Forever Wraeththu

Will You Dance With Me?
by LoLL

Introduction & Disclaimer

Title: Will You Dance With Me?
Chapters: 1/1
Spoilers: I suppose none, this is a sort of AU
Date Posted: April 2005

Author: LoLL
Contact: loll_3000@email.it, ladygaladriel.altervista.org
Beta and a big encouragement: Prudeness

Disclaimers: The whole Wraeththu Universe belongs to Storm Constantine, to whom goes my eternal and incommensurable gratitude for creating the Wraeththu and let us write about them.

Dedication: Tess, who lit the fire, Bookofnicodemus who gave me the courage, Nemesi because she is my Wraeththu’s soulmate (even though I know she won’t love the pairing) and, of course, to all Wraeththu worshippers.

Will You Dance With Me?

Nights in Galhea can be painfully long… long and cold. Especially when it snows, and the silence is so deep and suffocating it sometimes hurts. Tyson takes a deep drag from his umpteenth cigarette and when he puffs the smoke outside, his breath chills in the air. He tightens the fur coat around his shoulders and looks at the huge room across the windows’ glass.

Forever shines of lights and happiness, like a red ruby on an immaculate carpet. In the warm and glittering danceroom everybody seems to be having a good time. It is a joyous night, a night of celebration for the imminent birth of the Tigrons’ firstborn. Not him, the bastard son of Calanthe and Terzian, and not even Abrimel, the unwanted son of Pellaz and Caeru, and whom he has never met, but pities nonetheless.

This is the child of true love, or so he was told; the heir Pellaz is hosting from Calanthe’s seed.

With too much food and too much wine, they all seem to be in an exceptional high mood, forgetting for one night, their problems or their grudges, hiding sorrows and regrets behind fake smiles and flamboyant make-up. Even the icy cold Vaysh flirts gracefully while he dances with General Ashmael, while Rue ignores intentionally the two Tigrons. Panthera refills his glass for the third time in a few minutes, his hand never leaving the Tigrina’s waist.

“Mmmhh, the air smells of aruna tonight.” Tyson hums to himself. Cobweb can throw such a hell of a party. Tyson is about to light another cigarette when his eyes fall on a lonely figure. He is dressed in dark red and his raven hair descends like a protective curtain around a lovely and boyish face. There is something familiar in that countenance, but Ty is sure he has never met the har before. He’s younger than him, that’s for sure, and sports a look of total unease.

Who are you, my beautiful and mysterious guest?

In that very moment the har lifts his head and Ty meets the most sensual, beautiful, dark eyes he has never seen. And the most erotic lips someone can ever dream about. Tyson enters the room, bringing a rush of cold air and some snowflakes. In few steps he crosses the dance floor and stands in front of the mysterious har.

“We don’t know each other,” Tyson says, without realizing how much of his hostling there is in his stance. He extends his hand and the other har stands up and looks at him for a while with a puzzled and shy expression. A single wrinkle furrows an otherwise flawless bow. “My name is Tyson.” he goes on, hoping that his hand won’t hang in the air for too long. Luckily, the younger har raises his own and slides it in Ty’s larger one. It is an incredibly small and delicate hand, but everything in this har is small and delicate, though perfectly proportioned. If it wasn’t for those deep, liquid pools, Tyson would think he has not gone through feybraiha yet.

“Hello” the voice is low and a bit unsure. It reminds Ty of a velvet glove caressing his face, and he closes his eyes to better absorb the soothing sensation. “I… my name is Abrimel.”

Ty’s hand snaps away even before he can prevent the compulsive gesture, and when he opens his mouth to apologize he realizes it is too late: The pain and the hurt in the dark eyes is so alive and evident, Tyson has to restrain himself for not crushing that strange, haunted creature in his arm and beg his forgiveness.

“I—I’m sorry… I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t apologize!” Abrimel says with a sudden hard tone. He raises his head and Tyson can see how the fierce stubbornness of his father and the proud determination of his hostling are perfectly blended in that furious stare. “I don’t need your pity. I don’t need anybody’s pity!”

Tyson shrugs. “I don’t pity you at all. I was just surprised to meet you for the first time in such a circumstance. We are sharing the same fate, after all.” He looks at the core of the room where his hostling and Abrimel’s father are dancing, completely unaware of the surrounding, so lost in their perfect love and in the radiant wait of the child that Pell is carrying.

“All that love… It makes me nauseous!” Tyson says with a snort. When he turns to Abrimel he is smiling, and something warm and liquid heats his belly. For a brief moment, he wonders if he is dreaming or something. “Will you dance with me?”

Abrimel stares at him for a while, and all the self-confidence disappears under the sudden blush that tinges his cheeks. He looks so young, so incredibly young that Ty wonders again if he has overcome his feybraiha.

When they reach the center of the dance floor the music has changed to a slow, sensual tune. Tyson takes Abrimel in his arms and senses the younger har’s tension. “Please, do not fear me, I could never hurt you.” Tyson murmurs into Abrimel’s temple and he realizes he means every single word.

Abrimel shivers while Tyson’s warm breath caresses his skin.”You smell of snow,” he says as he inhales the deep scent coming from Ty’s clothes. “Of snow and wood.”

“And you smell of dreams.” While he whispers the words, Tyson can’t help but brush his lips upon Abrimel’s eyelid. Abrimel is shaking now and Ty helps his head to rest over his shoulder, just above the heart, while the music envelopes them like a soft blanket.

They don’t even realize that the whole room is still. Every har is looking at them, some with amusement, some with delight, some with envy, some with fear. For a long moment they dance in silence, with eyes closed, swaying to a melody that is only in their heads. Abrimel’s lithe body is perfect and soft against Tyson’s stronger form. Tyson tightens the grip, a little, around Abrimel’s waist and shoulders and the other har seems to melt in his embrace.

So perfect, so true.

The smoke of a thousand candles and endless cigarettes make the air heavy, and Ty feels his eyes burning. When the music is over he looks at Abrimel, but his vision is blurred from a thin veil of tears. With an unsure hand, Abrimel caresses Tyson’s cheek. “Why are you weeping?” he asks with concern.

“I’m not… it’s…” Tyson realizes that it’s not for the smoke “Let’s go away from here.”

And without even taking a look around, they exit the room in the general astonishment, with Abrimel laced at Ty’s waist and Tyson’s arm closed protectively around Abrimel’s shoulders. The three Tigrons exchange a worried look while, at in a far corner of the room, Cobweb smiles quietly.

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