10. Flavia
Flavia
T he corridor to Tiberius’ chambers stretched before me, somehow feeling like an insurmountable distance.
My bare feet left bloody prints on the pristine tiles—Gaius’ blood, Marcus’ blood, the blood of what I was becoming.
Behind me, Ysu moved with patient silence, tracking my every movement with an interest that felt heavy.
I had destroyed them. I had killed Marcus, and torn Gaius to pieces, and I had enjoyed it. Ysu had said it was not his venom, but what I had always been, only awakened. Had I always been a monster, or was that a lie, something to stop me from fighting this transformation? Did I want to fight it?
The great oak doors were shattered, a few shards of wood still clinging to the hinges, blocking my view into the room.
But I could smell him—fear-sweat and that particular cologne he imported from Rome at ruinous expense.
My senses were heightened, I could feel that now.
Even without sight, I felt the despair that permeated the air, and my tongue flicked out, trying to taste it.
I pushed past the wreckage, revealing the man who had orchestrated years of my torment.
Tiberius was strung up in a way similar to the crucifixion method that the Romans enjoyed so much.
His arms were outstretched, and his head hung against his chest. His toga was torn, held in place by the silver threads of Ysu’s web, and dark hair streaked with grey hid his face.
But when we entered, his head shot up, his eyes finding mine, and something shifted in his expression.
The terror remained, but underneath bloomed a terrible recognition.
“Flavia.” My name on his lips sounded like an accusation. “My Flavia, what have you done?”
I stepped into the room, aware of how I must look—my clothing torn and barely covering me, my feet and nails dirty, and streaked with blood.
Every bit the barbarian he thought I was.
The hunger coiled in my belly, urging me forward.
It was matched by the tingling that simmered beneath my skin constantly now.
This was the moment I had dreamed of through countless nights of agony.
“Look at you,” he continued, and his voice carried genuine sorrow. “I tried so hard to keep you pure. To stop the sickness in your veins. Your father begged me, you know. He said it was your mother’s dying wish, to protect you from what you might become.”
I froze. What in the hells was he talking about?
“You’re lying.”
“Am I?” He laughed, bitter and broken. “She knew what ran in your blood. The curse of her line. She tasked your father with protecting you, but he was weak. He made me promise to keep you from the old ways, to beat the wildness out of you before it could take root.” His eyes glistened with that cruelty I knew all too well.
“Every hurt, every humiliation, it was to save you from this. From becoming the very monster they feared.”
My nails dug into my palms, my belly writhed, and my skin tingled like one thousand insects were crawling over me, my entire body reacting to the shame that had been reborn inside of me.
“Lies! You enjoyed hurting me, having your men hurt me!” The words were ash in my mouth.
“I wanted to save you, my Flavia. You know how precious you were to me.”
“Enough.” The word tore from my throat with more venom than Ysu had given me. The serpent within me coiled, ready to strike. But another part of me—that horrible, human part—crumbled. The hunger fled, and all that was left was a gaping emptiness that threatened to swallow me whole.
I turned away, unable to look at him, unable to process the possibility that my mother might have sanctioned my suffering. That maybe her stories weren’t to warn me about men, but about my own blood.
I stormed towards the door.
“Let him rot here. Let him die slowly, alone with his lies.” I said, not meeting Ysu’s gaze.
I still felt Ysu’s disappointment—a subtle shift in the air, a pause in his breathing. But he said nothing as I fled the chamber, leaving Tiberius to his entangled fate.
The grove felt smaller when we returned.
I perched on a fallen log, knees drawn to my chest, while Ysu tended to his web meticulously.
He’d been silent during our journey back, offering neither comfort nor condemnation.
Now he worked above me, adjusting tensions and reweaving sections with a focus that seemed deliberately distant.
“You are disappointed in me.” The words escaped me before I could stop them.
His movements paused. Eight eyes turned to regard me, and I caught something unexpected in their depths—not anger, but a weariness that betrayed his centuries long existence.
“Disappointment implies expectation,” he said finally, descending with that unnatural grace. “I expected you to kill him. You chose mercy. The fault lies in my assumption, not your decision.”
“It wasn’t mercy. He’ll still suffer as he starves to death.” I hugged my knees tighter. “I just... what if he was telling the truth? What if my mother really did?—”
“Does it matter?” Ysu settled beside me, two of his spider-like arms surrounding me. “Whatever the reason for his actions, the result remains. You suffered. You survived. You transformed.”
“But if she wanted to protect me from this curse?—”
“Humans lie, neidr. To others, to themselves. They wrap their cruelties in false purpose and call it kindness.” One clawed finger tilted my chin up.
“Your mother may have feared your nature. Or your former husband may have crafted a fiction to wound you one final time. Either way, you are what you are now.”
I searched his face. Even with his additional eyes and dark markings, I realized he felt more human to me than any other man I had known.
“You were cursed?” The stories had not told where he came from, only his hunger, his cruelty.
But I saw how the changes in my body mimicked his, and I had to wonder.
His eight eyes all blinked, out of sync. “Yes, long ago.”
“So you were human once? Do you ever wonder who you would have been, if the curse hadn’t changed you?”
Something flickered across his expression—vulnerability quickly shuttered. “I was a warlord who chose pride over my people’s survival. I craved power and consumption, and I took what I thought I deserved. The curse simply revealed what already existed.”
His mandibles clicked softly. “Had I stayed a man, my fate was sealed. I would not have changed, and my greed would have consumed me, just as it does now.”
“But the curse, it changed you?” Was he frozen by this ancient magic, locked into what he was? Would it curse me in the same way, to always be consumed by my rage? Or was there something more waiting for us?
His gaze held me, and he slowly stroked my cheek with one gentle claw. “I’m beginning to believe it has, in ways I did not expect. I never thought that loneliness would be the greatest burden of them all.”
The admission hung between us, a fragile thing I wanted to hold tight. I reached out, tracing the edge of his jaw where flesh met chitin. “You’re not alone now.”
“No,” he agreed, catching my hand in his. “Though you may yet make me wish I were.”
Despite the weight in my stomach, I smiled. “Because I denied you your grand finale?”
“Because you complicate things.” His grip tightened, not quite painful. “I haven’t had to consider another’s feelings and needs in centuries. It’s… inconvenient.”
“Poor ancient creature” I murmured. “Brought low by one broken human girl.”
“Hardly human anymore.” His free arm wrapped around my waist, lifting me into him.
“You are strong. I’ve seen grown men shit themselves at the mere sight of me.
I’ve heard them scream in agony over pain minuscule compared to what you have endured.
They cowered and begged for their lives, shaking like newborn fawns.
But not you. You did not flinch, you did not cower.
You bargained. You had nothing and still within moments you had me twisted around your little finger. ”
“You have endured, my neidr. Most would not survive what you have. But you have endured, and now I will have the pleasure of watching that pain transform into something much darker. So you are far from broken. Bent, perhaps. Then reforged.”
“Like a blade?”
“Like a chain.”
The word sent heat through me, the serpent stirring with interest. “Is that what you want? To bind me?”
His multiple eyes darkened. “Would you let me?”
The question hung heavy with promise. I thought of Tiberius’ chains, of years spent bound and helpless. But this—this was different. This was choice.
“Show me,” I whispered.
Ysu’s smile revealed too many teeth. “Dangerous words, neidr.”
Shadows surrounded him as he shifted back into his more human form, but he still held me between his spider-like arms.
He stood, lifting me with effortless strength. He guided my hands behind my back, forearms pressed together. His human hands wove silk around my wrists—not the harsh binding of his web, but something softer.
“The difference,” he said, pulling the silk just tight enough to feel restrictive, “is your willingness. You can break these easily. They hold only because you allow it.”
The silk felt cool against my skin. He worked with an artist’s focus, hands tracing up my arms, creating loop after loop that dug into my skin with just enough pressure to trigger that incessant tingling in my skin.
The position was uncomfortable, but not painful.
My chest was thrust forward, exposed to him as he tugged the few remaining shreds of my clothing off.
His hands wandered the scarred expanses of skin, and the tingling only grew stronger until I could feel myself aching.
My breasts felt heavier, weighted by craving and desire.
His hand wrapped around my ribs as his thumb toyed with one of my overly-sensitive nipples. “Do you trust me?” He asked, his main eyes locked on my chest, but his others watching my expression warily.