[It was not in him to back down. No retreat, no surrender, only commitment. People needed a firm and just hand to keep the foul cruelties of humanity in check, and it fell to the king to be so ironclad and unbending. This he knew, and never once did he entertain the idea that the king was no less flawed than those he led.]
[No matter how unpopular his methods, no matter how people had once spoken of their then-prince in hushed and fearful tones, his actions were all for their benefit. Every daemon put to the flame was one less prowling the night to slaughter the innocent.]
[Without hesitation he warped to meet Bryn, sword already swinging for her arm the second his hand grasped it in midair.]
[No matter the blood Somnus knew stained his hands, he would never ask forgiveness.]
[ Her mouth is open, flames still sputtering and teeth bared. Like this, she looks every inch the beast she'd acted all those weeks ago when they'd first been handed their motive envelopes. She's stronger now than she was then – but that doesn't make her invincible. The blade sings through the air and though there's the faintest snick of resistance – the sword wielded to kill daemons does just as it should and cuts her arm from her body.
And the pain... is familiar, in some odd way. Not her pain but – oh, this is ironic, isn't it? For her to lose an arm when she'd done the same to– when she'd come here to–
Oh, this is all wrong, isn't it?
For a fraction of a second, everything seems to still. Fire rages all around them, but there's an odd quiet in her head. The slitted red eye flutters and clears and for a moment, barely even long enough for a breath or a pause between breaths–
It's Bryn looking at him. ]
S–
[ And then that traitorous, ravenous part of her mind realizes, maybe even before Somnus does – like this, he's wide open. Take her arm, then. That's fine.
She has two.
Everything slams back into motion. Curled fingers made clawlike by bloodlust and raw strength thrust forward under his guard to his chest and
through it
her fingers breech the other side and her arm sinks into him up to the elbow, wet with blood and viscera. This time when she meets his gaze, it's with the cold satisfaction of a predator looming over a kill. ]
[A choked sound of surprise left him as the force shattered flesh and bone, blood splattering across smoldering flowers and Bryn alike.]
Br-…
[He had been certain Brynhilde was not a match for him. Had hesitated to transform because of damnable worthless sentiment—Somnus could practically hear the voice of a man long dead saying checkmate with infuriating satisfaction. Always too focused on the larger pictures to see the details right before his eyes.]
[From the door came the terrible crack of ice threatening to break underfoot with only certain death on the other side. Spiderweb fissures began to form in crackling lines from the center, where a phantom impact almost seemed to have struck it. But it did not yet shatter—not yet, not so long as the Mystic whose life fueled it desperately clung to consciousness. Every second he could buy them was another that they might reach the others.]
[Surely…surely he had at least given them enough time. Nuadha and Felix could prevail where Somnus could not alone, even if it meant one of them executed instead. Surely there would still be a chance, as faint and flickering as it may have been, that this ritual could yet be stopped before their souls could be used up for some nefarious purpose.]
[The Blade of the Mystic—the very sword that had long ago been driven through his brother’s chest—fell from its wielder’s hand and vanished into light. He staggered, back hitting a wall as he sank to the floor leaving a streak of blood behind. Of course…this was what he had deserved, on some level. What he had done could not be forgiven, but it could be repaid in kind.]
[Had there been anything of Ardyn left in the monster he had named Adagium? Had he ever bothered to wonder? Had his attempt to protect Bryn from execution only made the situation worse?]
[Would things have been better for them all, if Ardyn Lucis Caelum had been the one to awake in this hellish tower instead?]
I-…I-
[There was no breath in half-destroyed lungs to speak, yet he tried all the same. His words came out in a harsh choking sound, blood spilling from his mouth and staining black clothes. There was something he had to say, something he had never once conceded in all his life or afterlife.]
[His head dropped as though he had abruptly fallen asleep, the faintest traces of something bitter and pained remaining on his face. The shield blocking the door made one final creak and broke apart like shattering glass, shards coming apart in crystalline light. Vanishing and fading like the last traces of light in the sky.]
[ It's so quiet, suddenly. Even the flames that seemed to be on the verge of swallowing the solarium seem fit to sputter out, dying down under the heavy weight of the silence that settles.
Blink. Like coming awake from one of those fever bed dreams, Bryn feels herself swimming to the surface. The physicality of the last few seconds – pain, blood, yielding flesh and heat and more blood, more blood – play out in her mind again but she can't – or refuses – to reconcile them with what she can see in front of her.
A fat droplet of blood rolls down her cheek and plips from her chin.
Somnus's blood.
Somnus's–
Something ruptures deep inside her head. Her heart. This high up the tower and so far away from the others, there's nobody around to hear the scream that erupts from her. Nobody around to hear when the scream turns into a choked sob, or when the next inhalation comes out in a long howl of dragonsong.
Bryn shuts her eyes. She didn't want this. She didn't want any of this, not even for a moment. The Pact had never been willingly made, knowingly made and if this is the price she has to pay for that foolishness, then she'll surrender. She can't fight this anymore. She can't.
Bryn slumps over, face buried in her bloodied hands and chokes out one last babble of dragonsong before falling silent at last.
Breath in.
Breathe out.
Wagner lifts its face from its hands and slowly, easily rises to its feet. The first few steps are tottering and uncertain but all too soon, the body cooperates. Each one becomes easier.
It lifts its face again and sniffs at the air once or twice. Eyes are unreliable, but from a distance away, it can pick up the scent of a dying man being dragged fruitlessly away. With the king taken care of, there's nothing to stop it from finishing the rest of its job.
Violet flames sputter and die as Wagner sets out to track what's left of its prey. ]
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no subject
[No matter how unpopular his methods, no matter how people had once spoken of their then-prince in hushed and fearful tones, his actions were all for their benefit. Every daemon put to the flame was one less prowling the night to slaughter the innocent.]
[Without hesitation he warped to meet Bryn, sword already swinging for her arm the second his hand grasped it in midair.]
[No matter the blood Somnus knew stained his hands, he would never ask forgiveness.]
[Neither would he expect to deserve it.]
wow! more impalement!
And the pain... is familiar, in some odd way. Not her pain but – oh, this is ironic, isn't it? For her to lose an arm when she'd done the same to– when she'd come here to–
Oh, this is all wrong, isn't it?
For a fraction of a second, everything seems to still. Fire rages all around them, but there's an odd quiet in her head. The slitted red eye flutters and clears and for a moment, barely even long enough for a breath or a pause between breaths–
It's Bryn looking at him. ]
S–
[ And then that traitorous, ravenous part of her mind realizes, maybe even before Somnus does – like this, he's wide open. Take her arm, then. That's fine.
She has two.
Everything slams back into motion. Curled fingers made clawlike by bloodlust and raw strength thrust forward under his guard to his chest and
through it
her fingers breech the other side and her arm sinks into him up to the elbow, wet with blood and viscera. This time when she meets his gaze, it's with the cold satisfaction of a predator looming over a kill. ]
1/2 cw: so much blood and impalement
Br-…
[He had been certain Brynhilde was not a match for him. Had hesitated to transform because of damnable worthless sentiment—Somnus could practically hear the voice of a man long dead saying checkmate with infuriating satisfaction. Always too focused on the larger pictures to see the details right before his eyes.]
[From the door came the terrible crack of ice threatening to break underfoot with only certain death on the other side. Spiderweb fissures began to form in crackling lines from the center, where a phantom impact almost seemed to have struck it. But it did not yet shatter—not yet, not so long as the Mystic whose life fueled it desperately clung to consciousness. Every second he could buy them was another that they might reach the others.]
[Surely…surely he had at least given them enough time. Nuadha and Felix could prevail where Somnus could not alone, even if it meant one of them executed instead. Surely there would still be a chance, as faint and flickering as it may have been, that this ritual could yet be stopped before their souls could be used up for some nefarious purpose.]
2/2 second verse messy as the first
[The Blade of the Mystic—the very sword that had long ago been driven through his brother’s chest—fell from its wielder’s hand and vanished into light. He staggered, back hitting a wall as he sank to the floor leaving a streak of blood behind. Of course…this was what he had deserved, on some level. What he had done could not be forgiven, but it could be repaid in kind.]
[Had there been anything of Ardyn left in the monster he had named Adagium? Had he ever bothered to wonder? Had his attempt to protect Bryn from execution only made the situation worse?]
[Would things have been better for them all, if Ardyn Lucis Caelum had been the one to awake in this hellish tower instead?]
I-…I-
[There was no breath in half-destroyed lungs to speak, yet he tried all the same. His words came out in a harsh choking sound, blood spilling from his mouth and staining black clothes. There was something he had to say, something he had never once conceded in all his life or afterlife.]
[His head dropped as though he had abruptly fallen asleep, the faintest traces of something bitter and pained remaining on his face. The shield blocking the door made one final creak and broke apart like shattering glass, shards coming apart in crystalline light. Vanishing and fading like the last traces of light in the sky.]
[I’m sorry I failed you.]
no subject
Blink. Like coming awake from one of those fever bed dreams, Bryn feels herself swimming to the surface. The physicality of the last few seconds – pain, blood, yielding flesh and heat and more blood, more blood – play out in her mind again but she can't – or refuses – to reconcile them with what she can see in front of her.
A fat droplet of blood rolls down her cheek and plips from her chin.
Somnus's blood.
Somnus's–
Something ruptures deep inside her head. Her heart. This high up the tower and so far away from the others, there's nobody around to hear the scream that erupts from her. Nobody around to hear when the scream turns into a choked sob, or when the next inhalation comes out in a long howl of dragonsong.
Bryn shuts her eyes. She didn't want this. She didn't want any of this, not even for a moment. The Pact had never been willingly made, knowingly made and if this is the price she has to pay for that foolishness, then she'll surrender. She can't fight this anymore. She can't.
Bryn slumps over, face buried in her bloodied hands and chokes out one last babble of dragonsong before falling silent at last.
Breath in.
Breathe out.
Wagner lifts its face from its hands and slowly, easily rises to its feet. The first few steps are tottering and uncertain but all too soon, the body cooperates. Each one becomes easier.
It lifts its face again and sniffs at the air once or twice. Eyes are unreliable, but from a distance away, it can pick up the scent of a dying man being dragged fruitlessly away. With the king taken care of, there's nothing to stop it from finishing the rest of its job.
Violet flames sputter and die as Wagner sets out to track what's left of its prey. ]