Work Text:
Look at what we have become
Empty hearts that spare no one
Save yourself, my darling
Just be gone by morning
After all is said and done
Still this war cannot be won
So save yourself, my darling
Kill the love that's dying
Once upon a time, in another life, Helena Marino had innocently asked Kaine Ferron whether she could use the ring to summon him. Like he would be doing. He had lashed out savagely at the mere suggestion, refusing to be used by her in any way. Suffice to say that that had changed long ago.
Now, when she called for him, he went.
(Well, he went even when she didn't. Stolen glimpses of her were hardly enough to sate his hunger but they had to do.)
So, he went. Even if it felt pointless. Even if the space that existed between them felt like a chasm- impossible to somehow bridge. He always went. He would always go until–
well, until she was gone.
Now, he stood at the door both yearning and unwilling to step further in.
"I want to talk about what you said earlier, before you left,” she said, all business.
He did not want to talk about that. He feared she could see right through him even when his mask was securely on. He carried enough pain inside his body to last for several lifetimes. He definitely did not need to think about how he had been forced to violate the woman he—
He did not want to think how this child, their child, would always be irrevocably tied to that cursed moment.
Of course he had told her to be rid of it. Of him.
“Can you come closer?” she asked quietly. “It’s hard to talk when you’re so far away.” He did not want to come closer. In fact, he wanted out of this room and he wanted her miles and miles away from Paladia, from him and everyone that wanted to hurt her.
“I didn’t realise you expected me to terminate the pregnancy when I escaped. I mean, I understand why you would, but I’m not going to.” She spoke slowly, both pragmatic and determined. Certain of her choice.
But she should. She should want to do it. He took a breath. Smothered any emotion that could color his voice. His eyes he kept safely away from her. She could always tell.
“You may change your mind once you’re free,” he said. Free of him and this –thing between them and all that it had cost her. And what would that child be then? Nothing but a burden. An open wound.
She shook her head in refusal. “I won’t.”
Her tone, the certainty in her voice- it angered him. Why couldn't she just leave this- leave him- behind?
“There’s no reason to make any commitment like this to me,” he said and he could hear the anger bleeding into his voice. “Do whatever you want.”
“I am,” she replied, voice calm, at odds even in this. “And I want you to know. If I didn’t, I’d wonder about everything. If our baby would get your eyes or mine. What kind of resonance they’d have. If they’d have any, or if they’d just get to be ordinary.” Her words tumbled out quickly, awkwardly, her voice tight with unshed tears. “I’d wonder if they’d have hair like mine or if it would be straight like yours. If I have to go without you—if you—if you die—I’d want to tell them all about you.”
He stared at her. He wanted to laugh. Or cry.
“I’ve never gotten to tell anyone about you,” she continued, as if there was anything worth telling. “I’d want someone to know what you were like.”
Her words echoed in his head and instead of the disbelief, the absurdity that he expected to feel, terror gripped him. Anger and hurt followed rather quickly.
What he was like? What could she possibly say about him to this child?
He was a murderer, a torturer, a rapist.
He had been a monster for so long he had grown accustomed to it. Then she had stepped into his life, with her bravery, her honesty and all that selfless caring-always steadfast in the face of his cruelty. Having Helena know him, really know him and see beyond all those horrible choices he had had to make - he had almost felt human again.
But the thing he had become in the last months? He could have never imagined just how thoroughly he would come to despise himself.
Bennet might have been his creator but he had certainly surpassed him. What kind of monster did all the things he had done to her–
the woman he—
make him? The worst.
What could she ever tell this child of theirs? The thought alone hollowed him out.
“What I’m like?” he said after a while. “What exactly do you think I’m like?” he said both in anger and dismissal. " You have a chance at a new life. Don't drag my memory with you." Save yourself for once. She shook her head, stubborn in her refusal. His anger returned tenfold. He didn't want to be cruel to her anymore but this stupidity had to end at some point. Perhaps she needed to hear all these ugly truths out loud.
“Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with one of the Undying’s bastards chained to you?” he asked icily. “The whole world knows you’re here, who you were sent to. Do you think they won’t guess who the father was and how it came to be? No matter what colour eyes it has, or how old it gets, it will be the child of a murderer, conceived because I raped you while you were my prisoner, and everyone will know that. Everyone," he seethed, wanting to grab her and shake some sense into her. Couldn't she see? This was just one more way he was going to hurt her.
Then, just as suddenly as it had gripped him, his anger evaporated. He pulled back and turned away, tired, so very tired of hurting her, of being the root of all her suffering. "Just leave it behind," he said and he couldn't recognise his own voice. "You want children? Have them with someone else,” he forced out, as if the very thought of anyone touching her didn't grate on his entire being. Did not feel like a thousand knives cutting into him, tearing limbs.
“Is that what you think I’m going to do?" she asked, her voice high. "Run away and pretend you were a monster I was lucky to escape?”
He looked at her then, unable to conceal the grief of it any longer. “It’s the truth.”
“Kaine …” she whispered pained, moving closer to him. “You’re not a monster. You didn’t have any choice. Neither of us—we were both raped.”
No. He couldn't bear this- her always making excuses for him. He pulled back, completely undeserving of her touch. “Don’t,” he warned, but she was relentless. She followed him, her hands cradling his face, her warmth a brand upon his skin. She hadn't touched him like this in what felt like ages.
“You’re mine,” she said and it was a double serrated knife pushed into his heart, twisting in an endless loop. “Did you really think I would still hate you once I remembered?”
Yes.
Yes.
He was so beyond forgiveness– she shouldn't even allow his gaze on her.
“Even before I did, you were the only thing that ever felt safe. I thought I was going mad, but a part of me always knew you." And how vile that made him feel. That for reasons unknown to her she would seek comfort in her tormentor. How unbearable the confusion, the doubt on her face had been.
"I left a note. Didn’t you get my note?" she asked and it all came to a screeching halt.
No, no, no. He wanted to beg her. Don't, please don't. But he had lost his voice.
"I love you,” she said.
No. She didn't –she couldn't say that. He could feel his face twist with the sting of those three little words. He didn't realize he was shaking his head until her hands held him in place.
“I do,” she said in a shaking voice but the conviction, the very certainty of it carved her name anew onto him.
“I love you,”she said again and he felt like she was pulling him apart at the seams. Like another chimaera that was being unspooled at her mere touch. “And I always will. Always,” she said and this couldn't be happening. He didn't deserve this- not after everything. He hadn't expected her to remember and nor had he wanted her to- not after everything that he had done. It was selfish and cowardish but it would have spared both of them so much pain. But before he could think of what to say, how to contradict her–
she was kissing him.
She was everywhere-her hair tickling his skin, her lips so warm on his, her hands holding him. He stood frozen in place, terrified because this - this couldn't be real.
She would take it all back- her words, her hands, her lips- and he couldn't–
he couldn't –
“I love you,” she said again, each word a blaze against his lips, thawing him, making him finally believe.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
His entire body shook with it. His hands went to her face, skimming her cheeks before burying themselves in her curls while his mouth sought hers feverishly. He kissed her with a visceral hunger that burned, desperate to fill that echoing emptiness that was all he had known for far too long. His lips pressed to hers in utter devotion, pleading their truth-he was all hers- always had been. He was nothing but cruel emptiness without her.
Her arms wound around his neck willingly and he could cry for it. He pulled back, just a breath between them, his forehead pressed against hers. He kept his hand at the back of her neck, fingers tangled in her hair- his tether in this new reality. He had to tell her- to speak the words. She would not go another day without it.
“I’m sorry" he cried and said it again and again. It would never be enough. “—I’m so sorry for everything I did to you,” he confessed brokenly, letting out all the despair, the desolation of it. All his carefully built walls crumbled like fine dust. “I love you," he said and it was a prayer to his only deity, a benediction upon himself. "You left, and I’d never told you.” All the earth shattering regret and grief that dwelled in him slipped quietly out, marking feverish trails on his cheeks. She pressed her lips to his again and pulled him to the crook of her neck, his tears finding her skin one more time. “I know,” she soothed, her fingers carding through his hair. “I know, Kaine.”
He loved her so much that every pain he had inflicted upon her, he had felt it doubly imprinted onto his own being. He would not let her suffer anymore.
He pulled back a fraction, barely enough to look at her. She was so lovely. So painfully fragile and beautiful. He blinked back his tears and hoped that the despair he was feeling wasn't as obvious on his face.
“I love you,” he said again.
If only love was enough to fix everything.
He had been alone in this love for so long that at times it felt like punishment. But it wasn't. It never had been. His love for her was the only thing close to redemption he had left. And he was glad for it.
Love was not enough to save the both of them. But it was more than enough to save her.
He would get her out. Safely away from this never ending nightmare of a war that had been haunting her for what seemed like forever. And then he would finally be able to lay down his arms and stop.
Stop planning and stop living under this horror. Stop this never ending cycle of torture and death. Stop the torment of watching the woman he – he loved suffer.
His hands cradled her face and he tilted her head up, kissing her nose and then her forehead. I love you, he breathed again at the crown of her head.
“You should rest,” he said, his lips soft against her temple. He tucked her in bed carefully, and sat next to her, fingers slowly tracing the lines of her lovely face. She stared at him wordlessly with those dark eyes that held more of his soul than Morrogh ever would, her fingers entwining with his.
“ I love you,” she said suddenly. “I will find a way to save you,” she promised, always so desperate to save everyone. He nodded and pulled her hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle slowly and then her palm. He kept her hand against his cheek as her eyes drifted closed.
Save yourself, my darling, he thought as he watched her restless sleep, and kill this love that's dying.