Hello, everyone! This is another one-shot I thought of that should come after Last Sacrifice. I felt really bad for Christian and was wondering how he must feel knowing what his aunt did. It surprised me that I had such an urge to write in his point of view- something's that's never happened before- so I couldn't say no. Oh, and by the way, I wrote this in the present tense.
Anyways, enjoy!
Christian's Point of View
If there's one thing I like about Belikov, it's that he doesn't hover.
He gives me my personal space and lets me be. At first, I wasn't sure how his being my guardian would work out. Turns out, things aren't so bad after all. For this part of my life anyways.
Sure, I sometimes notice Rose talking to him and whispering in his ear. I try not to imagine what extra things she's saying to him, besides for ordering him to look out for me. I want to go up to her and ask her edgily, "Why, Rose? Why would he need to look out for me? What for?" Then, reality sinks in. My traitorous family member, that's why.
A punch in the face- a mental one at least. The few physical punches I've received recently with all the events piling up, they were painful. But no matter how painful, nothing compares to the mental slap every time I hear the word traitor and Tasha Ozera in the same sentence. Every time I think those very words in the same sentence.
Sick. Disgusting. Repulsing.
Pretty much sums up my aunt's actions.
Now, back to Belikov. At the very least, he gives me room to think, though that isn't always such a good thing. However, on the other hand, it's much better than having to cover up all my tormented feelings with a snarky comment- which has to be well thought up of on my part. Can't ruin my charming reputation with a comment less than a little sarcastic.
You know, I used to think he was anti-social, and maybe that was partly it. But now I realize his quietness is a sign of his great maturity. And with everything he's gone through within the past very short little while, if his maturity hasn't grown that much more, then I don't know what to say. He probably understands how painful it is to talk and share torment with others, which is why he never asks me. Our silences are never even awkward either. My thoughts don't leave any room for awkwardness.
My thoughts confuse me. I'll never admit it to anyone. I even have a hard time admitting it to Lissa. She's already been through so much and has enough on her plate with Jill and her new reign of the throne. Why throw my messed up family into the bunch?
While Rose's new boyfriend- a thought I never would have suspected to have a few months ago- has been a good companion so far, part of me hates him. And Rose too. Why? Why? While they didn't intentionally do anything wrong, their whole relationship caused a part of this mess- even if very small. Yes, I may be of the family of two Strigoi-by-choice and one murderess who killed the queen and framed the whole entire act on my girlfriend's best friend, but I'm no idiot. I was the one there with Lissa at the frozen pond, skating, when Rose and Dimitri showed up. I was the one who witnessed how Aunt Tasha took an interest in Rose at the time, and also affection for Dimitri- Guardian Belikov- whatever. I was the one who saw my aunt's growing love for him the entire time. And yes, I also pieced together the reasons for Rose being the one framed. I repeat: I am no idiot.
I can't really blame Guardian Belikov and Rose; love just happens. Like that. Within the blink of an eye. No turning back.
And after I reason with myself repeatedly, every time, that I have no reason to blame the couple for Aunt Tasha's mistakes, I always find myself turning to option two to blame: Why, oh why, Rose, did you tell everyone it was my aunt? Why couldn't you have just taken the fall yourself? You've lived a fine eighteen years…
No, that's not fair of me. Again. Don't get me wrong; I like Rose and Belikov. What I don't like is seeing my aunt behind bars day after day. And if people think I need a personality change, well news flash: I've always needed a personality change. That's what makes me sarcastic, snarky, arrogant Christian Ozera.
The place where Aunt Tasha is locked away suddenly comes into view. This is my purpose for today; go there, talk to her, try to get answers to questions that have already been answered. Every day, I irrationally figure that by talking to her, maybe all those horrible answers to my questions will be erased- as easy as if we were doing a test, a new answer only an erase away.
The guardians instantly recognize me; I've been coming so often. Sad to say, I don't miss the taunt looks they give me as they let me in, as if to say, "We always knew your family was trouble. I bet that soon you'll be in here too." Only one guardian has a look of sympathy on his face and I want to laugh in his face. Does he know what it's been like for me to carry the pain and the accusations because of my parents' turning? Does he know what's it's been like for me to face everyone, knowing what they're all thinking, that I'm the nephew of a murderess? Yet, to him, a look of sympathy solves it all, pays for all misery I've dealt with over the past years.
I keep my anger masked, my face composed, and walk past them without a single word- something that takes great will power for me to do.
The prison is underground and as I walk down those stairs, I come face to face with dullness and white-grayish walls. There's a chill in the air, and not because a cold breeze got let in from the outside.
Downstairs, I pass cells and I am scared; not scared to be in a prison, but afraid to see her again. Afraid of the added misery and suffering that comes back with me from my visits.
Finally, I see her, and I'm chilled all over. My mouth dries. My palms sweat.
I already know I'm feeling bitter today and that I need to watch myself, but I don't care. I see my aunt, suffering alone in her misery with a grim expression on her face. My heart beats faster, and before I know it, words that I've kept inside of me for so long tumble out. I say bitterly, "What, Aunt Tasha? You still trying to help clear the family name after my parents wrecked it? You're doing a wonderful job, just like you always wanted to do."
A sad, sad look crosses her face, one much more upset than before. I regret my words and I know I should take them back, but I can't. I don't want to. I'd rather be snarky than compassionate and loving.
A full-fledged staring contest commences and a silence so unbearable surrounds us. I know I've hurt her, and she confirms this when she finally replies, "Christian, please don't. Please, Christian. I need you. You're all I have left."
Vulnerability. The most depressing thing. Seeing her like this reinforces the idea in my brain that I can't let myself become this. I can't let myself show others this. I refuse to be weak.
My hands wrap around the cold, metallic bars, and a shiver crosses through my body. "Well, unfortunately for you, this feeling- amongst others- won't last very long."
It takes her a moment to process this, but when it clicks, she cries out, "No, Christian. You can't believe that. Oh, not you too."
I shove pain back down my throat, not letting it surface. "Aunt Tasha, they were going to execute Rose, your friend, for supposedly murdering the queen. You've murdered and framed it on someone else. I'm sorry, but it doesn't look so good."
She ponders my words and actually seems surprised that I'm the one who says them- that I'm capable of saying them. "You know," she starts, "I used to like your bluntness. It always made you… you. I could count on you for honesty. Now? Now? I hate it. Everyone I love is abandoning me. My own nephew. Unbelievable. Even Dimka. He'd rather be with some teenager."
I know I said that sometimes I hate him, but hearing her talk about him like this makes me wish I could take back those thoughts. "Do not bring Dimitri into this. You came so close to taking away the one person who means the most to him. And that person is not you."
My aunt starts to cry. Just what I need: pain, misery and guilt. I probably should've kept my mouth shut. That's what I've done on previous days, and it's worked out a lot better for me.
I can't be here anymore. I can't look at her for one more minute. I don't want to let out any more emotion. I've had enough for one day. I just need to be in the comfort and safety of Lissa's arms.
I look at her unblinkingly for half a minute and walk away without saying another word.
"Christian!" she calls out. "Christian, come back! Don't leave me here alone like this!" I hear her banging on the bars, trying to break free. I know that'll never happen. She's a prisoner of her own suffering.
I gasp for air the whole way up the flight of stairs. I need oxygen. Real oxygen. Oxygen that hasn't been spoiled with pain.
I cough loudly as I exit the building. It almost sounds like I'm choking. I'm gasping so much it takes me a moment to realize I'm not alone; I have an audience. And it's not the guardians, who are now inside the building, close to the stairs.
Rose. Not the person I want to see right now. She stands right by the doors to the inside of that horrible place, and then she paces towards me.
I don't want her to see me like this. I usually have a sarcastic comment for her. I need to think up one now. Quickly, before she notices my pain.
"What are you doing here, Rose?" I ask, truly curious. "You miss this place so badly that you're waiting in line for registration to start so you can go back in there?" This cracks a small smile from her, which then turns into a teasing glare.
"Oh, Christian, you know what the best part is of you and I having two very similar personalities?" she responds jokingly, yet with a serious note in her voice.
"We clash?" I smirk.
"To you, that's the best part?" she inquires dryly.
"Well, I can't think of anything better," I say. Now, I'm genuinely smiling.
She answers sarcastically, "I'm glad you think so highly of our, uh, 'friendship.'" She rolls her eyes and shakes her head in pretend exasperation.
"Uh-huh. Now, Rose, not that I don't love making small chat and practicing my wit with you, but could you please just get to the point of the topic of conversation?" I cross my arms over my chest.
"Fine, fine. I think we both need to work on patience. Look, I hate to admit this, but I think now is the right time. What I'm trying to say is, having a similar personality to yours, I know when you're trying to cover up the pain by acting all tough. But I see right through it. By this point, I think everyone does." The honesty in her answer makes me want to drown myself. I wish what she's saying isn't true, but unfortunately I believe her.
"You don't understand-"
"I think I do. Not so long ago, I was in there myself. And I don't want you to hate me or feel like I'm the one who put her there," she explains calmly. "You're my friend, and I want you to be happy."
I feel like yelling at her and telling her that yes, it is her fault. But I know that isn't true. I can't be angry with her. This isn't her fault. I just need to breathe.
I let out a long breath before replying. "It's just so hard, you know? I know she deserves to be in there. After murdering the queen, and even framing you. It just hurts to think that she's capable of doing something so horrible. My own blood." I taste salt in my mouth. I didn't even realize I'm crying until now. It has to stop. It has to stop. I can't help it though. I need to continue. I need to let this out. Even though it hurts, at the same time, it feels too good. It's a feeling I don't usually have nor really recognize. "You know what the worst part is?" I whisper, convinced talking is the right thing.
She shakes her head. "What's the worst part?" she whispers back.
I swallow; bite down on my lower lip. "The worst part is… okay, I know my parents chose to turn by choice. But take away that fact just for now. Take away the fact that they wanted to turn and look at their actions now. They're monsters. They kill innocent lives. But… the actions they now do, they can't control. Their actions come along with being Strigoi. As for my aunt, her actions… she had complete control over her soul and mind when she did them. She knew right from wrong, that no matter how angry she was at the queen- and even at you- that they were wrong."
A tremble goes through Rose's body. She puts a hand on my shoulder and doesn't say anything. She seems shocked by my words. I decide to continue, to let everything off my chest. "You know what my worst fear is, Rose?" We're making direct eye contact now.
Once again, she shakes her head no. Her eyes oblige me to continue. "My worst fear," I begin, "is that maybe what everyone says is true. Maybe my family is trouble. Maybe, just maybe, something's wrong with us, something that runs in our blood. And maybe, I'll be the same one day too. The same as them. Causing harm to everyone who surrounds me."
Rose's breathing hitches. A tear rolls down her cheek. Her hand squeezes more firmly on my shoulder. She says, "No, Christian. No. That won't be you. You won't be the same. You're not the same."
"How do you know that?" I demand. "Who really knows, Rose?"
"I know because I know you. Out of all of us, you're one of the least likely because you've been through so much with your family. Not to say we all haven't been through so much; we all have our own life stories. But you, you know based on your family's choices what you want and don't want to become. I watched you as you walked all the way here. I saw the tortured look on your face. Trust me; it won't happen to you."
I'm surprised that she's so confident and reassured. I wish I could carry that same confidence. Confidence in me. How could she have more confidence in me than I do? Something to think about.
Suddenly, another thought interrupts my present ones. "Wait a minute. You followed me here?" I'm bewildered.
She looks at me with an are-you-serious look, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "No. I just decided to wander the grounds, and this place popped up in my head as one of my most wonderful memories that I just had to come back."
Her comment makes me laugh and roll my eyes. I feel much, much better. This is just what I need: to laugh and joke around with a friend. I can't help myself, so I say, "Oh, Rose. You always need to have the last word, don't you?"
There you have it: Christian's feelings. It felt really good to write this. For some reason, I've always liked Christian, but I've never thought much about him. Then, I decided that I really wanted to write in his character about how he's dealing with the whole Tasha situation. Writing this made me like Christian a whole lot better and gave me a whole new perspective of his outlook on life. Perhaps I shouldn't be saying that because I could have completely written him out of character, but that is for you to decide. Please let me know if I stayed in character and if this was any good. So... REVIEW PLEASE! :)