"Is she awake?"
Ram's voice crackles to life through the metia.
Roswaal closes the door behind him quietly, listening to the chirping birds outside, joyful that it's finally sunny.
"No," He says as he loops his shoulder bag across his torso "Beatrice is saying the operation was risky considering her condition. She won't wake up for at least two days." He pulls away from the door and starts making his way to the stairs. The almost silent mansion is a nice change of pace from the villagers outside. "How's it going on for your end?"
"Not great." The maid rumbles, "I've kept the information to a bare minimum for now... They seem satisfied with only knowing that we were trying to secure two kidnapped victims before we became compromised." Roswaal quirks up an eyebrow despite his maid not being able to see it.
"Impressive." It's better than he expected, but then again Ram has always been very good at handling the masses. "Guess there are upsides to having an adorable face after all." He could almost hear the eye-roll.
Almost.
"Anyways so far Rem seems to be doing fairly well in keeping them occupied at the moment," Ram says, there's more gibberish yelling coming from their end of the call.
"Good, see if you can keep it that way. I want as many details on the down-low." No telling what the Witch Cult would do if this girl was a part of the Reselection Project, they need to keep her safe.
Hopefully, they can move her to a more secure location soon but for now, he'll have to do with simply increasing the security, or would that be too obvious? Upping the security in a mansion out of nowhere might seem fishy to the Witch Cult's network if he really is after these children.
"Thanks for your work Ram, I'll call you back later for an updated status." He begins to go downstairs, making a mental note on how he'll need to contact the Royal Guard to get reports.
"Uh- Roswaal-sama what are you-" Roswaal jerks up almost dropping the metia. Surprised he had gone on auto-pilot, as he found himself staring at the face of one of his former maids at the front door.
"Lucia?" It's one of his former maids that had worked at his mansion for over ten years before moving to the capital with her husband, her clothes are wrinkled badly and her usually neat hair is tied in a messy tight ponytail. That's odd, he remembers seeing her with her hair down and styled most days. "What are you doing here?" Her pitch-black eyes are as wide as saucers.
It's almost as if she hadn't expected to see him there.
The black curved horns on her head glint in the light as she clears her throat, eyes skittering to the side almost nervously. She steps backward for him to exit the mansion.
"Sorry, I j-just was wondering," Lucia says abashedly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Would it be alright if I could work here for a little while? I k-know that you're bogged down with what happened in the village and thought you needed some help?"
Something's off about her. She's normally a very confident woman who speaks her mind. "How'd you know what happened in the village if you live in the capital?" For as much as he wants to, he can't trust her.
"Oh, about that, I was just feeling nostalgic and so I decided to take a trip to Arlam. Talk about timing!" She seems nervous. "I just was going to help around for a week or so until this calms down if that's okay of course."
For as much as Roswaal hates to admit it, he was really running low with people helping around the mansion with Ram and Rem at the village. "Fine, just for a week until things calm down and then I can help get you a ride back to the capital."
"Thank you Roswaal-sama, for as much as I've been gone, don't think I've lost my touch for cleaning. I promise you won't regret it!"
She begins to walk upstairs as Roswaal examines her walk. Frantic but still somewhat composed. "Where are you going, I need to have lunch made in the kitchen."
"Oh, I was just going to get my old uniform from upstairs. Also," She pauses for a slight moment. "I just wanted to see the girl," Her eyes skitter off again, "I can go make lunch if you want...?"
"I would prefer if you did-" Roswaal pauses his eyebrows drawing together, "-but why do you want to see her?" Lucia presses her lips together. Her fingers are tapping against her thigh rapidly, she looks off to the side again.
Despite the usual confidence that Lucia displayed, she seems awfully nervous. "Are you alright?" He pockets the metia and meets her gaze head-on, concern etching it's way onto his face.
"It's just-" She gives a long pause again, "-I have a daughter." There's a smile on her face like she's trying to reassure him, but there's something almost heart wrenching about it.
Roswaal softens, "She'll be fine, she's stable for now. Beatrice says she'll be awake in about two days," He rests a hand on her shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze, "As of guardianship, for now, she's a charge of the government so there's no need to worry about her."
"That's good to know." Lucia nods and casts her eyes downwards, they flutter closed for a brief moment in an almost relieved manner. The brown-haired woman pulls away, with her shoulders tense, "I'll return to my post now then." With an awkward cough, she turns around and makes her way through the hall and into the kitchen.
Roswaal only nods and watches her leave. He decides it's better to work here than to try to survive the rabid host of villagers outside.
With that, he makes his way back up to his office wondering what changed over the years to have Lucia in such a nervous state.
When they face desperation, human beings become animals.
"Emilia you know you aren't supposed to be here."
Roswaal sighs and fights to keep away the oncoming migraine that he knows is coming. But well it might be too late for that. Honestly, his head already hurts and it isn't half even past eight yet.
The white-haired elf bristles but otherwise doesn't make a move to leave the room.
She looks a lot healthier now Roswaal notes, that's good. Though she still shouldn't be here.
"Are you going to tell me what happened?"
Beatrice only glances up between the two of them before resuming her work. Ever since they've taken up the case for Natsuki Subaru she's been overworking herself to the point of exhaustion.
"Emilia," He hasn't even had his morning tea yet, it's too early for this. "Whatever you want to know we'll tell you later, there's no need to go harassing me or the maids for it."
It was cut and dry after all, not much to tell to begin with.
The cultists had compromised their impromptu first-aid station. It had been a tough call, but they needed to get out with at least one of the kidnapped victims.
It's not the answer that Emilia wants, her body is tense. Antsy even. Her arms are crossed but she's tapping her right foot like she's itching to do something, and the way she holds her shoulders is a lot like him after a particularly bad day.
"Emilia." He says quietly, "Leave it to us, please. You need to focus on the royal selection."
But she just pouts and leaves, and Roswaal knows his words have fallen on deaf ears.
Something tells him he'll have to keep a closer eye on her, or at least let Puck know to make sure she isn't pushing herself too hard.
When they face desperation, human beings become animals.
Chemicals.
Sterile chemicals.
It's the first thing Petra notices when she starts to pull herself awake.
Her nose stings in that familiar way when she smells the overpowering stench of cleaning agents. All she can do is bring her hand to her nose to keep her eyes from watering.
It's been a long time since she's smelled it and she hates it.
At first, she expects to see the dim grey walls of her room but the ceiling is unfamiliar. It's lined with bright lights and it's also super white.
Where is she?
The bed sheets aren't right either, they're too scratchy and thin to be the ones back in her room- and, and the room! It's too bright, too strange to be her room either. There are books everywhere instead of all the toys the Witch Cult members keep bringing her just to break them in front of her.
Even if it smells the same this isn't the hideout... is it?
So... She's safe, right? There's no... no bad people here?
Petra squeezes her eyes shut, trying to remember what happened.
The muted chaos all around her, the passing rapid conversations about an attack of some sort, the general area needing to be locked down- and a whole bunch more words that Petra doesn't really understand maybe Subaru would explain-
The tired look on his face, the slump of his body, the small dotting of scars just under the collar of his shirt, the shadows that always seemed to follow him had swallowed him whole that night.
Subaru.
Subaru is...
They had taken her away from him.
Steady arms dragging her away kicking and screaming and clawing for them to take her back. But they didn't listen (only Subaru listens). Even if the arms had felt sturdy, and warm like Subaru's they took her- took her away from the place where Subaru had been.
What if Subaru came back? What if she missed it? Him coming back to her? Would he know where she is now- she doesn't even know where she is!
Her throat is closing. It's closing super fast, it's like she can't- she can't breathe! Her arms are turning numb and heavy. Her chest is squeezing in on itself so badly that it hurts, it hurts! Her vision swims. Everything isn't what it is anymore there are two of some things and black dots dancing everywhere.
When she opens her mouth to try and suck in a breath the air gets caught in her throat and refuses to go any further. She's shaking now. Shaking so badly she can hear the bed frame rattle, and the ringing in her ears gets louder.
She can't breathe, shecan'tbreathe- her vision blurs with the tears pricking the corner of her eyes and she's- she's going to-
-she's going to die, she's going to die here, without Subaru, with him gone in some strange place, with nobody- and Subaru, Subaru isn't here with her, and he might not be okay!-
A warm solid weight presses against her back almost like an anchor. There's a shadow cast over her almost eclipsing away the light from the too-bright ceiling.
"Breathe okay, breathe with me." They sound tired, but kind almost-almost like Subaru with the soft gentle tone. Petra wishes she could turn and look at them but she can't! She can't stop shaking or trembling no matter how much she wishes she could. "I'm going to count to ten okay? And I want to inhale with me okay? We're going to hold it in for four seconds, and then let it out for another four okay? Can you hear me?"
The person is rubbing soothing circles on her back in an attempt to keep her steady, "Okay one-" they draw in a long inhale, and just like they said four seconds pass before Petra hears them exhale, "-two."
Slowly, with each number that they count Petra feels a little less trapped, and a little less awful. Each inhale and exhale calms her drumming heart that had been hurting so much. Their steady inhaling and exhaling help, it helps a lot. Petra tries her absolute best to follow their example because her chest isn't hurting so much anymore, even if she's still nauseous.
Petra doesn't know how long it had taken her to steady herself but by the end of it, she's exhausted.
The world feels wrong around her unsteady body. Each breath that drags past her lips feels heavy and she wants nothing more than to fall against the bed and simply sleep, but it would be rude to not thank the person for helping her. Petra doesn't want to be rude.
"Th-Thank you." Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, and her head feels so slow. But she fights through the exhaustion to look at the person who helped her.
"How are you feeling?" It's a woman, with long brown hair tied into a messy bun, or well she assumes it's a bun. Subaru told her all about hairstyles but she's not sure if it's the right hairstyle or not. She smells kinda funny too, like cleaning chemicals except it's got a tinge of sweetness to it, and their clothes are wrinkled with a brown stain on her apron (is she a maid?).
Father would have disproved of her and broken her immediately.
"I'm-I'm feeling okay..." Her throat itches a lot, and she wants water but what if this adult isn't as nice as they seem?
"I'm glad you're okay." The woman seems tense, even if her tall form blocks out some of the light, the few that manage to hit her bounces off her harshly. The tall black curling horns almost seem white, and her skin is ghostly pale- almost as pale as Subaru and that thought makes her taste smoke as she looks into their pitch-black eyes.
Eyes so dark they look like shadows have swallowed away her pupils. She wonders if that's what Subaru's eyes would have looked like if the darkness that Petra saw really did swallow him.
"I need you to do something for me okay?" She sounds a lot like Subaru too, her voice is desperate, tinged by something dark and sad. "Please." She begs, and Petra notices her lips are cracked.
"Who are you?" It's rude and disobedient but Subaru told her that she should always check who a person is first, just to be safe.
And Petra wants to be safe, she wants to be safe so Subaru has somewhere safe to come back to and he doesn't need to worry about her.
(But even if in the back of her mind, she could see it; Subaru writhing on the floor in pain. Never to be fixed. The image lurks in the back of her mind.)
But Petra has to believe he'll come back. He promised her he'll come back. She just needs to be patient and find someplace he can come back to, someplace safe so he doesn't always have to look over his shoulder like he used to.)
"I'm Lucia, and I need you to come with me. Please." Her eyes are constantly looking between her and the closed door, Subaru would do that too.
"Why." She croaks out. It's always good to check what a person wants from you, so you know if you want to do it or not. That's what Subaru told her, and if she doesn't want to do she should put her foot down and fight for it.
"Because people are looking for you okay? We need to go now!" Petra squeaks as the woman grips her arm tightly and yanks something that had been connected to her arm and practically hauls her out of the bed. "We don't have a lot of time okay?"
"W-wait! Where are we-!" Lucia opens the door quickly and Petra finds herself being taken outside of the too white room with all the strange books and out into a hallway.
The silence is the first thing that Petra notices. The hallway was barren and dark, the sun hadn't even risen yet.
"Just be quiet okay?" Lucia whispers hurriedly, "Nobody needs to know that we're leaving." Petra doesn't understand though, why? Why does she need to leave? But she doesn't dare ask out of fear. Her voice sounded desperate and almost scared like she might drop the other shoe at any second, and Petra doesn't want this kind person to change into a mean person because of her own mistakes, or because she did something annoying.
But it hurts! Her leg throbs and the woman is holding on so tightly that she can almost feel her bones crack- the grip is familiar and her thoughts go dark.
It's like Father. It's Father all over again, isn't it?
Why doesn't she ever get a choice in anything? Everything hurts, and she's tired and thirsty, and she can barely stand she has to obey her. She has to obey the adult or else she'll be punished, and Petra doesn't want to make the nice woman mad, and they always get mad when Petra doesn't listen.
And she sounds so sad and so desperate. It must be important right? Wherever Lucia wants to take her? She can trust her right? She helped her after all! She helped her, and none of the cultists would have helped her like this. So kind, and gentle, instead of treating her like she was some kind of burden on them.
The woman walks with a determined type of fury that's fueled with desperation. She's fast. Each of her steps covers almost twice the distance of Petra's. It makes it difficult for her to keep up, and they've barely started walking and she's already struggling to keep up. Lucia's head keeps constantly swiveling from left to right like she's double-checking their surroundings for something, or someone.
Subaru used to do that too when they left their little shack. His shoulders pulled together in a straight line, his chin tilted just a little bit up as his eyes swept over the area multiple times as discreetly as possible.
But this woman isn't like Subaru who radiates a type of quiet worry.
The way she looks around is wild and frenzied, like a cornered animal. And the worry that permeates from her isn't the one where Subaru is worried about their safety, she's terrified about being caught.
By the time they reach a large set of wooden doors Petra is completely drained. How long will they have to walk for? Can she ask for breaks? Subaru would let her take breaks whenever she wanted or would she get mad at her?
Petra curls her toes together realizing that Lucia seems too panicked, she isn't supposed to be here is she? She doesn't belong here with her feet sore from walking barefoot and her body giving small tremors from the cold. The thin fabric of the dress she's been given is so thin, it doesn't keep her warm at all.
It's difficult fighting back another wave of nausea, it makes her sway on her feet for a moment before suddenly her arm is jerked backward and she nearly tumbles over her own two feet from the sudden movement.
"Lucia?!" The wooden doors swoosh open as Lucia had already taken her outside.
"R-Roswaal-sama?!" Lucia's grip on her arm tightens impossibly, and Petra winces feeling her own knuckles turn white.
"What are you doing here...?" The man, Roswaal seems to trail off as he looks down.
Petra stares blearily at his face.
His whole body seems to go rigid and his eyes snap back up to the woman's face. A loud crash jerks Petra out of her exhausted mental state, the man dropped the bag he had been holding. His dark eyes are wide and he is beginning to speak something under his breath.
Those are the only details she is allowed to note before the world spins. The ground disappears from under her feet and a pair of arms are crushing her chest against theirs. Everything goes by so quickly. Sudden chaos of screaming and shouting breaks through the soft white noise of before, as the world around her becomes nothing more but a dark smear dotted with a few colors.
Petra hasn't even registered what has just happened. Only that she's not even standing on her own two feet anymore and the world is moving so unbearably fast that she might just throw up.
"LUCIA!" Is that Roswaal? But his shout is almost drowned out amongst the panicked voices and sounds of crashing objects.
Petra jerks her head up and tightens her grip on the pair of arms that are currently carrying her. She can see the beads of sweat forming on Lucia's neck and the small wisp of smoke that's leaving her mouth.
"LUCIA STOP!" That's a different voice this time, she doesn't recognize it.
"HOLD IT LUCIA ALLAIRE-PASCALL!" Lucia looks backward her eyes wide before she grabs something from her pocket and throws it down behind her. It crashes against the ground with a massive boom.
The air whips past her face and nips at her skin if she wasn't shivering before she is now. Even though the woman is warm, her body radiating a type of encompassing warmth, Petra has never felt colder.
She's tired, and everything hurts, and she doesn't know what's happening. But that's not new, is it? She never gets to know what's happening, the adults never tell her anything.
She never gets a choice in what happens.
The smears become almost indecipherable to make out against the tears that are starting to build in her eyes.
"LUCIA STOP DON'T MAKE ME!" That was Roswaal.
Lucia doesn't stop instead she just runs faster, and Petra starts shivering a lot more. Her teeth are chattering so bad she could feel them sending vibrations through her skull.
But then it changes. There's a single loud bang that shrills through her ears, and the pressure is released from her chest before the ground rushes up to meet her. She collides into the ground chin first, her teeth rattling in her skull and pain blossoming all through her body. Her leg burns now, it had been nothing but a dull throb before but now it burns, and hisses at her and sends sparks all up to her body.
The ground is surprisingly warm, or maybe Petra is just colder than it. She's not sure.
She's seeing two of everything again, there's two of the same woman blurring together on the floor with a quickly growing pool of red under her. There are so many people splitting apart and merging back together, and the wind is so cold it stings her eyes.
"Roswaal, roswaal please, please, please god you need to let me do this-" Petra squeezes her eyes shut and hopes maybe it'll get better. "-roswaal, please! Let me go, let me give her to them! They-they-" Lucia's voice reaches a hysterical point before she starts breaking out into sobs.
When Petra opens her eyes again her vision is a little bit blurry but she could see. She could see that Roswaal's face is tight with something she doesn't quite understand.
He's holding something in his hands still pointed at the woman, and there are people gathered all around them, two of them are in maid uniforms, one with pink hair and the other with blue.
"Please! You can't do this to me, please! Let me give her to them! They- They-" Her hand is clenched around her thigh where her skin is quickly staining red, "-they have my daughter!"
"Who?" It's Roswaal's voice sounding rough around the edges. If Petra focuses enough she could see the slight tremble in his hands as if he's afraid of the answer he may receive.
"Petelgeuse." She answers in between broken sobs, her breathing becoming harsher and harsher with every passing second. "Please, please let me go, let me go, let me-let me you have to let me turn her in- I have to save my daughter- please- please oh god, no no nonono-"
Petra is cold, but her chest hurts because she knows what a daughter is.
This is her fault, isn't it? It's her fault this kind woman is bleeding from the leg and sobbing in between her ragged breathing. She doesn't know Petelguese but she's sure it's because she disobeyed Father, maybe if she had just listened and hadn't ever let herself become so selfish maybe this kind woman wouldn't be crying, and bleeding and missing a daughter.
This is her fault, this is her fault, this is her fault,this is her fault,thisisherfault,thisisherfault!
Petra lets the tears fall quietly as she lies against the ground, and watches them take the woman away half dragging and half limping.
She's still crying and begging even when she's halfway back to the mansion.
When they face desperation, human beings become animals.
"This is Roswaal L. Mathers and I am currently interrogating Lucia Allaire-Pascall, age 39."
The table he's sitting at feels cold against his arms. The room feels cold, and desolate like it always does, or even more now.
It's not the first time Roswaal is sitting in an interrogation room across a former employee.
"Roswaal please-" Lucia's eyes are puffy and red-rimmed. There are handcuffs against her wrists, and she's wearing a new non-bloody shirt but her hair is greasy.
Her lips are dry and cracked as if she hadn't bothered to do anything for herself recently.
"What time did you arrive at the victim's room?" His voice sounds strained even to his own ears.
He can see his reflection in her pitch-black eyes, the bags on his face and the small sag in his shoulders that no matter how much he tries to correct won't disappear. Lucia visibly deflates. The muscles in her body visibly uncoil as if the energy from her body was being sapped away by some dark spirit.
"A little before dawn." She whispers quietly. So quietly he's not even sure if he heard her.
"What did you do when you first arrived at the victim's room?" She closes her eyes, an almost resigned look on her face. Strands of her hair falling into her face and blowing away with her breath.
"She-she was having a panic attack so I-" She swallows thickly, she looks pale almost sickly "-I helped her through it..." Her eyes cast to the left the light glinting off the void in her eyes. She's not crying, her eyes aren't even misting over now.
Like she's resigned herself to fate.
"Why?" His knuckles are white from how hard he was gripping the pen in his hand as he prepared himself to write down her responses.
"I couldn't just take her like that." Lucia half mumbles, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. The cuffs clink together almost solemnly. "My daughter, Luna-" She runs her tongue over her lips, "-she used to get panic attacks too, you know. They were painful for her, and I couldn't just let her go through that too. Even if- even if I was taking her to the Witch Cult." Lucia closes her eyes again, and Roswaal just stares, his heart pounding in his chest and in between his ears.
She could easily lie to him right now, not tell him everything, to try to escape.
But something in his gut tells him she won't be doing that.
At the end of the interrogation when he's calling Rem to take her away, she looks at him.
There's something sad about her eyes. Something haunting about her sullen cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.
"Roswaal- please, if-if you find her, my daughter, protect her please she-" She's dragging her through to the door now even when she digs her heels into the ground to try and get this message to him, "-she's everything to me! Please find her for me- get a knight to save her, please!" She's crying again, small tears streaking down her cheeks and landing with quiet little plips onto the floor.
The door slams shut.
Roswaal wonders what he'll have to tell her husband.
When they face desperation, human beings become animals.
Subaru wakes to a stone-cold floor with aches and pains all over his body.
The place reeks of the sterile chemicals of the laboratories. It's a pungent smell that makes him scrunch his nose in distaste.
"You sure have given me quite the trouble SV-01. Disappearing like that for two whole weeks." Subaru's skin crawls. He knows that voice, he doesn't even need to open his eyes to know who it belongs to. "Though I'm quite glad the work we invested in you has turned out fruitful... It appears our programming, however, has not."
Subaru has felt terror before but this time it's different.
He feels it etched into his bones and sunk deep into the fragments of his soul.
"You were supposed to bring the girl to us, after all the trouble we went through to get you back. Now we may never get her." Petelguese hums as Subaru cracks his crusty eyes open. The walls are stained with probably dried blood despite the number of chemicals Subaru smells they couldn't wash them out. At least he was able to get Petra somewhere safe.
Petelgeuse is standing off to the side, his figure mostly covered in shadows as the only source of light seems to be a weak light bulb that looks like it hasn't been changed in decades.
"I would have thought you received the message before we set everything up but perhaps that's my fault. Father is rather... indelicate after all, perhaps your programming was broken." The man gives a pregnant pause long enough for Subaru to feel his skin crawl.
Subaru knows him like the back of his palm. Petelgeuse is always playing a game, there's always a goal he wants you to do, there's always something, something, something! He chokes on his saliva as he pushes himself weakly off the floor keeping his eyes strained on Petelguese not daring to look around the room.
Petelguese is doing something.
"Or maybe it's that spirit of yours. " He steps closer, and Subaru snaps back eyes wide. His heart caught between his chest and his stomach, as the silence was drowned out by the roaring in his ears.
What is he planning on doing? Can he even survive this? He barely survived the last one-
There's a calloused hand on his cheek angling his head towards what Subaru assumes is the center of the room but he can't tell because that horrifying mask is pressed right into his face and when did he get so close- and he can't move his body. Why can't he move his body?
Why can't he-
"I never did quite know what to think of you when I first received you. You were just some kid we were plucking off the streets, but perhaps I should have been more thorough with you, yes?" Petelguese produces a single sword from behind his back, the temperature in the room drops a few degrees as sweat starts beading off his skin.
Subaru stares at his own awful reflection in the glint of the silver blade.
He studies it. He studies it in all it's awful and gory detail. The dark scars sprinkled across his face, the trace of a handprint across his sunken cheeks, the thinness of his frame, the deathly paleness of his ruined skin, and a pair of lifeless eyes that stared right back.
Subaru knows fear, he knows terror, he knows horror, he knows every dark fleeting emotion that no child should have to experience.
But at this moment, in this single terrifying moment where he could see the pristine detail of Peteguese's finely tailored robes, the soft glint of his mask in the dim light, the smell of the witch, and the light scars dotting the man's hands. This single moment would have him think otherwise, that no-
-he doesn't know what they are when the man drops the sword to the floor. The very sound of metal crashing against stone echoes and shakes Subaru's very core. And fills his throat with a thousand crawling spiders each desperately trying to crawl out of his mouth and spill out onto the floor in front of him.
But nothing comes out, his throat is clogged and his body is frozen against his own will.
Petelguese steps away, and under the single light bulb is a figure on their knees... Father. The soft yellow light bouncing off his dark robes, and the blood-stained mask around his neck. His robes are torn revealing open wounds with a greenish tinge to each of them, and there's blood dribbling down his face but despite how exposed, and beaten Father looks there's a type of fury burning lowly in his eyes.
"I'll make this easy for your heroic spirit." Subaru sucks in a cold, bitterly cold breath and feels his lungs frost over with it as feeling starts returning to his limbs. "He's a cultist, and you're playing the knight~." Petelguese's voice carries this odd lilt that Subaru can't decipher, it's almost as if the man was laughing.
Subaru has worked for the Witch Cult. He's done their dirty work, he's burned bodies, he has gathered minerals, he's cleaned blood off walls, but there was something he had sworn to himself back when he had burned his first body and the scent of burned flesh wouldn't leave the back of his mouth.
He may be a cultist's tool but he would not stoop to their level.
He promised himself he would not let them take away the one thing that he still had control over (but that's not true anymore is it? Something is lurking in his blood, buried deep in his chest that has been lying dormant. Subaru knew it was only dormant; he simply hadn't wanted to believe that the change was permanent, he may not even be able to control his own body anymore.)
Subaru could feel Father's burning gaze on him, but he's mute and oddly still.
Like a puppet with its strings cut. Subaru wonders how long he had been like that. How long had he been frozen there against his will (how long until Subaru becomes him)?
"Well then, go on SV-01-" Petelguese rumbles, almost purring like a pleased cat, "-kill him, knight."
When they face desperation, human beings become animals.
The sword is cold against Subaru's hands.
His fingers tighten their grip against his own wishes.
He wants nothing more than to let go.
But what Subaru wants doesn't matter.
Even his own body defies him (it's not his).
But he can't let go (his body remembers, it remembers, it remembers what it had endured).
The hilt burns against his calloused palms like acid.
His limbs are locked in place and his muscles tense with the anticipation of pain. His skin sticky with sweat (but it feels more like his own blood), as everything inside of him, coils tightly in waiting. Somewhere in the back of his throat he can remember the taste of his own blood and vomit mixing together (his head tied to the table, the leather cuts into his throat, there's nowhere for the blood and vomit to go).
The skin of his cheek tingling with the phantom feeling of crumbling away to dust (you can't do something they don't like, didn't you learn your lesson last time?).
If he closes his eyes he could feel the bones that never healed right fracturing all over again, the skin of his abdomen being cut into, the flesh of his back being unraveled, the air against his exposed spine-
Subaru chokes while trying to swallow all the vomit crawling up his throat.
Vibrations roll up his arms in droves, traveling with the minute tremors down to his trembling wrists. His knees feel like jelly as he stands like a newborn doe fighting the urge to dry heave. He almost falls against the ground and shuts down right then and there. But it's tantalizing. So much more tantalizing to collapse here on the floor.
So tantalizingly easier than doing... doing this.
The sweat beading down his skin leaves trails of ice (fire?), as he counts each beat of his heart.
Time has never traveled as slowly as it has before then at this moment.
As much as Subaru doesn't want to lose this last shred of his humanity, the last piece of good that separates him from them. He knows he is also weak (so, very, very weak).
This thing he calls a body is fragile; made of nothing more but skin and bones, and haphazardly cobbled together parts that don't belong together.
It's not a body that belongs to him (and it never will be again).
With each passing second he feels his bones creak under the weight of every session he had to endure, and every punishment he had survived.
(He will not survive another).
As he stands here with his chest closing in around his cowering heart, looking at the man kneeling before him in the eye. Watching the low burning fury in their golden-yellow eyes, and counting the drips of sweat rolling down his own skin, Subaru knows he is also scared (he can't, he can't go through that again,he can't,he just can't,he-).
He chokes.
Subaru could remember a time he sat on the cot in the back of a closet room. A time where he swore on the tally marks carved into the walls and made promises on the broken shards of decade-old pencils and overused notebooks.
He told himself he wouldn't let himself do this.
He would not become the villains that they were.
He would not let the pieces of their characters shove themselves into the cracks of his (Subaru's character is all he has left).
Sometimes under the harshest conditions, the only thing keeping him going had been the small things. The little promises of what he could keep and what parts of him belonged to himself. He stayed up night after night to tell himself he was not the amalgamation of what they shoved inside of him (but that's not the case anymore is it?).
Standing here with the cement smooth against his dirty feet and staring down a man Subaru told himself he had no qualms about killing before, he hesitates.
He should move, or just do something!
Petelguese won't wait forever.
(Subaru can't afford to make him mad.)
It's odd, looking at a man that had once loomed over him like a tower. The impossible stillness of Father's body is unsettling, like a puppet with cut strings. Seeing him frozen on his knees, blood crusted into his face, grease slick against his hair, and dust scattered across him.
Subaru tastes something dying in the back of his throat.
He remembers the way Petra had looked at him that first time in the unlit hall. Her body trembling under his, eyes wide with surprise, and her fingers clutching against him like a lifeline.
When he remembers the way her tears had made his shirt damp or the way she wakes up next to him with a jolt. Petra's fingers tightening around her own arms, clawing at something. Nails digging into her skin like she's searching for something, only to be surprised it's no longer there.
The way she jerks her head up with eyes glazed and not quite registering the world for a moment. Before she jerks backward, eyes snapping open and landing with a sudden focus on Subaru's face. She's surprised when she sees Subaru. Almost as if she hadn't expected to find him still there, by her side. The thought leaves him feeling hollow now, not the usual boiling rage.
He used to dream about this moment. Used to wonder if there would ever come a time and he could bend down to Petra's head and look her in the eye, and tell her Father would never hold her captive again. That she would never have to fear waking up in a room with only a window's glimpse to the outside world.
That she would never be scared to go to sleep and wake up without him (he supposes, that she will have to now).
But here, at this moment? Standing over Father only inches away from the man's face. Subaru doesn't feel that hot boiling fury that he thought he would, or the ice-cold wrath that made his knuckles turn white.
He only feels empty. Hesitation is the only thing keeping him from lifting that blade in a high arc and swinging it down.
Petra believes in this image of Subaru he is not sure he could have ever lived up to. When he recalls the image of her looking at him with something so beautiful; eyes sparkling with light, a small sigh escaping her lips as she watches the sunrise while running her fingers over grass.
The way admiration and appreciation seem to eclipse her eyes when she looks at him.
Petra believes in a Subaru that he doesn't believe ever could exist.
And maybe it's that thought that keeps the blade steady, or that small curling feeling inside his rib-cage, or that wistful longing to at least hope that he could be that better image of himself. Perhaps it was that little boy in the back of his head with his face tucked into his knees rocking back and forth in a room with claustrophobic walls, whispering words that carried all the weight of his small aching heart.
(But he knows why. He knows why he tastes iron across his tongue. Why there are dark memories in the back of his mind clawing to be let into the forefront. Why he feels like keeling over and letting the earth swallow him whole. Why he so desperately clings to the small blessings in his life. If he were a stronger, less selfish person maybe he could one day see her again, and tell her she would never have to worry about Father again.)
Something in his gut claws its way to stand on all fours.
(Would she turn away in disgust knowing what he was?)
He lifts the blade.
(A selfish-)
Petelguese places his hands on Subaru's shoulders.
(-dirty,)
Subaru could feel it.
(-rotten,)
The rank stench of Petelguese's will, like a hot whisper ghosting over the back of his neck-
(-coward.)
He won't let it end like this.
"I promised myself I would not let you break me, but here we are; a blade in hand, poison in my veins, and the blood that drips from your hands to mine."
Subaru takes the blade and plunges it deep into his chest, the pain unbearable as the cold metal comes in contact with the warmth of his insides. He looked at Petelguese one last time.
"I won't let you use me anymore."
As his conscience slips away he only has one thought.
I'm sorry Petra, I couldn't save you.
When they face desperation, human beings become animals.
Subaru wakes up on the cold ground.
Where the hell was he-
"Subaru? Are you o-okay?"
He looks over to see Petra alive and well, tears beginning to well in his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."
He looks around at his surroundings. He found himself in a little old shack with mold on the walls and holes in the ceiling. But why is he back in the shack? How is Petra here? How is he not dead? And where the hell is Petelgue-
"I thought we were going to the place with magic and new worlds! What was it called… a bookstore, right?"
Huh?
If you ever get a second chance in life for something, you've got to go all the way.
Heyo!
Finally! Subaru uses Return by Death (only 60K+ words deep haha) and Luna's back (kinda)
I don't know how often I'll be able to update because the new semester is starting to make me more busy but I'll try my best to update it soon.
Until then!