A/N: Okay, no clue why I'm writing this as I don't even like twincest/incest themes, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head. Oh well, I guess I'm striking back on the behalf of canon at all those Raistlin/OC fics out there :P Mild twincest theme, nothing strong; inspired by the devotion and affection Caramon shows his brother and the idea that perhaps that feeling could get taken just a bit further. Yeah, yeah, sometimes brotherly love is just brotherly love, work with me on this, m'kay?
Special Thanks to: Inka Lakhala, my shiny new beta!
Interlude
The dingy inn room was quiet; the only sounds those of the logs snapping in the fireplace and the occasional whisper of a page being turned. Spinning his blade expertly in one hand, Caramon continued the slow, soothing ritual of polishing his armour.
Sitting on the other side of the room, still except for the occasional motion of turning a page and the rapid, feverish movement of his eyes, sat Raistlin; the crimson clothed man huddled as close to the hearth as he could get.
It had been silent like this for the past three hours. Several times in the first hour Caramon had attempted to start a conversation, only to be glared into silence by his twin. Now he regarded his brother, thin form huddled over the book, eyes glowing oddly in the firelight, hourglass shaped pupils staring with rapt attention at the rune-covered page before him, with a detached awe.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the wheeze of coughing as the young mage doubled over, reaching with one hand desperately into his pockets while the other held tightly to his spell-book. Dropping his sword hurriedly, Caramon rushed to his brother's side, falling to one knee.
"Raist, Raist, you alright?"
His brother looked up just enough to glare at him, and managed to croak, "Tea," through the painful spasms that wracked his form. Fumbling for the pouch that held the precious herbs Caramon quickly poured them into a large earthenware mug, adding steaming water and handing both to his brother, who was at that point clutching a bloodied handkerchief to his mouth, one hand still desperately holding the spell-book. Accepting the mug and briefly inhaling the steam before drinking deeply, Raistlin closed his eyes, for a moment shuttering the cold, soulless mirrors from the rest of the world. His cough abating, Raistlin's eyes fluttered open again, and looking up questioningly at Caramon, he continued to sip the liquid slowly.
Finding the two hourglasses fixed once more on his face, Caramon shifted uneasily, knowing his brother could not see him as he was, but as if he walked always in death. Close your eyes. More than anything Raistlin had lost during his Test, Caramon missed Raistlin's eyes. They had never had the openness of his own, but occasionally they had shone with something Caramon was sure had been warmth, or as close as his twin got to the feeling. Now the reflective surfaces only shone with the light of the fire from the hearth. Don't look at me, close your eyes.
Leaning down on impulse, Caramon brushed his lips against those of his twin, hardly realizing he had done so until he felt his brother gasp slightly and pull away.
"Caramon?" There was confusion in his brother's voice, and slight fear, two emotions Raistlin so rarely showed, and this time it was Caramon who silenced his brother, kissing him again softly, but more insistently. Close your eyes. Don't see me. Feel me. Raistlin tasted of the bitter herbs from the tea, and more faintly of blood. The combination was slightly abrasive, but appropriate, and not altogether unpleasant. He went slightly limp below Caramon, eyes finally fluttering closed, spell-book dropping forgotten to the floor, breath hitching in his throat - which turned out not to be such a good thing, as another spasm rocked his body and he turned abruptly away, hacking into the handkerchief and turning his attentions once more to the tea. Blushing a violent red to match his brother's robes, Caramon looked away.
"Sorry, Raistlin. I didn't-"
Slim gold tinged fingers briefly entwined with large tanned ones and Caramon fell silent.
"Thank you, my brother."
Raistlin's expression was inscrutable. Smiling slightly, Caramon stood and began to walk back to his armour across the room.
"Caramon."
With a hopeful expression Caramon turned to face his brother.
"My book-"
Interlude
The dingy inn room was quiet; the only sounds those of the logs snapping in the fireplace and the occasional whisper of a page being turned. Spinning his blade expertly in one hand, Caramon continued the slow, soothing ritual of polishing his armour.
Sitting on the other side of the room, still except for the occasional motion of turning a page and the rapid, feverish movement of his eyes, sat Raistlin; the crimson clothed man huddled as close to the hearth as he could get.
It had been silent like this for the past three hours. Several times in the first hour Caramon had attempted to start a conversation, only to be glared into silence by his twin. Now he regarded his brother, thin form huddled over the book, eyes glowing oddly in the firelight, hourglass shaped pupils staring with rapt attention at the rune-covered page before him, with a detached awe.
Suddenly the silence was broken by the wheeze of coughing as the young mage doubled over, reaching with one hand desperately into his pockets while the other held tightly to his spell-book. Dropping his sword hurriedly, Caramon rushed to his brother's side, falling to one knee.
"Raist, Raist, you alright?"
His brother looked up just enough to glare at him, and managed to croak, "Tea," through the painful spasms that wracked his form. Fumbling for the pouch that held the precious herbs Caramon quickly poured them into a large earthenware mug, adding steaming water and handing both to his brother, who was at that point clutching a bloodied handkerchief to his mouth, one hand still desperately holding the spell-book. Accepting the mug and briefly inhaling the steam before drinking deeply, Raistlin closed his eyes, for a moment shuttering the cold, soulless mirrors from the rest of the world. His cough abating, Raistlin's eyes fluttered open again, and looking up questioningly at Caramon, he continued to sip the liquid slowly.
Finding the two hourglasses fixed once more on his face, Caramon shifted uneasily, knowing his brother could not see him as he was, but as if he walked always in death. Close your eyes. More than anything Raistlin had lost during his Test, Caramon missed Raistlin's eyes. They had never had the openness of his own, but occasionally they had shone with something Caramon was sure had been warmth, or as close as his twin got to the feeling. Now the reflective surfaces only shone with the light of the fire from the hearth. Don't look at me, close your eyes.
Leaning down on impulse, Caramon brushed his lips against those of his twin, hardly realizing he had done so until he felt his brother gasp slightly and pull away.
"Caramon?" There was confusion in his brother's voice, and slight fear, two emotions Raistlin so rarely showed, and this time it was Caramon who silenced his brother, kissing him again softly, but more insistently. Close your eyes. Don't see me. Feel me. Raistlin tasted of the bitter herbs from the tea, and more faintly of blood. The combination was slightly abrasive, but appropriate, and not altogether unpleasant. He went slightly limp below Caramon, eyes finally fluttering closed, spell-book dropping forgotten to the floor, breath hitching in his throat - which turned out not to be such a good thing, as another spasm rocked his body and he turned abruptly away, hacking into the handkerchief and turning his attentions once more to the tea. Blushing a violent red to match his brother's robes, Caramon looked away.
"Sorry, Raistlin. I didn't-"
Slim gold tinged fingers briefly entwined with large tanned ones and Caramon fell silent.
"Thank you, my brother."
Raistlin's expression was inscrutable. Smiling slightly, Caramon stood and began to walk back to his armour across the room.
"Caramon."
With a hopeful expression Caramon turned to face his brother.
"My book-"