Chapter Text
You are useless.
A voice would whisper in your ear, snarling and spitting with every syllable. It would call you worthless, useless and so much more. Not that you don't deserve it, you do. It's right about you. Because you are useless.
You are a pathetic excuse for a leader, a brother, a father.
Pathetic and useless and weak! You moron, you were so stupid-
A gasp tore through his throat as he woke up, tangled and trapped in his bed sheets. It was holding him, restricting him from moving and getting up. He needed to get up now. They were coming, they would kill him again. He needed to be ready this time. Spider would be here any second now, with Haiper. Oh, maybe he'd let Haiper do it this time. He needed to get up but it was holding him down, they were already here- oh- he couldn't get up they were holding him he couldn't move his hands why can't he move his hands?
He couldn't hear anything other than the wild thumping of his heart beat. His hands were clawing at the sheets, trying to free himself. The blanket was shredded by the time he got one arm free. Why weren't they killing him already? He'd been incapacitated, asleep and then stuck. They should've struck by now. Maybe they wanted to see him struggle? He was struggling, his other arm was still held down and he couldn't pot up or get his sword and he was gonna die here without a weapon-
A weapon. His free hand immediately went under his askew pillow and grasped the handle of the dagger he kept there. He couldn't feel his hand, or his arm- he clutched the dagger tighter to make up for it. He brought it forward and hacked at whoever or whatever was holding him. A moment later, he was free. He fell to the ground with the force of his movement and tried to get up.
His hand slipped on something and his arm couldn't support his weight. His feet weren't cooperating with him. Nothing was going right. Were they broken? Why couldn't he get up? He has to get up. He has to defend himself, he can't just let himself be killed like last time- He has to get up. He has to!
He scurried backwards until his back hit the wall and held up the dagger for protection. It wouldn't do much, he didn't have his armor on or any potions or gapples, but it was better than nothing.
He was going to die here. His hand was fumbling with something but he couldn't see. Or hear. Where are they? Why is he still alive? They were having fun huh, watching him stumble and make a fool of himself? Watching him be weak?
He was so weak. Useless, too. Maybe he should let them kill him, maybe it'd be better for everyone. Nothing much would change, would it? He did nothing but stand aside as everyone around him was tortured, this wouldn't be much different. His daughters, oh his dear daughters, were dead because of his cowardice and weakness. Haiper too, had suffered because of his absence. He should've made it obvious to Haiper, he should've communicated his trust for him better. Maybe then Haiper would've trusted him enough to let him help.
But maybe it was better that he hadn't, Ash did ruin everything he touched. Maybe it was better that he hadn't tried to help Haiper. Maybe it was better that he just, stopped.
All he had done was stand aside as the Federation played with his family. As they made his family dance to their whims, as they tortured them for fun.
Would Haiper feel better if Ash let himself die?
No. What was he thinking?
He had to leave now. He had to go somewhere safe before they put a sword through his neck or gut, or they smashed his skull in with a mace, or even shot an arrow between his eyes. What was he doing stalling? So they could have his head on a silver platter?
He was going to die. He had to move, but a small part of him was still feeling at peace with that. Maybe he did deserve it, maybe he should go be with his daughters.
The thought didn't sit quite right. He'd had to fight to get here, to make it to this point in life. Was he going to just give it away like that? Was he going to be that much of a coward as well? Add that word to the growing list of his inadequacies? Useless, worthless?
And- Ghosty wasn't dead anymore. He couldn't let her down, again. What would she think if he left her alone to suffer in this hell? She must already hate him, he can't do that to her too. He is a terrible father. He'd known that ever since Son died but the reinforced belief did rattle him. He had to move. He was useless like this.
He did nothing when the Feds caused the deaths of both his daughters. He just stood there and watched, let it happen. How could he? Son and Ghosty deserved so much better than this. Better than him.
He has to get somewhere safe. Here wasn't safe, they could get here any second. The Regime wasn't safe anymore. It hurt to admit, but the luxury of peace had been stolen from him alongside his breath as Spider killed him two steps away from his bed while Haiper watched.
He couldn't breathe. There was something on his chest, someone was squeezing his throat until his windpipe creaked. He couldn't breathe- he was going to choke. He didn't think they'd choke him to death. He was stupid, couldn't even think of all the ways he could die.
Black spots danced around his blurry vision and his body gave up on itself. He slumped forward, arms and legs splayed as the dagger clattered to the ground.
He was left unconscious in a puddle of his own blood as his arm continued to bleed.