The Doll of Meridian

Disclaimer: I do not own/create/produce any part of W.I.T.C.H.

Warning: Adult Language, Adult Situations, STRONG Lime, and Incest Theme.

The Big Warning: Of all the things I've written, this fanfic is the only one that could possibly get me flamed. So heed this warning and it won't be an issue: Incest, dark-twisted-obsessive-incest! However, Elyon is seventeen at the beginning of this fic and eighteen by the end.

I wanted to write something out of character for me, something dark, something sick, something twisted…voila! To an open mind, this relationship might seem disturbingly viable; after all, it could be said that Phobos 'seduced' Elyon into believing he was this perfect brother and prince, in spite of friends, and family, and evidence to the contrary.

For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart

I know myself secure, as thou in mine;

We were and are --- I am, even as thou art ---

Beings who ne'er each other can resign;

It is the same, together or apart ---

From Life's commencement to its slow decline

We are entwined --- let Death come slow or fast,

The tie which bound the first endures the last !

--Lord Byron 1816, to his sister, Augusta Leigh.

For four years, Phobos had kept Elyon in a gilded cage of lies and deceit.

However, she was going to have to die tonight.

There was no point in stalling anymore. She must know something was awry anyway. She was incurably naïve, but not stupid. Earlier that week she had accidentally stumbled upon the torture of a former rebel leader and two of her former friends were able to sneak her a message inside the castle despite Phobos' enhanced wards. Luckily, he caught the letter and the 'evidence' it claimed to withhold before Elyon was able to finish reading it. Still, she had begun to read it…very inconvenient.

She had to die tonight.

Regardless of what she might or might not know, tomorrow was her eighteenth birthday and according to law, she could no longer have a regent guardian. The guise that Phobos had been using to rule tyrannically over Meridian was surprisingly legitimate. Elyon was still an official child and therefore was not fit to govern by herself. So by law, Phobos was titled Prince Regent and given partial monarchial powers to reign over Meridian until Elyon reached adulthood. It was all a matter of legality. Of course, the point was that the regent should be grooming and teaching the monarch in order to eventually hand over rule of the kingdom. Obviously, this was never Phobos' intention.

He had toyed with the idea of keeping her around, even after the dreaded date had passed, but he wisely decided that it was entirely too risky. Her power would double tomorrow and his would diminish to practically nothing; at least at face value that's how it would appear. And Phobos knew very well that appearances were powerful things. He must always appear to be the one in power and if Elyon became acting Queen, it would appear otherwise. An illusion like that might give the rebels hope (just thinking that word made Phobos shudder in annoyance).

Pity though, she really was an endearing creature. It was somewhat of a novelty to have the girl stare at him with such determined admiration in her shining eyes. It was clear she adored him, loved him, believed him to be her savior brother who had searched frantically for her for thirteen years and then cared for her for the past four. No one looked at Phobos the way she did. He was feared and respected, hated and powerful, but he was certainly never cherished by any of his people. Yet this girl, under the influence of countless lies and conspiracies, worshipped him. But the strangest feat of all was that Phobos was finding her deliberate naivety somewhat charming. It was such a queer and new thing to be considered good. He couldn't help wondering if he would miss it.

Still, he wasn't, and never would be, good and she still had to die tonight.

Phobos hummed rhythmically to himself, a dark and melancholy tune he had chosen for his mother's funeral march. It was his very favorite symphony. That's why he had picked it for such a…festive occasion. He strode down the dark corridor, conveniently left unguarded that night. His footsteps echoed along with the haunting melody and the effect was surreal. In his hands he held a small black casket. Inside it was an object that had been very hard to come by. The Petallic Megnu thrummed with its dark powers, seeming to twist the shadows as Phobos strolled down the hall. Even in Phobos' capable hands, he could feel the 'pull' of the dagger and its magic influence trying to feed off of Phobos' sorcery, but he resisted it with a little concentration. 'Soon,' he willed it, 'soon you shall have your fill. Patience, you little devil."

The Petallic Megnu, or Soul Eater, was a cursed black blade made by Lord Tophiasis the Wicked, an ancestor of Phobos' on his father's side, of course. It is said that Tophiasis made the blade from the teeth of an ancient tribe of cannibals and forged it in a fire that burned off the still-living bodies of his disobedient sons, though Phobos had his doubts about this legend. However, what wasn't in doubt was that Tophiasis created a weapon that could stab without harming the physical body and totally murder the soul within. The result was a technically-living corpse, a soulless puppet.

Which was exactly what he required of Elyon.

To come straight out and murder the Queen of Meridian would be too dangerous, even under Phobos' totalitarian government. A martyrdom like that could fuel a rebellion into revolutionary proportions. But if Elyon was to fall 'ill' and slowly slip into an invalid state, then he could continue in his title of Prince Regent and then one day, after many more years of repression and control, maybe even King.

Phobos permitted a satisfied smirk to grace his handsome features.

Calling the victim of the Petallic Megnu an 'invalid' was actually grossly inaccurate. For all intents and purposes, the victim is dead. The soul is murdered regardless of the condition of the body and there is no chance of recovery. So what Phobos planned this night was nothing short of sororicide.

To murder one's sister…Phobos mulled over his chore, unconsciously frowning. It was a dirty business, but since when did he mind getting his hands a little dirty? Still, he could vaguely understand a little bit of trepidation for the task at hand. After all, he had never slain a relative before, though it was true he claimed a large part in the conspiracy that killed his mother. But in his defense, he never actually intended for her to die…he just didn't want her around anymore. It just sort of happened, however fortuitous it was for him.

So tonight he had to kill his sister. What a bother.

Elyon's doors were large, ornate, and leafed in gold. They were gaudy and extravagant things, because a queen's bedroom should look like a queen's bedroom. For the sake and importance of appearances, Phobos always gave Elyon the best of everything. Anything she asked for was hers and in her glowing eyes, Phobos was a generous and indulgent benefactor. It was important that both she and the kingdom remain in awe of her lifestyle.

Phobos had heard of the term, Puppet Monarch, but he didn't think it adequately described their situation. Now Doll Monarch was much more like it. Puppets merely performed because of flimsy strings, but dolls were completely controlled and toyed with. They were pretty and darling, so that everyone who sees them coos sweetly, "What a lovely creature!" and cherishes them without ever actually caring for them. Elyon was Meridian's perfect, little doll. And how Phobos dressed her up as one! Silken skirts and laced bodices and satin sleeves adorned her youthful body. She was positively stunning in greens, marvelous in gold, and utterly breathtaking in velvet red. Her flowing golden hair was soft and luxuriant as her brother's and the royal hairdresser could work miracles with the massive tresses. Such a beautiful doll. Even under Phobos' control, the people couldn't help but love their picturesque Queen. Peasants need a figurehead and Phobos used their blind adoration to his full advantage. Such a very useful and beautiful doll.

Such loyal innocence too. She totally revered her brother, constantly tugging at his elbow for the slightest bit of attention and when she got it, she was proverbial clay in his hands. A bit of time and effort was such a small price to pay for her absolute fidelity, so on occasion, Phobos would indulge her. Elyon called it 'quality time', whatever Earth jargon that meant. Sometimes he would help her with her studies (the irony that she would never actually get to use the fruits of her education was not lost on Phobos). On a few, very rare occasions, they would 'hike' together in Elyon's nature reserve, though Phobos loathed this bovine task (what was the point of walking up a hill, if there's just another bloody hill on the other side?). Often while Phobos was reading a dark tome (his personal favorite pastime), he'd hear the scritch-scratch of Elyon's pencil on paper as she sketched him. Honestly, the girl must have enough pictures of his likeness to wallpaper the entire east wing! Though Phobos was secretly flattered, he was a very vain man. But by far the most productive of their 'quality time' was the day Phobos spent teaching the young Queen how to dance in the Meridian fashion. She laughed so merrily as he twirled her about the ballroom floor. By the end of her lesson, Elyon was blushing and breathless and giddy, clutching at her brother's dark robes while she leaned against him for support. "I love you, Phobos," she puffed against his collarbone, for she had grown in her years in Meridain, "Thank you."

"And I love you, dear sister," he lied. One kind word or bit of flattery from Phobos and Elyon was virtually his to control. He was always generous in tossing out little 'I love you's to her. He threw this phrase out to her like some people threw away used tissues. It meant nothing, but to the girl it was everything.

Yet there was one incident in which Elyon deliberately contradicted her brother. A year ago, while Phobos was approving the expenses of Elyon's new summer wardrobe, she had dared to insist that a new seamstress be hired and a new wardrobe planned. She had clutched his sleeve, begging and ordering at the same time (which took a lot of practice). If she was forced to wear one more bow in her hair or frilly skirt she was going to hurl all over the royal throne! After all, she was sixteen at the time and wanted desperately to look like a young lady, not a little girl.

How Phobos had been dreading that moment! He knew all too well that it had little to do with the juvenilely of her wardrobe, but rather the fact that she was a blossoming teenage girl who desperately needed attention from equally hormonal men. This posed a serous problem. Could Phobos risk some stupid boy not to fall stupidly in love with his sister? Especially since love was infamous for inspiring stupid notions of chivalry? Love could make a man lose his sensibilities; it might even inspire a man to defy a tyrannical Prince in order to save the cliché maiden in distress. It had crossed Phobos' mind that he required someone one-hundred percent loyal to him to falsely woo his sister, then he wouldn't have to worry about some love-sick turncoat ruining his control over Elyon. When he asked Cedric to seduce the Queen, the snake general seemed appropriately acceptable (after all, she had been quite taken with him back on Earth), but Elyon seemed to have different feelings here on Meridian. The more Cedric attempted to court Elyon, the more the Queen clung to her brother, seemingly perturbed by the older man's intentions.

Still this didn't sway Elyon's persistence in reference to her wardrobe change. She was being very insistent. She wasn't used to her brother not giving her what she wanted. So Phobos relented and the next time he saw her, Elyon's collars were flirtatiously low cut and her sleeves rested low on her shoulders. Her bodice portrayed the classic hourglass figure that was so popular in the royal court, yet she seemed wholly uninterested in the wide-eyed glances of the noble, young men. She paid no mind to the flushes and flirtations of castle knights when they eyed her swaying hips. She just didn't seem to care for the men ogling her. All she seemed to care about was whether Phobos liked the color or texture of a certain dress or if he found this particular silhouette agreeable. She only seemed to latch onto him more, which was fine by Phobos. One less thing to scheme about…

Well until now that is, one year later…

He was going to kill his sister tonight, before she turned eighteen.

Splaying his palm on Elyon's door, Phobos chanted a brief counter spell that opened the wards to the Queen's chambers. The door creaked ominously and slow. Inside, was a traditional scene of fairy tale beauty. The bright light from a full moon glowed romantically through the open balcony and Phobos could see his intended target with great clarity. Golden hair spilled freely across her pillow as the Queen slept with the silk sheets pooling at her waist. One hand was clutched under her chin, while the other laid across her chest. She wore a sleeveless nightgown, yet another attempt at 'maturing' her wardrobe. Her head tilted back into the pillow and her mouth was partially open, while she took long, slow breaths that made her maidenly chest rise and fall like a wave of temptation.

For the briefest of moments, Phobos didn't dare to move. This…this was exactly how he was going to remember her, he suddenly decided in a flash of half-hearted sentimentality. She was the finest rose he had ever cultivated, aglow in the moonlight. The four years in Meridian had been very generous for her. She had grown a little taller, though the top of her head still barely crested Phobos' collarbone and her legs were short for her size. The words to describe the blossoming teenager were, 'petite, but shapely'. She also possessed a youthful and curved figure, a graceful physique, and a silhouette of classical beauty. Her tan was lost a long time ago and she was now as pale and fair as her brother, since castle life affords little sunlight. A silver and golden rose…

Well, no more stalling, time for the deed to be done. It was an inevitability.

Graceful and silent, Phobos opened the black case and withdrew the Petallic Megnu. The curved blade glinted darkly and waited to perform its twisted purpose. It was always hungry.

Creeping like a thief, Phobos couldn't help the demented smirk that spread over his lips, while he crossed the room towards Elyon's bed. Sororicide or not, there was still something so entertaining about this whole fiasco. For four years he had manipulated her like a little doll, while her pseudo throne subtlety drained her energy and stored it in the sacred waters of his bath and everyday her powers regenerated what he took away. She was practically milked like a cow. He was capable of making her think that night was day and day was night. She always believed him, totally and earnestly. He had been the perfect brother, a substitute father figure, and a generous and wise Prince Regent, all for her. Who would've thought that he was able to keep up this façade for four whole years? To be honest, he was quite impressed with himself.

He came upon her. She was so peaceful, so innocent. It irritated and pleased him, both at the same time.

Careful not to rouse her, he gently sat on the edge of her rounded bed, the mattress slightly dipping from his weight. He took a few seconds to watch her again, lovely in slumber. Then leaning fiendishly over Elyon, Phobos' hair fell and made a white curtain that seemed to hide his dastardly sin from the world. His long, graceful fingers wrapped around the hilt of the dagger. His other hand lightly touched one of her bare shoulders. The cursed blade hovered over her chest, inches above her beating heart. He slowly lowered the Soul Eater, until it faintly touched the crevice between her youthful breasts.

He paused one last time and because Phobos had always appreciated a certain amount of theatrics, he leaned down and pressed a slow kiss upon his sister's forehead. "Goodbye Elyon," he whispered hotly against her brow.

"Goodbye Phobos," she answered.

To Phobos' credit, he didn't jump or drop the Petallic Megnu or perform any other hint of surprise, even though Elyon had startled the wits out of him. He only held the dagger still and glared down at the bright, blue eyes that looked sadly up at him. His smirk faded into a frown as he watched the look of mournful acceptance on her face. It was evident that the child knew she was going to die and at the hands of her brother no less. She seemed so tragic, so morbidly melancholy at that moment, but totally unsurprised.

Admittedly, it wasn't what Phobos would've expected. She seemed almost resigned.

Where were the hysterics? Where were the, 'Why?'s and 'How could you?'s? She didn't even want to know his villainous plans? Elyon didn't seem at all shocked to find her brother bearing a dagger to her breast in the middle of the night and frankly, her serene semantics were seriously starting to annoy him.

"So you are awake," he growled, stating the obvious.

"Couldn't sleep," Elyon whispered. Her throat was dry and she had to swallow before she could continue, "Since tonight is my last night alive, I didn't want to waste it."

"Were the guards absence that conspicuous?" his eyes narrowed while he glared down at her.

"Honestly, I didn't notice," her eyes drifted down to the cursed blade that touched her flesh and she murmured, while her voice cracked pitifully, "but I do know that I turn eighteen tomorrow and you can't let that happen."

There was an awkward silence as Phobos hovered over his sister, pondering over how she became so well informed of his intentions. "That letter," he finally responded, "so you did finish reading that letter your tiresome friends had smuggled in for you."

She seemed genuinely confused for a moment. Blinking up at him, Elyon finally erupted in cold, bitter laughter. It took a moment for Phobos to realize that she sounded just like him when she laughed in that manically, calculating way. It was truly like looking down at a female version of himself. It was…disconcerting. They really were brother and sister. "Oh Phobos," she finally said through tragic giggles, her eyes were the only hint that she was in any sort of turmoil, "Do you think I need eyes to see and ears to hear? I've known, brother." Here she gradually raised one hand to tuck his white hair behind his ear and lightly caress his cheek while she was at it, "I've known for a long time now. You rule Meridian. I simply supply your power. Nothing will change that."

"I find that hard to believe," drawling, Phobos propped himself up with one arm, but was careful to keep the Petallic Megnu over Elyon's heart. His face was wrought with annoyance, but a certain amount of interest was hidden behind his expression.

"Why would you say that?" there was that look again, that look of complete devotion and admiration. How could she stare at him in such a way when he was perched above her, ready to strike her dead?

"Am I supposed to believe that over all these years you've known about my schemes and ambitions and yet you did absolutely nothing to stop me?" he quirked an eyebrow at her, "Or that you wouldn't attempt to escape? Somehow that doesn't sound very likely to me."

"Where would I have gone?" and the sadness returned tenfold, "Earth is not my home. I don't belong there anymore. I'm not one of them, I never was." A tear finally escaped from her shimmering eyes. It ran down her cheek and into her hair, "I've only ever belonged here, no matter what the circumstances."

"So you remained, knowing full well that I was going to eventually destroy you?" he asked with biting sarcasm. The dark shine to his eyes flashed like cold emeralds.

"Well…yes," and suddenly an emotion Phobos rarely saw shone on Elyon's face, guilt…shame. What was that about? "How could I have left you?" she was shivering now and openly crying, "You are the only family I've ever had! My parents weren't even my real parents. My real parents are dead. All I ever truly had was you, my only brother." Her fingertips traced his goateed chin tenderly

He stared at her blankly. What the hell was going on here? What was supposed to have been a simple night of textbook assassination was turning topsy-turvy all because of an overly frustrating sister who was too damn clever for her own good. "What part of, 'I'm going to murder you,' don't you understand?" shaking her hand off, he asked incredulously.

"I understand," there was desperation in her voice and she lifted her head slightly, so that she could lean her brow against Phobos' clenched jaw, because she couldn't stand to look at him anymore…he was just too beautiful, "I really do. You should know, even though it wasn't real, you should know that I was happy here. You made me happy-."

"Don't be stupid, it was all deceit. I was lying to you." he snapped, but made no move to push her away.

"I lied to myself too, but what a wonderful lie it was," propping herself up on her elbows, Elyon tucked her face against Phobos' neck. He scowled when he felt her hot, sticky tears soak through his collar; yet he still allowed her to remain where she was. "Every time you said you loved me, a part of me believed you, even though I should've known better. Every time you praised me, every time you cared for me, every time you smiled at me, I wanted so badly to believe in the illusion you created for me. But that's not why I stayed," ignoring the knife that could drink her very soul, Elyon sat up and forced Phobos to lean back with the Petallic Megnu. Despite himself, he was curious as to Elyon's motives and was willing to stay her life just long enough to learn why she had remained with him. He might've relented a bit of room between Elyon and the cursed blade, but he kept it close enough to strike her dead in a heartbeat, just in case she tried anything foolish.

Which as it turns out, she did. Only not in any way Phobos would've predicted.

Gradually, Elyon leaned forward, eyes closed and cheeks blushing. She pressed a firm kiss against his lips. Attempting to communicate everything she couldn't bring herself to say, she pressed hard with her mouth slightly parted. She willed him to understand, so she wouldn't have to speak the terrible depravity she felt in her soul.

For his part, Phobos was at a complete loss for words (for the first time in his incredibly, verbally eloquent life). As Elyon pulled away, his face was the epitome of scrutinizing confusion. Seriously, what the hell was going on here? First, she's not only expecting to be murdered by her brother, she's quite accepting as well; second she has the gall to confess to knowing about his schemes for years and claiming to be content with them; and finally, she has the audacity to kiss him on her own death bed! Now that's just rude. And that kiss…unless he was grossly mistaken, that was no sign of sisterly affection- maybe it was because she was about to die…perhaps she was starting to become hysterical.

Because there was simply no way that- no possible way…Well obviously she could never mean it…in that way. No, not his sister, Elyon, not the perfect, angelic, and good Queen of Meridian. She was pure, she was holy, she was practically a fucking saint! He must have misinterpreted.

His green piercing glare bore deep into Elyon, fishing out her secrets. He saw it again, the shame and guilt as plain as day. It was so prevalent in her, it was so there. How could he have missed it before? Something was eating away at this girl's soul and he immediately knew that this thing inside her was how he managed to control her for four years running. This strange darkness in her spirit had made her his. It had left her utterly vulnerable. Phobos had to find out what the nature of this darkness was; after all, it had been such a huge benefit to him.

"Why did you stay?" he asked, quiet and intense.

Biting her lip, Elyon leaned forward and Phobos thought she intended to kiss him again, but instead Elyon brought her mouth to his ear where she whispered timidly, "I stayed for you…to be near you, to be with you." A sob escaped her throat and Elyon clasped her hand over her lips to stifle her cries. Wrenching away from him as if her confession burned her to the very core, Elyon threw herself onto her bed and buried her face in her pillows. She kept on crying, apparently more emotional about telling Phobos about her true motives for staying, than about being killed that night.

"Ri-ight."…for a while, Phobos could only stare wide-eyed and stunned at her back and shaking shoulders… "Care to run that by me again?" he spoke slowly and precisely, "You stayed here, because of me?"

"Yes," her voice was muffled in her pillows and she kept right on weeping.

"To be near me."

"Yes."

"To be with me."

"Y-yes."

"…and in what sense do you mean 'with'?"

Her resounding sobs were a suitable answer.

"Sweet damnable hell," he muttered under his breath, his hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully, yet he couldn't help sounding interested. Finally, the enormity of her confession was weighing in on Phobos' mind. "Let me reiterate the circumstances again for clarity's sake, since you seem slightly disinclined to articulate the situation properly," he was in full-drawling-super-arrogant-prince mode, even having the audacity to examine his fingernails while he smirked to himself, "You as pseudo-Queen of Meridian know full well that I am steadily absorbing your powers and usurping your throne and have known this for years. You also deduced that I would have to kill you before your eighteenth birthday, quite correctly so. You were fully aware that I periodically battle those you once called friends and have tried to destroy them on several occasions, however unsuccessfully. I have taken those that called themselves your parents and made them suffer in turn. You know that I intend to bleed this land dry like a parasite, that I am the scourge of your people, I starve them, I hurt them, I drown them in despair. And the only one with the means to stop me is you, and yet for four years you've looked the other way and pretended to believe my lies, simply because you are…infatuated with me?"