and you won't look back, a pendragon fanfic

In a Pendragon mood. No, strike that, in a Nevva mood.

Nevva Winter and the two men who didn't love her back.

Disclaimer: I don't own. Title borrowed from Your Ex Lover is Dead by the Stars.

and you won't look back

"Hello, Nevva," he says softly, "My name is Saint Dane."

You know right then and there that you'll follow him to the end of the world.

Press Tilton is a lot of things. Kind, moderately handsome, mild, powerful, polarizing. He is not, however, Saint Dane. He tells you the same story Saint Dane did two years ago, when you were younger and more innocent, but from a different, lighter perspective and part of you, a very small, miniscule, insolent part of you, wishes you could have heard Press's more romantic view of the people of Halla before Saint Dane's distorted, angry one. But it was too late the second you met the other one and later, when he comes into your bedroom and looks at you so intensely, you melt under his stare.

Besides, Press didn't tell you the whole truth. He left out Solara, you know he's never been honest with the other Travelers, and this is how you justify yourself.

"You did well today, Nevva," he says and touches your cheek. He never does more than this and somehow, for reasons that even you don't understand, you make yourself live with that.

Halla, as you've learned, is just as susceptible to a proud man with a handsome face as any woman. When Bobby Pendragon begins his campaign against Saint Dane's movement, they fall in line behind him like the mindless fools they are.

But still, you can't ignore the pull you feel towards him when you meet him. Traitorous creature that you are, you can't risk getting too close to him in your role as spy. Because you know, consciously and instinctively, that if you get too close, your resolve might weaken.

One night, just before he's due to play in the games, the two of you meet—by chance, you tell yourself—in the garden. He smiles at you, running his fingers through his hair, and sinks onto a nearby bench.

"Have you ever thought," he begins without a greeting, "that maybe you went wrong somewhere? That maybe, had you paused for a moment and used reason, things would have turned out better?"

This is how you know you're weak: you sit down next to him; you put your hand in his and don't pull away when he tightens his grip. "Every day," you say honestly and he looks at you with so much kinship or whatever and he cannot possibly understand.

"How do you deal with it?" he asks softly and his eyes—they're brown, but they are the same as Saint Dane's—are desperate.

Now is not the time for confessions. You swallow, "I don't."

He looks away and wraps an arm around your shoulder.

"I'm sorry I let it get so far," he whispers.

After you betray him, the fury in Bobby's eyes almost crushes you.

And later, behind closed doors, Saint Dane pushes you up against a wall and kisses you.

You close your eyes and pretend that it's real.

But you know, underneath it all, that he can sense your loyalty is weakening.

He, Saint Dane, begins to test you.

It starts on Ibara. He asks you to be Bobby's friend, to make yourself a girl he could love.

The acting's easy. The life's not.

He trusts you from the beginning. From the moment you find him, covered in quig-stings and in a state of complete unawareness, it's like he gives himself over to you, drops his guard, whatever. You take it shamelessly and for that short period of time, part of you can pretend that he cares, not about Telleo, but about you.

Bobby disappoints you. He cuts off Ibara from Halla and it's like the fire leaves him so abruptly, the only explanation is that he's been caught in some kind of downpour.

The worst part? The poor boy thinks he's ended it. He thinks that, by blowing up the flume, he's put a stop to Saint Dane. And the demon laughs—its ugly, that laughter—and laughs and makes the flighters dig up half a city.

For the first time, you hate yourself for feeling anything for either of them. Because in a lot of ways, they're both pathetic.

Saint Dane tells you to make Bobby fall in love with you. A gift, you suppose, but the way he looks at you right afterwards tells you that he suspects. He kisses you again, leaves bruises on your arms, and it's almost as if he's trying to prove a point.

That point's driven home when, because you want it, not because Saint Dane asked you to, you try to kiss Bobby and he turns away. Not even Telleo can change the fact that he'll never feel for you what you feel for him. And Saint Dane? The triumph on his face when you report to him only proves that the same is true in his case.

But still, he touches you. He kisses you with passion.

And that's more than Bobby will ever give.

You knew it couldn't last forever, but still, Bobby shocks you with how quickly he catches on.

It's that Loque kid's fault, the brat, and how he had survived what had happened in Rubic City would forever elude you. In a final act of desperation, on Saint Dane's orders, you reveal yourself to him.

And never, not even from Saint Dane, have you seen such an utterly disgusted look in someone's eyes.

You're sent to Second Earth.

Being Haig is simple; partly because these people are so easily swayed and mostly because you don't have to face Bobby. As Alexander, your imbecile partner in crime, is building up his perfect world, you rise up against him. And for a while there, it almost feels real.

Inevitably, though, two days before the Bronx Massacre is set to occur, Bobby Pendragon finds his way to your doorstep.

He's got the knight from Denduron, Alder, with him. They seem to be shell shocked, but you can't really blame them. They tell you all about what happened in the conclave and the absolute fury in Bobby's eyes tells you that it's happened. He's finally lost Mark and Courtney.

He's ten seconds away from snapping.

You offer your help and wish it's real.

They think it's brilliant, what you're going to do in Yankee Stadium. They don't recognize that the conclave was only a fluke, that Alexander's got them fooled. Part of you wants to drop a hint, part of you wants to turn around and run. You're in too deep.

Bobby's snoring next door and Saint Dane's in your bedroom. He pushes you backwards onto the mattress and there's too many things wrong with this to count. But somehow, despite everything, you find you still want this.

There's nothing loving about it, but it feels almost natural.

The next day, you don't speak to Bobby before you leave because you're fairly sure you'll scream. But you can tell, when he comes running out of your townhouse and tries to chase the SUV you're in, that he's figured it out.

When he finds you in the stadium, he's panicking. You behave as if everything's alright and then, when he points Saint Dane out to you, you finally understand the truth.

They don't care about anyone else. Not fully. They're too obsessed with the other, too in tune with the other, too aware of the other.

And they won't be satisfied until they destroy each other and everyone else around them turns into collateral damage. Including you.

Especially you.

It happens in the helicopter. You're standing there, as yourself, and Saint Dane is laughing again and Bobby's going to kill Alexander. At first, you don't think he can do it. Then you see those eyes.

He's not joking.

And then you start screaming.

It's like everything that's happened, everything you've destroyed, everyone you've killed, has been leading up to this moment. That, in a real prospective, nothing else matters, nothing can compare to the power of this decision. And somehow, you just know that if Bobby kills Alexander Naymeer, Halla will die with him.

Bobby's shaking, Saint Dane's egging him on, Alexander's sobbing, and you're begging. The flume's still open beneath you and, as hard as the helicopter's fighting, you get the feeling it's going to lose. You don't really mind the idea.

Bobby shouts at you, tells you to stay out of it. Saint Dane smirks and tells you to listen. You can't help it, you start to cry too, just as hard as the old man Bobby's holding over the edge.

You watch, tears flowing, as Alexander is pushed and then—it's so dragged out—as he falls. Saint Dane lets out a shout of triumph and all you can see is the stricken look on Bobby's face.

You've known all along you would die for one of them.

It's then you decide which.

You stand, silent, at Saint Dane's side and listen as he announces you as the new, chosen leader of Ravinia. You swallow back bile as he smiles at you and wonder, furiously, how you ever could have fallen in love with him. Then you stand up and promise the group of pompous fools gathered before you a small bit of eternity.

Saint Dane is holding your hand.

Bobby Pendragon is holding your heart.

Um. Well, the ending was crap (such is my life) and it was super choppy in general. But, I dunno, I feel like this suits Nevva. I love her by the way (is that weird?), I think she's wonderfully conflicted and her actions are complex. So I wanted to write about her and this was what came out. I know I didn't go into detail about the events of the books, mostly because I was focused on Nevva's emotions and it felt like they didn't matter and partly because I don't have access to the books right now.

And, to explain her feelings, I've always been of the opinion that she was in love with Saint Dane. Like, she's smart, she's not completely irrational, and it was obvious that she saw good in people and didn't entirely agree with Saint Dane. But love clouds even the most level headed person and she, after whatever meeting they had and whatever relationship he formed with her, just couldn't help it.

As for Bobby. I dunno. The fic came to me and I wrote it. I typically don't question my inspiration.

So, read and review. Thanks.