Cesare and Lucrezia have consummed my soul as it appears.

Jealous!Lucrezia has been my headcanon for quite some time now so I had to get this out of my system. The plot bunnies for this attacked me after I read "The Borgia Bride", hence my choice of Sancia.

Please excuse all historical inaccuracies and liberties I have taken.

Again, huge thank you to my friend pleasebekidding, aka The Queen of Slash, for betaing for me.

Also: do not read if you`re uncomfortable with the idea of incest or underaged. Rated M for reasons. I think this is a fair warning.

I own nothing but my imagination.

REVIEWS= LOVE


Lucrezia will always remember the first time she decided that Cesare was hers and hers only.

She was thirteen and he was almost eighteen and he had told her then that he would never have a wedding. And she had believed him then as she always believed everything he said and as the years passed, she has grown to regard him as hers and hers only.

They are both adults now and what was once a children`s game feels innocent no more. Her gaze follows him possessively, eyes always aware of his presence and seeking his figure, in dances and banquets, in rooms crowded with people. His dark, velvety eyes dance playfully with hers from across rooms, sharing their secrets with hers, making her skin flush with delight and heart flutter in her chest.

Lucrezia now understands that Cesare is like murky waters; there is always something hidden away, lurking beneath the calm surface, in the way his hands draw her to him, touch her face and twirl her hair around his fingers. She shares that secret language with him as they share their blood and whenever she places a kiss on his neck, it is to tell him, "You`re mine and mine only". This was their game, this was them; it has always been this way, it would always be thus. In her mind, Lucrezia does not even consider the possibility that someday, a woman might claim him as hers.

After all, he did promise her once that he`d never have a wedding.


"She is too beautiful. I hate her"

"If you hate beauty dear sis, you must hate yourself."

"Alright. I will love her then. But deep down somewhere I still hate her."

Perhaps it is the first time Lucrezia lay eyes upon her sister in law that she senses she is trouble. A woman with such deep, lustful, chocolate eyes was bound to be trouble, Lucrezia muses as her gaze follows Sancia and Cesare as they drink and dance together, shamelessly flirting with each other before the eyes of Joffre and the whole of Rome. In this Rome of theirs, nothing remains hidden for long and gossip spreads like a wild fire but Lucrezia has learnt to trust her eyes only. And her eyes see things, things that she doesn't really like, like the way Cesare`s eyes linger on Sancia`s for a fraction too long, and his smile turns to her more often than not.

It doesn`t escape her attention the way Sancia has changed since she has come to Rome, how bold and arrogant she has become, even more so now, at least in Lucrezia`s unforgiving eyes. She has dared to argue publicly with the Pope of all people, secure in the knowledge that Cesare`s affections will prevent from any harm coming her way.

Lucrezia wonders if this is really the case.

Her gaiety betrays nothing of the dark thoughts inhabiting her mind but in her heart, Lucrezia harbours little sympathy for those who she deems competition, especially for her brother`s affections.

Someone had once told her that such a thing as jealousy exists and she had laughed, for she thought herself above such petty concerns.


"I`ve heard you have found yourself a new amusement, Cesare."

He is lying next to her; soft curls covering his face, his mouth slightly curved at the corners, his features composed in a perfect display of placidity. In the rarity of those moments and only with her, his mask falls off and she is able to see the boy in him again, the boy that used to chase her around their mother`s garden. She senses his warmth, in the proximity of their bodies, in the comforting touch of his hands, and she thinks of how much they have both changed, and how disillusioned, how godless he seemed. She thinks of the blood he has spilled, for her, for Rome, for their family and she cannot find it in herself to love him any less because of that. He is Il Valentino now, equally admired and hated by many but for her, he is still Chezza, her own flesh and blood, the boy whose eyes dance with hers from across hallways.

Perhaps, they are both too much alike, if he could kill the husband she has grown to love and she could forgive him for it and if she could not tolerate the possibility of him loving someone else.

Cesare`s velvety eyes turn to caress her and her heart throbs in sync with the smile on his face.

"A man has to find his amusements where he can, my love. Does this displease you?"

"Perhaps it displeases me, brother." Lucrezia chews on her bottom lip for a moment, thoughtful. "And what of Joffre?"

Cesare`s eyes are unreadable when they bore into hers for a long moment before he answers.

"Joffre can wear a pair of horns as elegantly as any other man", he laughs as he untangles his fingers from hers.

For a fleeting moment, Lucrezia is able to sense his anger with her; she knows him too well. Cesare doesn`t like to be questioned and she is afraid of what she might see the next time she looks at him; that he no longer belongs to her, perhaps the war or a woman has claimed him as hers.


The distant roaring of thunder makes Lucrezia jumpy, uneasy.

There are no stars gracing the Roman sky tonight as the air fills with anticipation of the quickly approaching storm. It reminds her of the time she was forced to run from her husband; the skies flash as in a fury, the same fury she imagined unleashed on Paolo`s back when she had to flee Pesaro.

The thunder is not the only reason sleep won`t come to her tonight.

The news has arrived that Donna Sancia has fallen gravely ill. Perhaps she will not recover, the medic says. Poisoning is suspected but poisoning is a popular means of death these days; a man could not die of fever without someone saying that it was poison that killed him.

Lucrezia`s small hooded figure goes unnoticed as she passes the corridors of the palace.

There is a new excitement warming her belly, the first of many more to come, and it prevents her from sleeping. Her steps approach her brother`s chambers a little reluctant for fear she might have caused him displeasure but she cannot help herself, for some habits ran as deep as the blood in one`s veins.

He greets her at the door as if he is expecting her and Lucrezia knows that he is angry with her; his eyes betray him, that dark, intense stare of his carries a storm tonight.

"Have you come to confess, my love?" he chuckles but there is no reprimand in his voice and Lucrezia is slightly relieved; Cesare, who doesn`t believe in God but always insists she keeps her soul pure of corruption and sin.

"Am I still your love then?" she asks, biting her lip. There is wine on the table and she fills two goblets.

"Did you ever doubt that, sis?"

"And what if I did," her lips pout slightly as she passes the wine to him. His eyes fall on the glass and the hand holding it and a smile curves his lips.

"Perhaps I should be careful then." He studies her face above the rim of the goblet, eyes dancing playfully with her and she loves it, that tingling sense in her stomach.

Lucrezia feels a little silly, her tinkling laugh filling the room.

"Don`t be stupid brother"

"Maybe I should be. It has been whispered that my little sister has a special ring that she puts to a good use," he says.

"And what if she does?"

"Perhaps it is my duty as a big brother to punish her now so she does not stain her eternal soul any further." His voice is soft, deceptively so but Lucrezia feels the steel underneath it and knows that he really means it and not so much because he believed but because he knew how important it is for her, that eternal soul of hers.

"Perhaps it is too late for this. My soul is up for eternal damnation."

"Then we shall burn together in the fires of Hell and I would still have you by my side."

Her body stiffens and full lips part in half invitation, half surprise but she dares not move. He watches her through hooded eyes as he takes a step closer and cups her face in his hands. Lucrezia knows how easily those hands could crush her in an instant if they wished but they would never wish anything more than to caress her, be gentle with her.

She sees he is a little proud of her, that he is aroused by the unspeakable act she has committed. For this, she knows, he would love her all the same, perhaps more should that be possible. It resonates with him, with his dark nature and his pleasure in killing and ties the primitive bond of their blood.

Like for like, she wants to tell him, if you can kill for me, so can I, for you.

"Does that make us monsters then, Cesare?" she purrs, her warm breath brushing his skin. His face is impossibly close to hers; the dim light of the candles making his gaze seem darker, bottomless oceans, in which Lucrezia drowns.

Cesare laughs, that familiar laugh of their childhood.

"No, my love. It makes us just Borgias."

The closed space between their bodies turns into a heavy liquid of molten gold and her knees are weak, so weak. In this game of theirs and in her own seduction, Lucrezia knows now that she is the one being enticed but she also feels the triumph that in this game that never seem to end, she might just win.

It doesn`t occur to her that she has already won because there is only one altar left before which Cesare prays and it bears her name.

Lucrezia gasps when his mouth opens hers and his tongue invades her. She tastes the wine on his lips as well as his hunger for her in the harsh grip of his hands buried at the back of her head, working to set her hair free from its confines.

A waterfall of gold spills down her shoulders and his hands proceed to her back, slowly undoing the straps of her dress. The dress pools in her legs and she is standing before him, only the thin fabric of her shirt between her bare her body and his hungry eyes. Hot waves make her skin burn when she helps him undress, seeing his body in all of its glory before her, so familiar to her eyes yet so foreign to touch.

Cesare buries his head in the crook of her neck, his tongue slowly gliding over the skin on her throat and his touch leaves her trembling, gasping for more. The shirt disappears, his big hands ripping the fabric apart and Lucrezia`s hands seek for the table behind for support, spilling their wine in the process.

The crimson liquid drips on the floor like the blood in their veins that binds them together.

A cry escapes her mouth and a jolt of shock surges through her body where his mouth leaves its trail, leaving it trembling, disjointed and at his mercy. His weight forces her to lay flat on the table, his hands pinning her down and the table beneath them quivers, threatening to come crashing down under the sheer force of their bodies together.

He reaches her belly and kisses his way down further until he arrives at the juncture of her thighs and his hands spread her legs open to him.

Lucrezia stills for a moment when she feels his hot tongue swirling around her inner thighs, his warm breath tickling and teasing, making her want to beg for something, though for what, she does not know. She feels his hand sliding between her legs and gently stroking her wet entrance, before he places his mouth over and her body arches violently in response. When he finally starts kissing and licking her slowly everywhere, the sensation is utterly new, overwhelmingly rapturous. Glistering sheens of sweat break on her skin and there is a hot ball of light in her stomach, a gaping hole of desire deep inside her growing larger, pulsating with life. Her hands hold a tight grasp on his dark, silky locks and she writhes as she climaxes.

When he returns to her she kisses him greedily, tasting herself on his lips and his eyes are gleaming with hunger, with desire for her and she knows, she has him starving for her. His erection is pressing her core, allowing her to feel him, steel hard against her softness and Lucrezia rolls her hips in need.

He has her completely pinned under him and he takes her on the table, at first slowly and slowly, stretching her full and Lucrezia revels in that because it is like nothing and nobody she has known.

His hands hold a tight grip on her hips, controlling their every move and he has her melting against him as he guides them both to release. And when her climax approaches again, he follows her too, thrusting hard into her, their moans growing louder and louder, and then soft whispers.

He almost collapses on top of her, his breathing still heavy, and they meet halfway, the velvety dark of the night with the pale gray of the day.

And Lucrezia knows, because she can see it all over his face, down to the bottoms of his devilish eyes; Cesare is hers and hers only.