[Black Jewels Trilogy]: After the War
Title: After the War
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Summary: Lucivar never forgives. And he never forgets. It's bleak and it's nasty and it's Lucivar at his worst.
Lucivar never forgives.
He remembers every day of his life with sharp-edged bleeding clarity, and he doesn’t forgive any of them. None of the witches, none of the males who called themselves Blood, no one, he forgives no one. And he will never, ever forgive Daemon.
So he tells Marian, when he has her back, folded to his chest, his face buried in her hair. “You don’t understand,” he says, when she tries to protest. “You don’t understand. He does.”
And Marian’s fingers trace the marks that the collar left around his neck and closes her eyes, and Lucivar knows she cries when she thinks he can’t see.
Jaenelle is gone, and it feels like the world is dying.
The night he first holds his wife, he undresses her and traces every inch of her body with his mouth, just so he can prove to himself that she is there, not roasted, not dead. He can feel her shudder as his lips near her sex, and pulls away, turning his head and closing his eyes, and cries when he thinks she can’t see.
“It’ll take time,” she says, cupping his face. “Maybe a long time. I don’t know.”
“I understand,” Lucivar says, and he does. He doesn’t see his brother, though he thinks of him. He thinks of cruel gold glittering eyes, and doesn’t forgive.
“Would you see him if he were dying?” Marian says.
“I don’t know,” is Lucivar’s only answer, and Marian murmurs, “I think he is, Lucivar,” and all he can think is I think we all are.
“I miss you,” Marian says.
“I'm right here,” Lucivar replies, but he knows that’s not what she means. There is still distance between them, and fear.
During the day he flies too far and too fast until his chest is tight and he can scream of pain forever.
“I need you to go see him,” Marian says. “Please, Lucivar. For me, if nothing else.”
“For you,” Lucivar says, “Not him.”
“Forgive,” she asks, a plea to his better nature.
“Never,” he tells her, and that is a promise.
Fandom: Black Jewels Trilogy
Summary: Lucivar never forgives. And he never forgets. It's bleak and it's nasty and it's Lucivar at his worst.
Lucivar never forgives.
He remembers every day of his life with sharp-edged bleeding clarity, and he doesn’t forgive any of them. None of the witches, none of the males who called themselves Blood, no one, he forgives no one. And he will never, ever forgive Daemon.
So he tells Marian, when he has her back, folded to his chest, his face buried in her hair. “You don’t understand,” he says, when she tries to protest. “You don’t understand. He does.”
And Marian’s fingers trace the marks that the collar left around his neck and closes her eyes, and Lucivar knows she cries when she thinks he can’t see.
Jaenelle is gone, and it feels like the world is dying.
The night he first holds his wife, he undresses her and traces every inch of her body with his mouth, just so he can prove to himself that she is there, not roasted, not dead. He can feel her shudder as his lips near her sex, and pulls away, turning his head and closing his eyes, and cries when he thinks she can’t see.
“It’ll take time,” she says, cupping his face. “Maybe a long time. I don’t know.”
“I understand,” Lucivar says, and he does. He doesn’t see his brother, though he thinks of him. He thinks of cruel gold glittering eyes, and doesn’t forgive.
“Would you see him if he were dying?” Marian says.
“I don’t know,” is Lucivar’s only answer, and Marian murmurs, “I think he is, Lucivar,” and all he can think is I think we all are.
“I miss you,” Marian says.
“I'm right here,” Lucivar replies, but he knows that’s not what she means. There is still distance between them, and fear.
During the day he flies too far and too fast until his chest is tight and he can scream of pain forever.
“I need you to go see him,” Marian says. “Please, Lucivar. For me, if nothing else.”
“For you,” Lucivar says, “Not him.”
“Forgive,” she asks, a plea to his better nature.
“Never,” he tells her, and that is a promise.