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The first time they touched--really touched--Zelda felt a completeness. A part of her that she struggled to name, a void that she could only acknowledge once it had been filled. That it was Hilda chafed Zelda's pride. But her pride, Zelda knew, was not as great as her need. They spent nearly a century apart when Zelda left England after Victoria's coronation. The space, she thought, would be refreshing. In truth, Zelda spent that time irritable and pining as she dedicated herself to continuing the study of her craft. She maintained the mortuary and served as something of an assistant to their brother Edward during his rise to the high priesthood. There was something in the quiet power of that that Hilda relished, but it smacked of emptiness without Hilda there. Lording it over her in letters--which Zelda dutifully wrote--was not the same. Ah, but the letters. No matter how much Zelda scoffed at the neat, childish roundness of Hilda's handwriting, seeing it always thrilled her. My dearest Zelda…She would read the missives alone, in her bed with Hilda's empty one beside her. The stationary always smelled of Hilda, not just her perfume but also the mild scent of baking spices. Were Zelda a more sentimental woman, she would have held the carefully unfolded pages to her nose and breathed the scent.
Each letter varied between the quotidien details of Hilda's days and the excitement of her social engagements. They progressed from the functions of courtly society to more Bohemian adventures--of which Zelda wholly disapproved--as the years passed by. They might have communicated other ways, and sometimes they did, but this was their ritual and one of many between them that developed as if by unspoken agreement.
When Hilda returned, Edward kissed her on the cheek and rushed away on church business, leaving her alone with Zelda. She stood at the bottom of the staircase, Hilda there before her still in the doorway, as if waiting for an invitation. Zelda held her hands clasped in front of her, allowing the nervous energy she felt to coil there in her middle as a tight ball, while on the outside she remained calm, cold even.
"I miss you." Hilda's voice was small, uncertain. But the little, lopsided smile she flashed was radiant. Zelda's breath caught in her throat.
"I expect you'll want tea."
Hilda took off her coat and hat. She was smartly dressed in a peter pan collared blouse with mustard piping and a matching mustard skirt. Zelda noticed that her stockings had a run in them, though she doubted Hilda would have noticed. Her hair was shorter, curled at the ends. Somehow she looked not older but more mature than when last they stood face to face. Zelda wore a high-necked suit in navy blue, a mustard colored scarf knotted neatly around her neck, as if they had planned to match.
She turned on her heel toward the kitchen, But before she had taken two steps, Hilda caught up to her and took her hand. Hilda nearly shuddered at the electric warmth. It had not been a century without lovers--far from it. But they left her with a perfunctory satisfaction that did not last. This jolt was not something she had felt aside from in her own dreams.
"Zelda…" Her sister's voice had the undercurrent of a plea, and she turned. "It's so good to be home again."
They were close now, face to face. Zelda looked down at her, and the moment drew on between them. Hilda still held her hand, now twining their fingers together. It was as if it were the first time they had touched, though they had held each other's hands countless times before. The moment seemed to attenuate between them, and before it could break, their lips met.
In Zelda's dreams of this moment, Hilda's kiss had always been shy, inexperienced. After all, Zelda had been the first of them to experiment, to take a lover. She had not thought of Hilda as having sexual exploits, perhaps because she was too involved in her own. But Hilda's kiss was not shy in the least. It was she who pressed her tongue between Zelda's lips, and it was she who pulled Zelda closer. Her kiss was as self-assured and deep as her lips were soft. She tasted of a hint of lemon candy.
Zelda wanted. She wanted to consume her whole, to savor her, to never let anyone else touch her. She wanted to pull Hilda closer and grab fistfulls of her hair. The sudden, intense desire she did not realize she had been holding in check threatened to overwhelm her. Zelda pulled away. She stared at Hilda not as if to say they should not be doing this but as if to ask how, how Hilda could make her feel that way.
"I think we should go upstairs." Hilda's voice seemed to shatter the silence of the house. Zelda merely nodded in response.
They made their way hand in hand, one agonizing step at a time. Zelda refused to give in to her baser instincts and rush. These moments between them were sacred and ripe with unholy blessing. In the impatience of her lust, Hilda also felt profane joy that she and Hilda could be so lucky to have this. She savored each step knowing that her most private desire would soon become reality.
As they reached the hallway to the bedroom they had always shared, Zelda squeezed Hilda's hand tighter. They tread softly, knowing which boards creaked, slipping into old habits even though they knew they were alone. Zelda pushed the door open and drew Hilda across the threshold. She closed it behind them, sealing it with a whisper under her breath. She was surprised when Hilda pushed her against it, and she fought not to let it show as she matched the intensity of Hilda's kiss.
This time, Zelda did not restrain herself. She ran her fingers through Hilda's hair and grabbed it, holding tight. As the kiss broke, she yanked Hilda's head back, forcing her sister to look up at her.
"This is what you want?" Her voice was gruff, and Zelda knew she did not have to ask. But the sound of her own voice grounded her, reassured her that this was real.
"Yes." Hilda could not nod. Zelda held her too tightly. She swallowed, and her voice came out stronger. "Yes, Zelda."
Zelda was torn. She wanted to cast off their clothing as soon as they could, to magic it away so she could feel Hilda's skin against her own. But she wanted to savor having Hilda undress her and then herself. Such acts of devotion had once been innocent between them, and Zelda thrilled at the new charge they would now carry.
But she let her impatience rule her, and they were not careful with each other, their clothes landing haphazardly where they fell. They landed naked and panting in Zelda's bed with Hilda half on top of Zelda as they rushed to taste every part of each other, to touch every inch of each other. Zelda sank her fingernails into the perfect curves of Hilda's hips as Hilda bit her shoulder and nibbled down to the the tender skin along her collarbone.
Hilda's breasts were full in her hands, nipples tout underneath her tongue. Zelda was wet and became wetter still with Hilda's mouth on her cunt. But she did not want to come--not yet--and she pulled Hilda up into a kiss again and tasted herself on her sister's lips.
They made each other come with their mouths, without magic. Though it was quick and desperate, Zelda had never found herself so satisfied. She basked in the afterglow and the lingering tang of Zelda's pussy in her mouth. Hilda dozed, sprawled on the bed as Zelda got up and sat in front of her mirror to brush her hair. She gazed at her reflection, self-satisfied at the feeling of completeness. She felt smug at their unholy act of devotion, but slowly, the sense that it was not an act of devotion to their Dark Lord at all came over Zelda.
Her satisfaction, her sense of wholeness, Zelda realized, was entirely her own. She already wanted Hilda again, and she wanted every bit of her sister for herself/. She would give none of this pleasure to the Dark Lord; it would be hers and hers alone. Her own reflection seemed as if it belonged to someone else. Zelda watched the determination, then fear, in her own eyes. Her brother was going to be a high priest. Her family name carried prestige and power within the Church of NIght. She was utterly devoted to Him, and such selfishness unbecoming.
Zelda realized she had stopped mid stroke in brushing her hair. Slowly, she lowered the brush and gazed down at it. It was heavy wood, inlaid with fine mother-of-pearl detail. She remembered watching her mother brush her own long hair with it. In the mirror, she looked past her own reflection to that of Hilda watching her through half closed eyes.
"What is it, Zelds?"
Zelda turned suddenly. "I need you to help me. I need…" she paused, swallowing, "absolution."
Hilda sat up, fully awake now. Her brow creased in concern as Zelda went to her, holding the brush out as an if it were an offering. "What on earth for?"
"My selfishness in the face of His unholy blessings." She thrust the brush into Hilda's hands and waited for understanding to pass between them. It did not take more than a moment. Hilda, after all, knew her best. And though she did not hide her concern, she did not argue as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed and Zelda positioned herself across her lap.
Hilda did not hold back, and each blow hit Zelda soundly. She let herself gasp and finally cry out at the stinging and spreading heat in her backside and the backs of thighs. A long, silent moment stretched out before she realized Hilda had stopped.
"Oh, Zelda…"
She felt Hilda run one of her hands over the red marks, and Zelda felt anger rise in her chest until she realized she did not hear pity in her sister's voice. Instead, it was thick with lust. Hilda rubbed slow circles on Zelda's back, on her buttocks, and down to her thighs. She slipped her hand between Zelda's legs and ran just her fingertips through Zelda's neatly trimmed curls.
When Hilda pulled her hand away, Zelda shifted in wordless desperation. She was wet, selfish and wanting yet again. And when she felt Hilda push the handle of the brush into her, she gasped. The wood was warm from her sister's touch, and Zelda rocked into each thrust..
"If you want absolution," Hilda said, pulling the brush out, offering Zelda no relief, "go to Edward." She nudged Zelda onto the bed with her, wrapping her in a warm embrace.
Zelda felt the slow, insistent pulse between her legs and pressed them together tightly. It was what she deserved. Because she would be selfish again and again and again after that.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was not difficult to be what mortals would term normal after that. At least, that was what Zelda told herself. While she and Hilda had never before indulged in that particular rite, there was nothing unusual about it. And yet, when Edward returned from his business with the church, neither she nor Hilda mentioned anything. But why would they? Their devotions were their own business. But they hadn't been acts of devotion.Not for the first time Zelda lost track of the paragraph she had been reading in the day's edition of The Telegraph. She snapped the paper, exasperated with herself. The news was all the same, though--the Germans were the enemy unless one was reading the German newspapers, and then the English and Americans were. Of course, that was why Hilda had come home. It wasn't enough that England was at war, but when America had joined, Edward had added his insistence to Zelda's that Hilda return. "Has that paper done something to you, then?" Hilda asked. She was making gingersnaps. Sugar rationing would probably take effect soon, Zelda imagined, but as witches, they found themselves not necessarily immune to such things but more privy to ways around them. And she had to admit that she did enjoy the spicy smell of the cookies filling the kitchen. "You have an accent," Zelda said without looking up."I'm sorry?"A pause as this time Zelda folded down the edge of the paper to gaze at Hilda. "You stayed long enough to adopt an accent.""Did I?" Hilda bent to open the oven, making the scent of ginger stronger as she took out a sheet of fresh cookies and replaced it with ones to bake. "I hadn't noticed. Do you like it?"Zelda did not answer and went back to frowning at the page. The truth was, she did like it. She was saved from further comment by Edward entering the room. He kissed Hilda on the forehead briefly and then did the same on the top of Zelda's head. She stiffened but allowed the fraternal condescension because he was, after all, their older brother and his importance within their community continued to grow. She noticed that he was carrying a small volume, and she cocked her head. "Cousin Ambrose's poetry?""Indeed. Sisters," he said, taking a seat at the table beside Zelda, "Ambrose will be joining us here...indefinitely."Zelda quickly folded the paper. "I beg your pardon?""How lovely," Hilda said at almost the same time. Edward ran his thumb over the cover of the little volume and sighed deeply. "There was an attempt against The Vatican...involving explosives. Ambrose refused to offer up the names of the other witches involved in exchange for leniency.""He wasn't smart enough to make it look like part of the mortals' war?" Zelda scoffed. "Pity." Had she not been so agitated internally, Zelda would never have voiced such a thought. And doing so earned a stern look from Edward. "His punishment is confinement. Here."Hilda smiled brightly as she brought the fresh cookies to the table on a plate. "We certainly have the room.""And we could use the help with the mortuary." Zelda pursed her lips. "And what of the scandal? Edward, you have your position to think about.' His position and, by extension, hers. Should Ambrose harm the family name, that reputation could hurt Zelda as much as Edward's success would help her standing within the Church of Night."It is precisely my position that has kept Ambrose from further punishment, Zelda. Such an attack, if carried out, would mean all out war with the False God's followers, and we cannot afford the toll that might take. Ambrose will remain here; I am to place the confinement spell myself." He rubbed his temples. "But we must not treat him as a condemned man. He will be serving his sentence, and he can do that without our judgment."Zelda got up and busied herself with making herself a cup of tea. "And we're to endure the judgment of everyone else.""Now, sister, I'm sure it will be forgotten sooner than it began."Though her back was to the table, Zelda rolled her eyes. "Satan willing."A silence fell as she put the kettle on.In mortal terms, it had been so long since Zelda had shared space with both her siblings, but the years were nothing at all for them. She turned to them as she waited for the water to boil and saw Edward take Hilda's hand. Zelda felt a stab of jealousy immediately and forced it down. Feeling strong emotions was unavoidable sometimes, but showing them was absolutely distasteful. "It is good to have you home, Hilda," Edward said as he squeezed her hand. Zelda turned back to the kettle. Edward's softness to Hilda had always irked her, even when they were children. It was too saccharine in its sincerity, and Hilda was already too soft. They had an easy affection that she did not understand or want, but she had always ignored it, dismissing it as simply the nature of their relationship where she and Edward shared a frank but close confidence with each other. But now witnessing this in such close quarters after sharing Hilda's bed and keeping her pleasure so selfishly locked in her own heart, Zelda felt uncomfortable. *****It was not unusual for Edward to work late into the night, alone in his study. Sometimes he talked to Zelda about his research, his ideas. They were brilliant, revolutionary, even, and he did not need Zelda's validation. He talked to her, she liked to think, because he trusted her, because he valued her not only her opinion but also the way in which she gave it without reserve. That evening, he had not called to her as she was walking up to bed. Hilda had already been in their bedroom, sitting up with a book in her hands. They had gone about their nightly routines just as they always had when they were younger, albeit with changes thanks to the technology of a century gone by. It was not as if nothing had happened between them. They were not avoiding it or trying to push it away. But there was no need to dwell on it or let it change how they interacted. That seemed to be the unspoken agreement between them. And whether it would happen again, Zelda wasn't sure. She had lain awake in the dark thinking about whether she wanted it to. The answer was a resounding "yes." She wanted to feel the curve of Hilda's hips in her hands again. She wanted to taste Hilda and to mark her skin. But the question remained whether she was willing to dedicate such unbridled acts of lust to their dar master. She already knew the answer. Unable to sleep, she'd gone downstairs to find Edward up as she knew he would be. There had been a long pause before he bid her to come into his study. Through the partially open door, she'd seen him bent over an open book with more open beside it. But when he looked up at her he offered a tired smile. "You look as if you're stewing over something."Zelda bit her lip. Even as closely guarded as she kept herself, her siblings could always read her. "What are you working on?"He glanced down at the books and sighed. "A ritual for both summoning and containing a primal demon.""Why on earth would you need a primal demon?"He laughed at her dismissal and disgust. "That type of chaos could be powerful if well controlled, sister. Our church has not done enough to try to harness the power of Satan's minions, and yet he has put the tools at our disposal." His eyes sparkled. "Think of it, Zelda. OUr Dark Lord's demons have great power, but only those of the highest order can wield such power together with intellect. Fewer still can employ both to purposes other than singular fixations. It is the Dark Lord's will that we employ the gifts he has given us to harness the power of his minions to further his glorious purposes."Zelda felt color rising in her cheeks and warmth in her core. This was the kind of thinking that made Edward one of Satan's most valuable servants, and such value meant power. She nodded, understanding his vision, thrilled that he had shared it with her. It meant, too, that he would be open to her help and input, and together they would create a ritual their peers had never seen the likes of. She went to him and he stood, knowing her intention. Zelda often felt that only Edward truly understood the raptures of pure worship the way she did. They kissed drunk on the promise of power, as if they could absorb it from each other. His beard scratched her face, and she scratched the back of his neck with her nails. "Praise Satan," Zelda gasped as they broke apart. "Praise Satan," Edward echoed. He put his arms around her and lifted her onto his desk, shoving the books aside. Zelda tossed her head back as he kissed her neck, nibbling at her skin, then nipping hard enough, she knew, to leave marks. He pushed her satin nightgown up around her naked hips as he kissed behind one of her ars, When he nipped at her earlobe her whispered words of worship. "I beg the Dark Lord to take us as his vessels," he said in a dark whisper. Zelda unbuttoned his shirt and laid the flat of her palms on his chest. She stared into his hazel eyes and he into hers. "And use our bodies for his delight." "I beg the Dark Lord to take our earthly lust." They slipped easily into the recitation, hypnotized by each other's voices. "And use it to his unholy glory." She slid her fingers down, leaving long scratches, marking him before she undid his trousers. Edward was already hard, but Zeda wrapped her fingers around his cock. He thrust into her hand and pushed the straps of her gown off of her shoulders, mouth finding one of Zelda's nipples as she thrust her chest toward him. She tugged him up, into another kiss. Their mouths were hot, tongues frantic. He gripped her hips and she his, and when he pushed into her, they stared, unblinking, into each other's eyes in knowing bliss. "Praise Satan," Zelda moaned, throwing her head back once again. "Praise Satan." Edward's voice was breathy. He held her hips tightly and bit into hre shoulder, drawing blood. Zelda pressed herself into him, hips rising to meet each thrust. And when he spent himself, she moaned at the sound of his rasping, stuttering breaths. She whispered a quick incantation, rendering his seed inert, and he slid to his knees before her. "Accept this offering of our pleasure, Dark Lord," Edward murmured, lips against Zelda's thighs. "May it be your succor," Zelda breathed. Edward began to lick her, tongue pressing tight circles around her clit. She could have come immediately and often did, but Zelda held back her release, savoring it and drawing it out to offer the most sincere and pure praise. When her orgasm did come, it rolled over her slowly, building until she cried out. After she was still, her sweat cooling her skin, Edward stood and kissed her again. She could taste herself along with his spilt seed on his lips. "I am sure our offering will be well met."Zelda smiled. They went about righting themselves in silence, and she felt the weight of what she had not offered earlier weigh inside her chest. And yet, she said nothing. She merely left him to tend to his books and add another log to the fire. Her pleasure in Hilda's body was still her own, and she did not know why she so selfishly guarded it.