Healing
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theodore-x-nott
Theodore sank into the chair his father provided, his legs feeling like lead. He couldn't look Nero in the eye, not when he could feel the weight of his father’s expectation pressing down on him. He was too tired to this, he didn’t know how much to say, how to proceed.
He scoffed and wrinkled his nose as his father reprimanded him about his responsibilities regarding Mia, he didn’t need to be told.
He couldn’t help how he felt, he’d always felt an overwhelming sense of responsibility towards her. They had always been connected, born at the same time, on the same day, everyone had called them spiritual twins. Then both of their mothers had been murdered senselessly, which only brought them closer together.
At least he’d had his father, at least his mother hadn’t been murdered by his father.
Mia was so alone, so lost, she pretended she was ok, she pretended she didn't care, but she did, her saw through it all. Her father had broken her down into a mere shell of a person. There was nothing left inside of her that he hadn’t touched or tainted. Her father was nothing but a parasite, a man who had spent years draining the light from her, all while whispering the lie that he was the very breath in her lungs.
Caring for her wasn't a passive act, it was an endurance test. Theodore felt every twist of the knife her father turned in her soul. He didn't just witness the slow erosion of her spirit: he felt it, like a phantom ache in the part of him that connected them every time she withered.
It was a weight they were meant to share, a birthright of blood and sorrow. Mia felt the same whenever he was hurt, it had been that way since they could remember. They were two sides of the same coin.
He knew he couldn't purge the poison her father had spent a lifetime injecting into her veins, but if he could just shoulder a fraction of the weight, perhaps she wouldn't collapse entirely. He knew he couldn't be her cure, but he refused to let her break alone. He would pour himself into the cracks of her breaking shell, trying to hold her together even as the world tried to grind her to dust.
Theodore let out a sharp, breathy laugh that sounded more like a choked sob.
"Your ward.” he muttered, the word cutting across his tongue like glass.
“You might act as such.” He hissed.
“Act as if you genuinely care, instead of acting like this is somehow inconvenient for you. You talk about being her ward like it’s a duty on a parchment, but look at her." Theodore grunted angrily.
He finally looked up at Nero. His eyes, usually so sharp, were clouded with the weight of his emotion, or the secrets he was keeping for her, and from her.
He knew his father was fishing for a report for the Dark Lord, and the thought made his stomach churn. His distain for Mia’s father was palpable and he was disgusted with his father in this moment for putting his duty to that monster above his care for Mia.
Even seeing her in this state, all his father could care about was the high and mighty. He wanted so badly to spit at the ground and renounce the so called ‘Dark Lord’.
He didn’t do that, instead he snapped at his father,unable to stop himself
“If the Dark Lord wants to know what happened, tell him the truth: his 'poison' is finally working. She’s hollowed out. She’s broken. Just like he wanted, just like he’s spent her whole life working on. Are you going to help me pick up the pieces, or are you just here to count them for him like everyone else?” He spat, though before he’d even finished the sentence he realised it was of no use. The realisation breaking him further.
"Truthfully, I don't know," he whispered, his voice cracking. It wasn’t a total lie, he wasn’t fully sure of the details, how could he be intil he heard it from Mia herself?
“It happened so fast.” He continued carefully, “One minute she was... and then the shadows just seemed to swallow her." He looked up, eyes bloodshot and pleading. "Does it matter whose fault it is? Look at her. She’s fading, and you’re worried about the politics of it? Please, just, wait for the healer to get here." Theodore implored, worried he’d say too much if his father prodded him much more, he was too overtired and emotional for this.
Nero didn’t have the opportunity to sit down, before Theodore was at him. This wasn’t new. It was always Nero who got the brunt of Theodore’s frustration. It was always Nero who had to take the shots meant for the Dark Lord.
“I’m trying to act as such, If you don’t tell me, how would I know?” He asked, his voice smooth. “if you had it your way I wouldn’t even be here. Therefore preventing me from acting as such.”
He sighed, crossing his arms and surveying his son. The boy was a mess, his hair disheveled, dark circles under his eyes as he continued to speak. “If I didn’t care, I would be handling this very differently. I dont know why you’ve always felt this pressure to handle things when youre still a child yourself, my boy.”
“Of course you know more about what shes doing than i do, you're with her in school every day, i can hardly go into the castle and follow her around can i? I was only hoping to know what you knew so i know what the situation is, I've only just walked into this room. He doesn’t know about this. Despite what he is and what he does, she’s my ward and I’d take it seriously regardless. But you know that Theodore.” his voice wasn’t harsh, there wasn’t a trace of anger or annoyance, just a father attempting to lift the fog from his son’s eyes, reminding him he’s not the enemy.
He took another look at the girl, it was truly a travesty how she’s been treated by the Dark Lord, he just hoped that someone wouldve killed him before this girl gave out. He hoped this was still possible. Nero watched his son’s heart break and his own did as well. He hardly could cop with it at the best of times. “I’m worried for the repercussions she may face. I’m worried about my son and what he’s got to do with this. I’m worried about the million scenarios that could’ve lead to this poor girl laid here like this and the million consequences for each of them.” He looked down again, sighing again before shaking his head, dismissing his own word with a wave of a hand. “But that’s for me to worry about, not you… what I really need from you isn’t information, i need you to rest. I know you haven’t slept…”
Nero looked past Theodore to the school duvet left discarded in a chair, and picked it up to hand to his son. He inhaled for a second before wrapping it around him “Come, I’m here now i promise I’ll wake you if anything happens. I always do.” He paused, then decided he couldn’t help himself “before you do…tell me about this young lady who gave you her duvet.”
