Under the knife I surrendered
The innocence yours to consume
You cut it away
And you filled me up with hate
Into the silence you sent me
Into the fire consumed
You thought I'd forget
But it's always in my head

Jerking awake from a vivid dream, Caspian took a while to try and pick his surroundings when he opened his eyes. Getting up slowly, aware of the growing bruises on his side, he glanced down the alleyway, his vision a little blurry from a lack of proper sleep. He still didn't know his way around the Towns fully yet, but he knew he was somewhere there. The previous days came back in flashes, and he remembered roaming around for days without sleep, looking for trouble. Any kind was fine, as long as he didn't have to think. He'd eventually collapsed in a shady alleyway from exhaustion and fallen into an unsettled sleep, deciding he didn't mind if someone happened upon him and knifed him in the alleyway. It wasn't like he had anything at all to lose. Surprisingly, it seemed nothing had happened.

He was unamused at fate's idea of a joke.

Walking towards another, busier street, he slipped into a tavern, and ordered a drink. It had taken a few days in the Towns to get used to the idea of mundane money, and when he'd found some money on the ground, he'd used it. It didn't take him long to steal some when he won a fight, to keep him going.

There was a faerie sitting nearby, and he stared at the faerie's translucent purple wings, his eyes dark and troubled. Forcing himself to look away, he took a sip of his drink, finding faerie drinks were the closest ones he could find to the food of the Court.

"Not a pure faerie?" the faerie nearby guessed, studying him.

Caspian gritted his teeth, looking back at him. "Of course I am," he growled.

"Doesn't look like it," was the smug reply, the faerie looking pointedly for his wings. "You can't be as much as me, anyway."

It didn't take much for his anger to build, and his eyes flashed in anger, at the insult. "Really, want to test that?" he retorted, looking for any excuse for a fight.

The faerie merely rolled his eyes, getting up, with a steadying hand on his short sword, and starting outside. "That would be a waste of my time. I don't dally with muddied blood."

Caspian's breaths came quicker in his fury, and he left his half empty glass on the table as he followed the faerie outside, at a distance. It wasn't hard to keep an eye on the flash of purple as he turned the corner into another alleyway, and Caspian picked up his pace, hurtling into the faerie, his sword clattering to the ground when he tried to draw it. Amateur. Wishing he had his staff, Caspian traded blows with the faerie, hissing. Nails raked his neck, and he pushed them away, rolling over so he was on top, pinning the faerie down. It had been too easy, much too easy, showing how superior his Unseelie training was.

Reaching out with one hand, he managed to get a hold of the hilt of the sword, drawing it towards him. It felt good to have a weapon in his hand again, the adrenaline from the fight urging him on.

"I get it, I get it, you're pure," the faerie said quickly, his eyes widening in fear. "You… You can keep the sword, just let me go."

But Caspian could hardly hear, his grip tightening on the hilt of the sword, and his eyes focused on the wings, as he pushed the faerie's face into the ground. He moved the blade dangerously close to where the wings would meet the skin, his eyes a murky grey and unforgiving.

If there was a cliff leading to madness, he was about to dive off it.

Trying to shift, the faerie started begging, afraid of what he might do.

"Shut up," Caspian hissed in a low tone, "You don't need them, anyway."

But as the blade met skin, his vision shifted, and it was not a random faerie on the ground, but it was himself. And he could hear the faeries taunting him as they cut, their snickers engraved in his mind. He felt sick, his hand starting to shake, as he felt a stabbing pain all the way down his back.

Horrified, he dropped the sword before he could make the cut, scrambling backwards until his back met the wall of the alleyway. The faerie got up and ran, leaving the sword there on the ground as he escaped, a bit of blood remaining on the ground beside it.

Caspian stared at the sword, trying hard to draw himself out of thoughts of the past. He may have been broken and messed up, a shamed faerie, but he didn't want to turn into them.

Leaning a hand against the wall, as if to help keep himself upright, he walked away slowly, leaving the sword there on the ground, as if it would burn him if he picked it up again.

He couldn't deny it would be better for everyone if one day he just disappeared. Maybe the world would be better off without another broken faerie roaming around.

But he promised himself silently that he wouldn't die without putting up a fight.

Lyrics – Monster by Starset (I realised you already used them in a chapter, but oh well, I'll use them again. Haha)