Prompt: #26 Psychosis
Summary: It had not hurt any less, knowing it already to be so. No, it hurt far worse.
A/N: My favorite POV to write, Noctis. Not only Noctis, but Adventum Aduro's Noctis.
Additional Notes: Turbatus is Latin for "disturbed, restless, troubled".
Turbatus
It should not have surprised him that Fate would throw another hurtle in his way. It should not have surprised him that Irony would try to be funny again. It should not have surprised him that Fortune wanted him to be the fool. It should not have. Nothing should have surprised him when he had already known it all along in his heart. He had known that this was so. Then why? Why, did it hurt so much now? That to know it, that to believe it, should have prepared him. It had not. Those sounds that had been spoken with her soft melodic voice had formed the words that shattered his entire being. He should not have shattered, but he had. Because the knowing, is not enough. Not when the reality is said from precious lips that had the power over your whole world.
Such was her power. This power that she wielded over him. The power that she had always had over him. How one person had the ability to rip you into shreds with just one absently uttered sentence, was power indeed. He has heard many discouraging, disparaging, disdaining things in his life. He had learned to deal with the noises they made in his head. Those voices were always harsh and mean and cruel. The deliverance of them had been to wound. So how was it that words not meant to wound, could hurt him so much? From a voice cherished and needed and not meant to be hurtful. It must have been that. That the lines were delivered in such a lyrical manner, that it had struck him deeply. How many scars could his heart recover from?
He does not blame her. How could he? She had not, has not done anything wrong. Though it seems to baffle her that he easily forgave her the theft of his Crystal, it is not so much a mystery to him. She was not herself. She had not been in control of herself. So why would he blame her for that? Not guilty and completely blameless for it. After pronouncing her sentence of death, he had left her behind like some tossed out bit of waste from his car. Then, he had neglected her for five years while she had suffered alone. She had been alone and confused and weakening. All because he had not been fast enough. He had wished to lessen her agony by staying away and had only increased it instead. When he heard just how much she had endured during that time, he could almost be sick with himself. He could be angry and disappointed towards himself for taking so long. He had not even told her why he was going to stay away. For all she had known, he was never intending to see her again. So of course, something like that would escape her precious lips. He had felt it had been so, but the knowing and the confirming were devastating. It was enough to render him quite mad.
Standing upon his balcony and staring down at the scene below he is heedless to the strong winds that drown everything but the sound of her voice. His hands grasp onto the railing for purchase and his eyes shut tightly against the repeating words.
"I wish I could have married Divum when I had the chance... because I do not think I would feel such weakness."
That she had wished it. That she had wanted it. That she had mourned it. That had been the blow. He had already known that Divum had not been a passing fancy, present just to vex him. There had been meaning and warmth in each of their gazes when they had regarded one another. Their tones of voice suggested a true intimacy of friendship and respect. Something he had not had the privilege of having with Stella himself. He still does not think he has that kind of intimacy with Stella now. Since then, he has seen the other man a handful of times. His rival had been a little broken and disappointed at first. Though still polite, he could see the resentment in the other man's eyes whenever he glanced his way. The question within the depths of those emerald eyes was so blatant, Divum might as well have said the words aloud.
"Why would she still want you when you left her behind?"
Why indeed. He wondered that same thing himself. Despite his selfishness and need, he would have let her go if she had wished to remain with the other man. The man that was the constant that she should have wanted. The one that she should have chosen. He was not that man. What had he offered her before? Only doubt, distrust and disbelief. He is just glad he had not tried to deny this yearning for her even in the beginning. That, he could never have hidden. She knew that as well as he did. In that, he had always been constant. In that, he had always been true. It was the same for her. Despite the wide chasm between them, she had always been truthful about her feelings towards him.
It did more than sting that she thought him a weakness when he only thought of her as his strength. There had been a time where he had resented the way she had made him feel. A time long past, because he knows he would not have been anything resembling good if it were not for her. To him, she was his goal. She was the light at the end of his dark, endless tunnel. She was the drive within him to press onward. Yet, he was her weakness. He was her downfall. He was holding her back. They both knew it. He knows Divum knows this too. As much as the jealousy swells within him at the thought of another having Stella, he cannot be so foolish as to think himself more worthy than his rival. Stella matched Divum. They seemed more suited. Together, they would have been the ideal choices to bring new order to their crumbling world. Yet, he had been the one gifted. He had been the one to share this remarkable power with Stella. It was he who was connected to her, no matter what any of them thought. He can almost resent her for making him feel so wretched, but he knows that he deserves it. By all rights, he was a wretch by nature. He felt he was, indeed, the leech.
His dark blue eyes reopen as he looks down at what lies before him. That soft silhouette in the moonlight. That lithe form that he would be able to distinguish, even within the pitch black. She moves quietly, gracefully through the gentle grass and weeping trees. He wonders if she knows that he can see her. He wonders if she thinks of him as longingly as he does her. He wonders if she might just walk in this part of the castle because she hopes that he will watch her. She seems such a fragile and unbreakable creature in this moment. So soft and unyielding all at once. Such a wonderful, fascinating mix of contradictions. His eyes remain fixed upon her form as she slowly weaves her way around the trees as if lost in her own quiet thoughts.
As the months go by and as the time lingers onward, the rise of tension within him has not lessened. At one time he had vainly hoped that getting to know her better would result in his eventual lack of interest. He can safely say that he has never found her boring. Everything about her intrigued him, called to him. He needed her as desperately as the moon needed the sun as a source of light. He wonders if Divum felt this way towards her. Did Divum crave her as much as he did? Yes, he had seen longing within the eyes of the other man. Yes, he had seen the desire. Yet, was it the same sort of longing and desire that he felt for Stella? Did Divum yearn for her to the degree that he did? Was the acuteness of agony as strong inside Divum when he thought of Stella not being a part of his life? He cannot say for sure, because he cannot understand how anyone could not feel this way towards her.
He was absolutely lost for her. This he knew. The only comfort that he afforded himself was the knowledge that she needed him too. Yes, she did need him. It was not his ego talking. It was just fact. The waning Crystal that they had awoken together that night would not have sustained her forever. Even with its renewed energy, she could not live without him for long. Unlike his need though, her need was of a different sort. Her need was physical. Whereas his need was a whole souled necessity. Not just the physical but the emotional and the mental and the spiritual. It was his everything. So yes, her softly uttered statement of wishing to be with someone else because she considered him a weakness had cut him to the quick. There was not a weapon in the world that would have wounded him as much as her words had. This pain was so much worse than the time he felt that his very blood was acid in his veins.
This was a crossroads. Yes, she had chosen him. Yes, she was here now and did not ever show any hint of resentment for her choice. The only proof had been her soft confession. It should be enough. Why was it not enough? Where was the satisfaction of being the one she had chosen? What more did he need? How was he to live knowing that though she had chosen him, she would have chosen someone else?