13. convalesce
13
convalesce
Rivian
PRESENT DAY - October 26th
"Three minutes and twenty-seven seconds," she repeats.
"That's how far I counted until my brain shut off. Until the world went soundless and black." I lean against the frame between the bathroom entrance and her bedroom, arms crossed, and some layer of melancholy hinted in my tone.
Lucynda settles on the bed, a pair of leggings and a thick-knit sweater now clinging to her body as she listens to me recount the story of how I nearly died. A story derived from a memory of despair.
A tear falls down her cheek from her cloudy eyes, resembling that of the dark gray sky that now threatens to shatter with snow.
"When I woke, I was in my bed. No one was there to greet me, the sky was dark outside, and I was alone." I was nine. I speak without care about the situation now, but part of me still feels anger for that nine-year-old boy. He was let down and that was just one of many reasons that led to the man I am today.
"Rivian, I'm so sorry." Her voice cracks as empathy bleeds in her tone. But I don't want empathy or sympathy or pity or apologies. That time passed. But it's part of why I started counting when Lucynda went under water, even though her reason was far more questionable than mine was.
Call it a habit. Call it eldritch. Call it whatever you want, but she wanted to trust me that I'd save her before the water took her under and I wanted to see just how strong and willful my little sinner was.
We used each other once again and we both proved each other right. She can trust me. But if there ever came a time where I am unable to save her, she can last longer than she might think. She is strong on her own.
"Who ended up pulling you from the water?" Lucynda's question is expected, as I didn't explain who or why I was able to come back to life.
"When I woke, I overheard Natasha and my father arguing about his hesitation to go in after me. Apparently, he was the one who pulled Travois from my arms and when he turned around, that's when I went under. Natasha yelled for him but he didn't stop walking away. She tried to go in after me, but he stopped her and gave her an order to go back to the castle with the kids."
Lucynda gasps at my words. "That's cruel," she says and I know there is more she wants to say, but saying them won't change what happened.
"I know it's no excuse." I approach her at the edge of the bed, fitting myself between her legs. My barely-worn jeans scratch against her fabric-clad thighs and even after what we just did in the bathroom, heat blazes between us. She wrecks me.
I lift her chin up to look at me, using the tips of my fingers. Her eyes are watery and her cheeks are red. Her freckles getting lost just slightly and I notice her lips are swollen as I run my thumb along the curve of the bottom one.
"But I am who I am because of that day. Because of so many other days like it. Fuck, Lucynda I hate that I ever made you feel like you weren't good enough because I-"
"Because you of all people should know how it feels," she finishes my sentiment for me and I can't help but lean into her, pressing my lips to hers.
It's a soft kiss. One the breeds hope for our future, but I'd be a damn idiot to hope that her forgiveness will come that easily. I don't want her to excuse me that easily. And I know she won't. I know it's going to take a lot more to reconstruct our alignment and to carve out a path where we can walk through confidently together.
She pulls away from our kiss and meets me with her undeniably forlorn eyes. She's lost. She wants to understand, though my stories of tormented days and broken memories aren't a reason for her to accept the person I made her believe I was; the man I thrived to be upon realizing I coveted the pain of all who pained me. Simultaneously, she still feels deceived. It's warranted. And as much as I want it to be washed from her mind, for her to forgive me and move on, it can't be about me because she has so much more to battle through. Her own pain still plagues her and even more, she's bound to an unbreaking curse if we can't figure out how to stop it from fully consuming her.
"Does Travois know that you saved him?" she asks, a hint of adoration in her tone.
"I am no one's savior, little one. I am the damnation of eternal punishment. I am depraved and I don't need to thrive in acts of heroism." I sigh. "But, no. Travois thinks his father saved him that day." I've never felt irritation at that thought, I'd gladly let my father take the credit because I knew that any act of kindness or common sense I may display could only be overwritten by that of my faults, errors, and evil that I knew I was bound to.
If I thought that I craved Lucynda's brokenness before—something that inevitably led me to her even without the effects of an indisputable yet nugatory lore—then I have an even bigger battle to face because I won't deny that the hollowed parts in me aren't even more drawn to the empty parts of her. It's the nature I was born in. I am a moth to a flame when it comes to her.
Though as it is, she is my tether after all but what's more is that I can't seem to escape her. I can't deny the gravitational pull my being has to hers. But I don't want it like this. As much as the monster inside of me might think it does, I don't want to pursue my wife's proclivity for my trust and devotion in a matter of tenebrosity and mutual desire for retribution. I don't want her to crave the shadows I possess when I know hers are only manifested because of me. I only thought that's what I wanted because I had plans of action that wouldn't allow for me to succeed without breaking her, so I wanted her even more broken so that I could thrive in my convictions and relish in them with her.
But I was a fool to believe that it's who she was meant to be. She now knows that our walks of life have more similar undertones to them and—while traveling down different paths—we still stand together in knowing that we've been given up on, abandoned by family and left alone to grieve in our hurt.
But I chose to act out against that, using it to justify who I am and how I betray myself. Truly living in the nature that was expected of me, coveting wickedness and corruption. She used it to further her determination to find something more; to block out the corrupt and to dream of the only thing she'd been denied.
Now, here we are. Roles slightly reversed and my little sin is cursed to seek blood for those who have harmed her all while not caring who gets caught in the crossfire and I can't seem to want for anything more than for her forgiveness. To mend the break I've created, yearning for her acceptance.
"You didn't deserve the harm that was done to you, Rivian," my wife speaks in a velveted timbre, encasing her words with so much empathy that it brings me agony knowing that I suppressed her heart's purpose.
I glide my finger across her cheek, wiping the tear that fell as I take in just how staggering touching her skin feels. I didn't realize how restrained I was in my feelings for her until I found her in the Gilded Hollow but even then, I didn't anticipate how strongly I thirsted for her touch, her voice, her eyes, her pleasure.
"It doesn't make what I did to you right," I say to her and her eyes close gently as I hold her face, caressing her and admiring her natural beauty, raw in the flesh.
"No, it doesn't. But I can understand." She looks back up at me, my heart seizing as her eyes search for her belonging in mine. "And I want to know, Rivian. I want to know all of your pain and feel all of your loss as my own. But I have to know . . . did you lie to me about everything?"
There it is. This unexpected and foreign feeling of disappointment and shattering failure. I don't care to disappoint people much, not really. Not when I am the one they answer to; I am the one who decides what happens in my kingdom. But ever since experiencing the disconcerting emotions I've felt with Lucynda, I have the need to empathize and counteract my harrowing actions with those that might morph the disappointment into something tangibly hopeful.
I've never been one for romanticism, but with Lucynda, I want to be. I take her by the hand, eager to express to her the very truth behind my rapacious need for her, and I guide her to the bay window that overlooks the Hollows Trace Forest.
The trees start to coat in little white flecks of snow as the sky darkens to a deep, slate gray. I position her in front of me while I close her in my arms, making sure she's warm and safe, allowing her the illusion of trust though I know it won't be enough.
I lower my voice, so she knows this is just for her and I do my best to comfort her.
"I didn't lie to you about everything, Cyn. You truly are my anima vinculum," I start. "It's hard to tell you how that is determined but you have to believe me when I say that you were marked for mine. But I can say that I didn't really know as much when I first met you all those years ago."
Lucynda stares out at the snow, watching the flurries fall gently down to the ground. "So, when my father…"
"Yes," I rub my hands and up and down her arms. "That was the first time I ever laid eyes on you and I almost didn't stop when I heard your cries for help. But I did and that was the very moment I knew who you were. Ameliana's daughter."
"How could you have possibly known that? How did you even know she had another daughter?" Lucynda turns her head slightly to look up at me. I don't look back at her, needing to focus on anything other than the plaguing feeling that rattles inside of me. I can't get lost in my own need to be selfish with her because fuck I want to be selfish.
Her scent wafts up to my nostrils and her voice carves light in my dark soul. But I need to stay attentive to the questions and give her the truth she deserves.
"I overheard Amy say something a while ago. It caught me off guard, but it was something her and my father argued about. But I brushed it off because I had other things on my mind that night."
"Like what?" she asks.
"Like getting killed," I respond, and it causes her to turn around fully. "That was the night I was forced to turn."
I stay looking beyond her, over the top of her head and out the window. The memory of that night will forever stay engraved in my brain. The feeling of dying didn't scare me as much as how and why. It was the very thing that set in stone that I'd become who I am today and the trajectory of everything thereafter. My undoing.
Lucynda doesn't respond to me, but her eyes bleed for the sorrow and loss that she must feel for me. Her heart is innately empathetic. Her feelings hold strong passion within them, no matter what they are.
"When I found you that night, when I was drawn to your pain, I saw your eyes and it hit me then and there . . . you were who my father and Amy were talking about. You were Amy's daughter and then that conversation came back into my head, it all made so much more sense." The tension I feel built in her shoulder as I hold her in front of me makes me just as tense.
I hate that she's learning just how fucked this situation between us is. I hate that I made it this way. But nothing can be right between us—if that's what she even wants anymore—if I don't tell her the honest truth behind every detail of how I came to need her.
She dips her head to hide her facial expression which I'm sure is painted in consternation, and then lowers her voice to try and conceal the rage I know I feel swell inside of her. "So you…"
She trails off. And before she has a chance to even attempt to put it together herself, I spill the honest truth.
"I knew in that moment that you were what I needed for the reprisal I had planned. I needed you as a pawn."
I watch her intake air, taking a deep breath as water wells in her eyes. The tears aren't met with a sad expression or a sniffle to indicate the potential to cry. Instead, as her eyes water and her breathing comes harsh, she doesn't hesitate to rear her open hand back before slapping me in the face.
It doesn't hurt. But fuck I want it to. I want her to punish me for my actions.
"You!" She shouts behind gritted teeth as she pushes me back. Normally, I wouldn't have budged. But she's a lot stronger now that she has the strength of vampirism. So her assault causes me to stumble a bit.
"You're mad," I state blankly.
"Of course I'm mad. I knew what you'd done when I found you in the dungeon with my mother. Once I figured it out, I only knew that I hated you for keeping this secret from me. But to learn that everything you said you did for me, you really only did it for you, it fucking infuriates me, Rivian. I didn't do anything to you or anyone else for that matter to warrant this!" Her rage is valid and I feel her hatred for the deceit she's been through.
Just because she's free of the curse’s symptoms for the time being, doesn't mean she won't express her anger as it is. She's still breathing in her vampirism, her heightened senses and over magnified emotions. I still expect her to be her .
"You can be mad. I get it. But I did everything for me as much as I did it for you."
"You're lying!" She reaches out and pushes me again. But as much as I expect her to lash out and express her emotions accordingly, she has to know that I will do the same.
I clench my teeth and lunge for her, gripping her at her upper arms and pushing her against the wall next to the window.
"I did it for you!" I shout at her, trying my hardest not to raise my voice in a way that would scare her but rather instill in her that I am not going to allow her to call me out on my word, even though I know I deserve it. But I am trying to tell her my truth.
"Get off me!" She pounds her fists against my chest as I fight against her attempt to break free, holding her tightly in my arms and imploring her to calm down.
Her hysterical assault against me slowly starts to die down as I continue to hold her and soon, tears attack her eyes. " Fuck ," she gets out before her anger turns to pain once more. "Why me?" Her words fade behind her crying and only a few beats pass before she seeks comfort in my arms and fully commits to burying herself against my chest.
I hold her, allowing her the solace she needs. I'm the one who hurt her. But I will be the one to soothe her, mend her, take care of her. That was never any different even when my intentions were predominately in my best interest. She would always be safe in my presence otherwise. Always.
I hold her head to me, feeling an intense confliction about how close she is to me. If she wanted, she could take full advantage of me in this moment. I'd let her have whatever she wanted. She has that kind of grip on me and it's almost despicable how quickly I'd fold for this woman. But I do it gladly, willingly.
After a few moments, her cries die down and silence sits between us. So much so that we can practically hear the soft feathering of snow happening outside.
"So my father?" Lucynda exhales softly as her raspy voice whispers up to me, lifting her head up to look at me.
"I did that for you," I respond earnestly. "Not for me or anyone else. With or without him, you would have been mine . But I killed that monster for you." I hope she can hear the promise in my words, that I won't let anyone hurt her even if I won't hold myself to that promise. Or at least I haven't. But I will. I don't plan to ruin her any more than I already have.
"The bank account and the apartment…" she breathes.
It's too much. The feeling of disappointing her and the feelings of needing her to understand. I just nod my head at her. I did it for her and for me. I did it because she deserved to have an escape from her life, deserved to have a safe place to land but in turn, I traded one monster for another.
Then I turned her into one.
"I couldn't explain the feeling of needing to be in Shadow Creek. I wanted to move far, far away from home, I wanted to get away from that life. But I needed to be here." The realization sinks in, she's now seeing just how influential I was in all of this and now she knows the reasons why.
"I needed you here too, just as much as you needed to be here. You were the only guarantee that I'd get Ameliana to come out of hiding but I knew I'd be able to protect you." I'm honest. It's true. She'd be vulnerable everywhere else and once I discovered my tie to her, I needed to ensure her safety.
"When I realized that you were my tether, I felt you more and more. But I had to force myself to deny it, though I was still obligated to abide by it." Lucynda straightens her back and lets go of a breath she was holding in.
She's accepting my vulnerability even if it means it's hurting her. When I see that she waits for me to say more, I continue.
"Tethers don't necessarily survive in love or even mean that such has to be of subject, Lucynda. Sometimes it's just nature's doing and we must play our societal parts. Not all marriages are viable and fulfilling in emotional or mental connections but it's what needs to be done," I say.
"But with us…" she fades off. She takes the time that I provide to pause and think over my words to take a step backward to lean against the wall.
I allow her the space by dropping my hands, missing the heat and the feel of her close to me.
"I felt more with you, Cyn. I fucking did but I couldn't give in to that. I manufactured my very existence to seek the revenge I craved. I wanted their blood for mine. I decided that I wanted to be the one to kill my father, but his mindlessness did the job for me. My need and my hunger for vengeance still remained. Your mother did nothing to protect me, to protect the twins. She left you and forced my mother out of her place. She was selfish and ever since she came around, my father started to abuse me. I was now the boy who had an outcast of a mother because of the stupid tether my father found in Ameliana, and it destroyed me.
"I hated everything. I hated myself. My father. I hated breathing. I even hated the fucking sun. A new day would start, the sun would rise and I was mocked, like I had to just carry on and smile throughout the day because the sun was shining. But a new day meant another day of hating my very existence."
Vulnerability was never a strong suit of mine. I play the cards I want to show and keep the rest close to my chest. More accurately, I throw them away, burn them. Being mentally or emotionally assailable is not something I subject myself to for all sakes and purposes.
"You told me that she ran away a second time," Lucynda starts. "But she couldn't be found, yet you didn't believe she was really gone. You stumbled upon me and decided to use me to bring her out. Why? Why not just leave it. She was gone."
"I was bloodthirsty, Cyn, and the consciousness I forged was relentlessly unsparing. It didn't matter who I hurt and who I had to use to get what I wanted." My explanation won't make sense to anyone who hasn't lived my pain, not truly. It's hard to reveal that I am the reason I suffered my own moral discountenance. "Besides…" I continue. "Ameliana was the one who killed me."
Cyn's head jerks to me, her eyes wide with question and confliction.
"My mother killed you?"
"Maybe it didn't matter who did the deed as much but there was something burning deep inside me that always hated her for doing it. On top of everything else, of course. But yes, she did." Harsh reality sets in for Lucynda, the knowledge that my life growing up was a lot more complicated than she could possibly imagine.
But she is starting to comprehend my torment.
"What about now, Rivian? How can I trust that you're not just playing games with me now?" I want to feel offended by her question. Why would I waste my time with all of this . . . sentimental exchanges and honesty pursuits just to play more negligible games with her. But I know where her question comes from.
Her piercingly glassy eyes await mine, and when I decide to lock our gaze together, she can see that I didn't really think outside of my initial cause of action in order to rectify my wrongdoings. I know that I haven't been able to think about anything other than her since the moment she nearly pierced my heart with the stake.
"I don't know what my plans are for Ameliana," I tell her honestly. "I spent the better half of my life despising her for what she did to me and how she left the twins, devising the very agenda that would rid myself of that ache. She should have been there to save Travois from drowning. She should have been there to watch her kids turn, to comfort them through the transition. She should have been there for you , to prevent the abuse you had endured in her absence."
Lucynda is crestfallen, her eyes sending signals of a hope that was robbed of her to the very depths of my soul. I can hear her heartbeat cry for the longing of what having a mother would have felt like. It strikes a chord in me, renewing that hatred I feel for Ameliana. But I can't fall back onto those feelings if I want any chance at fixing the broken tether that hangs between my wife and I.
"But I know I can't fail you. I know that I fucked up in using you for the sake of my battles, and my war. It was just too easy. You were there and…" I don't finish the statement. She knows. She knows I fucked up and that maybe if given the chance, I would have made a better decision. I can't be too sure of that assumption but I can only hope it would be true. That I might open my eyes to the baseless need to have control, to find justification in my puerile ideas of resurrection through the pain of others.
I once promised my mother I'd chase the hope of love. Someone who lights my soul on fire. I don't remember the exact things that were said between us as I've locked the torturous memories away for safekeeping, but the promise remains there. Once, I believed I'd listen to her, stay a man of my word. But it's the only promise I've made that I've yet to keep. I decide it's not too late to go through.
"I have to fix this. I don't know what that could possibly mean for the Society, for your mother, for the twins or for us. But after I saw what I did to you, after I realized that I had become the monster I sought to destroy, I knew." I eat the space between us, desperate to feel her heat again. "I wanted you to hate your mother as much as I did so that my argument for her undoing would be justified, and you'd be on board. Now I don't know what to do about that. I can't just let her back into my life, Lucynda. Into our life. I can't forgive her for what she's done. But out of all the things going on right now, all the shit I have to fix, the only thing I can focus on is you."
I reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear, feeling her small gasp against my palm as I do. She’s still affected by my touch. It's all I need to know that there is a fighting chance for us. That I might be able to bring her back to me.
"I don't know if I can forget what you've done, Rivian. I want to trust you if only for the sake of our place in this kingdom, to put the pieces back together. But anything outside of that…" I press my palm to her cheek, urging her to look at me as she fades from her words.
She deserves validity in her requests, in her feelings. I know that. I know that I do not deserve to be forgiven now if ever. But I need it. She doesn't know how badly. I will fucking beg if it comes down to that. But for now, I will simply try my best to inspirit her and prove to her that I won't lead her astray again.
"I need you, Cyn. Tether or not, you are mine . I need you to see that." I lean in and hover my lips over hers, not touching but close enough to feel like it. "But I'll let you take whatever time you require to watch me as I prove to you that you are more than some lore-linked conquest to me."
She gasps. It's small and soft, but I feel it. It's hope. Her body reacts to mine, almost as if she's begging me to come closer, her eyes holding lust and affliction while her heartbeat flutters in its cage.
"Are you trying to convince me…" she looks up and focuses her gaze on mine. "Or yourself?" Her tone has a strong, flirtatious timbre, but holds an unnerved tone. Like she's feigning her own ability to keep composure.
"What do you mean?" I challenge her.
"I think you feel guilty," she states. "I think you realized just how childish your actions were, and you now have to face the consequences. I can't be sure you want me for me . I saw the way you looked at me in the Gilded Hollow. I felt the way you hungered that version of me,” she challenges back.
"That's because I've never seen a darkness as pretty as yours." I run my hand over the outline of her jaw and trail it up to her bottom lip, letting the pad of my thumb skim the curve of it before prodding the small heart shaped space between her lips, tempting the tension between us. "So you're right," I continue. "I did crave that version of you. It made me feel less alone in my sins and in my demand for war. But I am rather savage to the feeling of needing this version of you. Your innocence, the independence you bleed but your willingness to submit. Your charisma, your strength, your command and your light and dark energies . . . it's all so refreshing, little sin."
She doesn't so much as flinch when I slide my finger down her neck and find the pulse that softly raps beneath her skin. I press gently, and a small lusty sigh escapes her. Fuck , she is dangerous.
"You don't understand how hard it is for me to keep on this mighty king facade when the light of your very existence enters the room." It's hard to breathe with her so far into my reserve, testing my reprieve and abating my self-inflicted punishment.
Quelling my rage and inspiring morality in me.
I lift her chin, nearly pressing my lips to hers now as I whisper in her mouth, "I'll never be able to express how fucking sorry I am."
She doesn't push or pull, leaving us in a tangle of controlled breathing and sporadic heart palpitations, craving the need for more but not wanting to concede.
But then she retreats and I berate myself for allowing her to, for not demanding her to kiss me.
She moves her arms to cross behind her back as she leans back against the wall, not providing much space between us but enough to allow her to have a few words.
"I was scared when you introduced me to all this, you basically forced my hand and told me I was to be your wife. I felt insane for entertaining the idea of it but I wanted to be a part of something." She stops to remove her eyes from me, looking down and closing them, her words likely forming in her head as she forces herself to forget the tension between us.
"I wanted to be the very thing someone needed when they woke in the morning, their first thought and their last vision. Despite what you did or didn't think, I didn't need revenge to get that from you, but now I know why you led me to believe that's what I'd be after if I joined you in all of this."
"What are you saying?" I ask.
"I'm saying that I wanted to be here . . . with you . I wanted to feel anything other than what I was feeling and I thought you could give me that. Power sounded enticing and so did control and dominance. But more than anything, I just wanted you .
"I didn't know you, couldn't tell a single soul much about you. But something in the way your heart whispered behind your arbitrary promises of power and incessant need for retribution is what caused me to fall. To jump at your offer. You had charm but I could tell you were scared of something. That you needed to run, just like me." She sighs, indicating that what she's saying is a relief of anxiety, a weight off her shoulders. Sincere and clear as day in the way her words praise just how vulnerable she is. " I wanted to be the one you could run to. I wanted you to need me as much as I wanted you."
It's undeniable, the cause and effect she has on me. I feel lost for words when all hers do is ground me in her light. She is a beautiful conviction, a sensational sin, and the sweetest fucking thing I've broken.
"Fuck, Cyn. Where do we go from here?"
"I don't know." She shrugs. "But I don't want us to give up on this. I am your wife. I am the Hollows Trace Queen. I want to be here. But until we can cure this curse, who knows what the future holds. And right now, despite . . . you know…" Her reticent tone suggests she's talking about the experiment she encouraged us to perform in the tub earlier, causing a furtive grin to swipe across my face. "I still don't fully trust your intentions."
That notion stings. I want all of her, and that includes her willingness to have faith in my intentions. But on the contrary, I can't be too stubborn to admit that I'm proud of her for not being so viable to accept.
"I don't want it to be that easy. As much as I need you by my side, and I do want you to trust me, I expect to have to work for it."
She smirks.
"Oh, you will. But for now, we have to figure out how to fix the rest of the mess in this kingdom."
" I have to fix this. This has nothing to do with you, little one."
Lucynda stands up straight and brings her brows inward, expressing concern at my spoken words.
"If you want me to trust you, then we have to be in this together. Don't push me out because your pride is too big to let others in." She leans up, stretching to match my height using the tips of her toes. Our lips touch for a splinter of a moment, feathering just paper-width apart. "I want in, Rivian," she whispers and just as I think she'll cave and kiss me, we're interrupted by a knock on the door behind us.
She peers over my shoulder as I turn around to see who it is.
"Natasha," I say and the sweet woman nods her head before making her announcement.
"A message that your presence is requested in the Great Hall early in the morning." Her voice sounds weathered yet soothing as she speaks.
I feel for her and am sympathetic to her existence as a mortal in a castle full of vampires. But she's been a constant in my life and no matter what my conscience says about holding Outsiders against their will, I needed Natasha's presence.
I nod at her, indicating she is okay to exit before I turn back to my wife.
"You want in?" I ask her, noticing that she distanced herself once more during the distraction of our visitor.
Lucynda doesn't shy from presenting a slight smile as her eyes glisten with delectation, hope and equality.
I'm not sure what awaits us in the morning, but it's likely something to do with the entire list of plights that puncture our kingdom. And while I still anticipate keeping as much of my secrets from as many people as I can for the time being, I'm eager to start chipping away at the pile of fallacy I've subjected the Society to, even if they aren't aware of it.
I take Lucynda's hand and intertwine our fingers together.
"Then let's get some sleep, little one. Tomorrow, we get to show this kingdom who their king and queen are."