Chapter Text
Her screams haunted him for a long time, even after the ritual. Her part was difficult enough; she’d barely hit her 16th year and she faced her blooding, her first kill. Even though she trained for this moment and the thousands more after - they trained for this life - it wasn’t an easy task to fulfill. Zander knew Evie was insecure and nervous. Afraid, even. He felt it too. The connection between them worked both ways; they shared everything, feelings included.
She was successful. She didn’t hesitate, because she knew if she did she would fail. That day Evie Frye earned her hidden blade, but they weren’t finished. Not yet. The ritual was ahead of them.
The ritual was their deepest fear above everything. That moment, when the dæmon had to leave behind the person he was linked to, seemed too cruel to survive. Zander never ever tried to tear their connection away. But to earn the Assassin title they had to do this. This was their last test, the last exam. If they failed now, that would mean they could not be what they were born to be, and everything they worked hard for - Evie worked hard for - would be over. Ethan would be so deeply disappointed…. Maybe Jacob, too. And Cazimira. And George. And their mother, even if she wasn’t with them anymore.
Zander knew he had to be a good example for Cazimira - they had talked about this before, and she was as afraid of it as he was. But if the male dæmon could show her it was something that he and Evie could survive, then she and Jacob would be less afraid. Maybe.
He looked back over his shoulder, back at Evie and Ethan. Karolina, Ethan’s dæmon, was there too, as always. There was no expression on the face of the horned owl. She should remember to this moment of her life; she had done this, too. She should remember how awful she felt, how afraid she was. But she never really showed any emotion before, either…
As the cougar raised his front paw to take a step forward, he felt that invisible string between them, how it strained, pulled him back. No, this was crazy, this was bad, this was painful. He shouldn’t do this. No, he shouldn’t go somewhere Evie could not follow him. He heard her behind, crying, calling for him, making him stop. But they’d always had an iron will.
It took another step to make her beg. “Please, don’t go, please don’t leave me, you can’t do this to me, please Zander, no!” Don’t listen to her - you have to be strong for both of you. Even if it was painful. Even if it almost killed them. Even if he had to be cruel to her this time, just this once.
When he raised his paw again, he knew the answer.
Ignoring her, Zander kept pushing, slowly making progress, feeling how their connection slowly reached its breaking point. One more step. Just one more step and it would be over. There would be no turning point if he made that step forward. Did he really want that?
It was almost like a snap - when you’re pulling, stretching something, and it’s reaching the breaking point, and with a sharp sound it breaks away to two separate parts, unable to be fixed anymore. Evie never cried so much before. She had just lost a part of her, watched him walk away, leaving her behind, taking the journey, the one only dæmons were allowed to do, alone. Without her. She did her part. Now she had to stay behind and wait for him to come back to her.
Evie didn’t know how she felt. No, she did know how she felt; she felt mutilated. It made her sick, she felt disgusting, felt like she was missing a limb. But she was missing so much more than a limb.
When they were still connected and close, Evie could always feel Zander, inside. Knew he was there, knew how he felt. Now she felt nothing but emptiness. He wasn’t there anymore. Her other half was missing, leaving blunt emptiness behind, and suddenly wasn’t sure if she would ever be whole again. Even if George and her Father had also done this ritual and they were more than happy and balanced with their dæmons after, honestly Evie had no idea how she and Zander would recover from this - if Zander would ever return to her. Because what if he didn’t? Anything could happen to him now, and she wasn’t there to help.
She couldn’t decide what was worse: feeling the emptiness, or not knowing what happened with her dæmon. What would happen if he… died? Would she too? Or if he never returned, just went away?
---
Ethan told her she was excused from training until Zander’s return, and Evie didn’t mind it this time. Even leaving her own bed seemed to be a huge challenge, not to mention properly functioning as a human being.
Why did they do this to them? For the greater good? For once, she was unable to see the greater good in this barbaric tradition.
Jacob thought he might be sick. Cazimira was clinging to him, desperately, her talons digging into his collarbone and wings ruffling loudly in his ear, but she didn’t want to take off, didn’t want to leave his side. Not like Zander was doing to poor Evie.
His hands were shaking as Jacob thrust clumsy fingers against his dæmon’s neck, preening anxiously. His feet felt glued to the ground even as every instinct in him revolted -- he wanted to go after Zander, scream at him for what he was doing to Evie. He wanted to grab Evie up in his arms and hold her so tight she forgot the pain she was being subjected to. He wanted to curse his father, curse the Brotherhood, for allowing - for enforcing - torture like this. And a small part of him, a part he hated, wanted to run away.
Hazel eyes glared at Ethan Frye, at the sad pained look in his father’s eyes as the man’s knuckles whitened on his cane. It hurt him, too, to do this to his children. But this was how they joined the Brotherhood. This was how they became full-fledged Assassins. And Evie had the unpleasant task of going first.
Blood filled his mouth as Jacob bit his lip to keep from interfering. He’d begged his father to allow him to watch. In a fit of pique, his father had agreed. “And when you set aside the years of training I’ve given you, when you change your mind, know that you asked for this.” So Jacob had refused to react. He tried so hard. He knew no one could help Evie. This was her burden to carry, hers and Zander’s. Every life they took as Assassins would part a human and their dæmon forever. They must know the consequences of their deeds, must feel the weight of their decisions. Death was not an occupation to be taken lightly.
Caz’s crow wings slapped against the back of his head and Jacob wrestled her into his arms, feeling her desire to race after the cougar herself. But no, it wasn’t their time yet. He’d thought maybe his father might allow them to complete their tasks together, but it wasn’t allowed. So much for ‘everything is permitted.' Instead Jacob had congratulated his sister on a perfect blooding - received a warning glare from his father for his jovial attitude - and now suffered in silence as Evie ripped herself apart.
And soon it would be his turn.
His father expected him to give up after seeing his sister suffer, expected him to turn his back on the Brotherhood, on becoming a full-fledged Assassin, after witnessing this rite.
Jacob would not give him the satisfaction.
Still, his throat burned with bile and his knees locked to keep from buckling.
There was a moment where he felt it -- a tension in the air, a sudden change of barometric pressure. Ethan glanced aside and nodded to Karolina, and the horned owl launched from her perch to fly off after Zander. And then they were gone. Jacob stood with two ghosts: the only one still whole.
---
“...Evie?” His voice was barely a whisper in the darkness.
The twins had been moved into separate rooms during their initiations. And Jacob had been told in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to offer her aid. But he couldn’t stand another moment seeing the hollow look in her eyes, hearing the soft sobs in the dead of night. She was like a second dæmon to him - he could feel her pain - and he refused to let her suffer it alone.
He pushed the door open another inch, tiptoeing through, feeling the strain as Caz waited patiently across the narrow hallway. “...You still awake?”
When Ethan told her she would be placed in a different room, Evie did not understand why it was necessary. She’d shared a room with her brother since the day they were born, being away from him wouldn’t make things easier after- …she couldn’t even think about what happened with her.
But now she appreciated the silent room, the isolation. She loved her brother and loved Cazimira as well, but seeing them still close and together felt like someone pouring salt on her still heavily bleeding wound.
Jacob would face the same test, and soon, but Evie wasn’t sure if failing wouldn’t be a better option for them. He wanted to achieve his goals, and they always had a healthy competition between them, but this was just…. wrong, it felt wrong. Maybe she’d think differently once Zander was back, but right now she wanted nothing more than to ban this ritual for good.
It had its benefits, and there were reasons why they had to do it, the twins knew that, because Ethan explained it to them and always reminded them of it to emphasize how serious this was. They would stay connected, just a bit differently. A dæmon able to go as far away as it wants was quite useful for an assassin. Evie wouldn’t live on a leash with Zander anymore. It was tactical, it was practical, and the dæmon learned some things on its journey alone. What exactly, Ethan never told them. It was their dæmons’ business, not theirs.
Someone whispered her name in the darkness of her room - oh yes, she could have expected it. Jacob was never the one who followed the rules, not like Evie did not do the same for him. Looking up seeing his figure, a bit hesitant, Caz were nowhere to be seen - he probably asked her to stay behind to spare Evie’s feelings. He could be very attentive if he wanted to be.
“Yes…” she answered faintly, her voice weak from the hours of crying. “Don’t leave her outside, that’s not fair.” And enjoy the time you have with her, because soon… you will be in my place.
Jacob hesitated another moment, but then let the door drift open wider, taking quiet steps inside as Cazimira glided in the open door behind him, lighting on the end of Evie’s bed. Jacob joined her soon after, fidgeting nervously. He sat facing the opposite direction of his sister, feeling like he somehow intruded on something private and painful. “Are you…” Are you okay? Does it hurt? What’s it like? How can I help?
He could feel the hollow ache in his chest, seeing her so broken.
“I’m sorry.”
Jacob didn’t apologize often. And it wasn’t really something he could apologize for - for once, it wasn’t his fault. But he was sorry. Sorry she had to go through all of it. He looked down at his hands, his nails torn down to the quick, cuticles ripped from constant picking. He never wanted to admit it, but she was the stronger of the two of them. Perhaps not in terms of raw might, but she was smarter, faster, more clever by half. Seeing her like this…
He glanced to her back for a moment. Then he made his decision. He pulled his legs up onto the bed, sliding up until he was back to back with her, the blanket sandwiched between them. “I’m sorry, Evie,” he repeated, quietly, pressing his shoulders to hers.
There was a quiet fluttering - he was always impressed with how quiet Caz could be when she wanted to - and the crow dæmon landed on the headboard directly between the twins. She didn’t speak, but Jacob knew what she wanted. His eyes closed, wishing with all his heart that he could offer more than a weak substitute for that part of his sister’s soul off wandering in the dark. Caz ducked her head to run an affectionate beak through Evie’s hair, the sensation making Jacob’s breath catch in his throat. But he wouldn’t stop her. It was the right thing to do.
He was curious about the ritual - witnessed what was waiting for him and wanted to know how it felt, it was only natural curiosity. But how she could describe how it felt? Words were not enough to fully explain it, and Evie didn’t want to try; the memory of it was far too vivid and painful.
He said sorry instead.
In any other situation, Evie would be angry and offended by that, never wanting any pity. In any other situation she would hit anyone in the face for that, or make a cold remark.
Right now she felt like he understood what it meant to her and he wasn’t pitying her, but truly felt sorry. When Jacob settled down next to her and she felt his presence strong and warm, she pressed against him, feeling grateful for his company.
Caz was surprisingly silent. She usually always had a comment to share, but not this time. No, she did so much more instead of talking.
Evie still remembered to the time when Ethan caught them, touching each other’s dæmons. They were ten, only small, foolish kids and it felt… natural. They couldn’t see why was it wrong, so they went against the rules, breaking the most important taboo ever.
You just don’t touch someone’s dæmon. You don’t. It was wrong it was very… intimate. People didn’t touch other dæmons, only theirs. If it happened anyway, it wasn’t a very good feeling. But they knew little about that as kids. They did it to comfort each other, and it just seemed right. The dæmons didn’t mind either - it was their little secret. Until one day Ethan walked in on them.
He was very angry. He grabbed Jacob’s hand from where he petted Zander and reminded them how wrong it was and they shouldn’t ever do it again. He didn’t say why exactly, only told them it was wrong and that they knew the rules. Scared, and feeling guilty, they did as their father said - never touched the other’s dæmon ever again.
Until now. As they grew older Evie understood why it was wrong to do, why Ethan was so angry. Why people did not touch random dæmons. They were part of them, their very core and you just don’t touch anyone like that. But this was a bit different: it was Cazimira’s choice. And it still didn’t feel bad, didn’t feel like when they practiced in the ring and someone from the Brotherhood came, some stranger, and Evie was forced to let him to touch Zander. It was part of their training - most people respected this rule, Templars included, but not everyone. And they had to be prepared in case someone caught their dæmon in the heat of a fight. It was the second worse thing, right after the ritual.
What would happen if she just reached up for a light touch on Caz’s feathered head? Evie craved for it more than ever before. Maybe because she was so fragile and vulnerable in the moment and was too weak to say no to the temptation. Jacob was her twin, they shared a womb together - she couldn’t imagine she would ever be this close to anyone else in her life. How could touching Cazimira be wrong?
In the end her hand moved, slowly inching toward the crow, and her fingers gently touched the black feathers as she followed the form of the small head down to the back of her neck.
Jacob was ten when they got caught.
“Jacob!” His father’s grip on his arm was unyielding as he wrenched Jacob’s arm back. Zander let out a hiss, and Evie a cry of pain, before Jacob released his hold on the cat-shaped dæmon.
“Sorry- sorry!” He’d raised his hands away, eyes wide in fright, but his apology was entirely directed to his twin rather than their father. He hadn’t meant to sink his fingers into Zander’s fur like that, just stroke him. Just help them calm down. But it had been an automatic reaction, to hold on tight when his father tried to pull him away.
“As you should be!”
Jacob shifted to look at his father - glare at his father - opening his mouth to point out that he wasn’t sorry about that , but Cazimira shifted from her mouse form to sink a crow’s beak into his ear. He yelped, trying to shrug his dæmon from his shoulder, but Caz just thrust her beak into his hair to peck at his temple warningly. “Hush.” And then she’d flapped so frantically about his shoulders that Ethan had had to release his grip or else risk breaking the Taboo as well.
Ethan shot a wry look to Caz’s display before an intimidating horned owl swooped in through the barn door, knocking the dæmon from the air and making Jacob double over, falling to the ground winded, as Caz struggled free and turned to a lion cub only to pounce before her human protectively.
The owl righted herself and swept up and into the rafters, watching the scene below with her particular brand of strict patience. Ethan seemed to have calmed a bit, letting out a heavy sigh and running a hand down his face. “Jacob. We don’t– you know it’s wrong. It’s… it’s more than wrong, Jacob.” He shook his head, exasperated. “Don’t you feel that?”
Jacob had sat up, resting a hand on Cazimira’s back, her own fur prickling up anxiously. He didn’t. Not really. But he wouldn’t argue. In fact, he barely met his father’s eyes, jaw tight as he looked down at his dæmon. Evie didn’t mind it. And if she didn’t mind it, why was it wrong?
It was a question he’d think on a lot as he got older.
---
Caz was a fighter. It was only fitting. Usually, during the training that involved that sickening practice for the inevitable, novices would shudder and shake and freeze up at the sensation of a stranger’s hands on their dæmon. Training had been hard, yes, but any time Caz was caught she’d be pecking at the eyes immediately, filled with the fury of the violation.
But this was different.
No fury, no revulsion, none of that icy chill stabbing into the base of his spine.
Jacob’s mouth went dry and he swallowed any noise that might attempt to leave his throat, holding his breath, too aware of the many rules they were breaking. When he finally did breathe it was shaky - he was shaken - fingers flexing nervously before him. The sensation-- nothing like ice. No, it was like warm water coursing through every vein, like silk flowing against him. He felt flush, his skin too tight, but in a manner that wasn’t exactly unpleasant.
There was a stirring of something inside him, his heart racing.
He shouldn’t touch her, shouldn’t crush her against him, making himself her other half, if only until hers returned. He couldn’t do that. Instead, he folded his arms around himself, knuckles brushing her back as reassuringly as he could manage.
For her part, Caz allowed the touch. The dæmon was always just a bit more patient than Jacob himself, and was entirely content to let cautious fingers stroke over glossy feathers. His toes curled, holding back a slight ticklish shudder.
For a moment she felt peace and found solace in Caz, touching the soft black feathers. It was like taking a deep breath of fresh air in the wild swirling madness she was currently drowning in.
Then noticed how Jacob tensed up, and it was a great reminder or the rules she’d just broken and how uncomfortable he must feel because of that. Maybe he didn’t want her to touch Caz, he was just too polite to say anything against it. Not like Cazimira couldn’t defend herself - Evie had seen it enough times already.
Others often underestimated the bird. She wasn’t a huge predator with big claws and a sharp beak; she was a crow, not an eagle. While Zander was obviously dangerous and it only cost a powerful hiss from him to force most of his opponents to rethink their next move, Caz seemed to be a timid bird. She was far from it. It was clear Jacob wasn’t too intimidating himself either, with his cheerful and friendly behavior, bright smiles, and big hazel eyes. It did not take long to prove how wrong that assumption was.
Evie still felt like she’d done something bad, glancing over her shoulder, watching her brother next to her while she pulled her hand back, let it fall into her lap. That memory from years ago was this powerful? Had it- ruined their connection forever?
“I’m sorry,” she said meekly, blushing about it, feeling ashamed. It was like getting caught all over again. “I shouldn’t do that.”
He wanted to reach for her, to tell her not to stop, that it was okay, that it was more than okay - that he liked it - but Jacob didn’t. Because she was right. They shouldn’t. But god, he wanted to. He was still turned away-- still hiding, in one way or another.
Her words had shot straight to the heart of him. Guilt churned in his stomach, not entirely for what they’d done but for how she felt. And anger that they’d been taught to feel such a thing in the first place. And there was something else, too… Something tugging low in his gut, the thing that made his voice so deep, so hoarse, as he breathed an almost desperate, “Evie…”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Jacob chewed at his lip, still raw from the struggle of keeping his composure during her trial. This… this was so wrong. He shouldn’t feel what he was feeling. He shouldn’t want what he was wanting . They were confused, that was all. He was confused. He’d just wanted to comfort her, not… not anything else. The hand curved under him pinched his side angrily, trying to distract himself, punish himself, force his mind somewhere else. Gradually, he thought it might be working.
The way he said her name told her more than Jacob ever could. He was pretty bad at communicating his emotions. Honestly, Evie was bad at that, too. They just did not talk about their feelings. Ever.
But they never needed to, not when they were alone. Sometimes she felt like she was not just sharing her soul with Zander but with Jacob, too. He was her brother, her twin. Was there any stronger human bond in the world?
Hearing so much despair, and even pain, in his voice made her turn toward his back, pressing against him now as her arm sneaked around him to form a half-hug. They needed each other - they would be alone soon enough in this cruel world full of enemies, and they would only have each other, nothing more. And even if she was in pain now and was afraid of the future, she couldn’t ignore how Jacob felt, because something was really off, like he was hiding something from her.
“I’m here…” was all she could think to say. She was there, listening, he could tell her anything. Was he in trouble? He need only point out the problem and she would fix it or destroy it. Was he afraid of his soon-to-be ritual? She could understand him more than anyone. Or was it something else?
Jacob pinched himself even harder as her arm draped over him. Fuck. This was-- fuck. He was-- there was-- god, how could he feel like this? There were so many things wrong with this picture. He should be the one comforting her, not the other way around. And he should be focused on making her feel better, not thinking about-- not like that . She was hurting. If he didn’t get his shit together and be supportive , he’d only make it worse.
Again and again he sunk fierce pinches into his side, the rest of his body relaxing as he chastised himself. He breathed in deep, pushing away all the guilt that swam in his head at the all-too-Evie scent surrounding him. She’d soaked up his heat, radiated it back to him, no longer the shell she’d seemed when he’d entered.
“I’m here…”
He swallowed hard. Finally, he sighed. “Yeah.” He let himself melt back into her, if only for a minute or two. “...Yeah, you are.”