avien & caedes » the cross i bear is one i made (it's my choice, maybe my mistake)
Story: RPG Storyverse AU
Genre: i am so bad at genres, i have no idea edit: it's clearly HURT, NO COMFORT
Rating: 18+
Charaktere: Caedes & Avien (& André)
Title: Quote from "King of Broken Hearts" von Carolina Liar
Soundtrack: I listened to this playlist a lot while writing this thing
CN: Manipulation, mind games, abuse, torture, murder, self-destructive behavior, self-harm (mentioned), suicidal thoughts, noncon/dubcon/rape, incest, blood, trauma, flashbacks, dissociation, some hints of blasphemy (most of it is quite graphic, pls take care!)
Author's Note: Remember when I wrote this AU oneshot and said it was basically Cae's "reversed ending"? Yeah I wrote another AU like that but even worse :') I really went like, ok, I'm gonna give the guy a happy ending in the canon, but first, I'm gonna think of all the ways his life could possibly become hell if I didn't!!!! This is the Painful Thing(TM) I've been ranting about on Twitter for over a month now. Why did I write this in English? I'm not entirely sure, but I did and it's the first longer thing I wrote in English, so pls bear with me |D idk who would even want to read this, but whoever does, enjoy!!
+
Avien has her legs crossed, one elbow propped up on the armrest of her throne, chin resting on her hand. She's watching Caedes with an expression that would be indecipherable to most, but he knows her well; he knows about the full-blown storm of emotions she must be hiding behind her calm and calculating façade.
The door falls shut behind him. André has left the room; they’re all alone now.
Caedes feels his immortal heart pounding in his chest, incredibly fast, as if it was trying to win a race against the somersaulting thoughts in his head.
»Avien…«, he starts.
»What the hell do you want?« Her words feel like a sharpened icicle: half cold-hearted threat, half fragile attempt at keeping up her guard.
He takes a deep breath and puts a little half-smile on his face, the one he always uses when he needs all of his charm and a whole lot of luck for things to work out. »Aren’t you happy to see me?«
»Depends.« Avien’s voice is trembling just a little. just enough for him to notice. »Why are you here? Why seek me out after all this time you spent running from me?«
She’s getting more paranoid by the day, André’s words echo in Caedes’ head. I don’t think this is a good idea. Whe won’t trust you, she will-
Take me to her, he hears himself repeat, a fragment of a memory that suddenly seems endlessly far away. I have to see her.
»I’m here«, he manages to say, »because I have an offer for you.« The kind of offer she can’t refuse, or so he hopes.
Avien gets up from her throne and steps closer. An actual throne - whatever kingdom she thinks she’s ruling, whatever world she is about to conquer in her mind. it shouldn’t surprise him anymore, but the extent of her hubris never fails to do just that. She stops at an arm’s length, looking him straight in the eye. He doesn’t look away.
»And what is it that you have to offer, brother dearest?«
Brother dearest. Her voice has haunted him in his dreams, calling him that, calling him all kinds of other things, too, but it’s different when she’s right there in front of him, it’s-
»Me.« His hands are shaking, yet he sounds so much calmer than he thought he would. »I’m here to offer you … me.«
Avien raises an eyebrow. »you?«
Her right hand reaches for him, and he does his best not to flinch. The slap he was half expecting never comes; instead, she traces the scars on his face with her index finger, from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, and the other way around on the other side. Scars she gave him the last time they met; the final souvenir she left him before he finally managed to get away for good. He still remembers what that was like - to feel his skin and flesh rip open with every scream he couldn’t hold back, the wounds deepening until they formed the grotesque smile that would later turn into the most striking set of scars on his broken body. Sometimes he remembers it so clearly, he'd swear there couldn’t possibly be decades between then and now.
Avien lifts his chin with her finger. The gentleness of her touch disgusts him, though he doesn’t let it show.
»You can have me.« His own words terrify him, but as much as he is scared, he is also sure of what he’s about to do. »I’ll be all yours. That’s what you always wanted, right?«
Avien halts. He can sense her surprise, her hesitation.
»I will sign any contract. A blood pact, even. Put me under some spell if that’s what you need to be sure. Whatever you want.«
Her lips curve into a cruel smile. »Whatever I want?« The underlying danger of those words sends shivers down his spine.
Slowly, caedes nods. »Whatever you want. On one condition: You leave them alone. My partners. My friends. The people I love. All of them.«
»Hmm.« Avien turns away, and her touch fades, giving him room to breathe again, at least for now. »What makes you think that I would choose you over all of them? That I would give up on so many possibilities for just one more faithful servant?«
»We both know I’d be more than that.« He sounds so convincing he himself can hardly tell whether he’s lying. »Whatever you dream of, we can make it come true together.« Despite every fiber in his body screaming for him to stop, to reconsider, to get the hell out of there while he still can, Caedes falls to his knees right there and then. »Please, Avien. I would kill for you. I would die for you, too, if that’s what you wanted. I would live for you.«
She looks at him over her shoulder, pupils widening at the sight of him on his knees, the sound of him saying her name, saying please-
She must have dreamed of this moment for such a long time.
+
I made a list, he had told her. You can’t harm any of them in any way, shape or form. You can’t send anyone else after them, and you can’t harm their loved ones to get to them, either.
Avien had frowned. Let me see that damn list.
Now, after reading that damn list very carefully, she snaps: »Really? You’re trying to ban me from using my own creation? My best creation, that is.«
Caedes shrugs. »You don’t need Océane anymore. I am your creation, too. Use me instead.«
Avien scoffs. »That’s not the same thing.«
»Who do you want more, her or me?«
It’s dead quiet for a moment. »Fine«, Avien finally concedes, »but André does not belong on that list. He is my husband.« As if sensing Cae’s reluctance, she adds: »He chose to be with me. I’ve never done anything to harm him. Not against his will. Ask him if you don’t believe me.«
»If he ever wanted to leave you, would you let him?«
»Let’s be honest: André would rather die than leave me.« She doesn’t put it like that, but it still sounds like: I made sure of that. She takes a seat behind her desk and takes her time while getting out her writing supplies. Dips the quill in the inkpot, and instead of crossing out André’s name, she writes a note next to it: no harm he doesn’t agree to.
»Can’t argue with that«, Caedes admits, although it leaves him rather uneasy for some reason he can’t quite grasp.
»Is that all, then?«, Avien asks.
»Almost.«
»Almost?« She glares at him, obviously offended. »You’re trying to take away my greatest creation and interfere with my marriage, and that’s still just an almost?«
»You can’t kill me to get out of the pact.« It feels strange to consider that possibility, to say it out loud, but he needs to make sure. After all, he wouldn’t put it past her, even though he doubts she would willingly sacrifice her new favorite toy for anything anytime soon. »You can kill me, if that’s what you want, but if you do, our agreement still stands. It’s a pact beyond death, or it is not pact at all.« He swallows hard, well aware that this could make or break his entire plan. That this is the part where things could go terribly wrong if he miscalculated.
You’re gambling with your life, andré had warned.
But the stakes are high enough to be worth any risk.
(This will go terribly wrong either way, he thinks as he recalls what he promised Avien in return: I will belong to you. You will own me. You can do to me whatever you want. Nothing about this could ever be right. He only hopes that it goes wrong the way he imagined it would.)
+
Caedes is an incredible actor. He has always struggled to see the good in himself, but his acting is one of the few qualities he is very sure of, a skill he is confident in; he’s had a whole lifetime to practice, and this is not the first time something very important depends on his ability to sell the perfect illusion.
»We have to move«, he murmurs, lips brushing over Avien's shoulder. She smells like patchouli and painful nostalgia, like empty promises and expensive perfume. »Before they come looking for me.«
Avien makes a low sound, somewhere between an annoyed sigh and a growl. »If you insist.« Cae can tell by her tone that she would much rather stay and get the chance to personally behead anyone who would dare to oppose her, or even try to take him away from her. But that’s part of their deal - she can’t hurt them. She can’t hurt them.
That was the one thing he was - and still is - willing to pay every price for. The one thing that brings him enough relief to justify what he did to achieve it.
Avien slowly turns around, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he puts on his softest smile. »There is one more thing I need you to help me with«, he says, ignoring how tight his chest feels at the thought of what he’s about to ask of her.
»Oh, whatever you want, my beloved«, she replies in a honeyed voice.
He doesn’t want this at all, but it’s the only way to truly keep all of his loved ones safe. To spare them the pain of knowing too much. He can already feel lynire starting to worry, feel the creeping suspicion that something isn’t right; she will guess what’s going on soon. She can probably already sense all of his discomfort and fear through their soulbond, and she could feel so much more in the future - every unspeakable thing that might happen to him. He can’t let that happen.
Telling Avien about their bond seems counter-intuitive. Dangerous. But they made a deal. He tries to keep that in mind as he forces himself to speak the words that feel too terrifyingly vulnerable to say out loud. »Can you break a soulbond?«
Avien blinks at him, her whole body tensing all of a sudden. »Can I break a what?«
His lips part, but the attempt of an explanation he had put together in his mind crumbles under the intensity of her stare.
»Who?« It’s not a question; it’s a demand.
He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He won’t. »It doesn’t mean anything.« One more blatant lie. »Not anymore. I want it gone so I can focus on you, and you only.«
»Who is it?«, Avien asks again as she sits up in her bed, jealousy and rage twisting her beautiful features.
»It doesn’t matter«, he insists, »just help me get rid of it, please. Or dim the connection, at least, if it can’t be broken. I don’t know. Whatever works best. I can’t stay connected to them, it’s so distracting, I-«
Avien abruptly stands up and starts pacing in her bedroom. After a long while of tense silence, she stops in front of her nightstand, opening the top drawer.
Knowing damn well what she keeps in that drawer, Cae whispers: »You can’t hurt them.« More to reassure himself than to remind her of her limits.
She pulls out a knife anyway. a beautiful weapon, blade slender and sharp, engraved with words in a language he doesn’t understand.
Avien grips the handle so tightly the muscles in her hand and arm begin to shake. Her eyes, now tinted blood red by her thirst for violence, look Caedes up and down, and her lips twitch, not quite a grin or smile, more like she’s baring her teeth.
»Oh, I know I can’t hurt them.« Every syllable seems to vibrate with growing anger. Avien circles the bed until she’s on his side, all the while staring at him. »But I can hurt you, can’t it? It’s not my fault if they can feel that through your special little bond.«
+
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry
It’s like a desperate prayer in his mind: I’m sorry for putting you through this, I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, I’m sorry this is the only way-
A prayer to a goddess he is about to abandon - his goddess, his first love, the happily-ever-after that should have been, the salvation he never deserved; a prayer that can’t be answered because it won’t ever reach her, even though it echoes through his soul with every ounce of pain that shoots through his nervous system.
When his body finally goes numb, it’s such a relief. At least she won’t feel any more of his pain, he thinks, before his mind begins to drift away, too, any sense of self, any awareness gone with a final blink that leads him into the vast darkness of unconsciousness.
+
Caedes wakes up to a pitch black room. Curtains closed, the whole house dead silent, except for Avien’s regular breathing right next to him. She’s asleep, actually asleep. Which is rare, as he remembers. No need for sleep when you’re even more undead than the average undead creature. It’s a sign she feels safe - or really exhausted. Right now, it’s probably both.
They're not in Avien's bedroom, as far as he can tell. She must have taken him somewhere else, but he can’t remember where or why.
He tries to move, but his body doesn’t obey. It feels strange somehow, the vague memory of terror reverberating in his mind, and that of pain in all of his limbs; too faint for an actual injury, too clear for a mere illusion. As if his bones had been shattered, then mended perfectly. As if he had been taken apart completely and put back together all in one night. Maybe that is what happened, he can’t tell, the details blurred by the infinitesimal part of his brain that still makes an effort to protect him. Has it even been one night, or more than that? What time of day is it, anyway? His sense of time is completely screwed, and his head feels like it’s going to implode anytime soon. The only thing he remembers very distinctly is …
Lynire.
Suddenly, he’s uncomfortably awake, as if the sheer thought had set his brain on fire. He tries to replay the events that led up to this in his head, but they’re only vague shadows hidden behind a curtain of fog that won’t budge.
Lynire. He can’t feel her anymore. When the hell did that happen? How? The connection was definitely still there throughout the torture. Frantically, he calls out for her in his mind, searches his brain, his body, his soul for any trace of her, any emotion, any connection, any hint of the bond he has gotten so used to. There’s nothing. No sign of her left, just emptiness where she used to be.
He should be relieved; the bond is gone, maybe severed, maybe numbed, he can’t tell, and he's not sure he's brave enough to ask, but either way, no one will have to witness the suffering he chose to bring upon himself anymore. It’s what he asked for, it’s what he had to do, and there is some comfort in knowing that it worked. But the emptiness still hurts. It’s a different kind of pain he couldn’t even begin to explain. His entire being craves Lynire’s presence, longs for the bond now lost, searches for any remaining trace of nearness-
A primal scream tears from his throat, as if he were trying to wake himself from a nightmare. He only notices he is crying when Avien, awoken by the harsh sound, wipes away his tears.
»I’m so sorry I hurt you like that, brother dearest«, she murmurs. »That anger wasn’t meant for you. But you didn’t leave me any other choice, really, with your silly little deal and its stupid conditions.«
It’s okay, he would say in any other situation. Reassure her. Downplay what happened. Make it clear that he will tolerate anything she chooses to do to him. but right now, he can't. He's both too weak and too angry to bother, so he avoids looking at her and doesn’t respond.
Suddenly, Avien is on top of him, the weight and shape of her uncomfortably familiar. For a split second, he thinks of sunlight on his skin and a glass shard in his mouth, a moment stored away so far back in his mind he had almost forgotten it was real.
»Let me make it up to you.« For some reason, Cae doesn’t like the sound of that at all, and an instant later, he realizes why. »You must be so thirsty after all of that.« Avien strokes his hair with one hand, gets her own out of the way with the other.
No. No matter how thirsty he is, her blood is the last thing he wants. The last time he got a taste of that was when-
»You should be grateful.« Avien is smiling down at him. »My blood is … holy to me, I guess you could say. I don’t spill it for just anybody.«
Holy is a word that should burn her tongue when she tries to speak it, he thinks. Nothing about her is holy, nothing has ever been; it sounds dirty when she says it. Dirty, taunting and wrong.
She cuts herself with her razor-sharp fingernail, a thin line across her neck, slowly filling up with dark red liquid. The familiar smell floods Cae’s senses, blocking out everything else. His body is not under his control anymore when his hands grab Avien by the waist and pull her down to him, while the first drops of blood flow over, dripping all over his chest. he doesn’t take the time to trace the cut with his tongue, as he probably would if he were enjoying this, or had any self-control left. His fangs pierce her flesh before he can stop himself, she lets out a satisfied groan, and with the taste of her blood comes a flood of memories.
First, it tastes like iron and spice. Then, it tastes like dying.
+
»I’m fine«, Caedes snaps. He can’t stand the way André looks at him: Half worried, half pitying, and one hundert percent about to offer his help. »I came here on my own free will, remember? This was my idea.«
André sighs. »I thought-«
»Don’t«, Cae cuts him off.
»What, don’t think?« André chuckles. That’s so like him - always trying to make everyone laugh even when the situation couldn’t be more serious. »I realize I’m not always particularly good at that, but-«
»Don’t worry about me.« Caedes avoids his gaze. He couldn’t bear to look into André’s eyes and be reminded that people actually care about him. That his choice to surrender to avien didn’t only hurt him, but those who love him, too.
»I will always worry about you. You should know that by now.« André sounds … hurt. The assumption that he could ever not care is apparently more than enough to upset him.
»André, please«, Caedes sighs, »just leave it alone.«
»I can’t. You don’t deserve this.« It’s almost admirable how stubborn André can be, arguing and pleading and trying everything to help, even when confronted with such a hopeless case. »No one does.«
Shut up, shut up, shut up. He doesn’t say it, but he can’t take this anymore, can’t handle any kindness or pity or affection right now-
»You’re right«, he says, finally meeting André's gaze. »No one deserves this. Not even me. But I chose this. I can handle it.« The unspoken words hang heavy in the space between them: And I will, so no one else has to.
»You really can’t, though. You’re not fine. You’re clearly not even remotely okay. You seem like you’re not fully there half of the time, and when you are there-« André swallows hard, obviously uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. »I know what she’s doing to you. I can smell your blood, and hers, you know. I’ve heard her moan your name, I’ve heard you cry and scream, I’ve seen how she treats you, I-… fuck, I can’t go on like this. Watching this happen, letting it happen like it’s normal, like it’s okay. I have enabled enough of her bullshit.«
Caedes forces himself to keep looking at the man who stands before him - one of his oldest friends. Someone he has trusted and loved for the longest time. Someone who has always cared about him and tried to look out for him, despite some mistakes along the way. It all started with endless days on the streets of the most boring village Southern France had to offer; with nights in the rain and countless hours spent learning how to pick a pocket without being noticed. Days long gone, pale memories by now, so far removed from the grotesque reality they are arguing about right now.
André is the only friend Cae has left, the only one he can still see and talk to; the only lingering reminder of what it’s like to be loved, or at least not entirely alone in the world. It’s going to hurt to push him away.
»I’m not a damsel in distress for you to save, André.« His voice is cold now, each word spoken with precision and force, like the carefully thought out attack it is. (It’s going to hurt them both, but it’s for the best, it’s the only way, it always is-) »If you so desperately want to save someone, start with yourself and run. Avien probably won’t even notice. You’re not needed here anymore.«
+
Avien kisses his chee. Her lips touch his face exactly where the scar extending his smile ends, and it takes him right back to-
She is kneeling on his arms, her weight pinning him down, one hand holding his head in place, the other gripping a scalpel. »Don’t move«, she hisses. »I could take your eye out or stab you in the throat with that thing, and we don’t want that, do we?« He hears himself whimper, the sound so foreign he doesn’t recognize his own voice at first. When she lowers the blade towards him, he can’t stop himself from yelling out: »No!« Avien stops in her tracks, looking at him expectantly. »Avien, please don’t-«
She puts her hand over his mouth, suffocating the words that were supposed to be his last defense. »You can beg all you want«, she smirks. »In fact, I kind of like it. But begging won’t stop me.« The very hand that has just held his mouth shut now forces it open again, and before he knows it, he is screaming and his own blood is trickling down into his throat. The vicious little blade has cut one corner of his mouth, drawing a bloody half-smile on his face, and it’s coming for the other side next.
Avien’s fingernails leave bright red traces on his shoulders as she writhes in pleasure beneath him, and he can’t help but think of-
»I need you«, Avien sighs as she kisses his neck, sending shivers over his entire body. »I need you right now, or I swear i’ll go insane.«
The sheer wrongness of being here with her, in a confessional box of all places, has his head spinning, the risk of getting caught gets his pulse racing, he can’t think straight at all.
»People come here to confess their sins«, he argues, »not to commit them.«
Her lips come closer to his ear. »No one has to know«, she whispers. »It can be our secret.« Her hands slide under his shirt, fingernails digging into his skin.
»God will know«, he says under his breath.
Avien laughs, the sound too loud, too careless. »Do you really believe that?«
He doesn’t dare to respond, just bites his lip as she lets her fingers trail along the waistband of his trousers before sinking to her knees right in front of him.
»Well, even God won’t stop me from taking what’s mine.« She smirks up at him, fumbling with his belt, clearly holding herself back so she doesn’t tear his clothes apart instead. »He can watch, for all I care.«
Avien’s blood is on his lips, on his tongue, between his teeth, he could swear he’s drowning in it, and it reminds him of-
A ray of sunshine. It falls through the gap between the half-drawn curtains, through the window of his bedroom, right onto his bare chest. It feels warm, as usual, but also … draining. As if it were sucking the energy out of him, robbing him of life, even though there is barely anything left to take.
His mouth feels dry, tastes like metal and salt. When he raises his hand to his chin, tiny reddish-brown flakes come off, staining his fingertips. He licks his lips, tasting the remnants of death and rebirth, and he remembers what that aching feeling he awoke to is called: Thirst.
»This is a gift«, Avien says. »My special gift to you.«
The prospect of spending the rest of his life consumed by this unquenchable thirst for blood, unable to put an end to his own misery, doesn’t scream ‘gift’ to Caedes at all, but he’s too weak to argue.
Avien looks at him like he’s the most beautiful piece of art she has ever laid eyes on, yet somehow, it makes him feel nothing but worthless. Now that her damn blood has tainted him with the cursed magic that is immortality, all he wants to do is die.
+
»Please don’t make me do this.«
He hasn’t begged her to stop in a long time. It's been years and years, several decades at this point, since he realized it was no use; since she made him immortal and carved her memory onto his face, so his existence would be inextricably tied to her forever.
»You remembered that I like begging«, she teases. »That’s so sweet of you. Beg some more for me, would you?«
He’s already at her feet, forehead touching the ground. She can’t make him do this; it would break him. »I will do anything else, I promise. Just … please.« He holds back a sob, trying to steady his voice. »Don’t make me do this. I beg you.« Please, please, please. Is there any amount of words that could ever change her mind?
Begging won’t stop me. She said it herself that fateful night. Caedes should know better, but he can’t stop himself, he has to try.
»Mhh. You’re so cute when you’re desperate.« She bends down to him, gently runs her nails over his neck and scalp. »But the order still stands.« Her touch abruptly turns rough, fingers gripping his hair, pulling him up by it. »I want you to kill for me. Isn’t that what you promised?«
He knows he did, but he never expected it to turn out this way.
»Please reconsider«, Caedes pleads. »He’s you husband. Doesn’t he mean anything to you?«
»Oh, he means a lot to me«, Avien assures. »More than you realize.«
»Then why are you doing this?« As if he didn’t already know. As if she could ever name a reason that made sense to anyone even remotely capable of kindness. As if this wasn’t just her twisted way of thinking, of feeling, of loving.
Avien laughs briefly. »I don’t have to justify my decision to anyone, least of all you, but if you really want to know: I'm doing this because he wants me to. Because it pleases me, and that’s all that matters. Doesn’t he deserve to die a death that will serve such an exquisite purpose?« Fingers still tangled in his hair, she grabs him with more force again, pulls his head back further and leans in closer. »Now be a good boy and do as you’re told. Go on. Kill him.«
Forced to look up at Avien, he starts to sob, tears finally flowing over. »Avien, please-«
»Are you really refusing my orders?« She lets go of him and turns away. »I thought you valued our little bargain more than that. After all, a lot of people’s safety depends on it, right? Didn’t think you were willing to risk that.«
No, no, no, no, no.
Caedes stills immediately. It’s the most effective threat she could have chosen, and she knows it.
He bites the insides of his cheeks so hard he can taste his own blood, drives his fingernails into his palms until the pain distracts him enough to stop crying. (Good thing he had to learn how to keep his feelings in check very early in life. Good thing she taught him how.)
»I’m not.« Not refusing. Not willing to risk it. He still wants to scream until his throat is raw, wants to cry until there are no tears left, but he can’t, he must control himself, he must honor their pact- »I’ll do it. just tell me how you want it done.«
+
»You really are the worst, aren't you?« It’s technically a very mean thing to say, but in Avien’s voice, it sounds like praise.
»I am.« There’s no point in denying it. So he doesn’t. He can’tbcry anymore, and Avien has banned him from hurting himself (Don't you fucking dare, she had yelled, you’re mine to destroy), so he just sits there, half submerged in bath water gone cold, staring into the distance, waiting for the end that maybe won't ever come.
»I love that about you.« She wipes a trace of blood off of his collarbone and places a kiss on his temple. »Killing your former best friend for someone else’s sake - that’s vile. But it takes dedication. Loyalty.«
»It does.« A weak smile flashes across his face. He didn’t do this for Avien; it’s his loyalty and dedication to them - to the people he loves, the people he is protecting - that made him follow through with this terrible, terrible thing. But if she doesn’t want to face that truth, she doesn’t have to. He won’t point it out.
Avien continues to clean him of the blood she made him spill. The blood of her husband, his only friend, the last thing in the world that tied either of them to any semblance of reason or sanity.
He still can’t stand Avien's gentleness. He always despised it, but right now, it’s especially maddening. It takes all of his willpower not to flinch at her caressing touch, and he can’t help but shudder under the soothing sensation of water washing over his red-tinted skin.
»When we’re done here«, he blurts out before she can touch him so unbearably softly again, »will you please hurt me? Like, a lot?«
Avien pauses, fingers hovering over his shoulder. »Well, if you crave it that much, I can hurt you right now.«
»Please.« There’s a desperate edge to his voice. »Do it. I could really use the pain right now.«
Her fingers find his skin, wandering up his neck. He doesn’t struggle when she pushes his head under water.
+
André’s words - weirdly calm, eerily at peace with this whole mess -, and his own - a cry for help more than anything -, stay stuck in Cae’s head for months on end.
Always thought I would die either by your hand or by hers. Turns out it’s both, somehow. Just do it. It's okay.
Why would you let her do this? Why would you agree to die for her?
Because it’s the only way.
As much as he hates to admit it, these are the exact same words he himself has used so many times to justify what he was doing, to explain away the worst of his decisions, to rationalize giving himself up. Though he never found out what Avien did to convince André that this was the only way, to make him agree to his own death … he understands. He knows all too well what that’s like, being led to believe you’re making the best choice, even if that choice is a nightmare come to life.
If only understanding could make the loss more bearable.
He remembers it clearly, so clearly-
The awful sound of André's body dropping to the ground. The stake piercing through his chest, blood spilling all over Cae’s hands. The image of André's lips curving into a sad, blood-stained smile as he breathes his last breath.
Watching a dear friend die, knowing it’s all your fault - that’s the kind of thing that haunts you forever.
+
Sometimes, his mind won’t grant him the favor that is dissociation, so instead, he thinks of them-
Lynire. Nayati. The thought of them is filled with bittersweet longing. It still feels like there’s a hole in his heart where they used to be; a gaping emptiness nothing could ever fill, even if he had anything good in his life to try and fill it with. They’re probably still living in their lovely little house on the beach, and he imagines it’s peaceful, or at least as peaceful as they can manage. He likes to think that they keep each other's demons at bay, that they make it through each day together, and when he imagines them cuddling up in Lynire’s bed, mighty ocean waves crashing against the cliffs nearby, raindrops drumming on the roof, he’s not even all that jealous, he just misses them like hell. (But knowing they’re safe is even better than being with them, or at least that’s what he tells himself.)
Sometimes, the misery overwhelms him, makes him lose track of reality, so he tries to remember-
Alyssé. She's in her metaphorical ivory tower with her husband and daughter, ruling over whatever kingdom she has claimed as her own. Doesn’t kill people for a living anymore, doesn’t drink as much as she used to, has given up her habit of getting into random fights with half the city. Plays the piano, keeps her garden alive and pretty, probably pays someone to keep the house nice and clean, donates half her money to the orphans on the streets. All the while madly in love with no one but Simón. It’s ironic, really, that she ended up having a life like this, but Caedes is happy for her, he really is. He hopes that nothing reminds her of their past anymore, that she never has to think about the palace that was never a home to either of them again; but if she does think back to the old days from time to time, he hopes that she remembers him with more fondness than anger. After all they’ve been through together, that’s the least they can do: Not hate each other any longer over nothing but the shared trauma and pain they didn’t deserve.
Sometimes, it all becomes too much, he’s about to break, absolutely convinced he couldn’t possibly handle staying in the present for one more second, so he lets his mind wander-
Océane. Maybe her curse was lifted when Avien stopped controlling her, maybe it wasn’t; maybe she is still trying to find a way to get rid of the beast inside of her without risking her undead life, maybe she has come to terms with it somehow. Whatever it is, he imagines her by Alexandre’s side, and reunited with her brother, happier than she’s been in years. He imagines her making friends and going places, living the free life she was robbed of for so long, finally given a chance to heal. He hopes that she knows what happened to her was never her fault, hopes that she doesn’t feel guilty anymore, hopes that she finds peace - because if anyone in the world deserves peace, it’s definitely Océane.
Sometimes, Avien crushes all of his hopes beneath her heel, but he lets himself dream regardless-
Cynthia. He still can’t grasp how he ever got this lucky - to have someone like her care about him, be his friend, love him, even. He still remembers how meeting her almost made him believe in miracles again; how often he smiled to himself and silently called her a blessing. He dreams of kissing her in the rain, of holding hands with her at the market in a foreign city, of asking her to marry him and hearing her say yes. He hopes that someone else is doing all of those things with her right now, that someone is treating her better than he did back then; that someone is there to hold her when she’s having nightmares, that someone tells her all the time how wonderful she is. That she and her children will always be safe, and that she is happy, truly and deeply happy, thrcway she is supposed to be.
Most of them probably think he’s dead, or at least they’re not looking for him anymore. At this point, even the most stubborn among them must have realized he’s not coming back, and they’re better off for it.
But sometimes, he blocks out the truth and distracts himself with melancholic memories and painfully beautiful what ifs, because the thought of them is the only thing that could possibly keep him going.
+
»You always make me do such terrible, terrible things to you.«
Caedes bites back a cynical remark. They both know that’s not true; he couldn’t make her do anything if he tried. Avien wants to do this, or else she wouldn’t.
His shackles click open with a turn of her key. He falls on his knees, feeling quite exhausted and a bit lightheaded. He rubs his sore wrists as he lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in until now.
Avien is watching him closely, probably delighting in his obvious weakness, or marveling at the whip marks she left on his back: Skin split open, brand new scars in the making. She kneels down behind him and licks a half-dried trace of blood off of his shoulder.
»You know why I do this, don’t you?«, she whispers in his ear.
Caedes nods.
»Say it«, Avien demands. Her arms wrap around him, pulling him closer. He winces as her body brushes against him, a burning sensation on his wounded skin. One hand seizes his throat, her grip unusually light, the gesture possessive nonetheless.
»Because I deserve it.« He’s not entirely sure it’s true, but it’s what she wants to hear, he has picked that up by now, and the more often he says it, the less it sounds like a lie. »I deserve everything you do to me.«
»That's right, you do.« There’s a sickly-sweet smile in her voice, and she plants a trail of kisses from his shoulder all the way up his neck. »You’re mine, and I love giving you exactly what you deserve.« She backs off just a little. »Now let me take care of you.«
Magic glows beneath her fingertips as she runs her hands over his back, making sure the wounds will heal without complications. Warmth and light radiate from her when she takes his wrists in her hands, letting a soothing wave of energy wash over him.
For a brief moment, he wonders who she could have been if she had chosen this - warmth, light, healing. How different both of their lives could have played out had she gone down a different path, one that didn’t doom her to destroy everything she touched for the sheer thrill of it.
Avien is not good enough of a healer to take all the pain away or make all of his wounds disappear, nor would she ever want to do that. But she does care for him as best she can, although he’s never sure whether she does it out of love or out of egoism.
Either way, he means it when he says: »Thank you.«
+
Between an affectionate kiss and an honest smile, Avien asks: »Do you ever regret it?«
Caedes doesn’t answer straight away.
»Running to me instead of from me, I mean?«, she adds.
She looks so vulnerable, lying naked in his arms, asking him the kind of question an insecure teen in love would ask. She almost seems harmless.
He tucks a loose stand of hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead. »I could never regret that.«
He would very much like to, but he can’t. it was the only way, and it’s easy to pretend he has made his peace with that when every tender touch they share is a small reminder of what’s on the line.
+
»You have killed for me«, Avien says, the joy she finds in that quite obvious. »are you ready to die for me, too? Just like you promised?«
She is pointing a wooden stake at his chest, right where his undead heart is hidden beneath skin, flesh and bones.
»Yes.« It’s the first honest word his lips have formed in ages. »My life is yours, and so is my death, if you want it.«
Those words feel hollow somehow. For the longest time, this would have been his worst fear come true. Avien has already taken so much from him throughout his life, he always hated the thought of her taking his death away from him, too. But at this point, life means nothing to him anymore, and neither does death. Being killed by Avien is not the nightmare it used to be. It seems more like a blessing. Like mercy.
If this is the only salvation he can get, that’s fine with him.
+
He’s kneeling in a sea of red, dizzy, vision blurred, unable to speak.
She really did it. She didn’t hesitate when she pushed the stake forward, right between his ribs and into his heart. He really is about to die.
A blessing. Mercy.
She lifts his chin so she can look into his eyes as he fades away. When he coughs up some blood, it splashes right in her face. She just keeps on watching him, a vague, unnerving smile on her lips, the blood spatter decorating her ivory skin like tiny rubies placed on a polished piece of jewelry.
»You look so beautiful when you’re dying«, she says, catching a drop of blood that’s running down his chin with one finger. »What a joy it would be to not only witness, but cause such an excellent death.«
The heavy blood loss is taking effect; Caedes can hardly grasp the words anymore, his eyes have fallen shut. He can tell it won’t be long before he loses consciousness.
Before he slips into the darkness, before his heart goes still for good, he can hear her whisper: »Too bad I’m not done with you yet.«
+
He's breathing. Moving. Feeling. His chest feels vacant, everything about this is wrong somehow, but he’s … alive. He shouldn’t be.
»What have you done to me?« First, it’s a defeated whisper. Then, it turns into a furious scream: »What have you done?!«
It should have been a blessing. It was supposed to be mercy.
Caedes used to fear that there might be life after death. When Avien turned him, it was proof there actually was, just not in the way most people would expect. He thought that if he ever died again, at least it would be final.
When she killed him once more, he was so sure it would be the actual end this time, it felt so real, so irrevocable-
Yet, for some reason, he’s not even surprised to find out he was wrong. Devastated, but not surprised.
Avien looks at him for an awfully long moment, slightly tilting her head as if contemplating whether she should answer his question or not; whether she should pull him into her arms and try to soothe him, or strike him down and call him ungrateful for speaking to her like that.
»You bled all over me«, she remarks after a while, completely disregarding his emotional outburst. »Apologize and clean up the mess you made, or I’ll make you wish I had let you die for good.«
(As if he didn’t already.)
+
It’s another house, another city, another country.
Another moment, another day, another year.
Another threat, another order, another ordeal.
Another wound, another scar, another trauma.
Another death, another life, another eternity.
Another small sacrifice, one of so, so many, lining up like pearls on a string; a necklace made of perfect tragedies, pretty enough to wear and sturdy enough to be strangled with.
+
Avien loops her index finger through the metal ring of Caedes’ collar, pulls him close, not breaking eye contact. »Who do you belong to?«
It’s never a real question; it’s always a test. As if she still couldn’t believe her luck, even though it’s been years since he became everything she ever wanted him to be.
»I belong to you. Only you.« He says it with full conviction - because he knows it’s true. This is the life he chose, the deal he made. Nowadays, he barely remembers the last time he made spoke a truth he didn’t have to rehearse first.
»Yes, you do. You’re such a good little pet.« Avien's smile is so warm, so joyful, so genuine, it makes the bitter truth just a tiny bit sweeter.
He smiles back. »Thank you, my Goddess.«
She used to force him to say all these things, make him swallow any pride he had left, make him complicit in his own suffering-
(Asking her to hurt him.
Begging her to stop, or not to stop, depending on her mood.
Swearing he was hers, and hers alone.
Apologizing for things that were not his fault.
Thanking her for tending to his wounds when she herself caused them in the first place.
Calling her all the titles and pet names that still hurt to say out loud because he used to call other people those very same things; people he will never get to speak to, or even lay eyes upon, again.
Saying, I’m the worst. I'm useless. i’m nothing but a plaything for you to destroy.
Saying, I deserve it.)
He used to hate her for it, used to despise hearing himself say such things, used to dread every single syllable. By now, it all comes naturally to him. He doesn’t even question whether it’s true anymore. Avien wants it to be true, so it is.
»I love you, Cae«, she murmurs against his lips when she leans in to kiss him. »I love you so much.« He knows she means it, he can feel it in every kiss, every bite, every slap, every touch, every glance, every little gesture. She does love him, she always has, it’s just … the kind of love that is too messed up for anyone else to understand. »You’re by far the best thing I’ve ever owned.«
»I love you too«, he replies, eyes lighting up, heartbeat quickening - like he means it, too. »I love being yours.«
Maybe it’s not completely true-
(Maybe, deep in his heart, he still knows how wrong this is, knows how much of himself he has given up already to make this work, knows he would have deserved a life of his own.)
-but Avien has trained him well, and he is an excellent actor, after all. I love you is an easy enough line to deliver.
If love and devotion is what she desires, love and devotion he will provide. Maybe this is what he’s meant to do with his life: Kneel before her, tend to her every need, make her happy at all cost. He has become awfully good at it, that’s for sure.
»Can I do anything else for you, my Goddess?«
Avien shakes her head. »Just bless me with your company while I go through the mail, will you?«
»Of course.«
He follows her to her study, and as she sits behind the wooden desk and turns her attention to the letters that recently arrived at the house, he settles down next to her, still on his knees, ignoring the ache that comes with kneeling on marble floors for a long while.
Maybe he doesn’t actually love being hers, but it’s not too bad, really. Once his brain got back into the habit of blocking out whatever it felt was too much, things got so much more bearable.
Avien had already broken him beyond repair long before they made the pact that now binds him to her. There wasn’t much of his sanity left to begin with, so it was an obvious choice. Sure, it meant leaving behind everything he loved, choosing new trauma over a chance at happiness, giving up on the idea of healing; but in the grand scheme of things, it was the lesser evil.
If that's what it takes to keep his loved ones safe, he doesn’t mind spending the rest of all eternity pretending he is exactly the right kind of broken.
Genre: i am so bad at genres, i have no idea edit: it's clearly HURT, NO COMFORT
Rating: 18+
Charaktere: Caedes & Avien (& André)
Title: Quote from "King of Broken Hearts" von Carolina Liar
Soundtrack: I listened to this playlist a lot while writing this thing
CN: Manipulation, mind games, abuse, torture, murder, self-destructive behavior, self-harm (mentioned), suicidal thoughts, noncon/dubcon/rape, incest, blood, trauma, flashbacks, dissociation, some hints of blasphemy (most of it is quite graphic, pls take care!)
Author's Note: Remember when I wrote this AU oneshot and said it was basically Cae's "reversed ending"? Yeah I wrote another AU like that but even worse :') I really went like, ok, I'm gonna give the guy a happy ending in the canon, but first, I'm gonna think of all the ways his life could possibly become hell if I didn't!!!! This is the Painful Thing(TM) I've been ranting about on Twitter for over a month now. Why did I write this in English? I'm not entirely sure, but I did and it's the first longer thing I wrote in English, so pls bear with me |D idk who would even want to read this, but whoever does, enjoy!!
+
Avien has her legs crossed, one elbow propped up on the armrest of her throne, chin resting on her hand. She's watching Caedes with an expression that would be indecipherable to most, but he knows her well; he knows about the full-blown storm of emotions she must be hiding behind her calm and calculating façade.
The door falls shut behind him. André has left the room; they’re all alone now.
Caedes feels his immortal heart pounding in his chest, incredibly fast, as if it was trying to win a race against the somersaulting thoughts in his head.
»Avien…«, he starts.
»What the hell do you want?« Her words feel like a sharpened icicle: half cold-hearted threat, half fragile attempt at keeping up her guard.
He takes a deep breath and puts a little half-smile on his face, the one he always uses when he needs all of his charm and a whole lot of luck for things to work out. »Aren’t you happy to see me?«
»Depends.« Avien’s voice is trembling just a little. just enough for him to notice. »Why are you here? Why seek me out after all this time you spent running from me?«
She’s getting more paranoid by the day, André’s words echo in Caedes’ head. I don’t think this is a good idea. Whe won’t trust you, she will-
Take me to her, he hears himself repeat, a fragment of a memory that suddenly seems endlessly far away. I have to see her.
»I’m here«, he manages to say, »because I have an offer for you.« The kind of offer she can’t refuse, or so he hopes.
Avien gets up from her throne and steps closer. An actual throne - whatever kingdom she thinks she’s ruling, whatever world she is about to conquer in her mind. it shouldn’t surprise him anymore, but the extent of her hubris never fails to do just that. She stops at an arm’s length, looking him straight in the eye. He doesn’t look away.
»And what is it that you have to offer, brother dearest?«
Brother dearest. Her voice has haunted him in his dreams, calling him that, calling him all kinds of other things, too, but it’s different when she’s right there in front of him, it’s-
»Me.« His hands are shaking, yet he sounds so much calmer than he thought he would. »I’m here to offer you … me.«
Avien raises an eyebrow. »you?«
Her right hand reaches for him, and he does his best not to flinch. The slap he was half expecting never comes; instead, she traces the scars on his face with her index finger, from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, and the other way around on the other side. Scars she gave him the last time they met; the final souvenir she left him before he finally managed to get away for good. He still remembers what that was like - to feel his skin and flesh rip open with every scream he couldn’t hold back, the wounds deepening until they formed the grotesque smile that would later turn into the most striking set of scars on his broken body. Sometimes he remembers it so clearly, he'd swear there couldn’t possibly be decades between then and now.
Avien lifts his chin with her finger. The gentleness of her touch disgusts him, though he doesn’t let it show.
»You can have me.« His own words terrify him, but as much as he is scared, he is also sure of what he’s about to do. »I’ll be all yours. That’s what you always wanted, right?«
Avien halts. He can sense her surprise, her hesitation.
»I will sign any contract. A blood pact, even. Put me under some spell if that’s what you need to be sure. Whatever you want.«
Her lips curve into a cruel smile. »Whatever I want?« The underlying danger of those words sends shivers down his spine.
Slowly, caedes nods. »Whatever you want. On one condition: You leave them alone. My partners. My friends. The people I love. All of them.«
»Hmm.« Avien turns away, and her touch fades, giving him room to breathe again, at least for now. »What makes you think that I would choose you over all of them? That I would give up on so many possibilities for just one more faithful servant?«
»We both know I’d be more than that.« He sounds so convincing he himself can hardly tell whether he’s lying. »Whatever you dream of, we can make it come true together.« Despite every fiber in his body screaming for him to stop, to reconsider, to get the hell out of there while he still can, Caedes falls to his knees right there and then. »Please, Avien. I would kill for you. I would die for you, too, if that’s what you wanted. I would live for you.«
She looks at him over her shoulder, pupils widening at the sight of him on his knees, the sound of him saying her name, saying please-
She must have dreamed of this moment for such a long time.
+
I made a list, he had told her. You can’t harm any of them in any way, shape or form. You can’t send anyone else after them, and you can’t harm their loved ones to get to them, either.
Avien had frowned. Let me see that damn list.
Now, after reading that damn list very carefully, she snaps: »Really? You’re trying to ban me from using my own creation? My best creation, that is.«
Caedes shrugs. »You don’t need Océane anymore. I am your creation, too. Use me instead.«
Avien scoffs. »That’s not the same thing.«
»Who do you want more, her or me?«
It’s dead quiet for a moment. »Fine«, Avien finally concedes, »but André does not belong on that list. He is my husband.« As if sensing Cae’s reluctance, she adds: »He chose to be with me. I’ve never done anything to harm him. Not against his will. Ask him if you don’t believe me.«
»If he ever wanted to leave you, would you let him?«
»Let’s be honest: André would rather die than leave me.« She doesn’t put it like that, but it still sounds like: I made sure of that. She takes a seat behind her desk and takes her time while getting out her writing supplies. Dips the quill in the inkpot, and instead of crossing out André’s name, she writes a note next to it: no harm he doesn’t agree to.
»Can’t argue with that«, Caedes admits, although it leaves him rather uneasy for some reason he can’t quite grasp.
»Is that all, then?«, Avien asks.
»Almost.«
»Almost?« She glares at him, obviously offended. »You’re trying to take away my greatest creation and interfere with my marriage, and that’s still just an almost?«
»You can’t kill me to get out of the pact.« It feels strange to consider that possibility, to say it out loud, but he needs to make sure. After all, he wouldn’t put it past her, even though he doubts she would willingly sacrifice her new favorite toy for anything anytime soon. »You can kill me, if that’s what you want, but if you do, our agreement still stands. It’s a pact beyond death, or it is not pact at all.« He swallows hard, well aware that this could make or break his entire plan. That this is the part where things could go terribly wrong if he miscalculated.
You’re gambling with your life, andré had warned.
But the stakes are high enough to be worth any risk.
(This will go terribly wrong either way, he thinks as he recalls what he promised Avien in return: I will belong to you. You will own me. You can do to me whatever you want. Nothing about this could ever be right. He only hopes that it goes wrong the way he imagined it would.)
+
Caedes is an incredible actor. He has always struggled to see the good in himself, but his acting is one of the few qualities he is very sure of, a skill he is confident in; he’s had a whole lifetime to practice, and this is not the first time something very important depends on his ability to sell the perfect illusion.
»We have to move«, he murmurs, lips brushing over Avien's shoulder. She smells like patchouli and painful nostalgia, like empty promises and expensive perfume. »Before they come looking for me.«
Avien makes a low sound, somewhere between an annoyed sigh and a growl. »If you insist.« Cae can tell by her tone that she would much rather stay and get the chance to personally behead anyone who would dare to oppose her, or even try to take him away from her. But that’s part of their deal - she can’t hurt them. She can’t hurt them.
That was the one thing he was - and still is - willing to pay every price for. The one thing that brings him enough relief to justify what he did to achieve it.
Avien slowly turns around, presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he puts on his softest smile. »There is one more thing I need you to help me with«, he says, ignoring how tight his chest feels at the thought of what he’s about to ask of her.
»Oh, whatever you want, my beloved«, she replies in a honeyed voice.
He doesn’t want this at all, but it’s the only way to truly keep all of his loved ones safe. To spare them the pain of knowing too much. He can already feel lynire starting to worry, feel the creeping suspicion that something isn’t right; she will guess what’s going on soon. She can probably already sense all of his discomfort and fear through their soulbond, and she could feel so much more in the future - every unspeakable thing that might happen to him. He can’t let that happen.
Telling Avien about their bond seems counter-intuitive. Dangerous. But they made a deal. He tries to keep that in mind as he forces himself to speak the words that feel too terrifyingly vulnerable to say out loud. »Can you break a soulbond?«
Avien blinks at him, her whole body tensing all of a sudden. »Can I break a what?«
His lips part, but the attempt of an explanation he had put together in his mind crumbles under the intensity of her stare.
»Who?« It’s not a question; it’s a demand.
He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He won’t. »It doesn’t mean anything.« One more blatant lie. »Not anymore. I want it gone so I can focus on you, and you only.«
»Who is it?«, Avien asks again as she sits up in her bed, jealousy and rage twisting her beautiful features.
»It doesn’t matter«, he insists, »just help me get rid of it, please. Or dim the connection, at least, if it can’t be broken. I don’t know. Whatever works best. I can’t stay connected to them, it’s so distracting, I-«
Avien abruptly stands up and starts pacing in her bedroom. After a long while of tense silence, she stops in front of her nightstand, opening the top drawer.
Knowing damn well what she keeps in that drawer, Cae whispers: »You can’t hurt them.« More to reassure himself than to remind her of her limits.
She pulls out a knife anyway. a beautiful weapon, blade slender and sharp, engraved with words in a language he doesn’t understand.
Avien grips the handle so tightly the muscles in her hand and arm begin to shake. Her eyes, now tinted blood red by her thirst for violence, look Caedes up and down, and her lips twitch, not quite a grin or smile, more like she’s baring her teeth.
»Oh, I know I can’t hurt them.« Every syllable seems to vibrate with growing anger. Avien circles the bed until she’s on his side, all the while staring at him. »But I can hurt you, can’t it? It’s not my fault if they can feel that through your special little bond.«
+
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry
It’s like a desperate prayer in his mind: I’m sorry for putting you through this, I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for what I’m about to do, I’m sorry this is the only way-
A prayer to a goddess he is about to abandon - his goddess, his first love, the happily-ever-after that should have been, the salvation he never deserved; a prayer that can’t be answered because it won’t ever reach her, even though it echoes through his soul with every ounce of pain that shoots through his nervous system.
When his body finally goes numb, it’s such a relief. At least she won’t feel any more of his pain, he thinks, before his mind begins to drift away, too, any sense of self, any awareness gone with a final blink that leads him into the vast darkness of unconsciousness.
+
Caedes wakes up to a pitch black room. Curtains closed, the whole house dead silent, except for Avien’s regular breathing right next to him. She’s asleep, actually asleep. Which is rare, as he remembers. No need for sleep when you’re even more undead than the average undead creature. It’s a sign she feels safe - or really exhausted. Right now, it’s probably both.
They're not in Avien's bedroom, as far as he can tell. She must have taken him somewhere else, but he can’t remember where or why.
He tries to move, but his body doesn’t obey. It feels strange somehow, the vague memory of terror reverberating in his mind, and that of pain in all of his limbs; too faint for an actual injury, too clear for a mere illusion. As if his bones had been shattered, then mended perfectly. As if he had been taken apart completely and put back together all in one night. Maybe that is what happened, he can’t tell, the details blurred by the infinitesimal part of his brain that still makes an effort to protect him. Has it even been one night, or more than that? What time of day is it, anyway? His sense of time is completely screwed, and his head feels like it’s going to implode anytime soon. The only thing he remembers very distinctly is …
Lynire.
Suddenly, he’s uncomfortably awake, as if the sheer thought had set his brain on fire. He tries to replay the events that led up to this in his head, but they’re only vague shadows hidden behind a curtain of fog that won’t budge.
Lynire. He can’t feel her anymore. When the hell did that happen? How? The connection was definitely still there throughout the torture. Frantically, he calls out for her in his mind, searches his brain, his body, his soul for any trace of her, any emotion, any connection, any hint of the bond he has gotten so used to. There’s nothing. No sign of her left, just emptiness where she used to be.
He should be relieved; the bond is gone, maybe severed, maybe numbed, he can’t tell, and he's not sure he's brave enough to ask, but either way, no one will have to witness the suffering he chose to bring upon himself anymore. It’s what he asked for, it’s what he had to do, and there is some comfort in knowing that it worked. But the emptiness still hurts. It’s a different kind of pain he couldn’t even begin to explain. His entire being craves Lynire’s presence, longs for the bond now lost, searches for any remaining trace of nearness-
A primal scream tears from his throat, as if he were trying to wake himself from a nightmare. He only notices he is crying when Avien, awoken by the harsh sound, wipes away his tears.
»I’m so sorry I hurt you like that, brother dearest«, she murmurs. »That anger wasn’t meant for you. But you didn’t leave me any other choice, really, with your silly little deal and its stupid conditions.«
It’s okay, he would say in any other situation. Reassure her. Downplay what happened. Make it clear that he will tolerate anything she chooses to do to him. but right now, he can't. He's both too weak and too angry to bother, so he avoids looking at her and doesn’t respond.
Suddenly, Avien is on top of him, the weight and shape of her uncomfortably familiar. For a split second, he thinks of sunlight on his skin and a glass shard in his mouth, a moment stored away so far back in his mind he had almost forgotten it was real.
»Let me make it up to you.« For some reason, Cae doesn’t like the sound of that at all, and an instant later, he realizes why. »You must be so thirsty after all of that.« Avien strokes his hair with one hand, gets her own out of the way with the other.
No. No matter how thirsty he is, her blood is the last thing he wants. The last time he got a taste of that was when-
»You should be grateful.« Avien is smiling down at him. »My blood is … holy to me, I guess you could say. I don’t spill it for just anybody.«
Holy is a word that should burn her tongue when she tries to speak it, he thinks. Nothing about her is holy, nothing has ever been; it sounds dirty when she says it. Dirty, taunting and wrong.
She cuts herself with her razor-sharp fingernail, a thin line across her neck, slowly filling up with dark red liquid. The familiar smell floods Cae’s senses, blocking out everything else. His body is not under his control anymore when his hands grab Avien by the waist and pull her down to him, while the first drops of blood flow over, dripping all over his chest. he doesn’t take the time to trace the cut with his tongue, as he probably would if he were enjoying this, or had any self-control left. His fangs pierce her flesh before he can stop himself, she lets out a satisfied groan, and with the taste of her blood comes a flood of memories.
First, it tastes like iron and spice. Then, it tastes like dying.
+
»I’m fine«, Caedes snaps. He can’t stand the way André looks at him: Half worried, half pitying, and one hundert percent about to offer his help. »I came here on my own free will, remember? This was my idea.«
André sighs. »I thought-«
»Don’t«, Cae cuts him off.
»What, don’t think?« André chuckles. That’s so like him - always trying to make everyone laugh even when the situation couldn’t be more serious. »I realize I’m not always particularly good at that, but-«
»Don’t worry about me.« Caedes avoids his gaze. He couldn’t bear to look into André’s eyes and be reminded that people actually care about him. That his choice to surrender to avien didn’t only hurt him, but those who love him, too.
»I will always worry about you. You should know that by now.« André sounds … hurt. The assumption that he could ever not care is apparently more than enough to upset him.
»André, please«, Caedes sighs, »just leave it alone.«
»I can’t. You don’t deserve this.« It’s almost admirable how stubborn André can be, arguing and pleading and trying everything to help, even when confronted with such a hopeless case. »No one does.«
Shut up, shut up, shut up. He doesn’t say it, but he can’t take this anymore, can’t handle any kindness or pity or affection right now-
»You’re right«, he says, finally meeting André's gaze. »No one deserves this. Not even me. But I chose this. I can handle it.« The unspoken words hang heavy in the space between them: And I will, so no one else has to.
»You really can’t, though. You’re not fine. You’re clearly not even remotely okay. You seem like you’re not fully there half of the time, and when you are there-« André swallows hard, obviously uncomfortable with what he’s about to say. »I know what she’s doing to you. I can smell your blood, and hers, you know. I’ve heard her moan your name, I’ve heard you cry and scream, I’ve seen how she treats you, I-… fuck, I can’t go on like this. Watching this happen, letting it happen like it’s normal, like it’s okay. I have enabled enough of her bullshit.«
Caedes forces himself to keep looking at the man who stands before him - one of his oldest friends. Someone he has trusted and loved for the longest time. Someone who has always cared about him and tried to look out for him, despite some mistakes along the way. It all started with endless days on the streets of the most boring village Southern France had to offer; with nights in the rain and countless hours spent learning how to pick a pocket without being noticed. Days long gone, pale memories by now, so far removed from the grotesque reality they are arguing about right now.
André is the only friend Cae has left, the only one he can still see and talk to; the only lingering reminder of what it’s like to be loved, or at least not entirely alone in the world. It’s going to hurt to push him away.
»I’m not a damsel in distress for you to save, André.« His voice is cold now, each word spoken with precision and force, like the carefully thought out attack it is. (It’s going to hurt them both, but it’s for the best, it’s the only way, it always is-) »If you so desperately want to save someone, start with yourself and run. Avien probably won’t even notice. You’re not needed here anymore.«
+
Avien kisses his chee. Her lips touch his face exactly where the scar extending his smile ends, and it takes him right back to-
She is kneeling on his arms, her weight pinning him down, one hand holding his head in place, the other gripping a scalpel. »Don’t move«, she hisses. »I could take your eye out or stab you in the throat with that thing, and we don’t want that, do we?« He hears himself whimper, the sound so foreign he doesn’t recognize his own voice at first. When she lowers the blade towards him, he can’t stop himself from yelling out: »No!« Avien stops in her tracks, looking at him expectantly. »Avien, please don’t-«
She puts her hand over his mouth, suffocating the words that were supposed to be his last defense. »You can beg all you want«, she smirks. »In fact, I kind of like it. But begging won’t stop me.« The very hand that has just held his mouth shut now forces it open again, and before he knows it, he is screaming and his own blood is trickling down into his throat. The vicious little blade has cut one corner of his mouth, drawing a bloody half-smile on his face, and it’s coming for the other side next.
Avien’s fingernails leave bright red traces on his shoulders as she writhes in pleasure beneath him, and he can’t help but think of-
»I need you«, Avien sighs as she kisses his neck, sending shivers over his entire body. »I need you right now, or I swear i’ll go insane.«
The sheer wrongness of being here with her, in a confessional box of all places, has his head spinning, the risk of getting caught gets his pulse racing, he can’t think straight at all.
»People come here to confess their sins«, he argues, »not to commit them.«
Her lips come closer to his ear. »No one has to know«, she whispers. »It can be our secret.« Her hands slide under his shirt, fingernails digging into his skin.
»God will know«, he says under his breath.
Avien laughs, the sound too loud, too careless. »Do you really believe that?«
He doesn’t dare to respond, just bites his lip as she lets her fingers trail along the waistband of his trousers before sinking to her knees right in front of him.
»Well, even God won’t stop me from taking what’s mine.« She smirks up at him, fumbling with his belt, clearly holding herself back so she doesn’t tear his clothes apart instead. »He can watch, for all I care.«
Avien’s blood is on his lips, on his tongue, between his teeth, he could swear he’s drowning in it, and it reminds him of-
A ray of sunshine. It falls through the gap between the half-drawn curtains, through the window of his bedroom, right onto his bare chest. It feels warm, as usual, but also … draining. As if it were sucking the energy out of him, robbing him of life, even though there is barely anything left to take.
His mouth feels dry, tastes like metal and salt. When he raises his hand to his chin, tiny reddish-brown flakes come off, staining his fingertips. He licks his lips, tasting the remnants of death and rebirth, and he remembers what that aching feeling he awoke to is called: Thirst.
»This is a gift«, Avien says. »My special gift to you.«
The prospect of spending the rest of his life consumed by this unquenchable thirst for blood, unable to put an end to his own misery, doesn’t scream ‘gift’ to Caedes at all, but he’s too weak to argue.
Avien looks at him like he’s the most beautiful piece of art she has ever laid eyes on, yet somehow, it makes him feel nothing but worthless. Now that her damn blood has tainted him with the cursed magic that is immortality, all he wants to do is die.
+
»Please don’t make me do this.«
He hasn’t begged her to stop in a long time. It's been years and years, several decades at this point, since he realized it was no use; since she made him immortal and carved her memory onto his face, so his existence would be inextricably tied to her forever.
»You remembered that I like begging«, she teases. »That’s so sweet of you. Beg some more for me, would you?«
He’s already at her feet, forehead touching the ground. She can’t make him do this; it would break him. »I will do anything else, I promise. Just … please.« He holds back a sob, trying to steady his voice. »Don’t make me do this. I beg you.« Please, please, please. Is there any amount of words that could ever change her mind?
Begging won’t stop me. She said it herself that fateful night. Caedes should know better, but he can’t stop himself, he has to try.
»Mhh. You’re so cute when you’re desperate.« She bends down to him, gently runs her nails over his neck and scalp. »But the order still stands.« Her touch abruptly turns rough, fingers gripping his hair, pulling him up by it. »I want you to kill for me. Isn’t that what you promised?«
He knows he did, but he never expected it to turn out this way.
»Please reconsider«, Caedes pleads. »He’s you husband. Doesn’t he mean anything to you?«
»Oh, he means a lot to me«, Avien assures. »More than you realize.«
»Then why are you doing this?« As if he didn’t already know. As if she could ever name a reason that made sense to anyone even remotely capable of kindness. As if this wasn’t just her twisted way of thinking, of feeling, of loving.
Avien laughs briefly. »I don’t have to justify my decision to anyone, least of all you, but if you really want to know: I'm doing this because he wants me to. Because it pleases me, and that’s all that matters. Doesn’t he deserve to die a death that will serve such an exquisite purpose?« Fingers still tangled in his hair, she grabs him with more force again, pulls his head back further and leans in closer. »Now be a good boy and do as you’re told. Go on. Kill him.«
Forced to look up at Avien, he starts to sob, tears finally flowing over. »Avien, please-«
»Are you really refusing my orders?« She lets go of him and turns away. »I thought you valued our little bargain more than that. After all, a lot of people’s safety depends on it, right? Didn’t think you were willing to risk that.«
No, no, no, no, no.
Caedes stills immediately. It’s the most effective threat she could have chosen, and she knows it.
He bites the insides of his cheeks so hard he can taste his own blood, drives his fingernails into his palms until the pain distracts him enough to stop crying. (Good thing he had to learn how to keep his feelings in check very early in life. Good thing she taught him how.)
»I’m not.« Not refusing. Not willing to risk it. He still wants to scream until his throat is raw, wants to cry until there are no tears left, but he can’t, he must control himself, he must honor their pact- »I’ll do it. just tell me how you want it done.«
+
»You really are the worst, aren't you?« It’s technically a very mean thing to say, but in Avien’s voice, it sounds like praise.
»I am.« There’s no point in denying it. So he doesn’t. He can’tbcry anymore, and Avien has banned him from hurting himself (Don't you fucking dare, she had yelled, you’re mine to destroy), so he just sits there, half submerged in bath water gone cold, staring into the distance, waiting for the end that maybe won't ever come.
»I love that about you.« She wipes a trace of blood off of his collarbone and places a kiss on his temple. »Killing your former best friend for someone else’s sake - that’s vile. But it takes dedication. Loyalty.«
»It does.« A weak smile flashes across his face. He didn’t do this for Avien; it’s his loyalty and dedication to them - to the people he loves, the people he is protecting - that made him follow through with this terrible, terrible thing. But if she doesn’t want to face that truth, she doesn’t have to. He won’t point it out.
Avien continues to clean him of the blood she made him spill. The blood of her husband, his only friend, the last thing in the world that tied either of them to any semblance of reason or sanity.
He still can’t stand Avien's gentleness. He always despised it, but right now, it’s especially maddening. It takes all of his willpower not to flinch at her caressing touch, and he can’t help but shudder under the soothing sensation of water washing over his red-tinted skin.
»When we’re done here«, he blurts out before she can touch him so unbearably softly again, »will you please hurt me? Like, a lot?«
Avien pauses, fingers hovering over his shoulder. »Well, if you crave it that much, I can hurt you right now.«
»Please.« There’s a desperate edge to his voice. »Do it. I could really use the pain right now.«
Her fingers find his skin, wandering up his neck. He doesn’t struggle when she pushes his head under water.
+
André’s words - weirdly calm, eerily at peace with this whole mess -, and his own - a cry for help more than anything -, stay stuck in Cae’s head for months on end.
Always thought I would die either by your hand or by hers. Turns out it’s both, somehow. Just do it. It's okay.
Why would you let her do this? Why would you agree to die for her?
Because it’s the only way.
As much as he hates to admit it, these are the exact same words he himself has used so many times to justify what he was doing, to explain away the worst of his decisions, to rationalize giving himself up. Though he never found out what Avien did to convince André that this was the only way, to make him agree to his own death … he understands. He knows all too well what that’s like, being led to believe you’re making the best choice, even if that choice is a nightmare come to life.
If only understanding could make the loss more bearable.
He remembers it clearly, so clearly-
The awful sound of André's body dropping to the ground. The stake piercing through his chest, blood spilling all over Cae’s hands. The image of André's lips curving into a sad, blood-stained smile as he breathes his last breath.
Watching a dear friend die, knowing it’s all your fault - that’s the kind of thing that haunts you forever.
+
Sometimes, his mind won’t grant him the favor that is dissociation, so instead, he thinks of them-
Lynire. Nayati. The thought of them is filled with bittersweet longing. It still feels like there’s a hole in his heart where they used to be; a gaping emptiness nothing could ever fill, even if he had anything good in his life to try and fill it with. They’re probably still living in their lovely little house on the beach, and he imagines it’s peaceful, or at least as peaceful as they can manage. He likes to think that they keep each other's demons at bay, that they make it through each day together, and when he imagines them cuddling up in Lynire’s bed, mighty ocean waves crashing against the cliffs nearby, raindrops drumming on the roof, he’s not even all that jealous, he just misses them like hell. (But knowing they’re safe is even better than being with them, or at least that’s what he tells himself.)
Sometimes, the misery overwhelms him, makes him lose track of reality, so he tries to remember-
Alyssé. She's in her metaphorical ivory tower with her husband and daughter, ruling over whatever kingdom she has claimed as her own. Doesn’t kill people for a living anymore, doesn’t drink as much as she used to, has given up her habit of getting into random fights with half the city. Plays the piano, keeps her garden alive and pretty, probably pays someone to keep the house nice and clean, donates half her money to the orphans on the streets. All the while madly in love with no one but Simón. It’s ironic, really, that she ended up having a life like this, but Caedes is happy for her, he really is. He hopes that nothing reminds her of their past anymore, that she never has to think about the palace that was never a home to either of them again; but if she does think back to the old days from time to time, he hopes that she remembers him with more fondness than anger. After all they’ve been through together, that’s the least they can do: Not hate each other any longer over nothing but the shared trauma and pain they didn’t deserve.
Sometimes, it all becomes too much, he’s about to break, absolutely convinced he couldn’t possibly handle staying in the present for one more second, so he lets his mind wander-
Océane. Maybe her curse was lifted when Avien stopped controlling her, maybe it wasn’t; maybe she is still trying to find a way to get rid of the beast inside of her without risking her undead life, maybe she has come to terms with it somehow. Whatever it is, he imagines her by Alexandre’s side, and reunited with her brother, happier than she’s been in years. He imagines her making friends and going places, living the free life she was robbed of for so long, finally given a chance to heal. He hopes that she knows what happened to her was never her fault, hopes that she doesn’t feel guilty anymore, hopes that she finds peace - because if anyone in the world deserves peace, it’s definitely Océane.
Sometimes, Avien crushes all of his hopes beneath her heel, but he lets himself dream regardless-
Cynthia. He still can’t grasp how he ever got this lucky - to have someone like her care about him, be his friend, love him, even. He still remembers how meeting her almost made him believe in miracles again; how often he smiled to himself and silently called her a blessing. He dreams of kissing her in the rain, of holding hands with her at the market in a foreign city, of asking her to marry him and hearing her say yes. He hopes that someone else is doing all of those things with her right now, that someone is treating her better than he did back then; that someone is there to hold her when she’s having nightmares, that someone tells her all the time how wonderful she is. That she and her children will always be safe, and that she is happy, truly and deeply happy, thrcway she is supposed to be.
Most of them probably think he’s dead, or at least they’re not looking for him anymore. At this point, even the most stubborn among them must have realized he’s not coming back, and they’re better off for it.
But sometimes, he blocks out the truth and distracts himself with melancholic memories and painfully beautiful what ifs, because the thought of them is the only thing that could possibly keep him going.
+
»You always make me do such terrible, terrible things to you.«
Caedes bites back a cynical remark. They both know that’s not true; he couldn’t make her do anything if he tried. Avien wants to do this, or else she wouldn’t.
His shackles click open with a turn of her key. He falls on his knees, feeling quite exhausted and a bit lightheaded. He rubs his sore wrists as he lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding in until now.
Avien is watching him closely, probably delighting in his obvious weakness, or marveling at the whip marks she left on his back: Skin split open, brand new scars in the making. She kneels down behind him and licks a half-dried trace of blood off of his shoulder.
»You know why I do this, don’t you?«, she whispers in his ear.
Caedes nods.
»Say it«, Avien demands. Her arms wrap around him, pulling him closer. He winces as her body brushes against him, a burning sensation on his wounded skin. One hand seizes his throat, her grip unusually light, the gesture possessive nonetheless.
»Because I deserve it.« He’s not entirely sure it’s true, but it’s what she wants to hear, he has picked that up by now, and the more often he says it, the less it sounds like a lie. »I deserve everything you do to me.«
»That's right, you do.« There’s a sickly-sweet smile in her voice, and she plants a trail of kisses from his shoulder all the way up his neck. »You’re mine, and I love giving you exactly what you deserve.« She backs off just a little. »Now let me take care of you.«
Magic glows beneath her fingertips as she runs her hands over his back, making sure the wounds will heal without complications. Warmth and light radiate from her when she takes his wrists in her hands, letting a soothing wave of energy wash over him.
For a brief moment, he wonders who she could have been if she had chosen this - warmth, light, healing. How different both of their lives could have played out had she gone down a different path, one that didn’t doom her to destroy everything she touched for the sheer thrill of it.
Avien is not good enough of a healer to take all the pain away or make all of his wounds disappear, nor would she ever want to do that. But she does care for him as best she can, although he’s never sure whether she does it out of love or out of egoism.
Either way, he means it when he says: »Thank you.«
+
Between an affectionate kiss and an honest smile, Avien asks: »Do you ever regret it?«
Caedes doesn’t answer straight away.
»Running to me instead of from me, I mean?«, she adds.
She looks so vulnerable, lying naked in his arms, asking him the kind of question an insecure teen in love would ask. She almost seems harmless.
He tucks a loose stand of hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead. »I could never regret that.«
He would very much like to, but he can’t. it was the only way, and it’s easy to pretend he has made his peace with that when every tender touch they share is a small reminder of what’s on the line.
+
»You have killed for me«, Avien says, the joy she finds in that quite obvious. »are you ready to die for me, too? Just like you promised?«
She is pointing a wooden stake at his chest, right where his undead heart is hidden beneath skin, flesh and bones.
»Yes.« It’s the first honest word his lips have formed in ages. »My life is yours, and so is my death, if you want it.«
Those words feel hollow somehow. For the longest time, this would have been his worst fear come true. Avien has already taken so much from him throughout his life, he always hated the thought of her taking his death away from him, too. But at this point, life means nothing to him anymore, and neither does death. Being killed by Avien is not the nightmare it used to be. It seems more like a blessing. Like mercy.
If this is the only salvation he can get, that’s fine with him.
+
He’s kneeling in a sea of red, dizzy, vision blurred, unable to speak.
She really did it. She didn’t hesitate when she pushed the stake forward, right between his ribs and into his heart. He really is about to die.
A blessing. Mercy.
She lifts his chin so she can look into his eyes as he fades away. When he coughs up some blood, it splashes right in her face. She just keeps on watching him, a vague, unnerving smile on her lips, the blood spatter decorating her ivory skin like tiny rubies placed on a polished piece of jewelry.
»You look so beautiful when you’re dying«, she says, catching a drop of blood that’s running down his chin with one finger. »What a joy it would be to not only witness, but cause such an excellent death.«
The heavy blood loss is taking effect; Caedes can hardly grasp the words anymore, his eyes have fallen shut. He can tell it won’t be long before he loses consciousness.
Before he slips into the darkness, before his heart goes still for good, he can hear her whisper: »Too bad I’m not done with you yet.«
+
He's breathing. Moving. Feeling. His chest feels vacant, everything about this is wrong somehow, but he’s … alive. He shouldn’t be.
»What have you done to me?« First, it’s a defeated whisper. Then, it turns into a furious scream: »What have you done?!«
It should have been a blessing. It was supposed to be mercy.
Caedes used to fear that there might be life after death. When Avien turned him, it was proof there actually was, just not in the way most people would expect. He thought that if he ever died again, at least it would be final.
When she killed him once more, he was so sure it would be the actual end this time, it felt so real, so irrevocable-
Yet, for some reason, he’s not even surprised to find out he was wrong. Devastated, but not surprised.
Avien looks at him for an awfully long moment, slightly tilting her head as if contemplating whether she should answer his question or not; whether she should pull him into her arms and try to soothe him, or strike him down and call him ungrateful for speaking to her like that.
»You bled all over me«, she remarks after a while, completely disregarding his emotional outburst. »Apologize and clean up the mess you made, or I’ll make you wish I had let you die for good.«
(As if he didn’t already.)
+
It’s another house, another city, another country.
Another moment, another day, another year.
Another threat, another order, another ordeal.
Another wound, another scar, another trauma.
Another death, another life, another eternity.
Another small sacrifice, one of so, so many, lining up like pearls on a string; a necklace made of perfect tragedies, pretty enough to wear and sturdy enough to be strangled with.
+
Avien loops her index finger through the metal ring of Caedes’ collar, pulls him close, not breaking eye contact. »Who do you belong to?«
It’s never a real question; it’s always a test. As if she still couldn’t believe her luck, even though it’s been years since he became everything she ever wanted him to be.
»I belong to you. Only you.« He says it with full conviction - because he knows it’s true. This is the life he chose, the deal he made. Nowadays, he barely remembers the last time he made spoke a truth he didn’t have to rehearse first.
»Yes, you do. You’re such a good little pet.« Avien's smile is so warm, so joyful, so genuine, it makes the bitter truth just a tiny bit sweeter.
He smiles back. »Thank you, my Goddess.«
She used to force him to say all these things, make him swallow any pride he had left, make him complicit in his own suffering-
(Asking her to hurt him.
Begging her to stop, or not to stop, depending on her mood.
Swearing he was hers, and hers alone.
Apologizing for things that were not his fault.
Thanking her for tending to his wounds when she herself caused them in the first place.
Calling her all the titles and pet names that still hurt to say out loud because he used to call other people those very same things; people he will never get to speak to, or even lay eyes upon, again.
Saying, I’m the worst. I'm useless. i’m nothing but a plaything for you to destroy.
Saying, I deserve it.)
He used to hate her for it, used to despise hearing himself say such things, used to dread every single syllable. By now, it all comes naturally to him. He doesn’t even question whether it’s true anymore. Avien wants it to be true, so it is.
»I love you, Cae«, she murmurs against his lips when she leans in to kiss him. »I love you so much.« He knows she means it, he can feel it in every kiss, every bite, every slap, every touch, every glance, every little gesture. She does love him, she always has, it’s just … the kind of love that is too messed up for anyone else to understand. »You’re by far the best thing I’ve ever owned.«
»I love you too«, he replies, eyes lighting up, heartbeat quickening - like he means it, too. »I love being yours.«
Maybe it’s not completely true-
(Maybe, deep in his heart, he still knows how wrong this is, knows how much of himself he has given up already to make this work, knows he would have deserved a life of his own.)
-but Avien has trained him well, and he is an excellent actor, after all. I love you is an easy enough line to deliver.
If love and devotion is what she desires, love and devotion he will provide. Maybe this is what he’s meant to do with his life: Kneel before her, tend to her every need, make her happy at all cost. He has become awfully good at it, that’s for sure.
»Can I do anything else for you, my Goddess?«
Avien shakes her head. »Just bless me with your company while I go through the mail, will you?«
»Of course.«
He follows her to her study, and as she sits behind the wooden desk and turns her attention to the letters that recently arrived at the house, he settles down next to her, still on his knees, ignoring the ache that comes with kneeling on marble floors for a long while.
Maybe he doesn’t actually love being hers, but it’s not too bad, really. Once his brain got back into the habit of blocking out whatever it felt was too much, things got so much more bearable.
Avien had already broken him beyond repair long before they made the pact that now binds him to her. There wasn’t much of his sanity left to begin with, so it was an obvious choice. Sure, it meant leaving behind everything he loved, choosing new trauma over a chance at happiness, giving up on the idea of healing; but in the grand scheme of things, it was the lesser evil.
If that's what it takes to keep his loved ones safe, he doesn’t mind spending the rest of all eternity pretending he is exactly the right kind of broken.