Headstrong - Matthias and Capo
Matthias looked up at him with exhausted, miserable brown eyes, still trembling. Revenge. His stomach flipped and he felt sick again, this was different than killing at an order because he knew it was his job, this was his choice, and the man could live, he could live and kill someone else, some other manâs mother. He kept his eyes averted for the longest time, that reeling sense of uncertainty back. He deserved it. It was wrong. Doesnât she deserve to sleep well? It would put his crew at risk, if they knew, if thisâ
Didnât you love her?
The command struck something of the soldier in him, and unwillingly, he found his gaze traveling upwards again, meeting Capoâs. He didnât want to look at him, but naval training taught him to recognize authority, and even if he might have balked at what he said, he was too tired to disobey entirely.
âW-whyâŠw-why do you care,â he whispered, looking at him still, feeling small, in his shadow. The fire that had been in his eyes had extinguished briefly. He was very hurt and very alone. âIf allâŠif all you did was j-justâŠj-justâŠmeet h-her. Once. A long t-time ago.â He swallowed, hard, hanging his head.
âIfâŠif you t-tell meâŠIâll do it.â
There was reluctance in his Matthiasâ eyes as they met his own, calm and collected a stark contrast against the whirlpool of emotions swirling behind those deep brown eyes. At Matthiasâ question Capo paused, gathering his words before spoke. Firmly. The boy seemed to respond well to direction, or well enough that it caused him to stop hurting himself for the time being.
âIt may be hard for you to imagine, but I had a mother, once. I know what it is like to meet her killers. And I know what it is like to want them dead.â This part at least, was no lie. Heâd personally executed each and every one of the officials that had brought nothing but blood in his family, had done nothing except sever the tendons that held together his motherâs neck. He simply returned the favour two fold.
It was the soldier in him. The Navy, the one the conscience that told him that death was bearable only under command. But death lost its significance under orders, for then the man wouldnât be atoning for his sins but suffering for the whims of another. He shook his head at the boy, softness in his eyes. âI wonât tell you to do that. He is yours, not mine, to do with however you wish.â He longed to run the blade through Lucianaâs killer, but Matthias deserved the honour more.
He was her son after all.












