A/N: And finally our favorite Sun God is introduced at last in this chapter. Technically he was in the beginning of Madellaine's chapter when she first arrived to ND, but this chapter truly explores his thoughts and feelings on the events, especially dealing with the loss of Esmeralda.
Once again, Phoebus had somehow managed to lose track of his eight-year-old son. "Goddamn, Zeph," the captain of the cathedral guard muttered under his breath, stumbling to catch himself. "You've gone and fucking disappeared, again. Second time in a day." Once again, Phoebus had lost his son.
Phoebus knew of no other way to rid himself of his pain of losing his wife than to drown himself in ale and temporarily forget his troubles. He had no other way.
Drinking's the only way I can get through it. Phoebus stifled a groan, catching sight of his reflection in a mirror in a shop window. He knew what he looked like. The captain was tall and intimidating at thirty-seven. His thick blond fell to his shoulders, although now it was pulled up into a loose bun to keep out of his way. There was a scar from a knife wound, its edges thick and jagged on his right cheek. Frollo's handiwork, he thought bitterly. The captain hadn't walked away from the attempted siege of the cathedral unscathed. I'll have this for life. His goatee was normally kept trimmed close and clean. Running a hand over his stubble, he winced, knowing he'd need to shave soon. It's getting out of hand, he mused. Right now though, the only thing that matters to me is finding my son. Zephyr, where the hell have you gone now?
Phoebus staggered and he had to catch himself. The circles under his eyes were dark were pronounced from lack of sleep. He hadn't been sleeping much these last few nights, thanks to his night terrors. He kept seeing her. La Esmeralda, he thought, his heart aching for his wife. A full eight years after her passing and his mourning had still not yet run its course. The heaviness was in his limbs as much his mind. Things he used to find funny now only deepened his pain.
She should have been here with me, to laugh with me, or at me, or just be near me.
All that remained of his wife was a gravestone bearing her name and her cold bones beneath the soil. He put all his faith into God to care for Esmeralda and reunite them when his time came. Nothing and nobody as good and kind as she was could simply disappear. His Esmeralda was waiting for him, and he could feel it.
Haunted by her beautiful green eyes, her long black hair flowing around her dancer's body as she moved to the rhythm of the music in his dreams. He loved the curves of her softness. The way her black hair cascaded in natural curls down her back. The way her red chiffon skirt had the slit off to the side, when she danced, how it revealed her slender legs, much to his pleasant surprise. The way her purple bodice emphasized her perfect breasts, her wonderful form. She was beautiful, the only woman for him. As much as the captain had admired her body, how she really was the finest girl in all of France, it was her eyes he had been drawn to the most. Her eyes were the glimmering color of emerald, sparkling in the light of the morning sun like a fresh sheen of morning dew. When she turned her head, they caught the light and played tricks with anything and everything that screamed 'spring.' And when she lifted her face to the sky, emerald shifted into the color of the deep ocean shimmering in the moonlight.
The captain almost fell again. He swore under his breath, hoping to find his son soon. The fog loomed as far as he could see, it shrouded everything in a thick white veil, the light barely managing to penetrate the sounds of the people that should have otherwise been filling the marketplace had disappeared, the place was deserted. The fog swallowed even the captain's footsteps. He squinted through the heavy fog, hoping to spot Zephyr, but nothing.
Something's wrong, you know it. His intuition was buzzing like a hive of bees. He couldn't shake the feeling. Something's not right. As if to confirm his suspicion, he shouted as he felt something grab onto his leg. Glancing down, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was only his son. "Zephyr, where were you?" he demanded, stooping down and picking up his son. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, don't wander too far! I don't want to lose you!"
To the boy's credit, he genuinely looked distressed. "I'm sorry, Papa, but you have to go," he muttered, his tone urgent and panicked as he tugged on his father's shirt sleeve. "There's a lady, she needs your help."
Phoebus frowned. He took a closer look at his son's face and his heart sank to his stomach. Whatever his son had witnessed, it had aged him five years. His normally playful eyes were haunted, deep lines on his face. Good God, he thought, panicked. What did you see?
"There's a lady by the baker's, she needs your help."
"What—I don't…" but he trailed off as Zephyr insisted.
"Go! I think she's hurt," he muttered, tears welling in his eyes.
"Son," Phoebus ordered sternly as he set his son down and felt his hand drift to his sword. "I want you to go home and stay there. Don't open the door for anyone but me, you understand? No matter what happens, you stay put."
The eight-year-old nodded. Then as quickly as he had arrived, he was gone, leaving his father alone to marvel at the speed in which his son moved. He's like me, he thought. In every way. Except for his eyes. He has her eyes. This damn fog is getting to be a pain in the ass, Phoebus thought, a low growl in the back of his throat. The mist obstructed his vision, making it difficult for him to see. The captain could hardly see five feet in front of him as the fog stroked his face, its embrace cold and looming. Whoever this woman was, he didn't see her. And then he did, and he wished that he hadn't. "Oh, no," he moaned, finally recognizing her the closer he got. He'd assumed on the jog over to the baker's that this woman, whoever she was, was some tavern wench merely passed out after a raucous night of drinking.
How I wish that were the case. Not you… His heart shattered as he recognized the young blonde, the one who'd claimed sanctuary in Notre Dame over the last few weeks, the one who'd dared to kick Frederic's ass. He stifled a small smile as he still recollected Frederic's broken nose. The captain had wormed the confession out of the young lieutenant and hadn't been surprised to hear his soldier had attempted to accost the young woman.
This one can handle her own, he thought, which made seeing her like this even more painful for him. The young blonde was huddled against the wall of the baker's shop, distraught and beside herself as she sobbed. She'd buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she cried. The blonde had been brutally attacked and left for dead. Phoebus knelt to tend to her, reaching out a hand to touch her hair, but hesitated. You don't know how she'll react, his voice warned. The woman was a right mess. There was a knot of congealed blood in her blonde hair, as though someone had taken her head and repeatedly bashed it into the ground. There was a black and purple bruise developing underneath her eye and her mouth was dripping blood, enough to where every so often she'd have to turn to the side to spit some of it out. Her neck was bruised and covered in marks, as though whoever had done this to the poor thing had tried to strangle her. Her feet were bloodied and bare, someone had stolen her shoes, no doubt. "My God," he muttered darkly, disgusted. "Milady, who did this to you? Did you see what way he went? Tell me!"
Madellaine lifted her head to look Phoebus in the eyes, and he almost couldn't bear to meet her gaze. Such heartbreak in your eyes. Who did this? Tell me. Phoebus could tell immediately that she'd been raped. Her symptoms were there, all of them. And he could smell it. The thick scent of sweat and semen was unmistakable. He cringed, hoping whoever had done it was nearby so he could kill the bastard and gut the man. No, his voice commanded. Whoever did this to her is no man. Whoever did this is a monster. What kind of man beats and rapes a woman? Phoebus gently laid a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched and jerked away from his tender touch. "Easy," he murmured soothingly, raising both his hands in surrender.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted, adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Stay away from me! I swear—"
"I'm not going to hurt you, honey, what happened to you? What's your name? You need medical attention now."
The woman broke down in tears and couldn't answer him. She lifted her hands to stare at them, covered in warm, fresh blood. Her own, he thought wildly. She either couldn't or wouldn't meet his gaze. She's in shock; he rationalized, realizing he'd have to get her back to Notre Dame. Oh, damn it, he realized, the briefest flickers of fear jolting through his body. She's seeing the bell ringer, isn't she? What is he going to do when he sees his woman like this? Hell, why me?
"Who did this to you, what's his name?" he urged kindly, doing his best to quell his rage at the type of man who would beat and rape a woman and leave her alone.
"I—I can't," she choked out, grabbing onto his arm as he helped her to stand, one hand hovering near her waist, ready to catch her if she fainted. "I'm sorry," she wept.
"No, no, honey, you don't apologize," he soothed. "Can you stand? Are you able to walk? Let's—let's get you home, love. You need medical attention and I cannot give it to you. Where's home for you, sweetheart? Talk to me." If whoever did this to her is watching, I'll kill him.
"I can…I can get there myself," she cried, but she stumbled and would have fallen had Phoebus not caught her. "Don't touch me, please. I can—I can do it myself."
"Honey, you can barely walk!" he protested, gently lifting her in his arms. "If you'd let me carry you, I can—"
Madellaine opened her mouth to protest, but being too weak to argue, all she could do was a nod and relent, giving in, at last, her head leaning into Phoebus's chest.
"Easy, love," he soothed. "You'll be okay. I'm going to take you home. Your name, tell me your name. You have to stay awake, don't you go to sleep on me now, honey."
Phoebus noticed her eyes had closed. Keep her awake. He snapped his fingers in front of her face, shifting the woman slightly in his arms in order to do so. No response. "Fuck," he muttered darkly through gritted teeth. As he walked, he was careful to be gentle as he held her, hoping and praying to God she didn't have any broken bones. "You're going to be okay," he whispered, saying it to himself as much as to comfort her. "I'm taking you home."
The woman let out a tiny groan as she drifted in and out of consciousness, her gaze blearily focused on the captain, just barely staying awake. "My name…"
"Yes, love, your name. Tell me your name."
"Madellaine," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"That's great, you have a beautiful name," he said gently, wincing as Notre Dame came into view and the silhouettes of the young priest close to his age and Notre Dame's bell ringer came into better focus the closer he got. Damn it, he thought, growing panicked. This looks bad. He cringed as he gingerly set the blonde down. She staggered a few feet away from Phoebus and would have fallen had Quasi not rushed to catch her as the last of her strength gave out. How the hell she's still alive is a damn miracle.
"What happened?" Notre Dame's bell ringer demanded harshly, his anger not directed at her. The bell ringer gently held her on the steps. He reached up and gingerly touched the matted clump of dried blood in the blonde's hair and a muscle in his jaw twitched at seeing her like this, in a state near death. "Who did this to you?"
"I need to go!" she wailed, struggling to stand up. "It's not…safe for me to be around any of you anymore," she cried, not bothering to stop her tears from flowing.
"That's not happening," growled Darius, his blue eyes turning glacier cold as he assessed her condition carefully.
Madellaine burst into tears and buried her head in her hands, not wanting to look at any of them. What have I done? she thought, hating her life. I should be dead.
"I've got you," whispered Quasi soothingly as he held her in his arms, whispering something into her ear that only she could hear. Whatever he said caused her to burst into tears, almost hysterical. "Shh. I've got you. You're...you're safe, Madellaine. I...I promise. You need to stay sitting," he commanded, his voice gentle, although Phoebus recognized that look in his eyes. "You're going to be fine," he reassured her; although his voice cracked and he swallowed hard, fighting back his own tears at seeing her like this. "I—I've got you. I promise you're safe now."
He's losing it, Phoebus thought, alarmed. Oh, hell…
"No, I'm not!" she shouted, breaking down into tears, her shoulders were shaking with sobs. "He said—he said he'd kill you if I didn't let him…" She stood with some difficulty and drew in deep, gasping breaths for air that simply wasn't there. Madellaine clutched Quasi's arm tightly and made for the large oak doors of the prayer.
"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded angrily.
"Going inside," she gasped through her tears, clutching her side, wincing in pain every few steps.
"You can barely stand up!" he croaked hoarsely. "I'm not letting you go," he said quietly, hoping his voice was calm, although his entire body shook with rage at whoever did this to her. Surely it wasn't Phoebus, he thought darkly. If that son of a bitch did this to you, I'll kill him.
"You have to," she whispered desperately. "I can't go on living this way! It's not—it's not safe for me here anymore, I won't put your lives in danger anymore," she sobbed, reaching instinctively for the bell ringer as she collapsed on the steps. He caught her and sat with her, cushioning the worst of her fall. He held her in his arms and stroked her hair, whispering soothing remarks in her ear, desperately wishing he could take away her pain.
"I'm not letting you go," he whispered. "You're safe." She could only cry, her tears coming hard and intense.
"Jesus Christ, kid, I've never seen anything like this, Quasi, she needs medical attention NOW!" roared Alice, her face white with shock at having come out to investigate.
"JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE!" he shouted, having eyes only for Madellaine. "FOR GOD'S SAKE, ALICE!" He sighed, taking a deep breath to control his temper. "Please," he said quietly, his voice cracking. He couldn't bear to see the heartbreak in her eyes and her broken body. "You're okay, you're okay," he whispered into her ear, holding her from behind as they sat on the steps. "I've got you," he reassured, blinking back his tears. "What happened to you? Who did this to you, Madellaine?"
Madellaine could only cry. She sobbed into his chest unceasingly, her fingers desperately clinging to his shirt. He held her silently, rocking her gently as her tears soaked his chest. Her pain came in waves, the ebb and flow of her pain never ceasing, broken apart by short pauses just long enough for her to recover to catch her breath, only for her to be hurled back into the outstretched waiting arms of her grief. She was its slave, at its mercy and its whims.
Who the hell did this to her? He hoped his eyes were playing a trick on him, that this was all some sort of horrible hallucination, it hadn't happened, and he was imagining it. But one look at Darius and Phoebus was more than enough. It was definitely real, what had happened to her was unforgivable, and whoever did this; he was going to kill them. Quasi leaned his forehead against hers, closing his eyes, wishing he could be a vessel for her pain and take it. His heartbreak felt cold, chilling his insides. The desolation he felt was all-consuming, every last inch of it. He'd known that to open his heart again and to love another deeply was to risk great pain, but this…There was no word to describe this. This was too much. I should have been there. I should have protected you. I should have gone with you, Madellaine. Why didn't I? Madellaine broke down, her spirit shattered as the walls in her heart collapsed and she became hollow, her life crumbling in her fingertips, which still bore traces of her own blood. The blood had dried and stained her palms. "What happened?" he whispered, needing the truth.
"She was raped," Phoebus answered darkly. "I—" But the captain didn't get to finish his sentence as the bell ringer let out a primal scream that Phoebus knew would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life.
"Hey, what—get back here!" roared Darius, but he wasn't fast enough to stop his brother from bolting off the steps. The priest hesitated as he knelt to tend to Madellaine, now even more distraught as the bell ringer left the steps. "Phoebus!" the priest bellowed, fighting against Madellaine as she struggled against Darius's hold, wanting to follow Quasi and stopping him going after Jehan, snapping the captain out of his momentary lapse in judgment. "I could use a little help here!" Darius shouted. "Don't let him leave! Get him back here!" Sophia had emerged from inside the cathedral, to see what the chaos was, and immediately rushed to Darius's side to help him hold back Madellaine.
"Stop fighting, honey," she soothed, encouraging Madellaine gently. "We won't hurt you, you're safe!" She let out a startled shout as Madellaine accidentally jabbed her in the stomach, sending her sprawling backward. "We can't let you do this!" Sophia said desperately, her gaze flitting back and forth between Darius and Madellaine. "Trust us!"
Phoebus jolted out of his thoughts and grabbed Quasi by his arm, wrenching his arms behind his back and holding him in a vice grip.
"We can't let you do this," he growled through gritted teeth, letting out a grunt as he fought the bell ringer. The man was stronger than he gave him credit for. Those years up in the tower haven't been wasted; Phoebus thought bitterly as the captain did his best to restrain Quasi and was failing miserably. He's too strong.
"I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!" Quasi roared, his normally kind brown eyes darkening, almost black in color, he was so upset.
"No," snapped Phoebus, feeling his own temper swell to the surface as he continued fighting the bell ringer. "Not until you calm down. I can't let you do this, Quasi."
"PHOEBUS!" he roared, breaking free from the captain's vice grip and drawing his fist back and punching the captain in the nose. "I'M GOING TO KILL HIM! STAND IN MY WAY; YOU WON'T LIKE WHAT HAPPENS TO YOU! I'M WARNING YOU! I'VE REACHED MY LIMIT. I WON'T LET HER GET HURT AGAIN!" he shouted, absolutely livid with rage.
Phoebus staggered back, clutching his nose. Crimson blood gushed from his nose and over his fingertips. That's a broken nose at least, he thought darkly. Wiping his nose with the back of his tunic sleeve, he winced as his nose burned and screamed for relief. Definitely broken. He doesn't know his own strength!
"No! Stop this!" screamed Madellaine, still fighting against Darius with wild intensity, almost rabid. "Let go of me, Darius! I-I can't let him do this, you don't know him I like do! He'll kill him!" The sound of her cries caused the bell ringer to stop struggling against Phoebus. He let out a shout of rage and wrenched Phoebus's arm off his, running a hand through his shock of red hair to calm the worst of his temper.
The last of Madellaine's strength gave out and she felt her legs begin to give out. Were it not for Darius supporting her, she would have fallen. "Come on, love," the priest whispered soothingly. "Let's get you inside. Alice needs to have a look at you," he urged gently. "Lena…"
But Madellaine wasn't listening to Darius. She had eyes only for Quasi, and the heartbreak in his eyes was too much for her to bear. She broke free of Darius and stumbled to the bell ringer, collapsing into his arms, her fingers weakly clutching at his tunic sleeve. "I can't let you do this," she sobbed. "Don't go!"
"Are you listening to yourself?" he demanded, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he returned the embrace tightly, not wanting to let her go. I never should have let you go alone, he thought, despairing as he looked into his love's eyes.
"If you go against him, you'll die," she said numbly, the light in her gray eyes dimming to a dull ember.
"I can't let him get away with this, Madellaine!" he shouted angrily. "He has to be stopped, I can't…" Quasi turned away sharply for a moment to compose himself.
"Let him go," she urged. "He isn't worth your life."
"But you are," he protested, his voice cracking. He sighed, the worst of his temper evaporating. He swallowed and fought back his tears. "I can't…I can't lose you."
Madellaine blinked back briny tears and reached up to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Stay," she pleaded. "Don't leave me," she begged, desperation in her voice, resting her forehead against his. "I need you with me."
"I'm not leaving you alone ever again," he promised thickly, anger laced in his voice. Quasi glanced at Darius, whose expression was fuming as he glared at him. He knew what their priest was thinking. I should have gone with her, and Darius blames me for her condition. He's right. I did this to her... "I should have gone with you," he muttered, not bothering to stop his tears, pulling her close and resting his head on top of hers. He pulled apart slightly to look at her. "I offered to go with you, and you refused. Why?"
Darius shot him a warning look, seething and full of anger, but not at him. At Madellaine's situation, and Quasi knew with just a single icy blue look from him that Darius blamed him for her condition, thinking that they both should have gone with her to the marketplace, or she wouldn't be in her current state. "Quasi, I think this conversation can wait until later," he called out, his tone cautious. "She's been through enough today, don't you think? Let it go, for now, you can talk later."
"NO, DARIUS, I CAN'T JUST LET IT GO!" he shouted. "ARE YOU KIDDING ME?"
"I didn't know he would be there!" Madellaine cried, brushing away the last of her tears. She'd cried until there was nothing but an empty void, a horrible hollowness. "He'd followed me. He—he cornered me, and…" she choked, coughing once to mask her tears. "I can't," she apologized, her tears coming fresh again. "I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," Quasi said softly. "I'm not angry with you, I just…why didn't you come to me? I'd have protected you, you know this! From now on, anywhere you go, I go too. I'm so sorry, love, I should have…I should have been there for you, and I—I wasn't," he managed, heartbroken.
"He would have killed you," she whispered, resting her head against his chest as the last of her strength gave out.
"Here," he said suddenly, gingerly lifting her in his arms. "Alice needs to take a look at you. You don't look so good, love," he croaked, his voice hoarse. "I don't…"
I don't know what the hell I'd do if I lost you…
"I'm here now," she reassured him. "Thanks to Phoebus," she added, glancing over at the captain of the cathedral guard, still tending to his broken nose. "I owe him my life," she called out, loud enough so he could hear.
"You owe me nothing, milady," he responded, his voice muffled as he covered the worst of his nose's bleeding.
"Thank you, Phoebus," Quasi responded. "I—I'm sorry about your nose, I didn't mean it," he apologized, looking pained. The captain nodded, saying nothing. The bell ringer turned back to Madellaine. He didn't like how she looked. The circles under her eyes were dark and pronounced, her skin clammy and beaded with sweat. "Tell me your master's name," he demanded, taking a deep breaths ad willing himself to remain calm, no matter what. "Right now, Madellaine, please. I can't let him hurt you again."
"He…I can't," she whispered, looking fearful.
"Are you serious?" he asked incredulously, shifting her slightly in his arms so he could look into her eyes. "You're joking, right? This is a fucking joke to you? Are you out of your mind, Madellaine? Please tell me you're not serious!"
"Please," she begged. "Don't talk to me like this!"
"No, your master only took his anger out on you. That's so much better," he growled, feeling the familiar hot flame of anger well in the pit of his stomach as he carried her inside up the bell tower steps to his loft. "I should have gone with you, I—I will never forgive myself!" he cried. "You not telling me who the son of a bitch is isn't doing you any favors, Lena. You almost died today because you didn't let me or Darius go with you. If you had, you wouldn't…"
Madellaine sensed his hesitation. "I couldn't let you get hurt! It was the only way!" she wailed, tears cascading down her cheeks.
"Christ, what is it with women like you?" he shouted, unable to quell his rage at her attack any longer. "Is that really something you tell yourself? Oh, it's okay that he beats me, as long as he doesn't go after someone else. What the hell were you thinking? You're not like me. You're not like Darius, don't forget you're a woman. I know you can take care of yourself, but for you to go up against someone that's likely twice your size and stronger than you was incredibly stupid. What were you thinking?"
Madellaine stared, the briefest flicker of anger passing through her gray eyes, but as quickly as it passed it was gone, replaced by her grief and heartbreak at what happened. "It shouldn't matter that I'm a woman!" she protested weakly, too weak to argue. "I was there, I had to save your life. There was no other way, I couldn't let him hurt you!"
"Whoever he is, he's going to come after you again, Madellaine! I know the type. My own father was the same way. I know what I'm talking about, Madellaine. I see the way you look at me, at my scar. It's in your eyes. You've wanted to know what happened to me, but you've been too afraid to ask. Well, guess what," he snarled, gently setting her down on a chair as Alice shot him a dark look that he ignored as she began to tend to the blonde's feet. "Ask."
Quasi angrily snatched up a horrible smelling mixture from Alice. "I've got this, Al," he murmured quietly. "Go."
Alice shot him a distrustful look. "Are you sure?"
He waved her away. "We need to talk. Alone."
The sister glanced up at Madellaine for confirmation. Madellaine nodded, waving the sister away. "Go on," she urged. The nun hesitated, a gentle hand on the blonde's shoulder, but at last, she nodded.
Quasi waited until her footsteps had fallen silent as the nun left his tower. "Go on," he snarled, beginning to gingerly apply the mixture to the wounds on her feet. She let out a sharp cry of pain and flinched, but remained still. "Ask me."
"What happened?" Her voice was trembling.
"I was twenty years old. My father was a judge and a minister here in Paris. I—you've heard of him, surely?"
"Frollo," she growled through gritted teeth. The bell ringer looked surprised at the look in her eyes as if she knew something he didn't, but he didn't dwell on it.
Quasi nodded. "Father lusted after one of my friends, her name was Esmeralda, the captain's wife. The man that rescued you today," he clarified. "I—she rejected my father's advances and he didn't like that. Not one bit. He offered her a choice: him or the fire. She chose death. Father built a pyre in the town square just outside Notre Dame and tried to burn her alive. He dragged me outside and forced me to watch as he tried to burn her for spurning him. Smoke and flames were everywhere, I still remember her screams. Everything was black, I couldn't see. I don't know how I got away, but I—I did. I saved Esmeralda's life, and my father hated that even more."
Madellaine cried, knowing where he was going. Quasi finished applying the bandages to her feet and gently lifted her in his arms and carried her out to the balcony so she could see the sunset, as she liked it. He allowed her to sit in his lap, resting her head against his shoulder. Quasi swallowed hard and wrapped his arms around her, not ever wanting to let go of her. The bell ringer swallowed the lump in his throat and continued. "A few days pass, I don't think anything of it. I'd saved her; I'd saved the one woman who'd shown me kindness during a time in my life when I needed it the most. I thought it was over. But then he came to see me."
"What happened?" she cried, not bothering to stop her tears. "Did he do this to you?" she asked, reaching up a trembling hand to caress his scar with gentle fingers. "Why? What kind of father would injure their own son? Claude was a monster to you."
Quasi nodded, a muscle in his jaw jumping."He told me I had to be punished. But I wasn't the same. I was twenty years old. I wasn't afraid of him like I had been when I was younger. I looked him in the eye and told my father that if he ever tried to touch Esmeralda again, I would kill him, and that's when he knew. He knew that I wasn't afraid of him anymore, and he'd never exist for me ever again. I don't even see it coming. He hits me over the head with a plank of wood. My ear starts bleeding, the blood's leaking out of my ears, and I can't hear anything except a horrible ringing sound. But I can see him. He leaves the room for a moment. I don't know how long he's gone. One minute, five, it didn't matter."
He looked away for a moment to compose himself.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered, running her fingers through his red hair. He shuddered, a pleasant tremor running down his spine at her touch, but still, she needed to hear this. "What he did to you was unforgivable."
"Father comes back and he's holding a dagger in his hand, the silver glinting in the light. I remember the sting of the blade as he cuts me, deep enough to give me this," he managed, angrily gesturing to his scar. "It felt like fire, the blood dripping down my face was warm, so warm."
"Stop," she pleaded, burying her face in the crook of his neck as she shifted slightly in his lap. "Please."
"But I'm not finished! You need to hear this, all of it, Madellaine. It's important," he snapped, growing agitated. He sighed and gently ran his fingers down her spine, coaxing a small shiver out of Madellaine in return. "I killed him after that. I wasn't going to let him dominate my life anymore, or hurt the few people in my life I cared about. I threw him over the edge of this very balcony," he admitted, looking pained, his tears slowly coming now. "I—the last thing I remember was his eyes. His eyes were filled with this immense look of…satisfaction, right before I killed him. He won. That's when I swore I'd never let myself feel anything for anyone ever again, but then you came into my life…" His voice cracked and he turned away.
When he turned back to look at Madellaine, tears were welling in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her own tears coating her cheeks. "I'm so sorry this happened to you if I'd known…"
"DON'T TELL ME YOU FEEL SORRY FOR ME!" he roared. He took several deep breaths and tried again. "I'm not going to let the same thing happen to you, Lena. You mean too much to me, so tell me. Tell me how you're going to stop it from happening to you again, I'd love to know."
"I…" but she wavered, unable to finish as he cried.
"You should have come to me!" he cried, not bothering to hide his tears from the woman he loved. "Why didn't you?" he asked desperately, his eyes searching hers for the truth. "I would have protected you, you know this!"
"I know," she whispered. "I still can't tell you his name. It's for your own safety," she sobbed. "He'd said he'd kill us both if I told anyone here who he was," she cried.
"I…I love you," he said, at last, pulling her close so she was astride his lap. He reached up and gingerly brushed a stray wisp of blonde hair behind her ear.
Madellaine leaned in and kissed him gently. When she broke apart, the fire in her eyes slowly ignited. "I love you too," she said softly, a small, sad smile on her lips.
"You breathe life into me like no other can," he said soothingly, stroking her hair and feeling its softness. "Who could love me more than you could? No one but you, my love. Lena, hear me and listen. While I breathe, I am yours in my mind, body and my soul." His voice cracked as he pulled her closer onto his lap, wrapping an arm around her waist. He closed his eyes and sighed as she rested her head against his chest, her fingers tightly clinging to his tunic, as if she were to let go, she'd never have him again. He rested his eyes upon the leaves, fluttering in the gentle autumnal breeze. In the light of day, you could never tell of the thunderstorm they'd suffered the night before or the winds that howled and tore the leaves from branches to the ground. They reflected the soft sun rays, gave of their colors with the quiet joy that nature offered. Madellaine leaned her head against his shoulder, slowly drifting off into unconsciousness.
"You should sleep," he said gently, seeing how exhausted she was. Quasi gently lifted her in his arms and carried her to his bed. "Sleep here tonight. Please. I—I know we aren't married, but…it's safer for you here." I can't lose you. I won't. He gently laid her down on his bed, nothing more than a meager pile of blankets and a few pillows in his sleeping nook in the corner, turning to leave and was surprised when she cried out.
"No!" she cried, grabbing onto his tunic sleeve and pulling him back with more force than he'd thought possible of her. "Don't go, please. Will you…will you stay with me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I don't want to be left alone, not after what happened. Please. Stay with me," she wept, her tears coming fresh.
"What can I do?" he asked, his eyes boring into hers as if he hoped to find the answer in her eyes. "What can I do to help take away your pain? Tell me, Lena, please."
"Stay with me," she pleaded. "Please, I—I need you."
"I'm not leaving you," he promised. "Ever again."
Tears cascaded down her cheeks and she couldn't stop them. She wanted to purge this day from her memory forever, forget it ever happened. Her nightmare had come true after years of praying that it wouldn't. Jehan had broken her spirit. He had taken everything from her. Madellaine knew she wouldn't be able to forget this. Ever.
He nodded, unable to speak, gingerly helping her to sit up. The emptiness in his heart, the numbness pounding his brain, the salty tears that flowed unchecked from his eyes, the sheer nothingness that now took hold of his soul threatened to engulf him entirely. His tears were not quiet and controlled, they fell as fast as the falling rain and he sobbed to draw breath. His lungs heaved and he knew there was no cure for his heart. He had never looked at another, wanted another but her. Madellaine's spirit and very essence, her soul, had been broken and he must find a way forward for her. She was alive but only just.
It was his pain and he would keep it, it was the intensity of this heartache that proved the strength of their bond and he could not bear to feel less. Her gray eyes have frozen over like the surface of a winter puddle, robbing them of their usual warmth. She's in there, he knows it, but he could just by one look that she took a huge step back from life. How he desperately wanted to reach in and tell her it isn't hopeless, but she won't believe him. Quasi wanted to rekindle her heat, her warmth, but her insides were too damp with un-cried tears. He always knew she had pain inside, but now it was visible on her face and he just wanted it gone. Madellaine hugged him tightly, her fingers clutching his shirt as though her life depended on him, and he knew that right now, she did. Her shoulders shook with sobs. She didn't try stopping her tears. He didn't know how long he held onto her and they stayed like that, but he knew that he'd never let her go.