GOD DARNIT
WHY CAN'T I WRITE FICS WITH ACTUAL PLOT
WHY IS MY FIRST FIC FOR THIS FANDOM A SHIP FIC I'M NOT EVEN THAT MUCH OF A SHIPPER I'M A MULTISHIPPER AAAA
but anyways
hi
my name is Cay or Song and I love this fandom and this is the only fic I'm proud enough of to post here
please talk to me
And Therion wonders, sometimes, if silver-tongued words and sweet nothings is Cyrus Albright's way of ensnaring him, of ensuring that Therion stays so entangled with affection for him that it will break him into insanity if Cyrus ever decides to leave him.
Because Therion loves him, doesn't he? Even though he hates to admit it, even though he might never say it to his face, Therion loves him. He loves the way he talks, the way he brightens with delight whenever he can gather any tidbit of knowledge, loves the bright blue eyes and the dramatic gestures and the never ending courage and spirit of adventure and the kindness when he tells Tressa a story or compliments Primrose or studies anyone he speaks to. Therion finds, each day, that there is not a single part of Cyrus Albright he hates, not a single bit of him he has yet to fall in love with, and that scares him a little, but it intrigues him, and Therion's always known that once something interests him he's a goner. Ravus Manor interested him, Darius interested him, and neither of those turned out well, did they?
Except where Darius was cold and unforgiving and Ravus Manor tricked him at every turn, where Cyrus is there is only warmth and understanding, and maybe it is a mistake, a terrible, unbroken habit, but Therion lets Cyrus Albright whisper in his ear, he tells him things he shouldn't have, he lets the professor see a side of him he shouldn't have, and he is sure it is an illusion, but Cyrus is the only one who has ever seen Therion for him and what he feels and wants and cares for, rather than what he can do, and Therion can't get enough of the feeling that maybe, just maybe, someone cares, maybe someone genuinely loves him and wants to know him, and even if he doesn't deserve it- no, even though he knows he doesn't deserve it, he can't stay away from the source of it all. He can't stay away from Cyrus Albright, Royal Professor and scholar of Atlasdam, no matter how much he tries.
And Therion realizes, day after day, that he is incapable of leaving, that Therion can't live anymore without seeing the professor smile or hearing those silver-tongued words and sweet nothings he says without even realizing, that there is an empty hole in his chest that he has somehow filled simply by existing, that if Cyrus is truly trying to break him further then step one of his plan has succeeded.
And Therion realizes that he will only be able to distance from his need for Cyrus Albright if he asks, because now a piece of him lives in Atlasdam with the blue-eyed, bright-spirited teacher, and it won't leave no matter how he tugs on it.
And Therion realizes he'll only be able to let go of him if Cyrus asks him to go, and each day he wakes up and Cyrus has not asked him.
And this is the miracle he lives with, every single day.
And Cyrus wonders, sometimes, if he's being too needy, if the harsh personality and the furious strength with which Therion pushes others away is because of him- because he's too touch-starved, too invasive, because he seeks not to survive around Therion but to know him, and he wonders if Therion hates that, if he's been too confusing and spoken too strangely and scrutinized too often for the thief to ever care about Cyrus the way Cyrus loves him.
Because Cyrus does love him, he loves the graceful fingers, the light touch, the imprint he makes on the world, barely there and yet the streets seem empty without the familiar violet scarf. Cyrus loves the quiet determination with which Therion moves, the tiny kindnesses- mending Alfyn's satchel, catching the wrist of a catcaller, finding treats for Linde, dropping coins in Tressa's pack- Cyrus loves the small things, the habits Therion ends up with when he thinks Cyrus isn't looking. Cyrus sees Therion underneath the distrust and the fear and the anger, and he's never wanted to know a person more than he wants to know the so-called master thief who quietly makes his way through the world, and it's a terrible thing to want, but Cyrus wants to be the one Therion trusts, he wants to be Therion's confidante and friend, he wants more than anything to be the one Therion loves, to be secure in his knowledge that the thief won't forget him, won't suddenly stand up and say I'm done pretending I even like you, I hate you, leave me alone, I wish you'd never existed. Because even though Cyrus doesn't deserve his affection, doesn't deserve the attention of someone too good and too strong for this world, Cyrus can't bear a world where he'd never met Therion. This man makes him want to be better, want to be a stronger person, if only for him, only because of him.
And he realizes, day after day, that he can't let Therion go, that he is incapable of walking these roads alone without Therion to guide his hands. And Cyrus realizes that his heart, his obstinate, stubborn, melodramatic heart won't stop drifting his thoughts in Therion's direction, his heart will only accept that the thief does not return his affections if Therion leaves, if one day he walks outside to find him gone without a trace, because that's how Therion lives his life, isn't it? Drifting from place to place, from town to town, from person to person, like he found himself in Bolderfall and left just as quickly, and Cyrus and is sure to be only one in a long line of many.
And yet Cyrus wakes up each time only to find that Therion remains by his side. That he has not left. Cyrus wakes up only to find that when he asks Therion how long he'll be staying Therion rolls his eyes and says he might be staying for a while, and he will not leave.
And this is the miracle he lives with, every single day.