"Roland." She said, sitting across from him in the single cell dungeon in which he was trapped. He didn't respond to it; he knew she wasn't there. His head hung low as his neck drooped, his red mane of hair falling down his face as he struggled with the phantasm's voice in his ear. He sat on the bare stone floor, one leg sticking out and the other pulled up, his knee level with his chest as he tried to take deep, steady breaths.
"Roland, look at me." She said, her voice flecked with that hint of warmth and gentleness that he'd loved so much in her. With the lethargy of one who knew the fruitlessness of his actions Roland lifted his head, staring dully as she sat across from him, her body posture mirroring his own as she sat. She was as real as if she'd stepped through the river of time to speak to him. "Why the long face, my flame?"
She'd loved his red hair. She said it was what had drawn her to him, in the first place. When it caught the light of the battlements in the afternoon sun, it looked like his head was wreathed in fire. She was the torch that burned in his belly, the gangrenous knife wound that twisted every time he thought overlong about her. "Shut up." He muttered. She was always the one who had a way with words, not he.
She smiled, her pearlescent teeth glimmering in the grimy darkness as though it were a mirror reflecting sunlight. He thought he'd been finally rid of her; it had taken years of wanderlust and uncounted gallons of alcohol but Roland had finally managed to banish her ghost from his mind. It had been months since he'd last heard her laugh upon the wind, and
years
since she'd been such a distinct presence in his mind that she'd manifested this clearly to him. He thought her effect had worn off... clearly it hadn't.
"I'm mad." He said, the deep, shuddering sob that wracked his body a testament to his state of mind. "Gods, just leave me be." He had always known - or at least been told - that beings like her left lasting imprints on their chosen mates. It wasn't enough for them to simply enthrall, they wanted complete physical, emotional, and spiritual submission. For some it was a simple matter of overloading senses, injecting addicting fluids, and twisting their own physicality against them. For others it was more subtle: manipulation, treachery; the dancing game of courtship and intrigue, only with far more cogent consequences on a lost gamble. And then, there were those who used love. They were the most insidious of all: ingratiating themselves to their prospects with the simple acts of kindness, compassion, trust and tenderness.
She had chosen the latter option. She met him in the night, now nearly ten years ago, out on patrol through the castle's streets as she carried a basket of grapes for the kitchens. A short conversation about wine became a friendly chat, became a long stroll, became a promised meeting, and, finally, a stolen kiss. She met him on break, on patrol duty, atop the battlements in the long hours of drudgery watching the walls to a keep never truly under threat. When Roland first pulled her against him and she sighed in his mouth, he'd felt a terrified shiver run up his spine as he wondered:
is this love?
It was, whatever could be said about it after. She began to consume his life: his free time ended in her arms instead of at the bar, and his nights spent in her bed rather than at the barracks When she'd place a hand against his cheek, when her back would arch and she'd cling to the bedsheets as she cried out his name, Roland knew he could never leave her. A young man who'd never before given a passing thought to progeny now wondered what their children would look like. A youth who never even considered the future now imagined what might come after; what they might do, where they might go.
"Roland." She whispered to him, now inside the cell. Her scent was like sunflowers on the wind. One day she had led him to a place outside the castle, to a secluded stand where the beautiful blooms shifted and swayed in the breeze. He'd smelled them as he fell down upon her, laughing and rolling. He stalked her shifting, darting form through the shadows of the hidden grove. When she revealed the truth to him she'd done it like a trembling maid, her body molding and changing as she grew a tail, a pair of horns, and an otherworldly skin tone.
"It's just me." She'd said, taking his face in her hands as he jerked away and searched around wildly for his beloved that this creature had stolen from him. "It's
me
, love. It's me, my flame."
"What have you done with her?" He'd said, breaking down as a sudden, near-addictive need arose within him. He
had
to see her again! Her face shifted back, and he saw the object of his obsession arise again, pink-skinned and smiling. Roland sagged into her arms and she cradled him, whispering how everything would be all right and that she'd take care of him. Her voice had a sing-song quality to it, her words crawling like little loving tendrils in his ear. Roland remembered the smell of sunflowers, his eyes lidding low as he'd fallen asleep to the sound of her voice, despite not feeling tired.
"Roland." She said, now sitting less than a few feet across from his slumped body with that sultry smile she saved for only him. She didn't touch him, her echo could not manage that at least - thank the Gods. It didn't stop her from calling to him in other ways. "I need you. I've missed you so much." He didn't respond, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. He could feel his fingernails draw blood upon his palms. "Why don't you say something, love?"
"Because you're not real." He said, staring into the eyes of his hallucination and praying to all the Gods and the eight helspires that he be pulled away from this ceaseless torment. She smiled at him, an indistinct mirage with all the lines and definitions of reality fogging around her nonexistence. She stared at him, even her eye color and hair an impossible to characterize blot of hue in the darkness. She was like a snapshot, a momentary image taken in a blur that had no true permanence. He remembered smells, feelings, sensations. She was a phantom limb of the heart. Why had she returned?
"Roland." She said, her voice shifting to the cadence of another's. She turned her head at the same time he did to the sound of scraping against the door of his cell. The door pressed open with a heavy thud, causing Roland to stumble to his feet. "Roland." Two people said, slowly fading to only one. "Roland!" Kelsea was standing in front of him, a sly smile on her face. "I got the keys." She said proudly, spinning the ring around on her finger as she quirked her lips and planted a hand on her hip. She was in her traveling gear, her pack on her back.
"How the fuck did you-" He said, and she stepped forward, dropping her pack and pushing him up against the wall. She kissed him with the same fierceness he'd given her at the tavern, before the town guard had come and arrested the lot of them. The guards had planned to sort out what had happened in the aftermath, but apparently the cheeky Succubus wasn't giving them that chance. Against his better judgement the man pulled her closer, feeling her lithe form and large breasts shove against him as he was reminded of someone else. Kelsea nipped his lip in playful teasing before pulling back, her blue eyes shining.
"I've missed you, Roland." She said.
"It was barely an evening." He replied. He jerked as he felt her hand roughly fondle his crotch through his trousers.
"And?" She said, squeezing him appreciatively. "I can't miss my companion and fuckbuddy, even if it's for only a little while?" She inhaled his scent, "It felt like a lifetime." She whispered, planting a smooch against his neck. He threaded his hand through her hair, his other reaching down to grope at her rear through her pants. He felt the cushion of her ass in his hand, jiggling pleasantly between his fingers. He spanked her and she cooed, leaning harder against him.
"Need your fix, yeah?" Roland replied, grasping her by the back of the neck and aligning his face down atop hers. They met again, her tongue probing though his lips to find his own. "How did you get out?" He asked. She chuckled.
"Guess."
Roland grasped against her rear with both hands, kneading with his thick fingers, causing her to moan. "You fucked the guard."
