So this was meant to be written and posted on Seeker’s birthday, October 28th, when it takes place. You can see how well that worked. But I got it done.
Sometime during the deep hours of early morning, when the inside of his lab was draped in muffling shadows, Seeker sat up on the unadorned mattress that served as his bed. Setting his feet on the cool floor, he sat for a minute on the edge there, and then shifted around, twisting his head a little to glance behind him.
Farid was sleeping deeply, as he always did after they made love. His dark hair was tousled, his mouth slightly open, and most of the blankets were on his side, as usual. At least a few things seemed the same about him, thought Seeker, with an unacknowledged grimace. Seemed like they were really him. The rest....
Seeker breathed out, and watched Farid quietly for a bit through lowered, pensive eyes. Then he rose to his feet, silently pulled on pants and a sweatshirt, and padded downstairs.
The night air brought a shiver to his limbs as he stepped outside. Seeker glanced around without purpose. Even in the darkest hour, it was never truly dark here, with the swathes of honey-coloured grass rustling in the breeze and the soft, insistent glow of exanite casting a thin sheen over the area from all sides. Seeker tilted his head back, staring at the indigo sky. For all its marvels, exanite in this instance did present one drawback. Abundant as it was in this place, its light overtook everything - especially the stars.
He swallowed a yawn as he rubbed briefly at his face, moving away from the stairs and onto the grass. He began pacing slowly around the smooth hexagonal columns of exanite that encased his lab. His brain felt fuzzy, and listless, and he didn’t need that right now. He needed clarity and focus.
Eventually he stopped, stretching out an arm and pressing one palm flat against the smooth exanite wall so he could lean on it. He was exhausted, as much from his mental struggling as from his exertions with Farid. He found himself staring blankly at the swaying grass, and blinked heavily.
Eventually, his eyes dragged up to squint at the soft flush of light above him, and then at the ground again. He did this a couple more times, each movement of his head accompanied by a more thoughtful frown. And then he did something he had never done before - he went up.
Up, past the shimmering angles of exanite, where slender roots were twined within the crevices from the golden tree that grew above as it clung to nearly nothing. Stairs shivered into existence beneath Seeker’s bare feet as he climbed the empty air, like panes of frosted glass, supporting him for a few moments and then fading away when he had passed.
He had never known what lay beyond the tumbled grey rocks and sheer walls of exanite that surrounded this small glade, and for reasons he hadn’t voiced even to himself, he never tried to find out. He knew that it was hidden, technologically as well as physically; tracking tech was useless here. And presumably, being in Isigrol, somewhere beyond here lurked the horrors of the Strain. But in an uncharacteristic display of willful ignorance, he preferred to know the place only as his safe haven.
Now he paced a slow, wide spiral around the exanite that held his lab, and around him the waving grass receded, and the dark rocks fell back. Translucent leaves brushed at his face, trembling in a fitful breeze that darted past. Beneath the tree’s broad spread, he stepped out onto a pitted plane of exanite. He continued forward, and a few paces ahead, he hauled himself with shaky arms onto the narrow beam of an Eldan-made strut. It jutted out like the bowsprit of a beached ship into the open air.
Deliberately, but with a lack of caution he might have later regretted, Seeker picked his way out of the tree’s embrace along the strut. As the view opened up, his eyes widened in astonishment.
Up here the air was unburdened by exanite’s magnificence, though it still burned softly around the edges of the glade. He tilted his head back. An infinite array of stars stretched out above him. But as he glanced about, he saw that it was also around him, more a globe than a dome, for where the exanite ended the stars began, as though the entire world were just - this. A golden isle with all the galaxy’s seas around it, waiting to be traversed.
Seeker stood there for a long time, just staring. It had to be an illusion of some kind, it had to be. Logic, rationality, reason all dictated that he was in Isigrol, on Nexus. There should be more - well, terrain. But as the moments passed relentlessly in silent regard, disbelief gave way to a simpler question - did it matter?
He hardly even noticed when his legs began to protest their continued efforts to balance atop the narrow strut. Almost absently, he sank down, seating himself on the ancient metal. His eyes remained fixed on the spherical sky, and as wonder receded slowly to acceptance, Seeker let his thoughts drift elsewhere.
It hadn’t been until his earlier talk with Farid that he really registered what day it was. Thirty years. That was how long he’d managed to stay alive, in spite of everything. Truthfully, he had never expected to make it this far. He had figured for a long time now that if the Dominion didn’t kill him, his own body would. And it had, in a way. Yet - here he was.
Still breathing. Still beating. Still breaking.
Seeker inhaled rather hoarsely, and dragged one sleeve across his eyes before his expression could steady again. Something in his chest was aching, but now he could recognise that the feeling wasn’t a wholly bad one. He had lived for so long with a massive wall in front of him that at some point he had forgotten how to see beyond it. It had taken many people chipping away at him for many years to persuade him to lift his eyes again. But more than anyone, it had been Farid - Farid who showed him that a wall was merely a veil, and that life was worth living on both sides of it.
How do you do it? Because clearly I don’t know.
Because I haven’t got a choice. My whole life is hanging by a literal thread. So if I’m stuck between cry and laugh, I’m gonna laugh.
That’s still a choice though.
Yeah. So, make it.
Seeker drew one knee to his chest and wrapped his arms around it, shivering more insistently in the chilly air. He didn’t know how to react to what he was feeling. Loss, and lost, the freedom of being cast adrift and the pain of making the right decision. And now, the wall was gone. Suddenly life was stretching out before him, unpredicted, unknown, unknowable. In a way, he was starting over, and this time, he had nothing to use as a crutch - not his hatred of the Dominion, not his love for Farid. From here, he would have to construct his own path. And more importantly, allow himself to savour it. Because he had promised him.
Tomorrow - because they had both agreed that breaking up was a terrible birthday present - the word would begin to filter out. This time, though, it would not be due to death, and Seeker thought on the whole that this was an immense improvement.
Look, Farid, he thought wryly. I’m practising my optimism again. A few more weeks of this, and you won’t even know me.
And in the spirit of that, he set his attention on the stars again, and not on how intensely sad the previous thought might have made him.
Seeker’s neck was prickling as though someone were sliding a razor back and forth across his skin as he led Darius away from the crash house, away from the ships, unconsciously searching for a spot that wouldn’t be spoiled by the memory of his brother’s presence there. Darius’ steps behind him were strong and light for someone of his bulk, contrasting sharply with Seeker’s own wavering path.
Eventually they came to a low hill that climbed up to the valley’s grassy rim. Seeker stopped, drew a deep breath, and turned. Darius had halted as well, and was regarding him now with hard expectancy.
Seeker closed his eyes for just an instant, bracing himself, and then met his brother’s cold gaze. “You know what I need.” This time, he was able to keep his voice level.
Darius rolled his jaw slightly. “And you know what I need,” he returned. “Unfortunately, the two seem to be quite incompatible.”
Seeker’s brows drew together in wariness. “What are you talking about?” he said harshly. His entire body was on edge, and already he could feel the subsequent exhaustion gnawing at him.
Darius’ lip curled. “You are a stain on everything I value, Caspian. A stain that must be removed.”
He paused in consideration, and then continued on without remorse. “It was a relief, you know, to receive word of your imminent death. It meant that I need not expend further effort in hunting you down. That you would cause no further damage to everything I have built. And yet.” His voice turned pointed. “Here you stand... and I, it would seem, remain the only hope for your continued survival.”
Seeker’s chest was tight, his mouth very dry. “And you would let me die. Just like that, just so I would no longer be an irritant.” Anger flared, unexpected yet bright. He snapped his teeth together, glaring at Darius.
“I haven’t gone near you. You know what happened on your ship was a fluke. I’ve wanted nothing to do with you, nothing! All I want is for you and the rest of the almighty fucking Dominion to leave me alone!”
Darius’ eyes narrowed. “Now that is most amusing, because the Caspian I remember was quite intent on open heresy,” he growled. “Taking his admittedly considerable skills and twisting them to blasphemous ends, purely out of spite. In the beginning I thought you were merely misguided, perhaps overwhelmed. But you have made it quite clear that everything you have done was with deliberation. And so I ask you - why should I risk everything of mine to save the life of a brother whose only aspiration in life is the destruction of the empire I serve, and all its citizens?”
Seeker’s breath caught somewhere below his throat. He struggled for several moments to speak.
“I don’t.... want that,” he said thickly, and part of him didn’t know why he was saying it, or even if it was true. He felt Darius’ sceptical gaze boring into him; he swallowed hard and went on, “Maybe I did, once. But - I don’t, now. I can’t.”
“No?” Darius tilted his head, and took a step closer to him; Seeker fought the urge to draw back. “And why this change of heart?”
Seeker’s lips twisted. “You try spending three years on the run,” he snarled, “and then you won’t ask that. I’m tired, Darius.” His voice was clipped in his anger, each word deliberate. “I’m tired of looking over my shoulder, of dodging questions, of hiding. I just want to live my life on my own terms, without anyone else telling me it’s wrong.”
The flat, unyielding expression on Darius’ face slowly gave way to something more like careful scrutiny. He studied Seeker openly in silence for several moments. “None of us has that luxury,” he said quietly. “You should know that by now.”
Seeker got the impression that Darius was playing for time as the other man glanced unhurriedly around them, scanning over the valley. “Who was that insolent Diwali man? I don’t recall playing host to him during our last meeting.”
Seeker’s jaw tightened. “That was my fiance,” he said flatly.
This took Darius by surprise, though he quickly got a hold of himself. He faced Seeker again, staring him down rather oppressively. “You would really go down that road again?” he said softly, after several moments.
Seeker’s face grew warm, but he pushed his jaw out, holding his brother’s heavy gaze. “I told you. It’s my life.”
“Indeed. You have certainly made a most... interesting one.” Darius canted his head, continuing to study Seeker, looking vaguely disconcerted now. “I admit, I never anticipated you finding your way into the good graces of such a well-known celebrity....”
Seeker released a sharp breath through his nose. “For fuck’s sake, stop changing the subject!” he ground out. Darius arched a mild brow at the interruption, but Seeker ignored this. His self-control was hanging by a thread, his hands turning to shaking fists again at his sides. “You’re the one who wanted to discuss this, so just - just tell me what your answer is.” He lifted his face a little, his eyes raw. “I’m not going to beg. Not this time.”
Darius’ steely eyes narrowed fractionally, and for a wild moment Seeker thought he could detect something like approval in his brother’s gaze. But then it was gone, and Darius was regarding him with his customary neutrality.
“I’m afraid I shall have to... think about it,” he said evenly, almost offhandedly.
He didn’t even deign to continue looking at Seeker as he said it, and this more than anything dragged a thick whine of frustration from Seeker’s throat. He glared at Darius through hot eyes.
“And what if I just take your blood?” he breathed savagely. Though he hadn’t consciously willed it, the air around them both was suddenly taught with unformed energy. He struggled to hold it there, caught between the effort of manifesting anything at all and the too-easy desire to form something potentially deadly.
Darius’ eyes flickered, glancing around at the shivers of energy. Though he was unarmed, he seemed only the faintest bit on edge. “Then you will have your cure, and I will leave,” he said steadily. “And I will know exactly where to find you, and all your friends, and even the Galactic Federation will not be enough to protect you.”
The threat hung between them, more palpable than Seeker’s espernetic veil, and after several moments Seeker could do nothing but drag his gaze away. The space around them thinned again to nothing but air.
“You’d better think fast,” was all he could manage, his lips twisting.
Darius had relaxed again in a sort of knowing, easy triumph. He dipped his head; whether it was in acknowledgement or merely disdain was unclear. He turned to make his way back down the hill.
“If you would be so kind as to have a security escort meet me below... I’m certain the good Captain wishes to avoid any unfortunate incidents on either side.” With that, he set off, leaving Seeker standing on the grassy hillside and feeling more helpless than ever.
The twisted corpse of Dominus’ failed predecessor is still fresh on the floor when three probes enter the lab. They float with purpose to the far end of the chamber, fanning out around a raised circular core, its centre a well of dulled green glass. Nothing moves, save for the uncertain flicker of discarded cables recently wrenched from their sockets and the slow revolutions of the nearby datasphere. Still and silent, the probes wait.
The core flares brilliant green, and a long clawed foot steps out, and then a second. They crunch carelessly onto the shards of glass that litter the exo-lab’s cold floor. A glowing mesh of what seems to be raw woven data trails like rags in the newcomer’s wake, turning as the newly dead specimen is surveyed.
“Finally...”
The word is a horrible, razor-edged rasp, like sharpened nails cutting through skin. One fleshless foot nudges at the prototype’s gaping jaw, and there is something chillingly negligent in the movement.
“Let me taste them.”
As one, the three probes converge on the looming figure. A few moments later, it shivers in cold delight.
“Two are but discards. One is already dead.” Slow, thoughtful, like a breath caught in ice, the words leak through the chamber. “One is merely an imitation. But one carries it.”
There is a pause.
“No... two. One... has been tasted before.”
A long, shuddering sigh hisses from the figure. Glass crunches again into the bloodied metal of the floor, and the core brightens for a few moments. Their task fulfilled, the probes disperse. Above the flowing datastream, the sphere spins slowly on.
(So I started this like a month ago and never got around to finishing it, so it’s a bit of a flashback now. Oh well.)
Seeker could feel Jonas’ eyes resting curiously on him, but he kept his back turned, head lowered over his chron. He watched a reply pop up on the screen, and texted back quickly, and then waited. He knew he was behaving like an adolescent, stung by something trivial, but he was feeling too stubborn to let it pass.
“Oi.” Jonas’ voice was by contrast mild and easygoing, as though their years apart had been nothing but a refreshing sleep. “I don’t remember you bein’ quite this quiet’n’clammed up. What’s runnin’ round in your brain?”
Seeker released a slow, audible breath as he typed a few more words, then turned. Jonas was sitting cross-legged on one of the bunks, watching him expectantly.
“People change,” said Seeker shortly, but Jonas merely grinned.
“Don’t give me that. You’n’me, we’ve been through too much. Y’know I’m not goin’ to leave it at that.”
Seeker watched him, and just staring at his earnest and freckled face made his walls slip away again. “I know,” he murmured. His hand tightened over his chron in his pocket. He bit his lip, drew in a breath, and went on, “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
Jonas canted his head, his auburn hair swinging gently. “I’m thinkin’ there’s a lot o’ things you haven’t told me,” he noted calmly. “An’ that’s all right. Really it is.”
Seeker shook his head, a little jerkily. “No, it’s - this, you need to know.”
“Aright.” Jonas smiled. He patted the bed beside him. “Sit down an’ you can tell me.”
He made it sound so simple. Maybe this time it could be. Seeker closed his eyes tightly for a moment. Then he sat down, and swallowed something hard, and looked up again into his friend’s warm hazel gaze.
“Heckin’ Scions, Cas.” Jonas’ voice was abnormally low and brimming with sadness. “An’ you’re really sure -?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” snapped Seeker, not looking at him. “It’s already started. More than started.”
Jonas’ hand slipped onto his shoulder, squeezing gently as he asked, “Why didn’t y’tell me?” His voice held no accusation. It never did.
Seeker hunched forward beneath his touch, his hands twisting together in his lap. “I - couldn’t,” he said helplessly.
Jonas nodded. “Like y’couldn’t tell me you were in love with me, I s’pose,” he said thoughtfully.
Seeker thought he felt something crack with how fast he twisted around to face Jonas, undisguised horror thrilling through his chest to warm his face. “You knew?” he croaked after a few stunned moments. “All that time you knew? You never said anything -”
Jonas began laughing heartily. “Neither did you,” he pointed out, chortling as Seeker sat there, dumbfounded and flushed with embarrassment. “Oh, c’mon mate. Y’may be good at hidin’ things now but y’weren’t so good back then, ‘specially with the way things were.”
Seeker lowered his face, his insides cringing. “I did try,” he insisted hoarsely. “I knew you didn’t feel the same way, so I didn’t push it - fuck.” He groaned softly.
Jonas was still giggling as he leaned forward and hugged Seeker fondly. “You’re still me best mate. An’ I’m really glad y’found someone else, truly. You weren’t the same after Vincent, not that I can blame y’for that.”
Seeker tensed automatically. “Don’t, okay?” he muttered, still awkward. “I’m trying to be done with that.”
“Okay.” Jonas released him and sat back again, stretching his legs out. They sat in companionable silence for a while, longer than Seeker had thought Jonas capable of, in fact. Eventually, Jonas began humming, light and off-key as he glanced about with interest. “You were right,” he said. “This is a top notch sort o’ place. Cozy, but freein’, too.”
Seeker nodded, wetting his lips. “Nice enough for you to stay?” he ventured.
“Thing is...” Jonas began. He rubbed sheepishly at his neck. “I mean, ‘s all changed, innit? I’ve got me own path path now, an’ so’ve you. An’ they’re different paths. You’re off uncoverin’ all the secrets o’ Nexus, but that’s not for me. Demon’s Stand might be just a blip on the map, but they’re a good lot. An’ let’s be honest, someone’s got to keep Helga from goin’ overboard accosting innocent travellers.” He winked.
Seeker smiled automatically, but it was difficult and didn’t last. “Proper country boy now, aren’t you? You never liked Delos and its fancy buildings.”
“Aye, well, six floors for a summer vacation home seemed daft. Who wants t’climb six flights o’ stairs when they’re on vacation just t’take a piss?”
“That’s why they were all next to lakes, of course.” Seeker smirked, despite feeling as though his throat had collapsed in on itself. He looked away as Jonas laughed and snorted irreverently. He pushed at his bangs, staring down at the bed.
“Oi.” He felt a nudge as Jonas’ mirth subsided, replaced by a gentle tone. He looked up unwillingly. “I know where y’live now. I’ll come round an’ bother you. An’ you should bring your friends over t’Algoroc sometime. S’not like it’s far.”
Seeker nodded, a bit stiffly. “I’m holding you to that,” he warned.
“Course y’are,” replied Jonas easily. He flopped back on the bed with a low sigh, and seeing this, Seeker rose. He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, then pulled in a low breath.
“I’m really glad you’re not dead.” The words tumbled out of him with a fervour he wasn’t expecting.
Jonas tucked his chin to look at him and grinned. “You too,” he said cheekily. “Now go an’ cuddle up with your boyfriend. You look like you could use a bit o’ snoggin’.”
“Right, yeah.” Seeker released a wavery sort of laugh as he turned away. His eyes were burning and he didn’t know why.
It was the quiet disappointment in Guy’s voice that dug hardest at him. It had made him want to cringe away, made him search silently for words of explanation that could never be enough. In those few minutes, his walls were useless, his folly exposed and his emotions laid bare.
Seeker tried not to look at the screens and artifacts waiting for his attention as he made his way around the lab, his steps dragging. One by one the humming of each piece went still. He hadn’t noticed it before, how soothing their sounds had been. Too much noise would eventually shut him down, he knew that. But this silence was almost as bad.
He dashed the back of his hand roughly across his lips and made his way upstairs. A shoulder bag lay open on the bed, not large enough to carry what he needed. He slid several datapads inside, a few other essentials, but nothing that the Eldan had already left behind.
This was a mistake. Not the running away, though a few people had told him that. No, the mistake had been thinking he could actually fit in here, that his past wouldn’t be able to drag him down. The mistake had been even attempting to forge himself a new identity. He couldn’t be someone he was not. He should have learned that lesson back on Cassus. Instead, it had taken the utter disintegration of his facade and the near-deaths of half the company to open his eyes to the truth.
You hear them resume speaking somewhere behind you as you make your way out of the ward. You can’t tell what they’re saying. It’s probably best. You glance around, seeking out familiar faces in the slowing bustle of staff and worriers, but no one looks up at your approach. Presumably, they’ve gone to worry somewhere else.
You find a narrow, white-washed corridor, where the only hum is the florescent lights on the varnished ceiling and not the sound of horror’s aftermath. Tasteful signs blink cheerily above several doors down the hall. Relief, they beckon, relieve yourself here. You don’t listen to them. Relief is fleeting, already flushed away.
You slump against the wall, first with your shoulder, and then wearily you roll onto your back, hunched and stiff and restless. You tug your datachron from your pocket and type unthinkingly. I miss you. You stare at it. Your eyes are dry, and you wish they weren’t. The sudden vibration between your hands somehow takes you by surprise, like an echo of a burning impact. Miss you too, babe!
Your fingers curl around your datachron, and you clutch it to your chest, folding yourself around it, a letter in a envelope that’s going nowhere. Someone walks by you, pauses, reaches, then thinks better of it. Some people need their space. Hope his friend was one of the ones who made it.
You push yourself off the wall with energy you don’t have. You go down to an alcove opposite the bathrooms, and push a couple coins into a sweating vending machine, with the fleeting thought that you’re glad it’s not emblazoned with Proto-something-pieceofshit. Two heavy cans thud into the dispenser. You pull them out one at a time, smooth and cold and slick with no one’s tears. They try to drag you down as you walk back to the ward.
The echoes of the whispered words pulse warningly through Seeker’s numb mind as he walks beside Darius. He can almost feel the shock of his crewmates slamming like waves into his back; but Darius’ arm is still there around his shoulders, a cunning shield that presses him forward. He wants to cringe from the touch of it. But there is no escape this time.
Darius steers him easily into a small room, unadorned and unfurnished. The door closes gently behind them. In an instant, Darius has him against the wall, his hands anchoring Seeker’s outstretched wrists to the cold metal.
“So good of you to drop by,” breathes Darius. His face is inches away. “I’ve been waiting for you, Caspian.”
Seeker’s features, previously rigid with shock, now contort. He struggles against the other’s iron grip, spitting, “You fucking - let me go!”
Darius brings his face closer. “If you want your friends to even make it to the brig without an unfortunate accident, you’ll speak the way you were born to.” His tone is too light for the obvious menace it holds, and laced with disgust.
Seeker feels his throat twist, but he makes no reply. This seems to satisfy Darius, who leans back again; but the calloused hands that lift from Seeker’s wrists leave magnetic binders in their place, tethering him to the wall.
“How do these things usually go, then?” Darius watches Seeker carefully. “Ah - I believe you should start with, ‘How did you find me?!’, or some such cliche.”
Seeker tries to control the shallowness of his breaths. “The exo-lab,” he says, with difficulty. His voice now is deeper and more elegant, the highborn accent obvious.
“Correct.” Darius smiles thinly. “See, you are intelligent. If prone to rash decisions.” He clasps his hands behind his back, half turning away as he continues speaking.
“I’ve been hunting you since twelve hours after you disappeared, brother mine. I must give you some credit for eluding me for so long. Though not all. You never thought to consider the consequences of your actions.” His voice hardens to a slight edge. “The favours I had to call in, to cover your defection…”
A reckless need to goad his brother takes hold of Seeker. “Good thing you’ve kissed so many noble arses, then. I’m sure you had plenty.” His brain is still spinning, lightheaded with disbelief.
Darius regards him out of the corner of his eye, his expression darkening briefly. “You have no idea of the damage you caused,” he growls. “Very nearly the finest Eldanologist the Dominion had on Nexus, gone without a trace, threatening the security of dozens of operations. You set our research back by months.” His voice lowers deliberately. “Did you think about that, Caspian? The lives that could have been saved by that research? How many did you so easily condemn through your own selfish actions?”
Seeker clenches his teeth. “Don’t you dare put this on me,” he snarls. The need to taunt has vanished, replaced by a horribly constricted feeling in his gut.
Darius rounds on him again, so swiftly that Seeker flinches back in spite of himself; he had forgotten the speed that came with his brother’s anger.
“This is on you,” hisses Darius. Lashing out, he forces Seeker’s head back so that their eyes lock. “You can’t just walk away from this. No matter what you pretend, this will always be your legacy.”
Seeker glares up at him, chest heaving slightly. He jerks his head away and strains again at his bonds. “My legacy will be with better people than you and the fucking Dominion.”
“Ah, yes, your Exile friends.” Darius’ voice is laden with contempt as he straightens. “Erratic imbeciles, flouting reason and authority simply because they can, tripping into great discoveries and then crushing them in their ignorance.”
“And how is the Dominion any better?” demands Seeker. “The Exiles only want a home where they can live without being hounded by an empire hellbent on utter conformity!”
“They’re anarchists!” Darius says furiously.
“And you’re dictators!” retorts Seeker, his breaths coming quickly now. He meets his brother’s eyes defiantly, shoving away the realisation that some of their views might not be so different after all.
“They are godless heretics,” says Darius, in tones of heavy finality. His words are almost a recitation. “They deny the destiny of the human race, and spurn the truths of the Vigilant Church. If they choose to turn their backs on the light, then it is up to the Dominion to carry out the will of the gods, and -”
Something snaps within Seeker. “They - were never - gods,” he forces out, and his voice shakes with the emotion of it. “They never ‘ascended’ to some divine plane, just -”
But he doesn’t get the chance to finish, as Darius backhands him viciously across the face. Seeker feels his nose crack under the impact, and warm blood wells there, wending over his panting mouth.
“How dare you,” whispers Darius, and his hatred in that moment is all the more terrible for its softness. He grips Seeker’s jaw mercilessly between thumb and fingers, pulling him forward even as he bends slightly. “I should kill you now, for all that you’ve done. Father would. But he would also hate to miss your execution.”
Seeker doesn’t close his eyes, but stares with equal hatred at his brother, as the taste of his own blood sullies his tongue. “Do it then,” he taunts thickly. “Kill me and preserve your precious family reputation, and may you die with it intact!”
He watches Darius’ lip give an ugly sort of twitch, but with enormous effort, the other pulls back. “You’re making this very difficult, Caspian,” he says. He looks momentarily unsettled, but speaks with deliberate steadiness. “For everyone. But that will change.” He examines the back of his hand with interest for a moment. “I will not allow the corrupted views of the Exiles to hold you as they do now.”
Seeker licks blood from his lips, his eyes boring into his brother’s. “Do your worst,” he challenges in a harsh whisper. “But I’m too strong for you, Darius.”
“Oh, don’t fear, brother.” Darius turns his back, barely a pause in his voice. “If I have to break you before I can help you, then by the Scions, I will.”
There is a long pause as Darius walks to the door, then -
"Let them go, Darius." There's something close to submission in Seeker's voice, just for an instant, but it's enough to make Darius stop and half turn back.
"Well," he muses softly. "That depends entirely on how cooperative you are."
He resumes his steps, then halts in the doorway, as though struck by a thought. "Ah. And I meant to tell you. I spoke with Alena yesterday.”
Seeker freezes, and then drags his head up slightly to stare at him. “Don’t,” he chokes out immediately. The vise in his chest tightens mercilessly, and twists.
Relentless, Darius continues speaking. “Every day she prays for your soul, and your safe return,” he murmurs. His tone is soft with disbelief, and chiding. “And every day you disappoint her.” A lingering pause. “I thought you cared more than that.”
Darius turns away and slips from the room. The clang of the door as it closes mutes the strangled, animal-like cry that bursts from Seeker’s throat. His entire body strains desperately at his bindings for several moments, and then he sags, panting, and watches the blood that drips from his lowered face.
I’ll return from darkness and save your precious skin
I will end your suffering and let the healing light come in
Seeker slowly drifted up towards consciousness, and then came awake all at once. The realisation that he was not alone in his bed made his heart bound instinctively for his throat. But an instant later he remembered who it was, and he went limp with relief.
He turned his head. Farid was facing the wall and breathing deeply beside him. For all his teasing about the possibility of Seeker being a blanket hog, Farid was the one who had appropriated most of them. Again. Seeker made an unseen face in the dimness, and tugged at the blankets as gently as possible. After a minute’s work, they had yielded only slightly, and he gave up.
He shifted himself onto his side, and with a silent sigh he eased closer, until his body was molded against Farid’s back and behind and legs. He slipped his arm over the other man again, lightly, wanting to hold him more firmly but afraid to wake him. His fingers spread wide over Farid’s chest. For a few minutes, perhaps longer, he lost himself in the slow movement of his breathing, the steady, distant beat of his heart.
The ache came before he knew it was there, starting in his stomach and welling upward. Seeker’s breath trembled the dark hair that curved behind Farid’s ear and down his neck. His hold tightened a little in spite of his previous caution, and he pressed his lips to the other man’s shoulder.
Don’t forget me.
He closed his eyes tightly against the damp pain that rose behind them, and pulled his thoughts away from it. There would be plenty of time - definitely too much time - to dwell on that in the near future. For now, he would only focus on this. This quiet closeness.
His eyes fluttered wearily. He tucked his cheek against Farid’s shoulder, and closed them again. Much sooner than usual, he was asleep.
