She didn’t know what to think. Her brother.. had he been killed? She jumped off her horse when it was cut at the ankles by some bandit scum. Solveig knew how to fight, but she was smaller, she did not have the experience Daycen had. And still she fought, drew the dagger from its sheath, moved and cut her way through, desperate to reach her brother. Her eyes could no longer find the cloaked man, and when her attention focused on the massacre, her murdered servants, guards, she felt a stabbing, searing pain in her left shoulder.

She slashed out wildly, her dagger catching a bandit’s throat, and she watched him, numbly, as he crumbled to the floor. Her hand reached up, touching her shoulder, and almost surprised she drew her hand back, holding it up in front of her. Her fingers came back coated in bright red blood. How deep the wound went, she did not know. Nothing mattered. Nothing but Daycen.

Finally, Solveig kneeled down next to her brother, her fingers instantly coming to his nose, feeling for his breathing. A wave of relief hit her. He was alive. Unconscious. Badly wounded. But alive. For now. Her fingers then moved to the arrow on his shoulder. The pain was but a dull throb in her own shoulder, unaware of the wound that was inflicted upon her, adrenaline having taken over her body and senses. “I’m sorry Dice, this is going to hurt. Gods above please be alright.” Her fingers moved more sluggish than she wanted to, but she still snapped the arrow in half, did the same to the arrow at his thigh, before she rolled him over with a low grunt.

The arrowheads did not look poisoned, but if she did not remove them, the wounds might get infected. And so, with a quick, almost emotionless movement, she yanked the two arrows from Daycen’s body. Almost instantly, she tore the sleeves off her riding shirt, moving quickly in order to bind her brother’s wounds. By the time she finished the last knot on his thigh, her hands were shaking, and blood streamed freely from the wound of her own shoulder. It coated her left arm, and Solveig sat back. She wore a startled and annoyed look. Her fingers shook. She pushed the fabric of her shirt aside, drenched with her own blood, and cocked her head to the side to peer down.

“Oh.. shit..”

The color drained from her face as she breathed out a shaky laugh. That was not an arrow wound, nor was it a dagger. One of the bandits must have taken a sword to her. Briefly, deliriously, she wondered how the bandit had not taken off her arm. It must have been a miracle on its own. Solveig felt nauseous, instantly, and almost laughed again, almost threw up, the blood drained from her face completely. Well.. at least she did not have to worry about being sent off to the executioner for committing unholy unspeakable deeds. Another laugh threatened to bubble up, desperate, afraid. She looked up then, as if to pray, but she didn’t get that far.

Instead, her eyes focused and saw Achard, standing not too far away.

Her face exploded in a grimace of pain and wonder. Then her eyes flickered to the cloak. He.. he had been the one to knock Daycen unconscious. What was he doing here?! Had he meant to kill her brother? Her lips parted to speak, but her eyes rolled back into their sockets, and Solveig promptly feinted next to her brother.

Death’s cold embrace was not far away.

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

Achard​

The plan went from bad to worse and Achard still cursed himself for the folly of it all. He was near enough guilty of slaying the twins within minutes of one another. If not by his own hands, his actions. He should have known better than to put faith in the men of the woods and mountains. Barbarians. Incapable of control, it seemed. Despite this, he knew it was by his own haste and lazy plotting that was to blame. He supposed it was the equivalent of putting a wild beast down for biting at a reaching hand. One should know better, and yet it would be the beast punished. Just as it was now and the good General sent the command for vengeance in the name of his own house and that of the King. His own men would do the deed, though not the like he trusted most. The Innkeep’s bandit problem and his own would be solved soon enough. Off the letter went to slay men.

Later in the day General Achard held meet with the Briannen’s father. A night’s rest was granted for in response of the attack, but account was to be given on the morrow. The arrival was panic instead of celebration. Daycen was recovering, slowly, to be sure, but Solveig’s wound cut deep and blood was lost. His prize, his queen to be. If she would perish, all would be for nothing and he had yet to have opportunity to visit the lovely, brother-fucking, princess. Regardless of the taint, Achard would have his title and power and ensure it with this, as soon as the time for the threat came.

“The ambush was sudden, your grace. Given the circumstances, the company acted as best they could. If only myself and my own men could have reached the encounter sooner…” Achard trailed off, as if taken back by the thought, one fist clenching. It was nice touch. Returning to form appropriate in the presence of this King a moment later, he informed him of the plan to eradicate whomever foolish enough to attack royalty. “Your daughter’s betrothed, your grace, Lord Daycen will be avenged. I promise you and you, milady.” A bit of a bow and enough and enough, the king rambled on with his praise and thanks.

His leave was made shortly after and he would await in his chambers now for word of Solveig and Briannen, whom he was to meet as soon as the appropriate moment presented itself. It wasn’t quite the desired outcome, but so long as his princess lived and Daycen was within the kingdom, it wouldn’t be long now before all was set right.

Daycen​

Consciousness came and went for the prince as the remainder of the road was traveled. Despite someone’s best attempts to bandage his wounds, the arrows that had punctured his arm and leg gave him a world of pain and infection and fever and dreams. Proper treatment wouldn’t come until the arrival at the castle, but the men did their best. Harvesting what foliage they could to keep both he and his sister alive. Not that he even knew what fate had befallen his twin.

Whenever he would slip out of his dream world and enter that of agony and the fucking rattle and bumping of the carriage that seemed so much more prominent than ever before. “Rest,” They would tell him. “you must rest, my Prince.”

“Fuck rest, where is my sister? Where is Solvi?” He heard himself ask, half delirious from whatever herbs they forced into him and half from whatever pain he was fighting. He heard himself ask the question, but an answer never came. Perhaps it was only a dream. Maybe he never spoke at all. Could be a lot of things, Daycen found it hard to tell reality from what was not.

He would awake suddenly within the confines of a room. It was warm and the bed was comfortable and proper medicine numbed his pain and eased his fever and staved infection. The words they offered him were those of assurance. Strangers approving of his condition. Once Briannen came. Still he drifted as the medicine worked. He could vaguely feel her touch as his fingertips. This girl was to be his wife and she loved him, though he could not say the same for her. Still, for the first time in a very long while, Daycen felt bad and forced his fingers to curl around hers.

The prince worried for his sister though and this girl was not her. Daycen wasn’t a stupid man and as the storm of potions and lotions came to a slow, he begin to piece it together easily enough. Something had happened to his twin. He could feel it now, as clear as the pain was days before. How could he not have felt it sooner, it was overwhelming and he prayed to whatever Gods would listen to a sister-fucking prince that she was alright.

Another time, Achard came to him. Daycen was much better by then. The General gave his apologies, wishing he could have arrived sooner and prevent the madness.

“I saw your valor in battle as I came upon the ambush, milord. It may comfort you some small bit to know the man you struck you from behind met his end with my own sword through his belly. No honor amongst these wildmen.” He explained the plan for retaliation and droned on a bit more, seeing to it that Daycen be noted for his skill. It never hurt to have another story build upon the history of a someday king. The prince couldn’t help but wish it wasn’t this General doing the telling.

He hated the man, he thought as much before. But looking up and giving his own courtesies with a scratchy voice, he wanted nothing more than to plunge a dagger into this man’s belly and wiggle it about. You may take my sister, but you’ll never have her. And then he was alone. Daycen was bitter now that he was better.

Soon the marriage would come. Soon Daycen would say his goodbyes to his sister. The revolt against Father’s plans was nothing but comfort for two very confused souls. Oh, his sweet sister Solvi. The copy of whatever sort of fucked-up he was. It was insanity and it was fast becoming obvious that he may never reach the high that came with taking his own twin again. The way her tongue played within his mouth, the feel of his cock between her legs, her entrance soaking wet for him… The images danced in his mind and he felt his member stiffen. He gave a sigh pushed the thoughts from mind.

Eventually, he had learned her condition after they deemed him strong enough and clear-headed enough, the pain reliever all but gone from each treatment. “I shall see her.” He demanded at once.

“On the morrow, perhaps, milord. It is late and though you have pulled through the worse, we’re not quite confident you should be moving around.” The old healer told him an old voice. Day remained calm, finding some peace of mind, at the last. She was alive. He sent the old man away and sank into bed once more. Solveig would either die or live. He would lose her, no matter the outcome, he briefly thought. If she dies, I will be the last one to have taken her. He closed his eyes, retracting such a ridiculous notion of jealousy at such a dire hour. Some perverse jest with himself, some attempt at coping. For he knew he would do anything if it meant his sister stay amongst the living and have her life.

 

[Cal]

Briannen:
​

When the letter came, everything was in uproar! The Banquet was promptly cancelled, something which threw her in a fit (she’d spend weeks preparing it for the Prince’s arrival), and then there was the fear, the fear that her Daycen was injured, that he was gravely wounded! It made the young princess panic. He was to be her betrothed, and nothing was going the way she wanted it to go. He was supposed to arrive in full fanfare and gaze upon the beauty of her father’s lands! They had fertile ground, fruits that the South had never even dreamed of.. He had no choice but the marry her and join their Kingdoms together.

But no. Those bandits had to ruin everything, and then Daycen’s servants, little as there were left, did not even let her see him as they carried him and the Princess into the castle. Princess Solveig looked to be in bad shape, and while Briannen was not a cruel girl, she felt uneasy whenever she was around Daycen’s sister. It was something in her eyes.. no, Briannen held no love for Solveig, and if she passed.. well, they had two Kingdoms to rule!

She had listened to Achard speak, accepted the General’s words of apology. “Of course, they were lucky that you were so near! They are in your debt.” If Solveig would pull through, Solveig had no other choice than to marry the man, and Briannen would have Daycen all to herself without the interruption of the other twin.

Briannen spent hours at Daycen’s side, once she was allowed to see him. She stroked his hair and fingers, spoke hushed words to him, made sure he had any and every comfort necessary. When his fingers curled around hers and he responded to her.. well.. Briannen’s heart nearly exploded! She left his side only to attend to her father’s meetings and if she had to sleep, but other than that, the girl was at Daycen’s waking and sleeping side.

The only thing that ruined it was Daycen’s incessant need to ask about his sister. She had told him that Solveig was recovering, hadn’t she? What more was there to say. The princess had not woken from her slumber yet and, judging by the amount of blood she had lost, it would be a miracle if she pulled through. Yet her two servants, the only two who had survived the ambush, were pestering about Solveig incessantly, trying to save her from the inevitable.

Then, Briannen was called away with Achard to send letters to Solveig and Daycen’s parents, and to put matters in place for the betrothal. Achard desperately needed advice, according to Briannen, about how to behave around Solveig and how to dress. If Solveig would pull through, she wanted to see her married to the General as soon as possible. She did not know why, but Daycen’s sister.. just made her so uncomfortable!

Solveig:​

Solveig knew of nothing that happened around her. She was fast asleep, the darkness claiming her body for an indecent amount of time. But, she was healing, the herbs, the poultices, the servants’ administrations all helped her get better, hour by aching hour. To the onlooker, it was clear that she was in severe pain, although she should really thank the Gods that her muscles had not been cut to shreds, otherwise she would have lost an arm.

No, instead, by some miracle, all that remained was a fiery red scar that ran from her left shoulder to her armpit. Her body was marred, no longer perfect. But Solveig could not complain, not yet, she was not yet amongst the living to raise her voice.

She was unaware of Achard visiting. Unaware that the servants were concerned. Unaware that her brother was alive. Unaware that, when the new moon came, the servants began to worry why she was not yet in her moon blood phase. The servants kept their gossip to themselves. They went to Daycen when he requested to be brought to Solveig, and they told him time and time again, that Solveig was alive, but barely. It would not do well to see her in her current state.

After a solid week, Solveig awoke suddenly, bathed in sweat, one word upon her lips.

“Daycen!”

Her voice cracked, her lips were dry, her eyes were snapped wide open, it was morning, just the crack of dawn, and Solveig was awake. Her body hurt, her mind was in sheer panic. She was lucky that a servant was near, who helped her calm down. In hushed tones, the servant explained what happened to her. Solveig, however, did not care. Her brother, was he alright? The Prince to their Kingdom, had he survived?! When she was told Daycen was alive and awake, Solveig almost burst out into tears, relief wrapping around her, soothing her. Her servant continued to explain, to potter about her business, to renew Solveig’s bandages, to change her clothes. And then the words came, like thunder on a clear summer day.

“My Princess.. the fifth full moon has come and gone..”

The servant looked embarrassed, followed by frightened. Solveig didn’t understand, at first. What was this girl talking about, moon? Why the hell should she care. It wasn’t until the servant looked at her pointedly, white as a sheet, and started stammering that realization hit.

“It’s probably because of the loss of blood m’Lady I didn’t mean nothing by it I promise!”

Solveig stayed very, very still, as the color drained from her face. Instantly, she felt sick to her stomach, and if she had had any food in her belly, she would have emptied it. Daycen. Daycen had been the only one. Her brother. She was.. she had been.. Before Solveig could hyperventilate, she turned her face away from the servant and scoffed as best she could.

“I probably lost my own body weight in blood, of course it is delayed, you insolent twat. Send servants to change my bedsheets and then, afterwards, summon my brother.”

The poor servant girl did not know how fast she had to run to get her brother, but Solveig was once again left alone. She almost broke then, her mind unable to take the implications. She was with child, and the child was from her brother’s seed. Their relentless fucking had finally caused the Gods to be angry enough to make her suffer. The hurt from the days passed came crashing into her instantly, the shock of losing Daycen, the way she confessed her love to him, her near-death experience.. She loved her brother, there was no denying it now, the final shred of hatred for him had evaporated when she saw him crumble to the floor.

Solveig was hollow, a shell of her former self, broken, distraught, unsure whether her brother felt the same.. and now carrying his child. She knew this to be true, at a fundamental, inherent level. She cried then, cried like the small creature she felt she was. Their relationship was unholy and doomed from the start. What could they do? What could any of them do.. She could not tell Daycen. Their plan had to continue. They had to tell their parents that these lands were infertile. That this was not a good match for their Kingdom. Maybe, then, she could keep Daycen to herself a little while longer.

She still was determined to send Achard off into battl-

Achard! Her wet eyes widened with shock. She knew. She knew he was the one who had hit Daycen. She knew it was him. Why? How?

She didn’t have time dwell on it. She needed to make sure that, at least for now, she kept her secret a secret. There was a small basin with bloodied rags in water on the table next to her. Painfully. Slowly, she moved, her body stiff as a hark. Eventually, her hand reached over, and she managed to grab a bloodied rag from the basin. Promptly, she shoved it between her legs, making sure to smear the bedsheets and her nightclothes alike. The whole process only took a few minutes, just in time for the servants to come in with fresh linen.

Soon, she was changed, the ruined bloodied sheets were cast out. The servants would inform Briannen that her moon phase had come, and Briannen would in her turn tell Achard.

And so Solveig sat, waiting for her brother in fresh sheets and fresh bandages, her hair was washed, and her body clothed in a loose, single piece of linen, a crude excuse for a dress. She was nervous, more nervous than she should, but the anticipation of seeing her brother alive and well.. it made her smile involuntarily. She had to talk to him about Achard, about what happened, and what had passed between them the last night he claimed her. When she had screamed, what she had screamed as her brother emptied his seed inside of her. In that instant, everything was forgotten, and all Solveig could think about was her brother’s arms wrapped around her, his fingers on her skin.

Oh Gods what was wrong with her!

She looked down at the bandaged wound on her shoulder. She had not seen what it looked like, but it could not be pretty.. would Dice still be attracted to her.. Involuntarily, her hands went over her stomach.

The usual composed Princess had become unraveled, and it showed.

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

Daycen​

At last it was time for the reunion. The Prince found himself anxious where before he would stride with confidence into the presence of his sister. The overwhelming drive to best her in everything from the petty to the grand had accompanied his every encounter with her. From youth to adolescence and up until now. In strength when he forced himself to best during their training, before she took to her own system, away from him. With words when he cut through her defense with attempts of humiliation and belittlement. Through and after their encounter in her room. He asserted his dominance and gave his submission only to savor whatever reaction he would earn, or so he told himself. Before the jealousy just before their trip began, before the spiteful fucking beneath the Inn’s floor, and before she cried the words that divided them until the bandits descended upon them, he was sure he was in control.

The power was his no longer. The power no longer seemed so important. What seemed to matter most, more than anything now, was his sister.

During the manic recovery Daycen had convinced himself to do what was right. By the Gods, to make some salvage from the destruction they wrought. The attack was warning enough, Daycen half-believed. The Gods were angry and the incestuous twins and it was time for a change or they would be undone. It was difficult to imagine, after what they had been through, leaving his sister and dismissing such insanity from mind. He was right and she would see and never would they speak of this again.

But now…. As he stood in the entryway to the chambers his sister held, what seemed to matter most, more than anything, was his sister. “Solveig…” He breathed, quietly, looking upon his paler than norm twin, princess, and lover. “Thank the Gods, you’re alive.” They evaporated, one by one, though in rapid succession, the thoughts he bore just before moving into the room.

He brought the door shut behind him just as his mind let go of the final rational thought and it was just he and her. He closed the distance with an awkward limp, his arm in a sling as it wasn’t ready to hold its own weight. He felt like cripple and wondered if she would wonder if he was. He moved to her bedside. The prince had also been washed though stubble graced the usual, proper, clean-shaven face. His hair would appear longer and a bit mussed, as if he lay back to rest after the wash and brushing. He looked as he felt. He was paler, thinner, and rugged. Such an experience will shake a man or woman. Daycen was always the kind to preach whatever or whoever doesn’t succeed in killing you will only make you a stronger man. Time would tell if it was true enough for the prince.

He was garbed about as simple as Solveig. A white, loose linen shirt and black, laced, cotton pants. Each chosen for the sake of comfort the servants told him and he wasn’t about to decline. He was still sore, though it seemed his sister somehow ended up with the graver wound. He had to shake his head and stifle a soft, involuntary laugh, despite situation. “And what, sister, were you doing in the way of a fucking sword?” Of course, she would move to fight. It was who his sister was.

The Prince wouldn’t give her time to answer, if an answer was expected at all. It was hard enough to wait as long as he did, mere moments since he entered. The details would come and he would force her to show the scar whether she wanted him to see or not, but for now, his lips would seek hers, accepting no rejection as they pressed against her mouth.

His right side faced her, the injured shoulder still bandaged beneath the shirt, soaking in whatever was meant to be healing the hole up. His left hand found her fingers beneath the sheets and took hold, squeezing tight. He let the kiss end, soft and tender for the once and only feeling slightly uncomfortable after the matter. The realization came over him that he may well be overstepping his boundaries. They hadn't spoken since the incident and Daycen had to doubt this was the way to start this meeting. The hesitation grew, sure enough, and his hand came away. He thought to apologize, but held reservations to that as well.

In fact, he was a bit embarrassed. Suddenly feeling rather protective of the sister he previously fucked against walls and forced over and slapped and choked and, Gods, fucked again and again, hard and harder. This wasn’t them and it felt different. It wasn't right, or mayhap it was. He never knew anymore. Suddenly, all he wanted, more than anything, was some confirmation that this wasn't some intrusion. How in every Hell did one take such a devilish relationship beyond what it was. And what it was was difficult enough to describe or even acknowledge in the first place.

 

[Cal]

Solveig​

When the doors swung open, Solveig startled a little, sitting upright in her bed, her bright green eyes peering towards the door. When they focused on Daycen, she could not help herself. Almost childishly, her body reacted to him. Her lips curled into a smile which turned worried when he limped over towards her, a small frown creasing her features. He was alive though.. alive, and well enough to walk. His arm was in a sling, he looked like a haggard, older version of himself, but he was alive. He voiced her relief, and Solveig almost broke down in tears. They brimmed in her eyes as he approached, and she could not contain the glee that was written across her face.

“As are you..” her voice, shaky. He stood beside her bed then, her body leaning towards him, as if it needed to be close to its other half. She felt whole again, and when Daycen cracked the joke, Solveig couldn’t help but to laugh, relief flooding over her once more. The laugh was pure and genuine, but the tears still fell, relief, exultation, apprehension. “Well, it wa-“ with parted lips, hers were claimed, and instantly she forgot where she was. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her lips and tongue gently, softly, found his. Her fingers intertwined with her brother’s, her soft tongue tasting her brother once more, feeling his warmth surround her.

And then he left her quite suddenly, breathless, her cheeks and lips tainted red. His hand left hers, and instinctively she shot her hand out to grab his, unable to bear him moving away from her. There was a near pleading glint in her eyes as she looked up at him, the words hammering against her walls but unable to speak them. Don’t go. Don’t go. She kept her hand over his, and arched her back up slightly, brushing her lips against her brother’s in another soft, brief, stealing kiss.

And then she leaned her head back on her pillow, exhausted, but still gently resting her hand upon Daycen’s. “The sword was in my way.” She stated after a moment of silence, a ghost of a playful grin playing around her lips. A lot went unsaid. She did not know how to explain herself. I watched you fall to the ground, she wanted to say. I watched you crumble and I did not know if you were dead and the damn sword was in my fucking way and I had to get to you. I could not lose you; she wanted to scream. But no words came out, her hand only squeezed Daycen’s hand, as if she was afraid he was going to disappear.

The silence stretched, and Solveig rested her head back on the pillow, simply watching her brother, her normally kept hair a birds nest on her head. And yet, as was natural to them, they looked royal. They had pure blood streaming through their veins. It could not be tainted.

Suddenly, Solveig was hyper aware of Daycen’s presence and her state of undress. Her breasts brushed against her linen dress, and she realized that the fabric was sheer enough for Daycen to see the outline of her nipples.

No. Stop.

She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to control herself. Everything was so much simpler when it was just about the sex. When it was just about Daycen making her submit. Now.. they were both in a foreign territory, even more twisted than the one before. She had almost lost her brother, she had almost lost her own life.. and now she had gained another. They had to address what happened.

“I..”

She paused, frowned, and squeezed Daycen’s hand again involuntarily.

“I cannot live without you.”

The words came out strained, the lump in her throat heavy. The confession made her heart feel light and heavy at the same time. It should have made her mad. She should be pissed off at Daycen for making her feel this. And some part of her was, you could not just bury years of pent up hatred. The things he put her through.. but that seemed to pale in comparison to what had happened to the twins.

Her eyes searched his, looking for a glimmer of recognition.

Briannen​

She was in the middle of negotiations with Achard, sipping her tea, when the knock came. Solveig’s servant! Ah, how wonderful. The little girl would tell Briannen everything she needed to know. She made sure that she would be notified first if Solveig awoke. What other reason could there be for the servant to interrupt her?

“Come in!”

The servant girl hurried inside, a worried look on her face as she shifted her gaze from Briannen to Achard. “Princess Solveig, she.. she has awakened, m’lady.” Briannen felt a stab of annoyance. She was princess here, not Solveig. She rose immediately, but sat back down when Achard made a motion with his hands. Briannen frowned, what could Achard want? She nodded to the servant. “Very well, anything else?”

The servant girl started fidgeting, and Briannen shook her head. “What is it girl?” The servant girl looked at Achard with frightened eyes, before she looked back at Briannen. “M’lady.. I cannot.. it is not right to talk about this in front of a man..” Briannen rolled her eyes and shook her head again. “Come on now child, we can trust the General. He saved your Princess and my Prince after all!” Briannen exclaimed triumphantly. The servant girl looked to have her doubts, but swallowed hard.

“I.. I fear that Solveig might have ruined your matress, m’Lady, I apologize. She awoke and she.. she..” the servant blushed furiously, adding in a hushed tone. “She’s on her moon blood, finally.” The servant looked mortified, but Briannen simply laughed. “That is wonderful news! We shall attend to the royal twins shortly. You’re dismissed.”

The servant girl scampered off, and Briannen turned to Achard. “Now, what is so important that you’re keeping me from attending my guests?”

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

Daycen​

His fingers tightened about hers in response to the squeeze at his hand. The affection almost uncomfortable, given their past transgressions, it felt as if he were experiencing a first, young, love all over again. Everything was new and felt good and right, but one never found themselves quite sure if it was the right way, if one false movement might end this discovery of soft pleasure and the fight through anxiety to see what might come next. This, however, was something with weight far beyond that of a boyhood crush. Daycen found himself nervous and warm, his belly a flutter of twisted butterflies. It’s love, you fool. You’ve fallen in love with your sister.

Then the Princess spoke and made it known, to be sure. For all their sinful fucking and lusting about, this moment felt the most taboo. It was wrong, but this had never stopped them before. Daycen watched her face, wanting to speak, but the words would not come for what felt like far too long, though naught a second went by before he leaned in close to whisper a soft breath against her lips, carrying the only answer there ever was.

“Then I shall never leave you…”

His lips would meet hers again, a soft and delicate meeting before the Prince would inch back yet again.

“I love you, sister.”

And so the spiral continued downward, their twisted relationship taking them to some deep depth of insanity. The Royal Twins, heirs of kingdoms and lands and soon-to-be rulers of men, sharing their tainted love.

Achard​

At the very least, it seemed his future queen would not be carrying an abomination of incest. The thought made him shudder in his seat, just opposite of Briannen. The servant made her exit and Achard grabbed the goblet of wine before him, taking a sip before placing it back upon the table between he and her.

“Princess, M’lady, what I’m about to say isn’t something that I speak lightly. I only have the best interest of my own kingdom in mind and I do what I think is best for the homeland. This is why I bring this to your attention.” Achard let that sink in for a minute, hoping this excitable little lady might take this matter as serious as he. Though he knew talk of Daycen would be the only thing to truly capture her interest, so he moved right on to the point after a few seconds.

“It is my understanding that your Daycen is making every effort to keep himself within his own kingdom. You must understand, I’m quite certain this has nothing to do with you but everything to do with his claim to the throne.” He took a breath, looking sympathetic as can be while wishing he could simply trash the young prince and his arrogance and crimes against the laws of both men and gods. “His pride is wounded, such a weakness of many men, as what he has been groomed for his entire life is being, in his eyes, stolen from him. He feels his father’s throne is his and it seemed to be so in everyway until just recently.”

Another sip of wine, another second for Briannen to follow along, and he so hoped she did.

“Without getting too heavy in the details, some of which I’m still attempting to confirm, as gossip can only go so far before the truth is misconstrued, I believe I have the pull to ensure all goes to according to plan. Daycen is still young in his adulthood and this is nothing but youthfulness getting the better of him. I’ll set him straight, maybe talk to his father, as I’m highly regarded by His Grace. For the better of both of our Kingdoms, M’lady, I ask for you support and your discretion to make all right. The boy just needs time and, perhaps, a bit of mentoring by an experienced man such as myself.”

And how could she possibly refuse?

 

[Cal]

Solveig​

The relief was almost palpable, like air being deflated from a balloon, filling her eyes with hope and releasing a breath she did not realize she was holding. How they'd go from here, she did not know. All that mattered was the moment between her and her brother, her twin. Thinking about the situation would ensure certain mental breakdown, considering their disruptive, toxic past, so Solveig pushed the thoughts down and away. Her lips found his instead again with urgence, her tongue on his.

And then the pang in her chest told her to stop, and her lips and tongue halted their sinful dance. She drew her head back, her eyes coming to rest upon his. She allowed herself a small smile and a nod. It was completely and utterly terrifying, but she knew she could not live without Daycen any more. What happened in the past, his incessant mental torture, her obnoxious attitude, it was irrelevant. She was, after all, with.. his..

"And I you, brother.."

The whole idea made her laugh out loud, almost. Brother and sister, Prince and Princess.. it was disturbing, but her feelings were true and her heart knew it not to be a lie. What a fucked up little thing she was. She met his lips in a kiss again, far more urgent than before, her free hand tugging at his shirt softly. Had it not been for their injuries, Solveig would have begged her brother to fuck her right then and there.

Her lips would depart Daycen's again, after a moment in complete bliss. Her voice was but a whisper as she rested her forehead against Dice's.

"We will go back to our Kingdom as soon as we're able to and we will tell mother and father that these lands are worthless. We will send Achard to battle, and we will make sure he will not return." Her eyes were hard, determined. She had not told Daycen yet, but she was almost certain that it had been Achard on the battlefield. Achard striking her brother down. He had to be eliminated.

Briannen
​

Briannen frowned as General Achard began his speech, and stayed silent throughout. The only indicated of that she was listening was the widening of her eyes and the frown that graced her features. She was confused. Why would Daycen not want to come to her Kingdom? Surely she was more important than just some throne? But as Achard continued to speak, her confidence wavered and she started to doubt herself. Had she not made a lasting impression upon him?

Her eyes threatened to flood with tears, and when he was done speaking she looked every bit like the small child she really was. She shook her head, stood up and walked to the nearest window. General Achard.. he had just saved their lives, he had attended the Royal Banquet.. he must know what was going on. There was no way he could be lying to her. So Briannen, after taking a moment or two to herself, turned on her heels to face the man.

She wanted Daycen. He had to be her King, she belonged to him. Together, they'd raise many children, and they would all make her proud. This was Briannen's fantasy. If anything would jeopardize that.. well.. Achard came up with the solution. She nodded curtly, not thinking for a second that this man could be a snake. "Of course. I know how men get when it comes to their throne."

She walked over to her writing desk and took out parchment and a quill. Promptly, she began to write. "And you will ensure that Daycen will come to me willingly, correct?" She asked, her voice taking on a condescending edge. She was, after all, higher in rank than Achard. Should he answer affirmatively, Briannen would continue to scribble. Then, she signed the document, put the royal seal over it, folded it and walked back over to Achard.

"You will have every resource my Kingdom has to offer to your disposal. Just get him to me." For the first time, she showed just how passionate she was for Daycen, perhaps bordering on the manic obsessiveness. "I trust that you will get this done, General." and the unspoken threat was clear.

Or else.

 

[xxplaywithmexx]

Daycen
​

And so the twins’ lunacy ran rampant in this new acknowledgement of tainted love. Was this better than when the two considered one another only as playthings and some depraved form of entertainment? Was this better than when the prince took his sister princess out of spite and anger, for no better reason than to prove dominance? Daycen certainly didn’t seek the answer, but the admittance of love did feel more wrong than ever. Per the usual, he reveled in this. He and naughty Solvi, locking lips to celebrate the descent into whatever Hell awaited them. All the deviance, it was plenty enough to ignore their injuries for moments longer and fuel Dice’s desire for his little sister.

After Solveig spoke of their plans, he agreed with yet another kiss of his own. Hungry for the princess, Daycen’s tongue found hers and he tasted. Gods, did he love the taste of her. He parted seconds after, with a suckle at her lower lip. The pesky servants of Briannen could come bursting through at any moment to check on the twins, their privacy wouldn’t last. But the siblings never did play it very safe and Daycen’s hand would soon find his sister’s bare thigh and proceed to move swiftly upward to her exposed sex. His fingers would tease at her netherlips while his thumb gave a slow knead to the tiny jewel.

“The kingdom will be ours, Solvi. To rule and to shape. We could sit the throne together, you in my lap, and all who dare to oppose the union, we’ll see meet a swift and appropriate end.” As the emphasis came with the word ‘swift’, Daycen’s slipped two fingers abruptly into Solveig. He let her inner walls grip the two digits as he began to move inside of her, his hand back and forth.

“We might as well enjoy the time we have alone now, before we’re forced to experience anymore of this Kingdom’s hospitality.”