in dreams
In Dreams
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or this fandom. I write the fic because I like the show. If you don't like the idea of two women together, ESPECIALLY two women of totally different species, don't read this.
Feedback: Hell yes.
Rating: PG-13 to R, for sexual innuendo. Nothing explicit.
Author's Note: If this seems contradictory, it's meant to be. I wanted Katherine to love her, but hate her for loving her. Although I suppose want would be a better term... Anyway, it's my justification for Katherine's ... dislike of the Gargoyles before the, er, catastrophe.
The princess watched silently from the shadows of her bay window, her back straight and chin held high, just as her mother had always taught her they should be. Dark brown hair hung loose, cascading down her back in shimering waves that danced under the fire's hot glare. Eyes the color of cobalt watched through the finely crafted glass before her, steadily following the movements of the beasts that guarded her home at night, the unholy brood that she was forced to deal with eve after eve.
Were it not for the many times Goliath and his clan had stopped Vikings and, far more often, common raiders from taking Castle Wyvern, she would have had them all broken years ago. Her father had praised them, as her people sometimes did now, claiming they were man's greatest ally against the darkness. Her father was a fool; a fool frightened by ghost stories and entranced by the beauty of Goliath's mate. The she-demon. The blue wench with a mane of hair so red it rivaled the tapestries in the royal hall.
Katherine watched her now, as she had when her father did (though at the time it had been out of childish jealousy). Noticed the curves and sharp edges, the proud jutting chin and the eyes that shone like rubies when angry. The skin colored of sea-blue shale, and as hard as the mountain cliffs surrounding this land. Katherine watched colorless lips laugh and smile, pout and sneer. She watched a tounge colored with a honey glaze wet those lips whenever Goliath was near, whenever his voice was heard. Her fists clenched as she watched those lips, and unclenched as she wanted them.
She hated the gargoyles. Hated them for their stone skin and their bat-like wings. Hated them for their nameless, family-less existance. Hated them for their simple joys, their lack of responsibility, their lack of cares. Hated them for all the things she would never have: the freedom to choose a mate of her own, the freedom to dress comfortably, the freedom to speak as she wished, to think what she wanted, to do as she pleased. She hated them utterly and completely, just as much as she ached to be with them - with her.
The female's voice could be heard above the noises of the castle below, rising in senous laughter into the night sky above. Katherine's stomach flipped and the floor gave way beneathe her. Why could that laugh not echo for her sake, for her words. Why could she not be the object of such undying devotion, such passionate want. Her fingers were sore with the need to trace the gentle curve of a strong, winged back, to feel the point where spine became tail and tail became leg. She wanted to cause that body to arch against her, to moan in need as she herself often did alone at night in her bed. She wanted to own that hair and those lips, to feel those eyes on her every night.
She wanted the she-demon, and for that she hated herself. For that she hated them. To lust over such monsters, such things as God never made, could not be holy. Could be only the Devil's work. They were the children of the Fallen, their wings perverted by the sins of their father. Surely that was why her blood pounded in her veins at the thought of the monster; she must be a succubus, come in the night to seduce Katherine into sin. The want that reverberated through her very being was nothing. It was magicked upon her by the unholy beast to torment her into madness.
And it was surely working. If something did not give soon Katherine would loose herself in her need. Would approach the beautiful monster, Goliath's "angel fo the night," and do something she would eternally regret. She would give herself over to sinful want and sink blissfully into neverending hell.
Sweat trickled down the princess' face and the fire died slowly behind her as dawn trickled against the horizon. The she-demon and her mate began their walk to their posts above, giving Katherine a small reprive. Eyes the color of cobalt blinked tiredly and hands as white as snow wiped dark brown hair from her face. Sighing heavily, she pulled herself from her nightly post and crawled into bed, awaiting the succubus to come to her in dreams.
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