Second Sight

Title: Second Sight
Author: MakaiKitty
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Category: Original Fantasy, "Strings of Fate" storyline, Direct sequel to "Perceived Perceptions", An Eye of the Beholder Book
Pairing: Liam/Jasim, Tamall/Danne, Others
Warnings: Slash, M/M, Anal, Oral, Daemon Sex, Blood-play, BDSM, Violence, Mentions of past child abuse/rape, Angst, Language, Death
Distribution: My website, My LJ and any LJs I choose to post at, AFF.net, and FicWad. All of my accounts are under the user name MakaiKitty. If you'd like to use it just let me know.
Disclaimer: The characters, daemon realms, and situations in this story are all original and belong solely to MakaiKitty. Please don't steal, borrow, take, or otherwise use anything from my fics.
Updates: Just join my YahooGroup to be informed of any updates to this or any of my other fics - http://groups.yahoo.com/group/makaikittyfics
Status: Work In Progress/Novel Length

Author's Notes: I posted "Perceived Perceptions" almost two years ago, and you guys were great with your reviews and possitive reactions. I've been meaning to write the sequel ever since. I am considering trying to have "Perceived Perceptions" published professionally, and if that happens I may feel the need to cease the posting of this fic (hopefully whatever publisher bought PP would want this one eventually too) but until then I feel the need to share. I'd love to know how you guys like what I've done so far, so I'm going to post the first few chapters for New Year's Eve, but since it is a WIP I won't promise any regular updates right now. But, please, let me know what you think. The response, or lack of, may sway me one way or the other about how regularly I post updates.

I was originally worried that this first chapter was a bit too fluffy, so please let me know if it gave you diabetes *LOL* And, since I have taken down "Perceived Perceptions" due to the reason I talked about in the last bit I'll give you a short summary of the first book: The evil king makes his youngest son pretend to be his daughter in order to keep with tradition after his wife left him. Jump ahead several years... someone is trying to kill the king, and he decides that since his guard isn't having any luck protecting him then he'll find someone else to do it. He invites every mercenary and cut-throat in the realm to come and compete for the job of his own personal bodyguard, with his "daughter’s" hand as the prize. Conni, the prince/princess falls for Blaise, who unfortunately has a habit of killing his lovers. But at least they're male, so he figures it might just work out. Long story short? Blaise's cousin Danne does a lot of awful things to Conni while promising to keep his secrets, and eventually Blaise kicks Danne's ass and confesses his love for Conni. Cris, Conni's brother, kills the king for the good of them all and becomes king himself on his brother's wedding night. Danne disappears from the dungeons. Blaise's name is cleared, since his own father was the one killing his lovers and not him. Blaise and Conni live happily ever after. Or, at least until the beginning of this book. Make sense? Good. Ask me if you've got any questions. I was pretty proud of "Perceived Perceptions", so I hope you guys take a liking to this book as well.

Wishing you all a wonderful 2008!

Second Sight
Book II in the Eye of the Beholder Series

Chapter One: Then and Now

So much had changed in the span of one short year. The kingdom of Trovilla, in the first daemon realm, had once been an isolated kingdom separated from its neighbors by a king who held his secrets so close that he’d allowed his kingdom to become all but forgotten, even by time itself. Outside influence had been strictly forbidden, those not born of the kingdom had been forced out of the cities and towns surrounding the castle, and those who remained had been taxed and regulated to their breaking points… and beyond. But, as unhappy as the citizens of Trovilla had been, the inhabitants of the royal palace had been even more miserable. The king had been paranoid after numerous attempts on his life, the eldest prince had been forced into a life and death battle against his own father, the captain of the guard had been forced to choose between what was right and his sworn ledge lord, and the youngest prince had been made to masqueraded as a princess on his father’s whim. Then the old rule had fallen and a new life had begun, for the kingdom and the royal family.

In the year since King Cristopher had taken the throne his people and his lands had prospered. He had reopened trade with neighboring kingdoms, reinstated travel between the realms, and lifted all bans on outside influence and technology. His people, who had once existed in a dark age ruled by tradition and the old ways, had quickly taken to a more modern way of life. The telephone and the computer were suddenly used to communicate as much as magickal mirrors and summoning spells, playwrights now competed with the television, and a man was as likely to own a motorized vehicle as a stable full of warm-blooded steeds. Merchants made space in their shops for machines and electronics beside their herbs and casting stones. Also, immediately after the king’s ascension there had been a great influx of new blood into the area, and percurians mingled with men and women who would never have been allowed to enter the kingdom a decade earlier, bringing new life to a once listless and timid people cowed by an unjust ruler. It was a brave new world.

Not only was change prevalent throughout the kingdom of Trovilla, but within the castle proper much changed in the first year of King Cristopher’s rule, and most, if not all, for the better. No longer were servants seen to cower at the mere mention of their lord and the frightening memories of his wrath, the visitors to the castle were honored to receive an audience with the royal family when once they might have dreaded stepping foot within the castle walls, and the guard went about their duty with a new sense of pride while protecting a nobility that they were honored to serve. The new king no longer had to bow to the wishes of an overbearing father, no longer needed to plot and scheme just to protect those most precious to him, and after his father’s death years of worry and pain seemed to disappear from the young king’s countenance. He would never forget the heartache of being forced to slay his own father, never forget that the father that he had once adored had driven him to patricide with years of abuse and betrayal, but it was a burden that he bore well. And Cristopher was aided in his healing, thus healing his people in the process, by his new bride. Now that they no longer had to hide their love, Cristopher and Tabitha were both seen to smile more freely and laugh more easily, and it affected all those around them greatly.

The greatest change, however, could be seen in the youngest member of the royal family. Prince Constantine had once been forced to wear the mask of the Princess Constance, dressing and acting as a woman both, but no longer. The young daemon did not cry alone behind a veil of lace or hide his secrets with a fan of silk anymore. He stood proudly as a prince beside his husband Blaise, a former mercenary who was also learning to live a new life in the wake of their kingdom’s bright new beginning. Together, it seemed, there was nothing that could hold the two daemons back, where once it had seemed that the very Fates conspired against them. Those who knew them a year prior might not have even recognized them, would not equate the once forsaken warrior and his princess with the happy newlywed princes that they had become, for it was these two men who most clearly illustrated the sweeping changes in the kingdom of Trovilla.

“There are nine known daemon realms, and several more suspected to be undiscovered, each with their own distinctly unique features and inhabitants,” Constantine read aloud from the huge, leather-bound book that rested on his vanity. The book was even older than the castle that surrounded them, as ancient as the stones of the walls, but he still put great stock in its words, each one of them new and interesting to him. Ever since he had been given the freedom to study when and what he pleased he had been learning as much as he could about the outer realms. The young prince had never been allowed outside of the castle, not even once in all of his eighteen years, but his husband had promised him that they would travel abroad very soon. The idea excited him more than anything else ever had. “There is also the human realm, connected to our worlds by the same magickal conduits, though it is not considered a part of the daemon realms by most.”

A noncommittal grunt from behind the prince said that he had been heard, even if his listener wasn’t really paying attention. The lack of interest from his companion was not entirely unexpected, and so Constantine pressed on without comment.

“Why isn’t the human realm counted as one of The Realms?”

“Hmm?”

“Blaise!” Constantine turned quickly in his seat, trying to glare at the daemon behind him but failing miserably. He just couldn’t find it within himself to be angry with his husband when he had been indulging him in one of his favorite morning rituals. If he had told anyone that Blaise, a former mercenary and one-time suspected multiple-murderer, spent hours brushing out his long golden-spun brunette locks on a daily basis they most likely would not have believed him. He could hardly believe it himself sometimes. Not that such a fact would spare the ivory haired daemon from a tongue lashing, however, even if his words were only delivered with a sense of half-hearted anger and a playful mindset. “You’re supposed to at least pretend to pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“I was trying, love.” And, really, he had been. At least the first dozen or so mornings that Constantine had read from the book. Then Blaise had just started tuning him out, concentrating instead on the silky feel of the hair running through his fingers, the satiny texture heavenly against his skin. He’d never admit it out loud, not even under penalty of death, but he loved to brush Constantine’s hair whenever his mate asked it of him. It would have driven the warrior insane if he’d tried to keep his own pale hair as long as his lover did, even if he was now technically not a mercenary but a prince of the royal court who’s life was not nearly as physically demanding as it once had been, but he was pleased that his beautiful Constantine did and he took pleasure in caring for the daemon’s long locks on a daily basis. It certainly wasn’t something that he ever would have thought that he’d enjoy, but when Constantine had asked him to brush out his hair one morning Blaise had discovered that he found it both relaxing and enjoyable, as well as giving him an opportunity to pamper his mate. It had become a ritual for them ever since. It gave him time to think. And on this particular morning he was thinking that marriage certainly had mellowed him as he indulged his pratetto with the simplest answer that his mind could conjure. “But I don’t really have a good answer. It’s probably because humans are, well, human. There are no daemons in the human realm, or else it would be called the tenth daemon realm, right?”

“There are no daemons in the human realm?” Constantine didn’t sound like he believed Blaise, even if the elder man was more traveled than the young prince was. There was a time when he would have just agreed with him to keep from arguing, fearful of either retribution from his father for seeming unladylike or of abandonment from the few companions who would talk with him, but in the past year Constantine had learned to speak up without much worry for the consequences. Blaise wasn’t going to leave him just for talking back. And it wasn’t like there hadn’t been numerous, albeit good natured, arguments between the two daemons since their marriage had begun. It was only natural, Tabitha had assured them. If she could question her husband, who was the king of them all, then who was Constantine to hold his tongue? “None at all? Not even one?”

“Well,” Blaise shrugged, once again not really putting much thought into his answer, not quite willing to admit that he wasn’t sure either, “I suppose that there are a few, but all of those are either exiles or are in hiding. They don’t count.”

“But-“

“I’ve got a better question,” Blaise knew that if he didn’t interrupt his mate soon then he’d never hear the end of the human/daemon debate. He was never likely to take his naive little prince to the human realm in the first place, there’d be little point even if it had been safe to do so, so in his opinion it didn’t really matter. Better to distract him while it was still an option.

“What?”

“I was just wondering why, back when we first met, you never had a handmaiden around to do these things for you.” He waved the antique silver hairbrush that he had been using on Constantine’s tresses in the air, making sure that Constantine could see it reflected in the mirror. When first they’d wed he’d been reluctant to mention a past that was, for the most part, extremely unpleasant, but time had healed many wounds and with each day Constantine’s tongue had become looser. It was rare that his eyes misted over with tears and his brow furrowed with worry at the mention of times past anymore. “Aren’t princesses supposed to have someone around to tighten their corsets and braid their hair? I mean, considering how big a stickler your father was for tradition and pretense, you’d think that he’d have wanted you to have a lady-in-waiting or something.”

“I did,” Blaise almost didn’t catch the look of pain that filled Constantine’s green-gold eyes, so long had it been since he’d seen it last. But a hand on the smaller daemon’s shoulder, a light squeeze, let his mate know that it had not gone completely unnoticed. “When I was little Father insisted that I have a proper handmaiden to teach me to be more womanly. She’d help me dress, do up my hair, and give me advice on matching my shoes to my veil. Stupid stuff. Stuff that I didn’t care about in the least.”

“What happened to her?” Blaise almost didn’t want to ask. He’d known the former king well enough in his brief association with the man to guess at where the story was going. But he knew that the memory would not disappear just because the conversation ended abruptly, so he let Constantine go on, his own curiosity demanding an answer even if he tried to convince himself that it was healthier not to keep things bottled up and that he was helping his mate by making him talk about the past. Either way, it wasn’t as though Blaise had not shared his own sad tales time and again at Constantine’s urging, so it was only fair.

“She spoke up on my behalf one too many times for my father’s liking.” That was answer enough. There was a moment of silence, and then Constantine did something that he never would have imagined doing a year earlier… he pushed past the pain and did his best to make a joke of it all. He had learned quickly that laughter was better than tears any day. “Although, I have to say that you make a much better lady-in-waiting than she ever did.”

Blaise was speechless. The former mercenary stood, mouth slightly open, slowly looking from the brush in his hand to the prince before him and back again. He was quite certain that he had just been insulted, and his mate had never stopped smiling while he’d done it. His coal-black eyes were wide with shock for a moment before they crinkled around the edges with the evidence of his amusement, his own wide smile breaking across his handsome face. Then he laughed, long and loud, until it almost hurt to go on.

“You’re the one who looked so good in a dress!” Blaise shot back when he had the breath to speak. “If anyone makes a good girl, then it’s got to be you, sweetheart.”

“You didn’t think that I was very girly last night, if I recall correctly,” seeing his mate rise to the challenge was yet another small victory to Blaise, who had spent the better part of a year trying to help the prince forget the painful lessons of the past. “In fact-“

A snort from the other side of the room was the first clue that either daemon had to the fact that their little argument was not going unobserved.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt,” Liam, the captain of the king’s guard, spread his hands wide in a gesture of surrender as two pairs of daemon eyes turned on him as one.

Seeing a possible ally, Constantine suddenly leapt from his seat and ran over to Liam, throwing his arms around the terkarian with an exaggerated sigh of relief at having just been rescued. Blaise thought happily that that was yet another thing that had changed over the past year, and for the better. There was a time when Constantine would have hesitated in even the smallest touch, despite the fact that percurians were very sensitive to the heart’s need for physical contact with those closest to them, but as of late he was loath to hold himself back. It might have been unladylike, in the former king’s opinion, to throw oneself at a friend, but apparently the young man did not worry that the new king would censure a prince for the same actions. In fact, it seemed that Constantine was hanging off of someone’s arm almost constantly in recent months.

“Liam,” Constantine all but shouted, voice and actions both overly dramatic, “Blaise is being so very mean to me! It’s horrible!”

“I highly doubt that,” Liam answered doubtfully, patting the pseudo-agitated prince on the head while stifling his own laughter. Despite his misgivings about the other man when they had first met, Liam had come to like Blaise a great deal, and he was pleased to find in the other daemon both a friend as well as a sparing partner that more closely matched his terkarian fighting skills. He also thought that the playful relationship that the two princes had was beyond adorable and good for the both of them. He only wished that the same cuteness that made his heart so glad didn’t also bring him so much pain. No matter how much he loved them, being around so many newlyweds who were so very much in love and unwilling or unable to hide that love could grow tiresome at times, especially when he had been alone for so long. It was a battle that waged constantly within his heart.

“See,” Blaise said, no matter how childish he knew that he must sound, “Liam agrees with me.”

“I never said that,” Liam cautioned, wondering what he had walked in on and trying to figure out a way to extricate himself from it before he was sucked into what promised to be a very long, albeit amusing, discussion. Not that he could resist entertaining them all, himself included, just a little. “Although, I do suspect that Blaise would look less than fetching in a gown, no matter how skillful our seamstresses may be.”

“I’d agree,” Blaise seconded. “I just don’t have the hips for it.”

Constantine had to agree as well. His husband was a warrior, born and bred, and the thought of the well-muscled percurian in a dress was enough to bring him to his knees in a fit of helpless giggles. The image was vivid in his mind, his Blaise surrounded by silk and lace with a pretty little fan in his big hand, and when Blaise’s cheeks pinked ever so slightly under the golden hue of his natural skin tone Constantine knew that his husband must have the same images going through his own mind, and that made Constantine all the merrier. Only his grip on the sleeve of Liam’s uniform kept him from falling to the ground completely to roll around like a child lost in the throws of his fit, consumed by good humor.

Liam looked down at Constantine kneeling beside him and fought to keep a straight face. If he started laughing along with the youngest prince then he knew that nothing would sober Constantine for an age. It was the daemon’s way. He had to remind himself that he had entered the suite with a purpose. No matter that he considered the other two men as family, and that the images flitting through his head were beyond hilarious, but he was still on duty.

“Now, if you gentlemen don’t mind, I’ve been sent by our king to fetch his two favorite princes to the audience chamber,” Liam decided that it was best to state his purpose, in as official a tone as he could manage so as to broker no argument, before things went any further. Cristopher was waiting, after all. And, although the king would not begrudge his brothers the delay, their guests might just.

TBC ...