On the Twelfth Night... (Madam Mim and Xana)

Olivia smiled when her husband mentioned that he wouldn't rebuff any advances she might make...once he had pleased her. She shuddered, goosebumps crawling up her arms as he laid her down on the soft mattress. His breath was warm against her skin and her nipples stiffened even more as his hands moved over her. He laid beside her, cupping her breasts. It was a sensation that was familiar and yet never got old.

"Oh my love..."

Olivia's fingers tangled in his hair as Sebastian worshiped her breasts and teased her clit. This was what she had been expecting last night; the same love and tenderness, the same erotic tension which had defined all their nights before. Curling her fingers into a fist she pulled at his hair until his face was near hers, crushing a desperate, hungry kiss to his lips.

"God I love you!" she whispered. Then Sebastian found that spot, that one he was always so very good at finding, and her mouth dropped open, her limbs limp as she moaned in pleasure and writhed at his touch. She never could summon the will to move whenever he did that; the pleasure was far too great and nearly paralyzed her.
 
It was easy to get lost in Olivia's soft skin and scent. In her moans and her hands running through Viola's hair and her lips. Viola drank deeply of Olivia' mouth, hungry for her, needy as she knew she was losing her. She was helping her brother win the woman over, win Olivia from her.

"I love you," Viola gasped as the kiss broke, as Olivia writhed upon her fingers, "God, I love you." Light kisses traced Olivia's jaw, as a finger slid into between her thighs, gently exploring her slit. Viola's thumb continued to apply pressure to her clit. "I want to taste you." Viola whispered, begged, sliding along Olivia's nude figure, not stopping until she was between the woman's thighs. Olivia's arousal was a fragrant musk, invading Viola's mind as she ran her nose and lips against the inside of Olivia's thighs.

Sebastian watched it all play out before his eyes, and he couldn't help but feel as if he were an outsider, intruding on their intimacy. That he was the one in the way of their happiness. A fear that he would never bring Olivia the same pleasure he was witnessing now. The only thing he could give her that Viola couldn't was children, and once she had that, she would be done woth him.

Viola devoted herself to Olivia's bliss, lips just brushing against Olivia's quivering lips. As far as she cared, she was alone with Olivia. Her tongue entered those soft folds dancing in and out in time with the blood pumping through Viola's veins. "Let me love you, Olivia. Let me bring you to rapture."
 
"Mmm....please..." Olivia whimpered when Sebastian whispered that he wanted to taste her.

Her entire body quivered in anticipation and excitement as he slid down her body. He peppered soft kisses along the insides of her thighs and the countess bit her lower lip, arching her back slightly. He'd always known exactly how to make her shiver and quake while at the same time barely even touching her, and the night before was all but forgotten as Sebastian once more brought her to pleasure. Finally his tongue slid between her lips and Olivia let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding.

"Please Sebastian!" she gasped, twisting her fingers in his hair again. "Oh dear God please...!"
 
Olivia’s taste, her lusty moans and cries, the writhing of her body, it was intoxicating. More and more Viola wanted, voracious for the woman’s pleasure. It started slow, and delicate, just touch, teasing and inhaling, but soon Viola needed more. A finger joined in after the tongue, moving slowly, deliberately into her core. Once she had a nice rhythm going, judged by the sound of Olivia’s cries, Viola added another, lips brushing her clit to keep her on edge.

As much as Sebastian wanted to believe he was the one Olivia had been waiting for, it was clear by the scene before him that she did well enough with his sister alone. He had been proud that Olivia admitted to be eagerly awaiting their consummation, but this was what she really wanted.

As hard as it was, Viola knew she had to stop. Now that Sebastian could see what it was Olivia liked, it was his turn to try. Gently disentangling her hair from Olivia’s vice grip, she kissed Olivia’s hands, relishing in their softness. “I need a drink of wine, before I can continue,” Viola whispered into her palms, “But I will not keep you waiting long.”

Once she was able, she got up and moved out of the way, motioning for Sebastian to take her place. He seemed distant at first, and it took several gestures to get his attention, but once more he replaced his sister, kneeling before his wife. Pushing her thighs further apart, Sebastian tried replicating what Viola had done, while Viola slipped silently into the closet once more.
 
She couldn't think. Couldn't talk. Olivia even occasionally had to remind herself to breathe as Sebastian made love to her. The sounds that slipped from her lips were little more than gasps and mewls as he slowly, deliberately filled her and pleasured her. Her heels dug into the mattress whenever he found certain pleasurable spots though he never let her fall over that precipice. Did he want her to beg? Because she wasn't too proud to beg by this point.

But then he moved away altogether. Grudgingly she relinquished her grip on Sebastian's hair and the absence of his body left her feeling needy and empty. "Hurry back my love," she pleaded breathlessly, fingers flexing as though she couldn't wait to once again feel his hair curled around them.

It was a few very long moments before he came back, but when he did Olivia gripped his hair once more and arched her back as he pleasured her. One leg slid over his shoulder and her knee rested on that shoulder as she writhed beneath him.

"Please, my love," she begged. "Please...I want you inside me. I feel so incomplete..." And it was true. Where yesterday she had felt used and shamed, tonight she felt a physical need for Sebastian's thick, hard shaft filling her.
 
Sebastian wanted to take victory in his wife’s admission. She wanted him, wanted him inside her. Was nearly begging. And well, it was almost hot, the thought that she wanted him so badly. Would have been hot, if it wasn’t for the way he had watched her squirm and writhe for Viola. He wasn’t the one she wanted, despite her pleas. He wasn’t the one who had driven her mad with bliss.

Still, he had a physical need, a throbbing in his cock that was at odds with how he felt about his wife, and his sister. A throbbing that worsened as he tasted her, feeling how utterly aroused she was. Damn it all, he wanted to be inside her. Perhaps it was still possible to use his manhood to drive the memories of Viola from her mind.

“I couldn’t possibly deny you, love,” Sebastian murmured, standing to remove his pants. Once more he crawled up her nude body, kneeling between her thighs. His kiss was hungry, with her desire still thick on his tongue as he drove it into her mouth. Breaking the kiss only to catch his breath, her caressed her cheek, “Shall I remove the blindfold, or do you like this?” However ever she answered, he proceeded, reaching between them to grip his meat, and slide it between her moist lips.


Viola tried not to be hurt by the way Olivia begged Sebastian to fuck her. Just this morning she had come crying to her because Sebastian fucked her and now…

No, she wasn’t being fair. She was just jealous, insanely jealous. Another taste of the woman she loved, before she was to be cut off again. Now she was on the other side of the door, begging her brother to complete her. Viola could never do that for her. Never complete her, the way Sebastian did. Never make love the way husbands and wife ought to, or give her the children she so desired. She would never be enough for Olivia. Biting her lip before sound could escape, she sobbed in the darkness of the closet.



Sebastian’s hips moved slow at first, paying extra attention to Olivia’s cries and body this time. He could learn what she like. Learn what drove her wild. Learn to make her scream, louder that Viola ever did.

Still, he didn’t have the patience. Viola had outdone him, again. Driven Olivia mad. Made his wife beg for him, after regretting the night before. He was a man! How could Viola defeat him, here? In the bedroom, without even the right equipment? No, no Olivia was his, dammit! So his momentum shift, harder and faster, chasing his release in anger and frustration.
 
"I think I like this, actually," Olivia admitted with a shy smile, panting to catch her breath from the intense kiss. This was the Sebastian she knew and loved, not the stranger who had callously taken her then fallen asleep in her bed last night.

Then he finally entered her. Olivia sighed in relief and ecstasy as finally, finally she felt completed. It didn't hurt like it had last night, and he moved slowly. Sebastian seemed to be listening to her, paying attention to her moans and sighs and the way she arched her back when he moved inside her just so. Her hands slid up his arms to his shoulders, gripping them for support as he moved inside her. Her lips traced kisses from his lips across his jaw, down his neck, over his shoulders and chest. This was Heaven.

But then something changed. It was like something broke inside Sebastian, almost like he'd been pretending for her sake. He stopped pretending and suddenly became again that man from the night before. He drove into her harder and faster, and Olivia tried to keep up, tried to angle herself so that it was pleasurable for her. She couldn't; it was too painful, despite still being wet from their foreplay. Her hands went from his shoulders to his chest, trying to keep herself from pushing him away. A good wife never pushed away her husband after all, did she?

"Sebastian..." she said in a tone different from her plaintive mewls and moans. Finally Olivia pushed the blindfold off of her eyes and looked up at him. He looked...angry. Was he angry at her? Why? "Sebastian!"
 
Each one of Olivia’s pleased moans felt like a stab in the heart to Viola. Olivia loved this, loved her brother, and would never feel the same way about her. God, was there even a point in living any further? Was suicide a worse sin that homosexuality? She was already condemned for her failure to accept the role of her gender, what was one more dark spot on her soul.

Except…No, Olivia was not enjoying herself. She was…hurt? God, was Sebastian hurting her? All the pain, all the hurt, everything left Viola’s mind now, only to be replaced with pure anger. Exploding out of the closet, her fist connected with Sebastian’s face hard enough to knock him off Olivia. It took a few second for Viola to realize what she had done, standing before Viola dressed as her brother, with Olivia’s pleasure still lingering on her skin.

In the dark of the room, there wasn’t much difference between the Baccarin siblings. A couple of inches and maybe twenty pounds. Sebastian might have want to attack his sister, fed by the anger he was already feeling, and the frustration of his incomplete intercourse, and the pain of his split lip, but he also froze, staring at his wife to see what her reaction was first.
 
Olivia began to squirm a little, trying desperately to make it feel good again. What had happened? What had she done to make him change so drastically so suddenly? She'd thought she was responding in the right way, responding the way she wanted to respond, so why was he driving into her so hard, so deep, that pain shot up from her loins into her stomach?

"Sebastian, you're hu--"

She didn't get to finish her sentence. There was a loud bang as a door bounced off a wall and suddenly Sebastian was knocked off of her. Olivia screamed and sat up before having the presence of mind to pull the sheet up around her breasts. Two Sebastians stood before her in the dark room, both frozen, staring at her. No it couldn't be two Sebastians; one must have been Viola. But then why was she dressed like him? Wild-eyed, Olivia looked around to divine where she'd come from and saw the closet door standing open.

"Viola!" It was all her brain could come up with. "What are you--? Why--?" A million questions tried to tumble out of her mouth at once while she tried to piece together what exactly was going on. One thing she knew: from Sebastian's lack of shouting he must have had some idea she was there. "Were you watching us?" the Countess finally demanded. She turned to her husband. "Did you invite your sister to watch us?"

Any explanation or pleading fell on deaf ears: her temper had risen and in her rage she could neither think properly nor process anything she heard. "Get out!" she shrieked. "Both of you get out! Now! Out!"
 
“Olivia, it’s not-“ Both siblings started at once before the countess banished them from the room. With a resigned nod Viola left, and Sebastian followed behind, seething in rage. They managed to make it to her bedroom before the tension between them exploded.

“You have ruined everything!” Sebastian snarled, grabbing his sister by her shoulder to spin her towards him.

“Me? You were hurting her, you bastard!” Viola shot back, slapping his hand from her body.

“God Dammit Viola, this is so much bigger than that. You have ruined our name, our reputation. Can you begin to imagine what ugliness will follow from this?”

“I don’t care! If it stops you from ever hurting her again, it will have been worth it.”

“She’s my wife, Viola, and if need be she will learn to endure her marital duties-“ Sebasitan couldn’t even finish that sentence because Viola punched him again. She followed her brother onto the ground, slender fists pounding into his face. Sebastian managed a hard right to Viola’s kidney, sending her off him. Another punch to her gut brought up her dinner and a kick sent to her back. Standing over her, Sebastian considered the fight over, his victory apparent, until Viola kicked his knee out from under him.

“You should have never came here. We didn’t need you; we were happy! I wish you had just died!” Viola wailing, heaving as she tried to catch her breath, before what she had said dawned on her. Sebastian looked at his sister with wide eyes and pain in his face.

“Died, Viola…?”

“No, I, that’s not-“ she tried explaining, realizing what she had said a little too late. Over the years they had fought, and even beaten each other bloody, but this had clearly crossed a line. “Sebastian, I’m sorry.”

“I think you should leave,” he suggested, an icy tone in his words, “I’ll do what I can to smooth things over with Olivia.” Viloa opened her mouth to argue, before sighing and nodding. After a moment of recuperating, she got up to pack her things. She was gone before dawn broke.
 
Olivia was up at dawn and had eaten breakfast well before Sebastian came down. She hadn't been able to sleep. How could she? Some hours before dawn she'd heard a carriage retreating down the driveway and thought it might be safe to assume that that was Viola leaving in disgrace. Good. How could someone be so perverted as to watch their own brother...? But she'd been dressed like him, so was it perversion or narcissism, and was it hers or his? Was she mentally ill? Sebastian had been perfectly normal until his sister came to stay, so she didn't think it was him. There was something wrong with one of them, in any case, and she wasn't able or willing to see Sebastian to talk about it yet. She spent the day in her gardens, pulling up the annuals which were already dead in the late summer heat and harvesting from some of the later-fruiting plants. Plants were simple. Plants didn't betray your trust or lie or have some weird thing with their siblings. Plants were honest.

It was evening before Olivia even returned indoors. After bathing she came down to dinner, slightly sunburnt, and ate for a long time in silence with her husband. Finally she set her fork down and looked at him.

"Nobody will know what happened last night," she said finally. "It would embarrass me just as much as it would you or her. I don't know what's wrong with your sister. I don't know if she's ill, or why you would allow her to spy on us like that. I don't know what the hell you were thinking or how any of that benefited you. And to be honest, I don't think I care about either of your reasons. You both betrayed my trust and she betrayed my hospitality, and I don't want to see her in my house ever again." Olivia gazed at him evenly, daring him with her expression to correct her over whose house it was. "And I don't want you in my bed. Not right now, anyway. I love you, Sebastian, and I've thanked God every day that I wound up promised to someone so wonderful as you...but you've disgusted me and betrayed me. That isn't something I can forgive right away, if I can ever forgive it. I want to experience again the pleasure you gave me before your bandages came off, and to pleasure you in return, and I want to bear your children. But that isn't something I can do right now." Taking a deep breath she stood and looked down at him. "I'll tell you when I've changed my mind, so please don't ask."

Olivia walked away calmly, and was proud of herself when she made it all the way to her room--hers alone--before the tears started to fall.
 
Sebastian listened in silent patience as Olivia explained how things would be, from here on out. All things considered, she was being rather reasonable. She would not embarrass him, mostly because she would also embarrassed if any of it came to light. In time she would bring him back into her bed, as long as he did not press the issue. Viola received the worst of it, forever forbidden from ever seeing Olivia again. Sebastian had no problem with this, honestly believed that Viola’s presence could only make things worse. Though part of him knew that any leniency on Olivia’s end was attained because of all the work Viola had devoted towards making Olivia fall in with him. Her as him.

You should have never come here. We didn’t need you; we were happy! I wish you had just died!

The specter of Viola masquerading as him would forever haunt their marriage, a countenance he could never live up to. Without Viola here to draw comparisons with, Olivia could learn to love him. The true him. It would take time, but he had time.

“That is very fair of you, love,” he said as she stood to leave. He reached for her hand, but she was already turning to leave before he could reach her.

For days the strain grew, days spent apart beside for the tense dinners with force conversation. After two weeks Sebastian found his patience wearing thin, with no progress towards forgiveness made. Living with Olivia like this was driving him mad. He needed a break from the stress, from the icy silence, from the nearly permanent look of hurt on Olivia’s face. So after dinner he left with Antonio, to drink and forget that his wife could hardly stand to be in the same room as him.

There wasn’t any further intentions, but as he sat in a booth in the back, a lovely brunette came up to him and hugged him before any words were exchanged between them. “Oh Monsieur Vincent, I have worried about you.” Sebastian met his friend’s eyes over the strange and incredibly soft woman’s shoulder, trying to find answers. Antonio smirked and mouthed ‘go with it.’ After the icy reception from Olivia, the barmaid’s warmth was too great to resist. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, he cupped her chin and brought it to his face.

“I could not stay away, ma chère.”


Viola arrived in Montpellier two months later. She had written and tossed away dozens of letters to Olivia, knowing there wasn’t a way to explain the situation without hurting her. Hurting her in a way she didn’t deserve. Instead, she decided to wait for word from Olivia. Let her set the tone of their interactions, and then develop a plan to win back Olivia’s affections.

A few days after arriving, she received a letter from her brother. It wasn’t quite what she had hoped for, but tore it open regardless, seeking the smallest glimmer of hope. Instead she found only heartbreak. Olivia wouldn’t shame their family, but she was never against allowed in Olivia’s home. Or her presence, in all likelihood. Viola cried as she read the letter, reread it, reading over and over again, hoping she had misunderstood, had imagined it, hoped that the words might change if she read it again. She read it and wept until her tears had stained the parchment and left it completely illegible.

The first night was the hardest. A dozen fantasies of visiting an apothecary and obtaining enough poison to slip off in her sleep haunted as she tried to settle into her room. Sometime before dawn she managed to sleep, until to slumber until it was nearly afternoon. Time and distance should have healed her heart, but her only solace was a poem by her beloved Sappho.

I have not had one word from her

Frankly I wish I were dead
When she left, she wept

a great deal; she said to me, "This parting must be
endured, Sappho. I go unwillingly."

I said, "Go, and be happy
but remember (you know
well) whom you leave shackled by love

"If you forget me, think
of our gifts to Aphrodite
and all the loveliness that we shared

"all the violet tiaras,
braided rosebuds, dill and
crocus twined around your young neck

"myrrh poured on your head
and on soft mats girls with
all that they most wished for beside them

"while no voices chanted
choruses without ours,
no woodlot bloomed in spring without song..."
 
It had been a month. Olivia's anger had cooled somewhat, at least towards Sebastian. Maybe she could give him another chance. Broken trust had to be rebuilt, after all, and he couldn't rebuild it if she wouldn't speak to him. That was just unfair. Viola was another matter entirely, but Viola wasn't her husband. They could have been great friends, she thought with sadness, if that night hadn't gone so horribly wrong. Sebastian might even be able to explain himself, if not his sister, now so far from the incident. The weather was cooling and so instead of the gardens which had been put to rest for the season Olivia sent a runner to summon her husband to one of her private workshops where she was busy making preserves and pickles for the winter. The servants had long ago given up trying to convince her to let them do it; she hated feeling useless.

"Remember the first time I showed you my gardens?" the Countess asked without looking up when Sebastian entered the room. "You've seen me tend and harvest, thought you might be interested in where it all goes." Carefully she poured vinegar over some carrots in a jar before covering it with cheesecloth. "The preserves we eat here through the winter; the pickles go to the poorest in the village who don't have enough for themselves. Summer and autumn shouldn't be the only times of charity, don't you think?" She wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist and looked at him expectantly. He'd never said anything about her charity or her projects before, and indeed before The Incident (as she called it in her mind) had seemed quite interested and pleased. This could be a way to gauge whether he was angry at her for being so cool.

"I want to try, Sebastian," Olivia finally said after a few long moments. She didn't know how else to breach the subject but bluntly, and there weren't any servants around to eavesdrop. She stepped around the counter, closer to her husband. "I can't tell you to earn my trust back without giving you the opportunity to. That isn't fair to you. I...I want to start over. Clean slate. We can go back to before your sister came here, before your bandages came off. I love you and I know it's my own doing, but I've been horribly lonely." She stepped closer and hugged him tightly, but over the smell of vinegar and warm strawberries she smelled something else. Olivia hugged him longer and pressed her nose into Sebastian's shirt as she rested her head on his shoulder, as though becoming more intimate. It was the smell of some cloying perfume...and it wasn't her own.

~*~

Viola,

I break my silence only for information regarding your brother. It is of a serious nature, but I do not have anyone here I could trust who is in a position to answer. That is not to say that I trust you, but Antonio is Sebastian's friend, and would therefore lie for him. You are his sister and have more motivation to speak the truth, given the position that you are in.

I want you to tell me about Sebastian's proclivities for wenching. I want to know about every woman, about every bastard child, about his habits and preferences and how likely it is to continue now that he is married. You did not care to spare a thought for my feelings before, so I pray you do not do so now. I value truth and loyalty above all, so if you should ever hope in a hundred years to one day repair what little relationship you have I charge you to hold fast to both.

Sincerely,
Olivia
 
The next month went a bit more smoothly for Viola. Nights were still cold and lonely, and she wonder if it were just the weather or if were the cold shoulder she had received from Olivia. But she found distraction in her studies, engrossing herself in the latest theories and discoveries in physics. It would work for awhile until something came along to remind her of Olivia. Like fresh produce that made her remember their trysts in the gardens and Olivia’s passion for her hobby. Or the poetry and literature Olivia had turned her onto, seeing her reflected in the characters.

So when she received a letter from Olivia, Viola wasn’t sure what to do or how to feel. In her mind it could only be either the best or worst possible news. Either Olivia wanted to end her exile and would welcome her back into her home, or that she wanted to tell Viola in no uncertain terms how much disgusted she was by her and how much she hated her. Both outcomes were likely and contained within the correspondence at the same time, until she opened it and discover which it was. Her heart would be both mended and shattered by the same missive.

What the letter ended up contain was both and neither. The slimmest hope of reconciliation, by betraying her brother. Because her brother couldn’t be trusted to be faithful. Viola loved no one in this world as madly or as deeply as she loved Olivia, and Sebastian was unfaithful to her. Oh what justice was there in this world, that he had her, that he could treat her so, that he could have everything Viola desired just because he was born a man.

After coming to terms with just how ungrateful her brother truly was, Viola set to work. She must have stayed up all night, writing a dozen pages, scrapping each one for not being prefect enough for Olivia’s eyes. If this was her one chance to get back into Olivia’s good graces, she couldn’t squander it.

Olivia

While I can’t claim to know every detail of my brother’s philandering, I do you he made something of a habit of it, before his betrothal to you. I also know he had given it up once the betrothal was accepted by both families, and was utterly devoted to you while his wounds healed, if out of necessity. The letters he wrote about you spoke endlessly about his affection and loyalty to you, and truly I’d never known a man to love anyone so profoundly.

That said, if being expelled from your bed has him back to his old habits as a bachelor, I say he isn’t worthy of you. Not after hurting and using you for his pleasure, and then betraying you in a moment of vulnerability. You deserve a husband who will dote on your every word and dedicate his being to your happiness.

I know you didn’t write to discuss what happened, but truly I would be remiss not to at least explain myself. I know there isn’t an answer I can give that will justify my actions that evening, I can only pray that you understand I never intended you malice. Indeed, I only wished to protect you from the worst impulses of my brother, and instead I have offended you beyond redemption. I deserve your scorn and worse, but I only wish you find peace and happiness. Whether by my brother or otherwise.

Sincerely
Viola
 
Well this was less than helpful. Yes, Sebastian did go about with other women before their betrothal--something which hurt but didn't surprise Olivia--but then was loyal to her, and now maybe he was or maybe he wasn't out womanizing again. The Countess frowned at the letter and read it through again. She almost hadn't read the last paragraph. Indeed, she hadn't written to discuss what had happened and had no interest in Viola's pleading or excuses. But the way Viola had phrased things was queer and piqued her curiosity. The thought of the incident still made Olivia's temper flare, but she needed to know exactly what was meant. With a sigh she shook her head and pulled her ink pot closer.

~*~

Viola,

Are there any telltale signs of Sebastian's infidelity? A certain way he acts when he is sharing another woman's bed? I do not wish to bring untrue accusations against him, only to be accused of being a silly, jealous female. That would be the surest way to drive my marriage beyond repair where once we were happy.

I wish to know how, exactly, you intended no malice. How it is that spying on us in our marriage bed was meant to somehow protect me. I wish to know what exactly these worst impulses were which you so feared might befall me. We were happy, Viola, truly happy. It seemed God had made us for one another. I do not wish happiness from another, but to live as Sebastian's wife as deliriously happy as before you came to our door.

Olivia
 
Viola didn’t think it possible for Olivia to break her heart any further, but each word in her delicate penmanship tore a bit more into the emptiness that gnawed at her. Olivia didn’t even intend to pierce her heart, but her innocence felt cruel in this moment. The joy in her words, at how wonderful the relationship had been. They had been happy, deliriously happy. Perfectly made for one another. Olivia blamed the wrong sibling for the rift that developed, but she didn’t know. She couldn’t ever know.

Picking up the quill, she set to work, dancing around the truth without explicitly lying. It proved rather difficult, but she knew the truth would hurt and dishonor Olivia far more than she deserved.


Olivia,

I cannot speak to patterns concerning my brother’s infidelity, seeing as he has never had a chance for infidelity until recently. I will say that when he has taken a lover, he moves like a man who has discovered how to float, whose entire being is buoyed by his contentment. A smug smile will seldom leave his lips, and he is quick to whistle a happy melody, breaking the silence with his dulcet tones.

I want you to believe that watching you and my brother in bed was motivated by concern. Concern over how distraught you were, when you spoke of your first time. Concern because you seemed so hurt and betrayed by what had happened, I couldn’t believe how bad it was. All I had heard was how happy and in love you and my brother were. I didn’t understand what he could possibly be doing to make you come to me as you did that morning.

While I will be the first to admit my brother is not always sensitive to feminine needs and concerns, there was something greater, more gut wrenching in your expression. I had to know he wasn’t hurting, that he wasn’t so blinded by his own pleasure that he was abandoning your bliss. I thought I could direct him, help him figure out how to be a better husband to you. Clearly I was a fool, and wish there were some way I could apologize to you for this lapse. I hope that I am one day worthy of your forgiveness.

Sincerely,
Viola
 
She was hiding something. The way Viola had worded her letter made Olivia even more suspicious than before and she poured over it again and again, trying to find whatever hidden meaning she was trying to convey--either consciously or subconsciously. Slowly a suspicion worked its way into her brain, but she always pushed it to the back of her mind before it could fully form. It was too horrifying and confusing to give it any serious thought.

The first part was plain, of course, and for that she was grateful despite the pain it brought to her heart. She had thought Sebastian had started whistling because he was happy she was speaking to him again. They were going slow, rebuilding trust, and even occasionally shared a kiss or three. But now she knew. He'd moved, as Viola put it, like a man who had discovered how to float when they'd first met, but she couldn't recall the smirk or the whistling. So he had a lover, and possibly had never really loved her, never really been happy with her. Or else...

No. That was not an option she was willing to entertain. Not only was it sinful but it was aberrant. Sick. But it had made her happy...

~*~

Viola,

You are terrible at hiding other meanings in text. There is something you are hidng from me and I want to know what it is. I believe I have already divined it, but I want to hear it from you. If ever you wish to in a hundred years earn my forgiveness or my love then I charge you to write only the truth, and to write it frankly. Tell me whether there were any wounds beneath the bandages of the one I married. Was him who I love really ever wounded in a duel? For both our sakes, and your brother if you ever held him dear, answer me truthfully.

Olivia
 
Viola’s breath caught as she read the most recent letter, feeling the whole charade fall apart at the seams. Equal parts terror and relief filled her. Olivia, knew, or at least strongly suspected, the truth. It was hard to pick up the pen, to confirm the things she was asking. And yet, once Viola started writing, she could hardly stop, the truth pouring onto the page, longing to escape, to be free, to be heard.


Olivia,

My brother was indeed injured in a duel, in the months before your wedding. So severely injured in fact, there was a genuine fear he would not pull through, for some time. He was certainly too injured to travel to Versailles, and court you in advance of the wedding. I came, in his stead, to secure the marriage for him. I came to make you fall in love with him, to win for affections for him. I know this confession must hurt, must feel as a betrayal. I never wanted to hurt you.

What I did not anticipate was how hard I fell for you. How easy it was, to adore all your charms and wit, your passion, your grace. And that you loved me, as Sebastian, back? My heart swelled such that I could finally understand why poets had filled volumes with their odes to their beloved.

I loved you so dearly, so deeply, I could not imagine a world where my brother would not feel the same. I couldn’t imagine him being so blind to the virtues I had seen, so foolish to his great fortune. Likewise, I had strong hopes that my brother could make you happy. I had so often heard that we were mirrors of one another, so alike we were of one mind. If you loved the Sebastian I presented, then you could love the real Sebastian, and he would give you everything you wanted.

I truly thought you would be happy with him, and that he would be happy with you. That your marriage would develop in the same blissful manner. I would swallow my pain, step aside to see your joy bear fruit. Being exiled from your presence and your home doesn’t hurt nearly as much as hearing that my brother has not brought you the happiness you deserve. Pray, tell me a way I could return happiness to you, and I will do it. No distance is too great, no task is too onerous, no amount of time is too tedious.

Sincerely,
Viola
 
There was no answer. For months, months longer than it would have taken for a letter to be delivered to Montpelier, no word came to Viola. Her letter sat in a drawer in Versailles, hidden away from the world but read often. Olivia would take it out to read it over multiple times a day until the edges were worn where her fingers held it and the ink was blotted in some parts where her tears fell onto the page. She struggled with this revelation which confirmed her suspicions and what it must mean to her. Before Viola and Sebastian had traded places they'd been happier than any two people had a right to be, and they had after all been joined by the bonds of holy matrimony. But she'd been joined to Sebastian, although it had been Viola standing in his place. They'd spent nights together in passionate bliss and their days had been filled with wonder and love. The garden had seemed a fairy world of pleasure and the library their secret hideaway. Their time together was naught but laughter and kisses and learning from one another or about one another. She was in love with the person she had married.

But it was wrong. It was sick and shameful for two women to lie together and to love one another as they would love their husband. And Sebastian was supposed to be her mirror, Viola had said it herself. Olivia tried harder to know him better, even going so far as to take him to her bed one evening. That evening was the same as their first: painful and unsatisfying, lacking an emotional bond. Even so she tried desperately to love her husband (was he her husband?) even when she knew he hadn't given up whatever lover he had in town. She'd even heard him sneaking out a few times once he thought she was asleep. It took months of trying to love him and to be his wife, months of soul-searching and deliberation, months of re-reading that letter, of sleepless nights and crying jags she didn't even let the most loyal of servants see. Pray, tell me a way I could return happiness to you, and I will do it. What way could she return her happiness? Viola couldn't turn back time, couldn't undo all the damage had been done and freeze the world in their eternal bliss before Sebastian had come, before Olivia knew what she knew now. There was only one way Viola could do anything about her happiness, and that way was against everything Olivia had been raised to know.

Fall turned into winter, which had melted into early spring by the time Viola received another letter from her wife. The envelope contained a single scrap of parchment and a dried strawberry preserved from the season before. On the parchment, unquestionably in Olivia's handwriting, were only two words:

Come home.
 
Viola waited for reply, and waited some more. Weeks passed, and months, and the worst thoughts filled the empty space where Olivia’s words would have gone. Everyday there was a brief hope that this would be the day she received something. Each day without a letter in response hurt a bit more. After three months she began coaching herself, that nothing was coming for her, that nothing would ever come for her. Each day without a letter stung, but it got easier.

She wasn’t sure what she expected, exactly. Aside from her immediate family, and Antonio who was practically family, no one knew about her sexual proclivities. Sebastian teased her, but never seemed to judge. Her parents disapproved, but were grateful nothing she did would result in an out of wedlock pregnancy for her. They were still quite firm on her marrying at some point. Olivia deserved the truth, and it felt good to admit it to someone else, finally, but…what had she really expected? That Olivia would understand? That she would accept her?

Perhaps Olivia and Sebastian were working things out. Perhaps Olivia was too happy and in love with her brother to write back. To concern herself with Viola. Sometimes the thought helped. She really did want happiness for Olivia. Maybe she was already pregnant with Sebastian’s child, and consumed with her impending motherhood. She wanted children so badly, and Viola had no doubt she would be a wonderful mother. But it still hurt, that Olivia could be so happy in Versailles, while she was lonely and miserable.

Six months after she had left Versailles, she received a letter. She hesitated, for a moment. She was finally healing, finally finding some peace in this separation from Olivia. Could she really open this envelop, and reopen those wounds? Could she afford more hope, more heartbreak? No, she had to know. Even if it was just Olivia casting her judgment and cutting her off, she had to know. A dried strawberry fell into her hand, and her eyes were watering before she had even unfolded the parchment.

Come home.

The next day she was packed, and heading back to Versailles.
 
"Ah, Mistress Viola," the doorman greeted her cordially but there was an intense curiosity behind his eyes. He was too much a professional to ask, of course. "The Countess mentioned you might be arriving soon. Since the weather has turned so lovely she asked me to direct you to the gardens. She said you would know where."

The gardens weren't as Viola had last seen them. The beds had been put up for the winter and now Olivia worked in bare patches between the paths, conditioning the soil and measuring out holes for her seeds before carefully planting and covering them. Little markers indicated her rows and some were even beginning to sprout. She was carefully pulling bits of grass and weeds out from between these tender seedlings when Viola found her. She didn't look up for a very long time.

"I'm still...struggling," she admitted at last. Finally she pushed herself to her feet and brushed her hands off on her usual dirt-stained gardening dress. This time when she looked into Viola's face she was surprised she hadn't seen it before. "It...It's immoral, and disgusting, and sinful, and wrong." Her eyes welled with tears which were quickly blinked away. She'd gone over this a thousand times in her head, what she would say to Viola when they finally saw one another again, and none of it involved crying. "But...so is adultery. Sebastian seems to have found his happiness without me, so why can't I have mine without him?"

Shyly she stepped forward until she was nearly toe-to-toe with Viola and uncertainly put a shaking hand on her cheek. "I'm in love with the person who I married," she admitted, "and if that's you then I will call myself your wife." Olivia leaned forward and pressed her lips to Viola's, tentatively at first and then more eagerly when she recognized the lips she had so missed.
 
Viola wouldn’t rush things. The letter had been full of promise, hope, but it had still left so much unsaid. So she waiting, content to watch Olivia work. Finding herself relieved and disappointed that Olivia wasn’t with child. When Olivia did acknowledge her, it was to proselytize, castigate. Giving voice to Viola inner thoughts, and shame. “We are all sinners,” she murmured, to comfort herself as much as Olivia.

Kissing Olivia as Viola was strange. Terrifying. What if someone saw? But Olivia didn’t care, deepening the kiss as moments passed. She loves me. She loves me, Viola. It was nerve wrecking, and for a moment or so, she forget to breathe. This really was her first kiss, as Viola. She hadn’t realized how much she had hidden behind the mask of pretending to be Sebastian, or any of her other male identities.

Soon enough, it was easy. Easy to forget the pain of those long six months, easy to forget how terrified she was that Olivia would find out. Olivia knows now and still she loved her. Her hands crawled up Olivia’s neck to rest on Olivia’s face, thumbs playing over the cheeks. "To have you for my wife is far greater than I deserve. I look forward to demonstrating my gratitude once more."



Sebastian wasn’t sure how he expected married life to be, but as it turned out, it was dreadfully dull. Perhaps it was better when your spouse could actually stand you. When she wasn’t comparing him to his sister, without realizing it. They had been talking more the in past few months, but had only shared a bed once.

And that was why he had no qualms about taking a lover. Why should he? He was a man, he had needs. He certainly wasn’t going to be a brute and force Olivia to sleep with him, but if she wouldn’t make herself available to him, why should he turn down someone who was? But now he had to wait for Olivia to sleep to meet with Annette.

Perhaps he’d join her in the gardens today. She prattle on about this plant or that vegetable, but perhaps once she worked herself into exhaust digging and planting she’d let him take her. How else did she expect to have any children?
 
That kiss was wonderful and terrifying and altogether overwhelming. Slowly Olivia drew away, looking into Viola's eyes. How had she not seen before that those were her husband's eyes? (Her wife's?) Sniffling a little with her emotion she gingerly brushed at Viola's cheeks with the back of her hand.

"I've gotten you all dirty," she said quietly, trying to get the dirt off. "Silly of me...sorry..."

What would they talk about? How were they supposed to act around each other? As they had before, she supposed, when Viola had been her husband. But it was strange to treat someone of her own sex the way she'd treated Sebastian before everything had gone sour. She wiped her hands on her dress again, trying to get the last of the dirt off but not quite succeeding. It had rained the day before yesterday and deeper down the soil was still damp enough to stick to her palms as mud. She accidentally smeared a bit more across her forehead when she wiped away the sweat then tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.

"Would you like to go inside, or do you want to stay out here?" Olivia asked finally. "I um...I still have a lot of questions about...well...about everything. And I want to know what sort of a marriage you want--you as Viola, not as your brother. I think that we could have a life together, if you wanted it, but...well, there's a lot of talking we need to do." She rocked nervously from her heels to her toes then back again. "We can stay out here, or Sebastian doesn't go to the library much...or my room." She cast her gaze down for a moment then back up again, not entirely certain how to act.
 
“Doesn’t matter” Viola argued, giggling as Olivia tried grooming her. Finding it hard to hold back the absolute bliss of the moment. Even with Olivia shy and unsure of the arrangement, Viola felt hopeful. Happy. Alive. They’d figure everything out, eventually. They had each other now. That was all that matter, all she needed. Viola tried to return the favor, cleaning off the smear of moist dirt left on her forehead, but it soon became clear a bath was in order.

God, they could bathe together! Suddenly hundreds of possibilities were open to them, possibilities Viola never imagined she would get to experience. Thing wouldn’t be the way they were before, when she posed as Sebastian. They would be better, so much better. No more lies, no more secrets, just perfect honesty and intimacy between them. All she could do was look on in amazement as Olivia spoke of having a life together, a marriage together.

“Oh love, I don’t care, I can hardly think straight. My hearts feels as if it could burst at any moment. God, just being with you, like this, after the heartache of the past few months…” Viola exulted, unable to restrain herself any longer. She wrapped arms around Olivia’s waist and twirled her in her arms, ecstatic laughter. Trying to focus, she put Olivia down, tried to get serious. Tried to get in the right mindset to have a serious conversation, “Sorry, sweet Olivia, I know you have questions. I know you want to talk about all this, and I will talk to you and I will answer your questions as best as I can. Whatever you want and need Olivia, I will do it, I want to do it. It’s just…I don’t think you understand how I feel right now.

“I never felt accepted, Olivia. I never thought anyone would accept me, or my queer ways, or even begin to reciprocate. I never thought I could be so open, so honest, so myself and be happy. But you…you love, you accept me, or at least, you are trying, and you have no idea what this means to me.” She was laughing again, relief flowing from her. The weight and the shame she had carried her entire life, thinking that she was wrong, that she was an abomination, that she was deviant, it seemed to fade away as Olivia accept her.

“Let us talk, and ask your questions, so I can bring you some of the peace of mind you have brought me.”



Sebastian had made his into the gardens, looking for his wife. He was surprised to hear laughter and conversation. Was she with one of her ladies or…

Viola! What was…When had his sister returned? Why had his sister returned? Olivia had begun to warm up to him again, slowly, but when had she forgiven Viola? Why had she forgiven Viola? What had Viola done to earn that forgiveness? He wanted to confront them, demand answer. He had played the disgraced man, acquiescing to his wife’s every demand since the incident, and this was his reward? To be set aside for his sister? Set aside for a woman?

He couldn’t do this now. Stalking off, he headed to see Annette.
 
It was difficult to say the least, to hear Viola talking like this and to know it was her husband. Olivia's first instinctual reaction was revulsion but of course that wouldn't do: this was the person she was in love with, with whom she'd been deliriously happy before she'd cocked it all up. If God didn't want her to be happy then He wouldn't have led her to fall in love with this woman, intentionally or not. She whooped with surprise when Viola twirled her around in her strong arms, smiling weakly when she was set down. It was a lot to take in.

"Then let's go somewhere private," Olivia suggested when Viola agreed to talk. Hesitantly at first she took her hand and found the hand that she was so very familiar with. "I need a bath anyway, and we need to think about what to tell your brother about why you're here. No one should bother us there."

A bath was drawn and Olivia played for time by letting down her hair. She knew now that Viola had seen her naked before, had made love to her, but it was still like doing it all over again for the first time. Taking a deep breath the Countess slowly slipped the dirty chemise over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She stood nervously in front of Viola, feeling incredibly exposed, before after a long moment stepping into the bath.

"You can come too, if you like," she said at length before settling in and reaching for the soap. "I...how do we even do this? How can a woman be married to another woman the same way she's married to a man, but knowing her spouse is a woman?" Olivia's eyes widened and she looked up at Viola in a momentary sort of panic. "Do you even want children?"
 
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