Lament's End - Part 11
Pairing: Lamenter x FemOC
Warnings: Implied past SA, mentions of blood
Description: One step forward, two steps back. Taliesin and his Little Cat wrestle with new emotions and old shames.
Find the previous parts of this series on my Masterlist, comment and ask to be added to/removed from my Taglist, and remember my Asks and DMs are always open!
“Taliesin,” you gasped through irresistible giggles, “I’m… I’m all right…!”
“Be still.”
He remained above you. Over you. One hand bracing himself against the soft turf of the river bank, the other gently cradling your head as he tilted it back and forth. Golden eyes gazed down at you. Full of something that was not quite fear.
You should be afraid. Your better sense hissed in the back of your mind. The river had very nearly done what false Angels and horrors and cannibals could not accomplish. But the very thought only pushed your euphoria to new heights.
Alive! I’m alive!
Your shoulders shook with another round of helpless laughter.
“Did you strike your head?” Taliesin hadn’t stopped his hesitant examination. “The mortal cranial structure is fragile, the organ within even more so. Or so the Apothecaries say. I have no tools with which to repair fractures, no augmetics to compensate for brain damage-”
Throne! He thinks…?
Reaching up, you cupped his scarred face between your palms. The both of you stilled at the contact.
He was so warm. You couldn’t remember if you’d noticed that before. His heat banished the chill from the water dripping off him and onto your already soaked form. Without thinking, you slid your thumbs along his cheekbones.
Rough. Leathery. Nothing like… His.
You traced the scar bisecting his lower face. When you ran your fingers over his lips, he shuddered.
“Little Cat-”
“Beautiful.” The word slipped out without conscious thought.
He was. The sunlight reflected off the water droplets clinging to his hair, turning what had once been vaguely yellowish to glittering gold. Crouched over you, he seemed crowned by a halo of the Emperor’s Light.
An Angel. A true Angel.
He closed his eyes under your touch. When they opened again, you gasped. There, too, was that holy light. Bright with an intensity that made you want to press closer. To bask in the warmth you saw reflected there.
For a heartbeat, his great head lowered, forehead brushing yours. Hot breath washed over you. Not sweet. But you didn’t mind. Your eyes fluttered closed as you lay there, surrounded by your Giant in Yellow armor, your Angel.
“Taliesin.”
Emperor, please, let me stay like this. Don’t take this away.
But, like so many before it, this prayer remained unanswered. The trance shattered as a tremor seemed to run through the giant warrior. He reared back, first to his knees, then up to his feet with a groan of overtaxed metal. The damp earth beneath you quivered as he backed away.
Something sharp pierced your chest.
Shame followed, hot and foul. You curled in on yourself, trying to hide beneath the folds of your soaked poncho. The skin of your hands tingled. You stared down at them.
What have I done?
***
Uncertainty was not an emotion familiar to Taliesin. Bewilderment, even less so. Yet as he staggered backwards, away from the tiny, sodden figure on the grass, he did not know what to do.
Water dripped into his eyes. He swiped at them, as if clearing his vision would somehow clear his mind. All three of his lungs expanded. His chest rose and fell with increasing rapidity, his cracked chestplate groaning.
Is this the Rage again?
The thought sent a lightning bolt of very un-Astartes fear straight through him. He shook his head, flinging river water in all directions.
No… no. That was different.
Taliesin half-turned to look back at you, his Little Cat, to reassure himself you had suffered no true harm. His eyes made it as far as your feet before darting away once more.
You’d been so small beneath him. Shivering from the shock of icy water. He’d just wanted to make sure you were all right. That was all he had wanted. But then you laughed.
The sound had shocked, then concerned him. Mortal minds broke as easily as mortal bodies.
He remembered one ruined colony, a figure in a half-scorched Guard uniform stumbling out of the smoke, blood streaming from her skull. He remembered the constant, high-pitched titter emanating from her slack lips. He remembered spending precious hours coaxing her into the medicae’s tent.
He remembered the crack of a Commisar’s laspistol minutes later.
All these memories had flashed through his mind for one awful moment. Because surely that could be the only explanation. You’d almost died. He’d almost failed you. How could you possibly find any sort of… levity… in that?
But then, your hands on his face. Soft. Cool. Just like before. And your voice, whispering a word that damned as much as it uplifted.
Only now no madness blunted their devastating gentleness.
Taliesin squeezed his eyes shut as he had then. The loss of sight did nothing to dull the sensation of your willing touch against his face. The sound of your awed voice in his ear.
Has anyone ever touched me like that? Spoken to me like that?
Something hazy and vague, buried beneath layers of indoctrination, told him yes. Someone had. Long, long ago. His chest ached with a longing for which he had no name.
It sickened him to know he’d surrendered to it.
I only wished to comfort you.
A paltry lie, even to himself. You had not asked for more. Had not pressed against him like you did the previous night, seeking security in his arms. No.
This time he’d leaned into you.
And no Rage, no madness, no temporary lapse in faculties could excuse his actions. His weakness. His shameful, selfish desire for an intimacy he did not deserve and could never ask for.
Taliesin pressed a gauntleted fist to his forehead.
What have I done?
***
The crackling fire did little to soothe the chill settling deep in your soul.
Taliesin had not spoken in hours. He’d been gentle, always gentle, as he led you from the river’s edge to the base of the rocky, forested hillside sloping upward toward the mountains. Waiting for you as you hobbled on bandaged feet, canvas poncho heavy with rapidly cooling river water. Directing you around the roughest patches of ground. Pausing just long enough to ensure you ate and drank.
It seemed like mere moments before he discovered a boulder nearly his height with a hollow worn into its base. A hollow just big enough for you to huddle in. He’d then knelt and begun to hack out what you soon guessed was a firepit with his huge knife. You’d tried to be of use, limping out to search for firewood near the trees. One glance had sent you back into your little hollow.
Not in fear. You didn’t fear him. But the look of concern in those golden eyes inspired more obedience than the old terror ever could. Besides, if you complied, perhaps he would forgive your shocking boldness of hours prior.
Hugging your knees tight to your chest, you stared into the crackling flames. The moment next to the river replayed over and over in your mind.
What had you been thinking?
You hadn’t. That was the only explanation. Exhaustion, the euphoria at surviving once again, the sheer relief of putting another obstacle between you and the horrors behind, it made you reckless.
You cringed.
Your eyes flicked to Taliesin, standing with his back to you on the opposite side of the fire. A monolithic sentinel in battered armor.
He’d killed people before your eyes in ways no mortal man could have. He’d clawed his way through madness. Even the way he moved screamed something you’d been willfully ignoring for far too long.
Not human.
Not a monster either. Not like those cannibals. And not like… Him.
But still not human. More than human.
And yet you’d babbled to him about your childhood. You’d asked questions. You’d touched him. Not to pull him from madness, but simply because you’d wanted to.
An Angel of the Emperor. A real one. A chosen warrior spoken only in the passed down legends of village elders, or the sermons of wandering holy men and women. Someone to be revered and respected.
But not befriended. Not poked and prodded by someone… someone like me.
You pressed your face into your knees.
I don’t deserve his kindness.
Tears welled. Everything you thought you’d buried clawed its way back to the surface of your mind. The mark carved into your back pulsed with remembered pain. The thin golden wire around your throat, almost forgotten until this moment, seemed to tighten.
“You are mine now, pet. Sweetly ruined, deliciously debauched. MINE FOR ETERNITY.”
Hands, hands on you, and worse than hands. Everywhere. Always. Corrupting. Fouling. Unclean in a way no river could ever cleanse.
And I dared touch him. Him!
***
Distance. Distance would be his salvation.
Or so Taliesin told himself. All the rest of that day. Not allowing himself to speak to you, or even look too long in your direction. Because if he did, if he gave into that longing, he would be lost. And you with him.
Did I forget my curse? The torment I am doomed to bring down upon any I grow close to?
As he scouted the terrain, found a defensible position, and prepared it for the long night, he forced himself to remember every person he’d failed. Every Battle Brother he’d watched cut down. Every civilian refugee who’d slipped from his grasp. Every serf child he’d failed to save.
How many times must I learn the same lesson?
The sun set. He stared into the growing darkness, the heat from the fire radiating against his back. He’d promised you rest. And he would fulfill his promise.
As a guardian.
As a sentinel.
As a protector.
Nothing more.
His fists tightened on the hilts of his combat knife and chainsword as he methodically analyzed every moment since he’d found you. He’d let himself grow too close, too fast. He saw that now, and the shame ate at him.
The foul Mark he’d seen on your back burned behind his eyelids. You did not speak of what was done to you. But you screamed words in your sleep, muttered stilted phrases when your eyes went vacant and haunted. And he knew.
He’d seen the wreckage those abominations made of human bodies, human souls. Even if outwardly you looked undamaged, he could only imagine the scarring within. Sometimes he wished he could still feel the raw terror he saw in you. If only to know how best to soothe it.
No. No! Damn it all, Lamenter!
You needed something he could not provide. Could not let himself provide. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if he ached to. Not even if your touch, your voice, had beaten back the Black Rage itself.
Why? Why you?
Taliesin’s mind drifted to dangerous places.
There were rumors. Whispers spoken between only the most trusting of brothers. Whispers that other Chapters allowed their brethren certain… eccentricities. Bonds between Astartes and mortals that went deeper than mere fondness or even friendship.
He wanted to turn around. He wanted to look at you. Were you sleeping peacefully? Did you need anything? Did you need… him?
Bile rose in the back of his throat. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, embracing the pain.
I deserve it for such thoughts.
I deserve it for my selfishness.
I DESERVE IT.
Then you cried out, the sob of anguish shredding his defenses with all the force of an orbital bombardment.
He went to you.
He could not stop himself.
***
The ring pulsed with your anguish, and his eyes rolled in their sockets at the sensation. He felt his body responding. The delicious ache of anticipation as he remembered all the agonizing art he and you had crafted together.
Your every scream a symphony.
Your every convulsion a ballet.
The masterworks he’d painted across your skin had made his brothers weep with envy. Some had not been content with a mere share in your delectable flesh whenever he felt generous. Some had tried to claim you for their own.
His muse.
His masterpiece.
His beloved Pet.
HIS.
The runes on his fangs twisted as he bared them to the disgustingly clear air. His tongue lolled, forked end writhing as he let loose a sibilant hiss.
Those who dared challenge him took their proper places in his Gallery. Their covetous forms sculpted and shaped into perversions far more artistic. He even allowed a few to keep their minds, locked in eternal awareness of their new purpose.
To please him.
The highest purpose any being could fulfill.
The runes on his fangs pulsed, a shockwave running down his spine and igniting each and every one of his augmented nerve endings. He gasped and laughed as he amended his thoughts.
“The highest purpose, save to dwell eternally in your service, oh Dark Prince.”
The agony shifted into a caressing torment of a far pleasanter kind. He sighed, finally deigning to take notice of his surroundings.
The primitive little village rested at the bottom of the hill. It’s primitive little people just settling in for the night. He heard mothers hushing anxious children, telling them no monsters lurked beneath beds or in the shadows.
Telling them they were safe.
His Gallery was no more. So much beautiful agony lost when the crude loyalists rammed their ship. But as long as there were souls in the galaxy to mold like bloody clay, he could begin again.
He would come for you soon. Pull you back into his loving embrace. Let you watch as he transformed whoever had dared steal you into a glorious amalgamation of agony and ecstasy. The highlight of his new Gallery.
Perhaps he would then, finally, relieve you of the burden of sentience.
His plush lips pursed at that.
“No. Perhaps not.”
He liked you aware. He found few things lovelier than doomed resistance. It was why he’d chosen you in the first place, after all.
But that could wait. Grass withered beneath him as he slithered down the hillside toward the village.
For now, he saw a blank canvas in need of a Master’s hand.
@solspina @sleepyfan-blog @moodymisty @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @bispecsual @kit-williams @justeverythingnothingelse @scriberye @bleedingichorhearts @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @mooniequeen @passionofthesith @noncon-photobomb @sinistermojo @missmannequin @rivalriotrenegade @iloveoutlinesiswear @jaghatai-khock @hatsubara-8chan @meervalv0 @grimdark-raccoon @garlickedbreads @riokunova @emiemiemiii @astrohymn @synfiction @n0cturn4 @mgrm99 @seirensou @zamzmak @ilovewolvezz @primordialsneeze @summersong2262 @nereidof40k @ahrianee @toto-the-cactus @thevoidscreams @vithralith @thisuserislilsilly @runin64 @gobs-archive @sovietstrange45 @nebulaegem @ghrgrsfdesfrfg @iluminatka16 @absynthe-mind @nekotaetae @druidwolf21 @sunni-lobber @drowning-in-sorrowing-tales @callophantical @kelpiesummer @hopefully-grimderp @marcela2000 @godofhonse @mehiwilldoitlater @guillimansplaything @nightlordlover @doubting-dreamingdreams @tea-ring @thesmolsun-bun
