Being considered a disappointment was a label Cal could have shrugged aside with far too much practiced ease, it had followed his steps throughout life and some things, once rooted deeply enough, lost their venom when a constant chorus in the back of a one’s mind. His foster parents, sibling, even several within his own Court, they all might have mumbled the very same under their breath, or in bolder moments hissed at him face to face in their irritation, chipping away at his sense of self.
But all it had taught him was the daunting truth of either allowing the mantle to lie on his shoulders and move onward in spite of it or give up; the latter wasn’t something he had allowed himself to do. Perhaps one day, when his resolve was finally spent and he couldn’t find a single glint of light left around him, so fully worn down that nothing remained, but life hadn’t fully failed yet so he wouldn’t fail it in turn.
Even Sayf, of course without knowing, gave him something unique even if it were words laced with blood and cold scrutiny. That, troublesome as it was, remained just a small amount better than solitude.
“There’s no being prepared for things like that,” Cal replied with a tip of his eyes from the water into the space beyond it, the emptiness of the air that felt heavy with the sort of electricity that matched Sayf’s motions and was embedded within their very presence. If there was fury to be wrapped inside flesh and bone, throbbing through veins and beating alongside a tense heart, it was the vicious hunting dog of the High Court.
It was frightening, no mistake in that, Cal had seen moments of calculated rage and control in simply practice that would have left him stumbling back if it were real, if Sayf had been truly eager for his throat, he gave that much the respect deserved and tried not to linger in the haunting image of a nightmare.
Would he be prepared if it came to war? No, because he would never be prepared for such things. Ready, yes, but they were not one in the same. Cal knew his sword, knew how to counter and how to defend those he was sworn to, could hold his own even with the degree of temperance he was resolved to, but to be prepared for war was inviting the beast to come with snapping teeth. Inviting it to devour, to play games of pitting life against life and worth to worth; it was accepting that there was no path left but destruction.
Cal wouldn’t invite such things, nor easily accept them, he would only do as he had to for the sake of the Court.
Even that he might have found doubt in, if not for how deeply his loyalty to the heir ran. That light, truly, was one he knew could stand to change whatever it was their world was slowly falling headfirst and carelessly into.
“But you won’t shy from it either, will you Sayf?” He posed the question without needing an answer, spoke it with a name because names made people of monsters and settled a familiarity upon them above that of prowling, angry creatures. They were no mindless animal, perhaps one just as leashed as himself though without the full realization of that yet to reach them, but names were also a reminder that they were more than only a collection of flesh and reflexes fit to hold a weapon.
Cal did not forget that, not for a moment, even if in the hardest of them he would do better if only he could. It was the holding back, he knew, that might leave him standing at his own end.
He couldn’t argue it though, not having made the choice himself back when he was far too young and foolish to understand the collar that came with it. Sayf could think whatever they liked of him, the worst if it gave them some comfort in seeing him unfit for his purpose, but he saw something of kinship there just short of the madness that drove the other fae to such delights in destruction.
He couldn’t really say that it would be that way forever, perhaps in time when he’d had to swallow down enough of the death and horror himself Cal would find a monster lurking in his own eyes. So how could he turn a frozen shoulder to someone who might simply be a forewarning to his own future?
“I suppose I can’t either, so long as I know the reason is enough” It was a terrible, somewhat cruel truth Cal didn’t want to weigh in himself. What those reasons might be, enough to steady his hand enough to destroy, were not as dry as were expected of him and the sort of convictions he had come to peace with privately. It was not by will of the his Court that would keep him standing, but it was loyalty to important things. And it was rare he had the other fae to speak with, rather than dodging a blade. “I wonder sometimes if it makes it easier or harder, seems like it would be easier to lose yourself than to remain and lose everything that made you what you are.”
he was still fae (they repeat, a mantra, an absolution of guilt, try to make it coat every thought, threading through as they drum it through their mind they might forget otherwise ), had chosen his position, chosen to buckle the sword to his waist, had a childhood to experience and understand what he promised.
they had tried to make the choice to protect, lifetimes ago, chosen to try to help, but it had drowned a child in blood. promises to the fae ripped free from their lips after years of intoxication and being forced to see only the beauty.
still, then, they had tried, tried to protect what value they had seen in the fae, in certain people, in the promises they had given back. but their end had fallen through so why could sayf not drop their end as well? promises of fealty paid back thricefold, punishment enough to wreak havoc on all the concepts cedric had held dear?
this was vengance, but perhaps it was justice? perhaps sayf didn’t know what either meant anymore.
there’s no being prepared for things like that and sayf wants to scoff. all you have to do is open the door, open your arms wide - but perhaps, for cal, that is something he cannot do.
at his question, they hum in response, noncommittal. they won’t shy from it, divine authority in the swing of their sword, and perhaps there’s only one death that they ever regret, and perhaps there are none (but that is a thought for when sayf is curled around their own wound - which is to say never)
instead, they step out onto the water, feeling a thrum of power leaving their fingers as the air hardens just above the pool. turned fae and their magic is smaller, much less flashy that most others, much less magnificent than the undersea, but no less powerful - if applied with the correct leverage.
one more step, then another, the air dissolving back as they step off. they stand just a few steps into the pool, slightly above, before half-turning to see cal at their left. i suppose i can’t either and they’re tempted to let the half-smile show, because if he supposes then he can’t hold back and already this is more eagerness that he has ever shown.
perhaps it’s sick, perhaps it means something’s broken, because they’re excited at the risk, at knowing that cal might actually try to harm them, if it comes down to it (worst comes to worst, or perhaps best comes to best?). but there is a pleasure that crawls up their spine, a cold trail they breathe into at cal’s acknowledgement of his own potential cruelty.
it just required reason enough, and for sayf that was a promise broken. what would cal kill for?
then he expands his statement at the pleasure fades, the cold turning clammy and curling up in their stomach instead. it would be easier to lose yourself and sayf remembers badges on their lapel and apologies falling on ears too feral to comprehend before its too late.
lose everything that made you what you are and the r a g e returns, a purifying fire that drowns out the regret, the guilt. e v e r y t h i n g has been taken from them, and they’re determined to leave nothing behind, and their throat burns with the desire to let this fury rampage, but they trap it, they bury it, smother and contain it.
slowly, heartbeats passing and the roaring in their ears fade and the rage turns into a familiar icy fire that simmers and freezes through their veins instead.
they turn towards cal more fully, self-deprecation evident in their smirk, even as their voice is emotionless. ❛ you can never truly lose everything, ❜ they say, before their gaze swings away from cal to land empty and distant on the horizon. ❛ and they’re just as hard as each other. you can’t lose yourself until everything else has been taken from you. ❜
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