Dullahan Boyfriends: Ichabod & Iscariot 2 (complete)

Once the carnival starts up again in March, there is still no queen selected for Ichabod and Iscariot’s parade. I’ve been helping where I can, and organizing my band to play, but they’re struggling still to pick just the right one.

Because I work with them regularly, I start getting close to them. It’s not something I’m used to doing, and I often feel that I’m doing it wrong. I want to be their friend, but a fear inside holds me back from wanting more than that, even though I do. I want them, and when that thought comes up, it makes me spiral into guilt. It doesn’t seem fair or right to want more than what I already have. It’s enough to be friends. I can be happy with only that.

Working together, we find a way to combine my graveyard with their tours. During the start of the tours, I sit in the front seat of the wagon, mostly covered and playing the violin as Ichabod or Iscariot talk. Once we reach the graveyard I start playing more fervently, which makes the skeletons come out of their graves and advance towards the wagon. Once people are panicked enough, I reveal myself, and my skeletons take Ichabod or Iscariot’s head. Being Dullahans, they can live without them. Then we begin a routine of dancing and music as their head is kept away from them, until at the last moment I toss their head back, and they run away wildly with the wagon. All in good fun to scare our guests.

During a practice run just before opening day, I’m sitting in Ichabod’s wagon, practicing. Ichabod is getting hitched up by Iscariot, who will join the wagon ride to watch. 

“You have a look,” Iscariot says.

“What look?” Ichabod scoffs. 

“This one. You’re nervous.”

I tilt my head up to listen to them as Ichabod scoffs.

Ichabod stomps his hooves. “This is nothing new. Nothing so out of the ordinary. I think you want to see things that aren’t there.”

Iscariot sighs. “She’s new.”

“Who? Me?” I set my violin down. “I’m just playing my violin like always.”

“I am not...” Ichabod huffs in frustration. “Okay, maybe so. But wait until it’s your turn. You’ll be nervous too, knowing she’s there.”

I’m curious as to why Ichabod, a man with so much charisma and confidence, is suddenly anxious about performing around me. He’s done it many times before, and I thought he’d been dying to. “Seriously, why are you nervous? You’ve done your tours in front of me all the time.”

“But never with you! It’s the ‘with you’ that’s getting to me,” he grumbles. “I don’t want to mess you up.”

“Mess me up?” I find myself chuckling. “You shouldn’t be worried about me.”

“For a long time it’s just been the two of us,” Iscariot replies. “We’re used to one another, and we know what to do. But working with someone else, especially someone we admire, can rattle anyone’s nerves.”

They have a way of stunning me into silence, but it’s sweet. They say the kindest words, and I never know how to properly thank them. “That’s why we are practicing, isn’t it?” I ask as I fidget with my violin. “So we’ll know all these things and see how they work? I’m not worth getting anxious over.”

“I even get nervous working with Iscariot,” Ichabod answers softly. “I want to impress the people I love. You know?”

“Ichabod,” Iscariot says sternly.

“What? I just... oh.” Ichabod gasps when he realizes what he’s said.

I’m not sure how to take it. The word doesn’t even feel real. It hangs in the air, slowly sucking the light from all around us. I clutch my violin close to my body as if it will protect me. I chuckle out of nerves, and I can feel that my smile is an awkward one. “Don’t tease like that,” I whimper. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke,” Iscariot’s low voice sounds even more intense. “Nor is it something to be blurted out.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Ichabod sounds weak and deflated. “But we both feel that way.”

Ash and dust cling to the back of my throat, making it feel heavy and tight. I keep my mouth closed, and all the while my mind spins. It isn’t right I should be loved by them. Not when it’s my fault that Benvolio and Nora aren’t here.

“Nessa, can we talk?” Iscariot asks.

I take a weak breath. “What about the practice?”

“It can wait.” Iscariot takes my hand into his. “I can tell you need a moment anyway. Let’s go somewhere quiet.”

The new haunted museum in the mausoleum is empty for the time being. The ghosts and living armor that live here are idle, enjoying the peace as Iscariot and Ichabod bring me inside. They find me a seat. I keep hold of my violin, feeling like it could protect me. 

“You don’t have to say anything.” Ichabod speaks. “I blurted it out. I’m sorry. It’s something that’s been building, but we should have brought it up sooner.”

Iscariot sighs. “We didn’t want to frighten you.”

“It’s not you who frightens me,” I whimper. “It’s myself.”

“What’s there to be scared of?” Ichabod kneels beside me. “If you feel like sharing, that is.”

“You know fire like I do,” I whisper. “You know how it hurts and what it can take away. But it’s my fault...” I start to tremble. “The fire I know is my fault.”

“That… that can’t be true,” Ichabod is dumbfounded. “Nessa, the accident wasn’t your fault.”

I tense up. “How would you know?”

“Because that’s how accidents work,” he tries to argue. “You can’t blame yourself for that, of all things.”

I hang my head. “You don’t know what happened.”

Iscariot’s hand rests on top of my head. “We know you can’t hang on to the blame forever. Is that what your family would want?”

“I don’t...” I clutch my violin and tremble.

Iscariot eases my arms loose and sets my violin aside. “You don’t want to hurt it. You need it tonight,” he says gently.

I whimper and nod my head, slowly untensing my shoulders. “Thank you, but...” I start to hiccup. “I’m not someone you should love. I’m not worthy of it.”

“Hey, now,” Ichabod says softly, “don’t say that. Everyone is worthy.”

“I couldn’t save the people I loved most. Imagine what would happen to you.” I hold my hands over my face. “What good am I if I can’t do that? That should be the most important thing a person does! They gave me life, they gave me meaning, and I let theirs get away.”

Iscariot grips my shoulders tightly. “You need to stop.”

I keep my hands pressed against my face.

“It wasn’t you who did that. It wasn’t!” Iscariot’s voice has always been sort of a monotone, but now it has a lilting, painful pitch to it. “What happened to them was an accident. And you would never hurt them, ever.”

I begin to let them in that day. The change is cautious and slow, but as the year goes on, I grow closer to Iscariot and Ichabod than I have with anyone else. They’re patient and gentle with me, always there when I need someone, and understanding enough to know when to step aside. 

I had never loved someone besides Benvolio, and that love had been all-consuming for me. The love I’m beginning to feel for Iscariot and Ichabod is different, quieter, but love just the same. It’s something peaceful I can rest on, something that took care of me. 

I’m still afraid, so it takes me time to even accept this. I don’t want to hurt them, but I want to be with them. I know if I reach out, they would happily take my hand and help me away from the ash and dust in my memories. But I’m not ready to leave it yet.

One evening, after the carnival has closed and the world is quiet again, I stay with Iscariot and Ichabod in the stable. They’re putting away the wagons and refreshing the hay for the next day. I’m playing a gentle song on my violin. The night has gone well and our performance was one of our best. I’m feeling good, better than I have in a long time. 

“It’s getting late,” Iscariot says. “We should get you home.” He helps me from my seat, and his hand lingers on me. I don’t recoil from it; I lean into the touch. I lift my chin and then his lips are on mine. Ichabod’s fingers brush against my hair, and I meet his lips as well. There’s no thought or planning, merely a desire out of my own body. They smell like spices from the cider and sweet from the hay, along with their own masculine scents.

I kiss Iscariot again. His kisses are hard and warm. Ichabod’s lips are soft as they touch against my temple and cheek. I press my palms to Iscariot’s chest, but I do not push him away. I want this, I want them both. It has been so long since I felt the need to be touched and held. When Benvolio would hold me, it was slow and serene. Our breaths would fall into a shared rhythm, and our bodies would know every inch of one another. He was tender and grateful, whispering my name over and over in my ear. I may be a doll, but I am living as well. I have desires and wants like any woman.

Iscariot pants, pressing his forehead to mine. I can feel his long hair touching against my face, and then Ichabod steals more kisses from me. I wish I could see them, their faces, their desire. I want to see their skin and watch as they tremble when I kiss them.

“We should stop,” Iscariot whispers.

I am filled with fear, but not the usual terror I hold on to. “Why?” I whimper.

Ichabod grumbles anxiously. “Someone is watching us.”

“I was just looking for my daughter, that’s all. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” Bram comes into the stable. “Although I do not appreciate the manhandling you boys are giving her.” 

“It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I was...” I stop myself and hang my head. “They weren’t doing anything untoward.”

“I was only wondering where you were. You’re usually home by now, and I got worried. Now that I know you’re in… relatively safe hands, I’ll go home and tell Coraline that you’re… somewhere.”

I feel so embarrassed when he leaves, but Ichabod begins to chuckle. “Of course we get caught!” he snickers. “Of course!”

“Perhaps it’s for the best. We were getting awfully greedy,” Iscariot sounds gentle and shy. “We need to tread gently, remember.”

“I didn’t mind,” I say softly. “I felt better when...” I hold my tongue, a little embarrassed for what I have to say.

They kiss my cheeks at the same time, one on each side.

“If you ever want more, just ask us,” Iscariot whispers.

Ichabod gently nuzzles my hair. “We’re more than happy to oblige.”

I still feel guilt, and it is hard to get over, but I so desire them and I can’t hide that from myself anymore. I long to be touched and held, I yearn to feel their desire for me as well. It is a selfish thought, one that makes me panic when I linger too long on it. All I can do is feel it and be excited that I can still have it.

It’s hard for me to ask for what I want, but Ichabod and Iscariot are as loving and willing as always. They can tell by a touch when there is something I want, and they will give it if they are able. I take pleasure in their kisses, sometimes a little too much. As a doll, my body is much different. I am more aroused by touch than anything, and it is what often brings me to that point of elation. I have to step back sometimes when their hands are upon me. 

I know Iscariot and Ichabod are also partners, and when I hear them kiss, it makes me happy. I wish I could see the way they looked at one another, the way they kiss each other. More than ever, I feel the urge to see them unclothed and naked. I want to see their bodies, and I wanted to feel them pressed against me.

I used to take so much pleasure in those intimate moments with Benvolio, his naked body and mine laid together as we kissed. I would taste his skin and let him release upon my tongue. It makes me nervous to think about doing it with anyone else. It scares me to think about holding anyone so close again.

Halloween is fast approaching, and the parade is taking shape. I helped bring it to life, and it’s amazing seeing everything come together. But still, we haven’t found a Persephone to bring the parade to a close.

One day, Ichabod comes in and announces he’s found someone.

“Oh,” I feel a pain in my heart at that thought. “That’s wonderful!”

“You don’t sound like it is,” Iscariot says knowingly. 

I shake my head. “If you found someone you want for it, then we should run with it. You’ve been searching for a year.”

Iscariot kisses my cheek. “We’ve also been waiting for you.”

“I couldn’t,” I shake my head. “Not after the way I acted when you asked me.”

Ichabod kisses my forehead. “The role of Persephone was always meant for you.”

I tilt my chin up, kissing them both. I finally accept the role, and I’m fitted for the costume. The gown is covered in flowers and gems to symbolize a pomegranate. I’m told that at the start the dress will be vibrant and colorful, but then the flowers will turn to gold and silver, eventually becoming like diamonds, while the gown turns pure white as Persephone is embraced by Hades.

“You look so beautiful,” Iscariot says as he unzips the dress. His fingers trail down my spine, to where there are roses carved into me. Benvolio had done them when he made me, his signature and my namesake. Iscariot kisses a rose, and I shiver.

“Your Benvolio made you so beautifully. I can’t wait to thank him one day for the gift he gave the world.” Iscariot helps me step out of the dress.

“I miss him.” I cross my arms over my bare chest. “He and Nora are still so dear to me.”

“We don’t ever expect to take their place in your heart,” Ichabod says. “But we would like to share your heart with them.”

I take Ichabod’s hand, letting both of them see me bare. My body is long and thin, something I have always felt inadequate about. I never felt feminine enough. Only when I laid naked with Benvolio did I feel my body was worthy. Now, with my burns, I’m sure if I’m even the least bit beautiful any more.

“You look so tiny,” Ichabod coos. His fingers brush down my side. “So frail.”

“She’s strong, though.” Iscariot says decidedly. “You can tell.”

“Am I... am I beautiful, though?” My voice trembles.

Ichabod huffs. “What sort of question is that? You’re gorgeous!”

I lift my chin up as I feel a heavy weight upon me. “I’m not what I once was, you know.”

“You are as you are, and that is enough.” Iscariot’s hand slips around my waist. “Have you ever heard of kintsugi?” 

I shake my head. 

Iscariot kisses my shoulder. “It is a Japanese art of mending things that are broken, using gold to make them more beautiful than they were before. You remind me of that. You are broken, but you are stronger and more beautiful than before.”

I whimper softly as I feel their hands move over me. They come in close, kissing and touching every inch of me. Their strong hands make me weak all over, and I begin to tremble. I press into their palms, wanting to feel more as the ache becomes a dull thudding. It grows and grows, spreading through my body and flowing like thick, warm honey. I kiss them deeply, my legs shaking as Ichabod lifts me off the ground. I curl into his arms, sobbing at the warmth.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you,” Ichabod whispers.

“Take me to bed,” I whisper. “I’m okay, it’s just so much. I forgot how much it all was.”

I sleep with them that night, feeling their skin against mine, hearing their moans and sighs as they lay together. In the morning, I feel as though I am in another world, and I cry all over again. For the first time in so long, Nora and Benvolio have not been in my dreams, and it terrifies me.

Once October starts, everything moves fast. I work in both Scarebrooke and the Parade, playing Persephone each and every night. Mr. Faire and Bram take turns playing Hades, and we share a dance as I go into the underworld. Iscariot and Ichabod play my knights and guards, and before I go into the underworld, I kiss them with gratitude for taking care of me. 

On Halloween night, though, the parade is much grander, as it is set to go through Hearthway Hollow. Most of the carnival is participating, and I am so nervous.

“We have something special for you tonight,” Iscariot tells me as he helps me get ready. “A present to thank you for everything.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” I chuckle. “I’m grateful for everything you’ve shown me this year. I should be thanking you.”

“We’ve been pretty happy with what you have been giving us.” Ichabod kisses my temple.

Ichabod,” Iscariot says sternly. “Her makeup!”

“Sorry,” he huffs. “But yes, tonight, we plan to give you something special. We’ve been planning it for a while.”

“Oh,” I gasp, suddenly very nervous. 

“It’s good, don’t worry.” Iscariot kisses my palm. “Once the parade is over, we’ll give it to you.”

That evening, when the parade ends and I have my dance with Mr. Faire as Hades, the children at the dance studio in Hearthway Hollow perform around us. They are dressed like souls and fairies, welcoming me back home. 

Iscariot and Ichabod take me into the woods once the parade is over. It’s dark and cold out, and I can smell earth all around me.

“Sit here and wait,” Iscariot whispers.

“Where are you going?” I gasp.

“We’ll be right back,” Ichabod reassures me. “Don’t worry. You won’t be alone long.” They both give me a kiss, and I listen to them walk away.

I sit there, breathing in the cold night air. Crickets chirp and sing, and in the distance I hear an owl calling out. Then I feel something warm touch my hand. It’s small and soft, and also so familiar.

“Mama.”

I instantly start to cry. How can this be possible? I grab the small hand and find it real. 

“Always so quick to cry,” Benvolio says jovially. “It’s good to see you’re still the same, my love.”

I lift my head as he kisses my forehead. “How is this possible? How are you here?”

“It is your gift,” Benvolio says as he sits beside me.

Nora climbs into my lap, and I hug her tightly. She feels the same, smells the same. I only wish I could see her. “The horsies brought us here.”

I sob into her hair, so happy to hold her again. “I can’t believe it! In my wildest dreams I never would have hoped.”

“Mama,” Nora says gently. “Why won’t you open your eyes?”

I sniffle and whimper. “When I lost you, I never wanted to look at the world again, because I knew I would never see anything as beautiful and perfect.” I cup her cheek in my hand.

“Open them,” Nora says softly.

“Nora, my eye sockets are empty.” I open my eyes to show her, but when I do, I see her darling face. All her freckles, her button nose, her long red hair. I stare in awe and bewilderment. Then I look at Benvolio, who smiles at me.

“How is this possible?” I sob.

“I made them for you,” Nora says brightly. 

Benvolio kisses me. “We want you to be happy, Nessarose,” he says softly. “We want you to see this new life you’ve found, the new loves you hold. We want you to move on.” He shakes his head. “You need to stop blaming yourself. What happened was out of our hands. I am happy you made it.”

“How...” I choke up. “You got me out so I could get help. But I couldn’t find it-” I wrap my arms around them both. “I couldn’t save you!”

“It was the middle of nowhere,” he assures me. “It would have been a miracle.” He holds my face in his hands. “It was our time. Do not waste yours.”

Nora squeezes her arms around my neck. “I love you!”

I hold her, and then she begins to fade away. She dissolves like sand in my hands, and I watch her and Benvolio float back up into the sky. I clutch my chest, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Where are you?” I whisper. “Iscariot? Ichabod?” I stand up and look around, only to see them emerge from the shadows of the woods. They’re both so tall. Ichabod is quite thin, with sharp features. His skin is milky white, and he has short, curly black hair. Iscariot is thicker and has more muscle. On half of his face the skin is tight and dark from burns. His hair is long and pure white.

I race to them, throwing myself in their arms and taking in their handsome faces and beautiful eyes. I kiss them over and over, I will never be able to pay them back for this wonderful gift they have given me.

“How did you do it?” I cry. “How did you perform this miracle?”

“A friend owed us a favor,” Ichabod chuckles.

Iscariot sweeps his finger under my eyes. “What a lovely color,” he admires.

I wrap my arms around them both. “I love you.” I finally say the words. “I love you both so much! I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.”

“It’s taken exactly as long as it needed,” Iscariot whispers.

“We love you too. We always have,” Ichabod sniffles.

“I know,” I whisper. “Thank you. Thank you!” I whimper over and over again between kisses. My tears mingle with theirs. That evening I kiss every inch of them, seeing everything with the eyes Nora gifted me.