A Winter Night's Tale

************************************************************************************************************

Part II

He stared at her intently for a moment, showing something in his eyes that Tika could only describe as vague, restrained longing, but soon enough his gaze broke into a deep frown. Raistlin let go of her chin, almost disappointedly, and an immense look of frustration swept his thin face as he closed his eyes with an air of surrender.

Upon seeing this, Tika suddenly remembered, and a shiver ran through her. She often forgot about it, because it was so horrible and unnatural - that, as a result of his Test, Raistlin saw everything die. At least that's what Caramon had told her, although very briefly, giving the impression he did not particularly want to talk about it, which was not really a surprise. But everything! Even her, at this very moment. What a strange, sad fate! Profoundly perplexed by this notion, Tika looked at Raistlin and felt pity fill her heart, despite all the terrible things he'd said to her. And, despite her heartfelt dislike for the mage in general, she was a genuinely good person to whom empathy came naturally - she would have wanted to comfort the man in some way, but for the life of her she knew not how.

They were not long-lived, though, Tika's new-born feelings of compassion. Whatever kindness she had imagined was evolving was replaced by a sharp sting of horror when Raistlin opened his eyes again. Never ever had she seen such expression of mixed desire and hatred in anyone's eyes, and as the mage took a step towards her, Tika cringed reflexively, not sure whether he wanted to hold her or hurt her.

He didn't do either. He just stopped, as if uncertain how to go on. Their bodies were hardly touching, and yet Tika could feel Raistlin's feverish warmth radiating all over her - it was as if the mage was burning inside. The soft scent of roses was stronger now, at this close distance, and against her will Tika realized it was far from unpleasant. Very far, in fact. Caramon didn't smell of roses. Not any of the men she knew did.

The unmoving silence between the two did not last long, but long enough to make the next movement seem abrupt and unexpected. Giving a nervous jump, Tika had only just time to realize something was going to happen, and when she did, Raistlin's hand was already hovering on her hair, light and careful, evident in its need to touch. Cautiously, very cautiously, as if proceeding to examine a painful wound, the hand pushed the wild curls of her hair over to her bare right shoulder, revealing the left in its smooth whiteness.

Tika started to speak - something, anything - but her long-held breath caged the words in her throat and then turned them into a shaky gasp as she suddenly became aware of the intense heat resting on the side of her revealed neck. She could feel her pulse drumming wildly against Raistlin's palm as his fingertips lightly traced along the line of her throat; his other arm went around her waist in a loose embrace, very subtly, without actually drawing her close; the fingertips warily found the curve of her hip, as light as snowflakes; slowly, step by step, he was imprisoning Tika's entire being by the power of his tender yet undeniably authoritative touch.

Taking in a deep breath, as if surveying her scent, Raistlin bent closer and briefly touched Tika's ear with his nose and lips in a manner that was furtive, almost desperate. In response, she gave a little, muffled cry of shock.

"Shh," Raistlin hushed softly. "It's alright," he muttered, slightly incoherently, "it's -" His voice trailed off like a dream and, following the echo of Tika's cry, he too made a little sound, kind of a mix between a surrendered sigh and an excited moan.

Still more or less visibly shaking from the surprise, Tika stayed still, unable to move or speak, waiting for Raistlin to go on, to say something or do something, whatever it was that he wanted to do or say. Her heart was racing, but she told herself that if she stood still and nice and listened to him, just listened to him, he'd finally accept her. She wanted him to accept her, badly. Because Raistlin was right about what he'd said there - Caramon really wanted the two of them to get along. And to Tika this did seem like a good start, although she was slightly confused about the nature of the situation. Raistlin's hand resting on her hip was certainly strange and what he had just done - a sort of a kiss, isn't that what it had been? - quite frankly close to unacceptable, but not enough to make her feel more than just a little uncomfortable.

The depth of her trance only broke when suddenly Raistlin's hand moved slowly upward, finding a resting place on her ample breast. Finally realizing in an eyeblink that it wasn't about talking and listening, Tika winced in panic and started to turn around, but once and for all Raistlin's arm tightened its loose hold around her, drawing her firmly against his chest; his embrace was tighter and harder than one would have believed his thin arms capable of. Terrified, Tika made a wild effort to break free, but Raistlin's grip was inexorable, and in her frenzy she only succeeded in rubbing herself forcefully against the hard column that was pressing against her buttock. Her breathing got faster at the sudden realization of what it was.

Aware of the futility of her efforts, Tika quieted down, tensely listening to the ever-growing thump of her heartbeat that crazily seemed to echo off the walls. Her forehead was glistening with sweat, her teeth were as clenched as her hands. It was weird how much she felt like she was fighting, and fighting for her life to boot, but in the mirror she only saw an obedient girl standing still.

Raistlin, for his part, was silent and composed, but, as he cautiously started to fondle her breast, Tika saw the mage's face crumble into the most human expression she'd ever seen on his face.

"Raistlin..." She started in what she hoped was a steady voice but turned out to be a shaky whisper. "They... They could be back any minute now."

Her words seemed to come from far away. She felt that she was choking.

Completely ignoring the undoubtedly veritable content of Tika's words, Raistlin pulled slightly at the white cotton of her top, slowly rubbing the soft fabric back and forth between his fingers, wearing a weird expression at once absorbed and amused.

"Raistlin, please," Tika tried addressing the mage again with all the conviction of a grown woman. "This... this isn't funny." Her voice broke down into a sob and her face crumpled.

Raistlin did not answer. Instead, he gathered more of the fabric in his fist and violently yanked down the low-cut neck, releasing one of Tika's breasts from their tight captivity. Startled by the abruptness of his action, Tika gave another little cry of shock and, seeing the sudden harsh shift in Raistlin's eyes, she suddenly knew for certain that he enjoyed her fright. It was something completely new to her, and she simply couldn't understand why anyone would be like that.

Still silent like the endless snowfall behind the window, his face once more a blank mask, Raistlin grasped Tika's breast with his opposite hand, tenderly imprisoning the rosy nipple between his slim fingers. Tika couldn't help gasping loudly as she felt both pain and wonder, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut to stop the tears that she felt were coming, simultaneously outraged and yet nervously agitated by the authoritative manner in which Raistlin had broken into her privacy. Just like that, without asking questions, as if she were nothing but a pleasurable toy that had caught his attention and whose functions he was now exploring without sacrificing a single thought for her inexistent doll's feelings; all his movements were filled with dark determination that Tika was not used to experiencing with his brother. For Caramon did ask questions, all the time, hundreds and thousands of questions, it seemed, kind and coy and respectful questions - is this alright, I'm not hurting you, am I.

Sometimes it frustrated Tika - how should she have known what was alright? She had never known a man intimately; she wanted him to make the decisions for her. It was humiliating, really - Caramon never did much anything to her, sometimes not even when she particularly asked him to. And why? Because - according to his noble declaration - she could never come first in his thoughts. "My first commitment is to my brother," Tika could hear him say with nauseating devotion in his voice. Still too young to understand that wanting to save someone from an inevitable heartbreak was love in the purest sense of the word, Tika felt a sudden shudder of anger towards him. Towards both of them. If only Caramon would come in now and see that his brother didn't give a Floatsam penny of that commitment! That would finally tear the two apart - likely.

Opposite to the harshness of his movements, Raistlin's touch was tremendously soft and gentle; Tika could feel her skin tremble under it, and, without her intending to, she had a quick, involuntary vision of that heated touch elsewhere on her body - deeply ashamed of herself, she rapidly pushed back the thought in all its rough vividness. She remembered, though she didn't want to, Caramon's hands on her; they were big and strong, unintentionally clumsy at times, and Tika reluctantly admitted she didn't always enjoy his touch. She stopped - enjoy? She definitely wasn't enjoying this! But, if that was the case, then what was the wetness inside her that all of a sudden seemed to have appeared from nowhere? Or the long, undulating shivers in the pit of her stomach that intensified every time that Raistlin's wayward fingers returned to play over her nipple that had grown undeniably hard? And, most importantly, why had she never felt them with Caramon? Utterly bewildered and lost, Tika closed her eyes, touching her upper lip with the tip of her tongue to prevent the tears from getting in her mouth. One more time she made a listless, halfhearted effort at flight, just because she knew it was what she was supposed to do, but there was no true vigor in her stir.

With the iron taste of her tears on her lips, Tika felt Raistlin press his forehead against the back of her head. His warm breathing rippled her hair, but it was steady and unbroken like that of a sleeper, even as he gently massaged her soft breast, which didn't quite fit in his delicate hand. After months spent on the road in Raistlin's company, Tika had become what she considered unfortunately familiar with many of his characteristics, the least of them not being his self-control that bordered on terrifying in nature. But still his silence seemed downright creepy, almost unnatural, considering the turmoil she'd seen reflected in his eyes. It made her painfully aware of how frantic her own cries and jumps appeared against his cool silence, and on top of the shame she was already feeling, she had to face the other shame of being so weak and vulnerable in his presence, readable as an open book.

Surreptitiously, Raistlin let his free hand slide halfway under the waistline of Tika's long, green skirt, all the time making slow, circular movements over her lower abdomen, almost touching the place where the hot, lazy burning was. Tika wanted to resist his hand, but its pull was too strong; little by little it made her fists open, and she let go of her captivated breath as a sigh. Despite her anger and fear, she couldn't help but allow her tense posture to melt into a warm, mellow sluggishness, startled by the peculiar but by no means unpleasant throb, which originated somewhere between her thighs and soon travelled to his legs, making them ridiculously wobbly.

Holding her firmly, Raistlin started to rock gently against Tika's back. She could feel his chest anxiously rising and falling; but still he continued to control himself with icy determination, never allowing his breaths to escape his command and betray them to curious ears behind the walls, even if they were quickly becoming fast and harsh-sounding. Tika had only the vaguest impression of what he was doing and why, and she felt a touch of shame followed by a tired amazement. How many times had Raistlin told her she was useless, if not by words, then by making it clear in various other little ways? And what about now - was she useless now? That wintry night in the midst of Port Balifor winds certainly taught Tika something of life and rid her of one of her childish fancies - apparently a man didn't have to love to want it. Apparently he could even hate and still want it. A muted burst of laughter from behind the wall reached her ears. Goldmoon. The sound made Tika feel even lonelier than she already did, as though she was completely cut off from everything she had known once.

As if it would somehow undo what was happening, Tika had tried to keep her eyes closed, but, driven by some strange self-destructive impetus she now opened them and let herself stare straight in the mirror that mercilessly showed her in the mage's burning embrace. There she met her own green eyes and, unable to bear the unrecognizable look in them, she averted her gaze and gave a little sob, to which Raistlin answered by halfheartedly stroking her hair a few times in a weird parody of consolation.

Tika hung in Raistlin's arms like a rag doll, without struggling, without thinking. One by one she let go of her thoughts and focused on the movement, because it was the thoughts that hurt and not the touching. Because, curiously enough, the harder Raistlin touched her, the more awake her body seemed to become. Secretly, like a snake moving through grass, Tika's discouraged acceptance took on a fleck or two of shy, dawning pleasure. The rhythm bewitched her, his hands were entrancing her, and the unbelievable hardness that was almost painful against her backside was the wordless epitome of his desire for her, as wrong and unfeeling as that desire may be. But it was something - she had managed to awaken something resembling humanity in him and the thought seemed to give strength to the tremendous bolts of pleasure that were suddenly shooting all over Tika's body, over and over again, until it felt like the lake wetness inside her had turned into oceanic waves.

As weird and impossible as it was, Tika Waylan was certain she had never felt as desirable as now, at this very moment in the arms of the one man she never would have expected to receive such sensation from, the one man that she had long ago decided was the meanest man who ever took the breath of life. It was impossible, of course, because it was impossible. I am going to shout, Tika swore to herself in a daze. Riverwind will hear me, and Goldmoon. They're right behind that wall, both of them. Now - I'm going to do it right now. But she didn't. She just plain didn't. Doubting her own senses, seriously thinking of having her head examined, she could not understand as to why she didn't let the world know of her plight. Did the son of a bitch cast some kind of magic on her when she didn't notice; was that it? Like they said he had done with the little gully dwarf somewhere in Xak Tsaroth?

She heard a tiny metallic sound. Behind her back, Raistlin was working on something with his one hand while still holding her tight with the other, as if fearing her escape. It took a while for Tika's brain to register what she saw, and when the knowledge - he's undressing - finally broke into her consciousness, Raistlin had already reached out to her arm and was now harshly twisting it behind her back. The next thing Tika knew was that her hand was resting on something very hard. It was like touching stone. At this novel sensation, a blush crept onto her face and she let out a small cry in a fit of girlish confusion.

Raistlin put his hand over hers, making her fold her trembling fingers around his shaft, which she did, amazed at its size and heat. Then the mage moved their hands in unison a couple of times, wordlessly indicating what it was that he wanted her to do. She understood well enough; when his hand left hers, Tika timidly picked up the rhythm by herself, so absolutely astounded by the new, exciting feeling that she once more forgot she wasn't enjoying it.

She had never touched a man like this before. Why, of course she hadn't - Caramon never let him. He always asked her to stop, murmuring weak excuses whenever they were in danger of going further than just kissing. Contrary to the malicious, disappointment-prompted stories told about every barmaid at every corner of the world, Tika had zero experience. But once given the opportunity, she was learning fast; as she moved her hand, she noted with fascination that the incredibly soft skin moved nimbly against her palm, finally breaking Raistlin's control. The movement made his breathing heavy, nearly sending it over to moaning as it laboriously rasped in and out of his lungs.

I did that, Tika thought in wonder, nothing short of surprised at the feelings of smug pleasure that came with the realization, distantly aware that her self-esteem, more than once badly wounded by Caramon's indecision, was healing fast even as it was crumbling under Raistlin's succesful demonstration of her place and worth in the world. As a matter of fact, in this ludicrous situation Tika suddenly had the courage to admit that she had slowly started to have serious doubts about Caramon's reasons. He was six, almost seven years her senior, and, as Tika feared, infinitely more experienced; could it be that she simply wasn't good enough for the warrior?

Be that as it may, she certainly seemed to be good enough for his brother, oh yes! If you could see me now, Caramon Majere, Tika addressed the man in his mind in growing rage, if you could only see me now. She pictured Caramon walking in on them and felt a weird surge of contentment rising within her at the sight of the hurt in his big, brown eyes witnessing the scene before him; his beloved twin jerking himself off with her eager assistance, her hand that Caramon had oh-so-coyly kissed pumping his brother's cock like the best of whores...

Encouraged by her overly energetic stage of mixed fear, wonder and anger, Tika gripped Raistlin a bit harder, making him twitch in her hand. She allowed her hand to move more freely over his length, all the way to the tender head that felt wet and slippery against her palm. Raistlin groaned in answer in what Tika considered was an affirmative, appreciative tone. She suddenly found herself wondering whether he had ever had a girl do that to him before - after all, he too was six, almost seven years her senior. The old insecurity was starting to return when she suddenly felt a hand catch hers, halting the movement.

Tika swallowed, eyeing Raistlin warily in the mirror. Was it over now? She imagined that she should feel relief but instead was experiencing a peculiar sense of disappointment.

Raistlin didn't release her; he simply held her for a while without moving, staring down into space over her shoulder, trying to even his breathing.

But his stillness did not resemble peace. It was the stillnes of a storm gathering, not subsiding.

Then his eyes darkened with decision.

Tika felt herself go limp with knowledge - but she also felt an ardent tremor that had nothing to do with fear.

She only knew she should have fought back when Raistlin pulled her skirt up above her waist. She knew she should have screamed when he jerked down her lace underpants. She knew she did not want it. She knew she was being used, and that couldn't have been right, could it?

But she also knew she kept absolutely still, because the waves inside her told her to, and because her breathing was fluttering erratically out of her like a little bird leaving the safety of its nest for the very first time. And she knew there was a kind, stupefied smile on her lips, totally unfit for the situation - because it was too unbelievable, too ridiculous. Because it wasn't happening. But if it was, somehow - didn't Raistlin care? Didn't he give a damn about getting caught? On a second thought, maybe he wanted to get caught. Maybe the whole risk of it excited him. She tried not to think about it, just like she tried not to remember the look in his eyes when he saw that she was afraid.

The heat of Raistlin's touch was almost unbearable now that she was bare from the waist down. He was stroking her behind, grinding his erection against her soft, naked buttocks. She was exposed to him like a child who was in for a whipping, and Tika was horrified to discover that, mingled with terror, her body and mind were responding with a secret, shameful excitement that she was not willing to acknowledge.

Raistlin's voice was wavering despite his best efforts to keep it even. "I'm going to take you now," he whispered, with an air that would not be disobeyed.

Tika swallowed. "You'll start coughing," she tried feebly.

"I'll start coughing anyway."

Tika nodded slowly in agreement - she didn't even know why. Or maybe she did. The truth was that she had been preparing herself mentally for weeks, captivated by the sweet prospect Caramon had given her with one hand and taken away with the other, first encouraging and promising, then always turning his back to her at the most perfect moment. Her body was more than ready, completely deaf to the horrified cries of her mind.

A long time ago, Tika had chosen in advance the words she would say when the moment came. As it turned out, she couldn't speak them. She couldn't ask for gentleness nor patience. Because she couldn't, she wouldn't give Raistlin the joy of knowing. Although she wasn't sure which would have been more of a turn-on for him, the thought that she was untouched, or the thought that she was a plaything for both brothers and then some.

Not knowing what else to do, Tika grabbed the vertical post of the bed to help keep her steady. They're coming, the thought battered wildly in her head, They'll find us. But she no longer knew if the thought was colored more by fear of interruption rather than hope of it.

Holding her in place by the hip with one hand, Raistlin helped himself with the other, fumbled a second between her thighs and then forced himself in with a strong upward thrust, at the same time slamming her hard against the wooden footboard of the bed; in the mirror and through the pain that whipped over both her knees and her inner hole Tika could see that the mage's eyes, usually squinted and cautious, widened. For a second he reminded his brother a lot - and then the impression thankfully passed as quickly as it had come.

First, it was just painful and she only wanted it to stop, the thing she had expected and wondered about throughout her girlhood, loud alone in her mind and in whisper in the company of her friends, when each of them had a more incredible piece of folklore to share than the other. The thing Caramon was supposed to teach her. Tika's eyes filled with water and she realized she was panting uncontrollably, certain it would have hurt less with the right brother. She closed her mouth and tried to breathe through her nose without much success. Behind her, Raistlin stood still, held tight in the virginal cave of her hot flesh, his eyes dazed the way Tika had never seen them. With a shaking hand he caressed her breast and wiped away the tear that fell down over her cheek and slid down her neck.

The pressure of the immovable staff between her legs made Tika's lower body tremble uncontrollably. Slowly Raistlin lowered his hands, sliding them up and down over her thighs, feeling her smooth skin and occasionally brushing with the back of his hand the tender, red-haired mound between her legs that had sucked him in so willingly at his command. Tika shook her head compulsively, in disbelief or denial, she did not know; but the waves inside her kept rolling in, higher and higher, although she tried hard to resist them, to resist him.

The attack from three directions was too much. Tika didn't know what it was exactly, but she knew it was something sweet and strange, for all of a sudden, as a culminating effect, her whole body seemed to go numb for a split second and then come back alive with terrible force. The waves drew her under with a powerful roar and she felt herself pulsate wildly around Raistlin's hardness. Lucky for Tika, afterwards she wouldn't remember her unconscious mind movements, but at that moment she was completely his in mind and body; the only thing she was aware of was the pulse. Her lips opened, and a tearing moan escaped her against her will. It was immediately stiffled by Raistlin's hand that rose to her mouth and covered it tightly.

With the force of her climax, Tika's tense body finally relaxed, giving Raistlin a freedom to move. He adjusted himself for a better hold; his one hand encircled Tika's waist while the other crept up to her throat, squeezing it lightly, tender and dangerous at the same time. This made the loose sleeve of his robe slide down, revealing his arm to Tika's eyes that widened in horror at the sight - attached to his thin wrist with a leather strap, there was a cruel-looking little knife. It was not sheathed. The weapon was small, but its coldness against Tika's chest felt like the coldness of all the blades in the world, and she tried to squirm away from its reach into a more safe position. Seeing it, Raistlin gave a low, husky chuckle next to her ear, freezing her blood as well as her movements.

Raistlin started to move. He gave slow and determinate thrusts, step by step turning the biting pain into a smooth, wet glide, causing dizzying friction where Tika was still sore from the blinding feeling that had grasped her without warning. The pace was not fast, but Tika could see that Raistlin started to tire almost immediately - already there were pearls of sweat on his forehead and white srands of hair got glued to his temples. She no longer felt the slightest pity for him; she only felt a malicious delight at the vehemence of his illness.

But Raistlin had a spirit as strong as his body may have been weak, and, without the tiniest sign of giving up, he continued slowly and insistently with a regular rhythm, the clinking of his undone belt buckle mixing with the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing. He was definitely enjoying her, but Tika also had a frightening feeling that he wasn't only doing it just because he was a man and she had happened to turn him on. That too, but there was also something deeper to it, something that had everything to do with the fact that she was his brother's girl - just like he'd said himself. She could sense it, but still her heart went cold when she saw the way Raistlin's eyes were lingering on the door, imploring it to open rather than guarding it. His eyes were freezingly cold, even angry, but there was also a light of spiteful pleasure in them that wasn't directed at her. What revenge was raging in his body, Tika didn't know. She did not want to know.

Raistlin pushed her harder against the bed, slightly increasing the rhythm of his thrusts. Tika could not prevent a sharp cry of pain followed by a series of sobs and pants as the bedpost bit into her neck and shoulder even as the footboard was gladly bruising her knees.

Ignoring her gasps of pain, Raistlin reached for Tika's arm that was compulsively squeezing the ornate bedpost and forced it behind her back, locking it there in an awkward angle by gripping her wrist. Propping his knee on the footboard, he imprisoned her between himself and the bedpost with the help of his free arm. He then leaned against her with his full weight, which really wasn't too much, and an absurd idea crossed Tika's mind that he was probably lighter than she was. But he was hot, so hot and hard and unyielding, and under the pressure his body weight was now giving her Tika could feel every inch of his manhood reaching even deeper in her tight, moist opening.

Satisfied at the posture, Raistlin picked up the rhythm again, perfectly aware that she was unable to move or do anything else but accept his dominance over her. The urgency of his movements was ever growing, until he was boring through her sensitive flesh with a force and speed that Tika never would have guessed even possible. The eccentric objects that hung from his robe belt and had often been the object of Tika's suspicious gaze, swayed to and fro with the pace he was keeping - the little animal skulls and feathers brushed over and over against Tika's bare calves, almost caressingly, giving her an irrational urge to scream.

She was so damn afraid that she would have fallen straight to the floor had Raistlin not held her. It was all so far from her hopes and ideals; the blade, the pain, the shame had never played a part in her dreams. And her breast hanging cheaply out from her blouse that she had put on for Caramon felt like an exclamation mark, a symbol of her humiliation - she couldn't have felt more naked even if she were fully unclothed. They weren't even in bed, for Belzor's sake. For some reason Tika was certain she would have felt less humiliated if Raistlin at least had taken her decently in bed like normal people did. This way - standing, in a backward position, with pain raking through unwanted pleasure - it felt like she was nothing but a slut whose purpose was to be fucked but not made love to. She had always thought her first time would be love-making. But thanks to a certain pair of brothers, her innocent dream was fast disappearing down the drain, irreversibly, irretrievably.

Anger started to boil in Tika's body. She raised her tear-stained eyes to the mirror, defiantly, just for the mirthless joy of seeing something of innocence and youth die from them. She leaned forward to help Raistlin as well as she possibly could, to receive him with hunger that was in severe disharmony with what she was feeling in her mind. It was rage that made her do it. Her every stir was a punishment for Caramon - it was his fault, all of it. It was Caramon's fault that what she had so wanted to give him was now mercilessly being stolen by his selfish, cold-hearted bastard of a brother whose guts she hated. He should have loved her when she asked. He should not have gone out to buy stupid supplies with stupid Tanis.

But the anger was wiped from Tika's features and replaced by a curious bafflement, when suddenly there became a visible change in Raistlin; his movements got even stronger and his eyes grew unfocused. He buried his face in her hair with a heavy moan. For a few more times he thrust her very, very hard with suppressed groans, and then Tika felt him exit hurriedly. Crossing his arm over her chest, Raistlin snatched her tight against him, drawing in shaky breaths that suddenly stopped - he went tense like a bow string, grimacing as if in pain, forcefully silencing his final moans of pleasure that would have been too loud, and Tika felt him spasm against her several times. She distantly registered the slide of hot liquid down her buttocks and noticed she was breathing very fast herself, completely shaken at witnessing for the first time in her life a man's pleasure.

Intuitively knowing that this time it was truly over, Tika lay enthralled in Raistlin's rigid embrace, without the strength to move or speak. The anger and fear having drained itself out of her body, she all of a sudden felt terribly sleepy. She had no notion where yesterday ended and today began; in fact, it felt like she had always been there, like she always would be there, in that room with Raistlin.

When she was certain that the world had ended and nothing would ever happen again, Raistlin's breathing suddenly returned with a heavy sigh. His rigid grip loosened, and he pushed her harshly away from him - for some reason the coldness of the movement hurt Tika more than the rest of what had happened. Without speaking Raistlin turned his back to her, his face tight and uncommunicative; out of the corner of her eye Tika could see him button his trousers. Finished with that, he let the lower part of his robe fall back down over his legs like it had never been disturbed from its natural state in the first place.

The sight brought Tika to herself. Imagining with horror how Caramon and Tanis would step in and find her there with her pants down, she restored her top quickly with numb fingers and reached down to pull up her underpants that had fallen down to her ankles. They stuck to her behind where Raistlin had come. Dressing herself, she observed a thin trail of dried blood running down her inner thigh. It wasn't as bad as she'd imagined it might be. Much worse were the massive bruises that were already dawning on her knees and arms. I fell, Caramon, don't you remember? I stumbled on the threshold, clumsy me.

Feeling cold and lonely all of a sudden, Tika blinked her eyes and tried hard to release the wail of a mistreated child she felt was forming in her throat. But try as she may, she couldn't rid herself of the memory that ruined the hurt - the memory of that blinding pulse inside her, whose faint licks she could still feel when she squeezed her thighs together. And the hard, sweet rhythm of Raistlin's hips stealing her virginity, spoiling her for Caramon with arrogant determination. Tika did not know it then, but much later in life, when already married to Caramon, she would sometimes remember it amidst daily chores or on a sleepless night and go hot and cold all over. She would remember the scent of roses and Raistlin's hoarse, aggressive moans, and when sliding a finger into her throbbing cleft, she would keep telling herself that it was the kindness of her husband she was dreaming about...

Trying to make herself very small and invisible, Tika started to creep towards the door in desperate need of crisp frosty air that would mercifully clear up her foggy mind and make her believe she had dreamt the whole thing. As she went, she couldn't help throwing a sideways glance at Raistlin. Startled by the look on the man's face, she stopped.

There was a cold smile on the mage's lips. "See, I always knew you were like this," he said coolly and with contempt, albeit still a little out of breath. "Nothing but a barmaid." His eyes were narrowed to slits again.

Tika shrugged, too befogged and exhausted to care one way or the other about what he thought of her.

"Now, a word of reminder." Raistlin placed his palms against one another, bringing the tips of his fingers to his lips like he was pondering on an intricate problem. "Don't even consider telling my brother about this," he said in a voice deceptively soft. "We both know he is more willing to believe nasty things about you than about me."

Pacing soundlessly, Raistlin came to stand behind Tika, and, bending forward, whispered in her ear, "And what you did was extremely nasty, offering yourself to me behind his back." He gave a low laugh that made Tika's hair stand on end and continued, "I don't think he could ever forgive you. I don't think he could even look at you again." His voice twisted into mock admiration. "As you know, my brother's such a good, honorable man."

He toyed with a strand of Tika's hair, twining it around his finger. "Are we clear on this?" His whisper was just as chilly as his eyes were.

Everything he said was true, and it simply broke her heart. Turning her head away from Raistlin's reach, Tika closed her eyes and nodded tiredly. Gods, she had never felt so tired. She only wanted to sleep. Sleep away the headache that she felt was already coming.

"Good," Raistlin said in a fond, mildly surprised voice as though praising a child who had just accomplished new words. He turned his back to her.

Tika stared at him blankly. Then a little cynical smile came to her face. To friendhsip. She shook her head ruefully in disbelief. Stupid, stupid, stupid - how could she ever have thought that something would change?

She didn't mean to speak, but ended up surprising herself. "You know what, Raistlin?" She was silent for a moment. Then she raised her chin. "Fuck you." She spat the words like venom at his back. Almost immediately she regretted her poor choice of words.

The mage turned around, meeting Tika's stare. He didn't reply but merely stared back at her. The corners of his mouth turned up into a distorted smile. He snorted a note of laughter through his nose.

Right then there was a knock at the door that broke the horrible spell between them. Tika gave a violent start and her eyes shot to the direction of the sound.

Raistlin did not remove his gaze from her.

After a short, expectant silence the knock came again, impatient now, and then Caramon's voice shouted in panic through the door: "Raist? Are you in there? Are you alright?"

"Ah," Raistlin uttered shortly. "Your knight in the shining armor is finally here."

He treaded softly to the door and opened it. "Stop hollering, you fool," he hissed at his brother as a greeting. "You're startling everyone."

Tika heard Caramon say in a voice watery with relief: "Gee, Raist. I was worried."

"Well I cannot teleport myself to the door in an eyeblink," answered Raistlin peevishly.

" 'Course not, Raist. I just thought..."

"Don't think. I'll think."

He moved aside and let in the warrior, who started to remove his wet, snowy cloak, but when his eyes fell and focused on Tika, he paused and a look of mixed delight and bafflement appeared on his face.

"Tika!" Caramon cried, sounding like he was seeing her for the first time in his life. He looked at his brother, back at her again, then once more at his brother. "What is it?" he asked insecurely, knowing - much to his sorrow - that the two weren't on the best of terms with each other.

Raistlin gestured towards the red bundle of fabric that lay discarded on the bed. "She measured me for the robe." His voice was so casual and sophisticated that Tika felt absolutely sick in her stomach. If a person could lie with such ease and suave, she knew for certain she did not want anything to do with that person.

Caramon's worried expression melted into a sunny smile. "Oh, of course! The robe!" He slapped his forehead at not realizing it sooner.

He finished taking off his cloak and then walked to where Tika was standing. "You just looked at me like you saw a ghost or something."

"I did?" Tika smiled vaguely, quickly hiding her arms behind her back. She looked down, afraid that Caramon would see from her eyes that she had been crying. In fact she almost started to cry again when Caramon gently touched her hair before turning back to his brother.

She was so happy to see him. And Tanis - she really wanted to see Tanis again as well. She needed to see his wise eyes and reassuring smile. Having been angry at Caramon seemed like a folly now, and Tika once again knew that she loved him. It was not his fault. Of course it wasn't. There was only one person to blame, and that person wasn't Caramon.

"It's absolute hell out there," Caramon grunted. "But we got what we needed, and - " His eyes stopped on the wine goblet on the table, then took in the other goblet, which too was full. For a moment it looked like he was going to say something, but then whatever it was that he had imagined obviously proved impossible, and he eagerly resumed his story instead. "As I was saying, Tanis needed some arrows. You know that small crappy looking hut? Behind the butcher's?" He took one of the cups and tasted the wine. "They actually sell weapons there, can you imagine? And quality weapons, too! Anyway. Tanis goes in to buy his arrows, and me - I go and have a chat with this smith bloke Adam to get me a new sharpening stone. Well, not right away, because actually I first went to retrieve some spare bolts from -"

"At the third junction - did you take the right turn or the left?" Raistlin put in caustically.

Caramon stopped and scratched his head, frowning insecurely. "Uh... I dunno, Raist. I can't remember."

Raistlin shot his twin a disgusted glance, and then a few harsh coughs shook his body.

A look of concern rose to Caramon's face again. "Are you alright, Raist? I hope I wasn't gone too long." He studied his brother, who answered his worried gaze with an ill-tempered stare. "You look a bit tired out, you know."

Raistlin waved his hand at him boredly. "I'm fine, Caramon. I'm great. In fact, I feel better than I have in days." Saying thus, his eyes went to Tika. She dropped her eyes, watching the brothers from under her lashes.

"Well, that's great, Raist." Caramon smiled happily, genuinely elated by his twin's words. Then his eyes happened on the tape measure that lay at his feet on the floor. He picked it up and handed it to Tika, who took it without a word. "You must have dropped this, Miss Seamstress," he said with a big grin.

Joining his brother in rushing her out of the room, Raistlin collected the fabric from the bed and gave it to Tika along with the basket. Unconscious of what she was doing and still totally occupied by the scene which had just passed, Tika hardly even heard the brothers' exchange of words and took the objects handed to her as if in slumber. It felt like years ago that she'd last held them, and yet it couldn't have been more than fourty or fifty minutes ago that she'd come to the door.

"I'm sure she'll make you one fancy robe, Raist," Caramon said over his shoulder to his twin, but keeping her eyes on Tika with an admiring smile. "I bet she's one top sewer!"

"Oh, you're right, brother," Raistlin smirked. "If she sews as good as she dances, I have absolutely nothing to worry about."

Her mind went black. Everything annoyed her - the words passed between them, their shared room, the fact that they were twins, the fact that Caramon was so bleeding stupid he didn't ever notice something was wrong. Absolutely everything. She swallowed hard to suppress the fit of rage. "I'd better get to work then," she said in so low a voice as to be scarcely intelligible.

Feeling like a void, Tika turned her back to the two brothers and marched to the door. Her hand was already on the handle when she felt on her arm a tender touch that turned her around. Caramon kissed her on the lips - hastily, of course, in his brother's presence. Tika answered the kiss listlessly, hoping he wouldn't notice her flegmacy, tasting with a pierce in her heart the aching familiarity of his lips. Just a barmaid. I didn't want it. I didn't offer myself to him. Did I?

She sighed and then gave a short laugh - the quickest self-defense there is.

"I'll see you later, okay?" Caramon whispered to her, and she saw a naughty gleam in his eyes. He traced her lower lip with his finger and playfully rubbed his thumb over her nose.

Tika could hardly force the words out of her throat. "Sure," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

She stepped out of the room and turned to close the door behind her, watching Caramon smile at her.

But the last thing she saw was not Caramon's honest, open face. What she saw was Raistlin standing behind Caramon's left shoulder like an evil ghost, watching her with his dark, cursed eyes; and a slender finger rose to his lips before the closing door swallowed both him, his twin and the room.

THE END

***************************************************************************************************************