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Cassis is dreaming again. Dreaming of her. Platinum blonde hair unbound, hands bruised and covered in blood, nightdress in a tattered ruin exposing the tantalizing expanse of her calves. She grips his chin harshly, fingers squeezing mercilessly, and forcefully tilts his head up to meet hers.
“What a sweet boy.” She croons. “You’re all mine aren’t you?”
He wakes up before he can answer, shaky and sweating, and knowing, deep in his heart, that the answer was always going to be yes.
He dreams of her incessantly. Sometimes he dreams of grabbing her hand and not letting go, dragging her with him back to Pedalian lands, where she would be safe and free. Others are of her soft hand playing with his hair. It had been wrong, he knew, to pretend to be asleep and lay his head in her lap and take advantage of the rare moment of kindness she might not have shown him had she known he was awake. It wasn’t something a gentleman should do, and it was certainly not something Cassis would do. But he hadn’t been able to help himself. The guilt hadn’t been nearly as bad as not having her hand in his hair was.
But most times he dreams of the cell, tiny and cramped as it had been, of Roxana, on his lap, sucking bruises into his neck. Had she known how weak to her he’d been in that moment, and all subsequent moments really? Probably. He was never good at hiding his feelings, to his father’s chagrin.
He is dreaming of her again. This time they are standing in a room together and there is a slew of dead bodies between them. Who did this? Was it him? Was it Roxana? It doesn’t matter.
She smiles at him from the other side of the room, sharp and deadly, and opens her arms as though waiting for a hug.
“There you are! I thought you weren’t coming back.”
“I’ll come back. I’ll always come back I promise.”
“We’ll see.” Butterflies start to swirl around them, biting the various corpses around them and tearing them apart viciously. A couple of them land on him and start biting him. He doesn’t shoo them away. Why would he? The butterflies are an extension of Roxana after all. Who is he to deny her anything? If she wants his blood she can have every last drop.
“Roxana,” He starts, “I-”
“Don’t,” She tilts back her long, pale neck to make place for a couple of butterflies to perch on her face. “make promises you won’t keep.”
“I would never.” He vows.
She smiles at him again, though this time she seems sad, a ray of moonlight lands on her face, hallowing her in silver light.
“For your sake I hope you’re lying. Goodbye Cassis.”
She disappears in a flurry of butterflies and Cassis is alone, surrounded by partially digested dead bodies, a gaping hole where his heart is supposed to be.
“I’m in love with Roxana Agriche.” He tells his father, straight-on, because lying is not his way and he doesn’t want to lie, not about this, because he is not ashamed. His devotion and admiration aren’t a weakness and he will not hide them.
His father blinks at him, as though wiling him to take back what he just said. When he doesn’t he rubs his hand tiredly over his forehead.
“Good lord Cassis.” He seems older than usual that moment, more tired. “You can’t…Fuck…You…” He takes a deep breath. “I know she’s beautiful. And I know she helped you escape. But she’s still an Agriche. Who knows what kind of twisted thoughts run through her mind?”
Cassis barely restrains himself from telling his father that he would love nothing more than to know what kind of twisted thoughts run through Roxana Agriche’s brain, especially if she was so kind as to exhibit them on him. His thoughts must appear plainly on his face however, because his father groans and lets his head fall into his hands.
“This is a nightmare.” He mutters. “This isn’t real. Everything is fine.”
“Father?”
“Just go Cassis.” He grits outs, head still buried in his hands. “We’ll talk about it later.”
“Alright.” He turns and leaves. He doesn’t see what kind of conversation they can have about this, he could not stop love Roxana any more than he could will his own heart to stop beating, but he could certainly indulge his father.
That night he dreams of Roxana sinking her fingers between his ribs, puncturing his skin, holding him tight as she kisses him.
“Do you think heaven exists?”
They are in the same room as before, torn apart corpses littering the room, butterflies swirling everywhere and Roxana is standing there; blood splattered over her face like a work of art and carnivorous butterflies perched on her body.
“I do. How can I believe otherwise when you exist?”
She smiles.
“I would have thought my existence to be proof of the existence of hell, not heaven.”
He shakes his head vigorously.
“You are powerful and deadly. It’s true. And when you smile at me it’s like the skies themselves part. How could I not believe?” He repeats.
“That must be nice.” She whispers, gently swatting one of her butterflies away. “Believing in a heaven.”
“Don’t you?”
“I think it doesn’t matter whether heaven exists or not because I’m not going either way.”
She smirks and he can see something change in her, like a porcelain mask being slid on her face. It breaks his heart a little. “I sold my soul a long time ago, it’s too late to go back now.”
“Take mine then. My soul. It’s yours.”
The smile she sends him is carefully crafted to be light-hearted and teasing, yet her voice still has an odd tremble when she speaks.
“Careful. I might take you up on that offer someday.”
Before he can tell her that he wishes she would he wakes up, body tangled in his sheets and heart racing.
Cassis is flat on his back. He cannot, for the life of him, remember how he got here or what happened before. The only thing he knows is that he is flat on his back, Roxana’s boot crushing his windpipe as she looks down on him, and all he can see is her.
“Look at what I caught.” She says evenly, like they are just two people having a normal conversation.
He lets out a strangled gurgle that might have sounded suspiciously like a moan. She takes her foot off his throat and giggles delicately. Her teeth are sharp and he wants, selfishly, for her to sink them into him, to never let him go. He wants her to want to even more.
She sinks down over his lap, and tilts her head innocently at him, as though she was utterly unconcerned with what effect she was having on him.
She leans closer to him, breasts brushing against his chest, so close that he can feel her breath on his face.
“Roxana…please…”
“Please what?”
He groans.
“Anything. Everything. Please.”
She looks at him for a moment, before she presses her lips to his neck and bites, a claiming brand, unmistakable as anything else. He screams, whether in pleasure or in pain he doesn’t know, he only knows that he wants more, that he wants her to mark him in such a way that everyone who looks at him will know she chose him. So he tilts his head back more, a foolish move, he can already hear his father say, exposing his jugular to such a woman, but Cassis is far beyond caring about such things at this point. She smiles in the crook of his neck and rewards him with another bite, this time at the junction between his neck and shoulder.
He wakes up with a start, hands flying to his throat. He doesn’t know why he’s disappointed when it’s unmarred.
Roxana is chasing a deer. He does not know why, or how, all he knows is that Roxana is racing through the woods like an ancient hunting goddess, and so he follows her. She breaks the deer’s neck with a sickening pop, pouncing on it like the natural-born predator she is.
He hears a sick crunch as she pries its ribcage open with her hands and tears its heart out with one smooth elegant motion before sinking her teeth into it. Cassis has never felt this envious of a dead animal before. How he wishes Roxana would sink her hands into his chest and pull out his still-beating heart with her bare hands. No. He wishes he could carve it out of his own ribcage and gift it to her. What would she do with his raw, unfettered, heart? Probably throw it in the ever-growing pile at her feet.
She takes a bite out of the heart, like it is an apple, before extending a hand to him, bloody and raw, and smiles, tilting her head in a silent beckoning. He is next to her in a moment and kneels at her side. He does not take her hand. Touching Roxana is a privilege and he should never pretend like he deserves it, even if it is just a dream.
She offers him the heart like it is a forbidden fruit, and he does not even hesitate before he leans forward and takes a bite out of it himself. Roxana eyes soften as he chews, or perhaps he is simply imagining it. His mouth is full of blood as he keeps chewing, damning his soul. What’s heaven to Roxana anyway?
This time, Roxana is lying next to him on the bed, naked and flushed and sprawled against him languidly. The cooling sweat on their bodies make them sticky, but Cassis wraps his arm around her bare waist and presses her body his. She lets him hug her, their chests pressed together, her hand stroking his jaw, and leans forward to press a soft kiss to his neck.
“Don’t leave me.” She whispers into the hollow of his throat and oh how wonderful it is to imagine that Roxana would want him, that she would ask him to say.
“Never.” He vows, his hand tracing soft patterns across her bare shoulder.
“Of course you will.” She answers back simply, like it’s obvious. “You must.”
“I will not.” He answers back, stubborn. “I could no more leave you than I could leave my own heart behind.”
Her fingers tighten around his middle.
“You must.” She repeats. “I can’t protect you, and I can’t bear to drag you down to hell with me.”
“I wouldn’t mind. Being dragged down with you is better than going to whatever paltry version of heaven would exist without you in it.”
She clutches him harder, drawing blood.
“You’re such an idiot.” She hisses. “Why can’t you just go when I tell you?”
“I’m not leaving you behind. Never.”
“Idiot.” She says again, though a tad softer. “You’re going to get yourself killed and you’ll have deserved it.”
He says nothing to this, and merely twirls a strand of her hair between his fingers.
“I love you.” He says, just because he can, just to see the flash of surprise in her eyes whenever he does.
“Foolish,” she leans forward to kiss him, “stupid,” she kisses him again, “idiot.” She straddles him, pale thighs bracketing his hips, hands holding him firmly beneath her. “I could kill you right now.”
“Do it then.” He tilts his head backwards, an offer and a dare all at once.
She presses her hand to his throat but doesn’t squeeze, simply pondering.
“You’re too trusting.” She says finally, the mask starting to slip back on. “This is going to be a problem.”
She takes her hand off his throat and kisses him, softer than he thought she would, and he melts into her, hands still at his sides not daring to touch her, body going languid once more. She pulls back to look at him again and sighs.
“Yes this is really going to be a problem.”
He spends more time asleep than awake these days, just so he can catch a glimpse of her. Sylvia worries about him, he can tell. But he doesn’t know what to tell her. She wouldn’t understand. Nobody would. He’s not even sure he does.
He wants Roxana to love him. He wants Roxana to hurt him. He wants her to let him worship her, and protect her, and comfort her. He wants her to protect him, and cherish him, and tear his throat out with her teeth because he’s hers and he always has been.
“Do you love me Cassis?” She asks in this dream, standing in her crimson red dress, hair braided over her shoulder as she gazes imperiously at him while he kneels on the ground.
“I do. More than anything.”
“How sweet.” She laughs at him, as she should, and trails her soft fingers down his cheek and leans down to give him a soft, chaste kiss on the lips that makes his entire body shake. “How much?”
“I’d do anything for you. Please.” He breathes. He doesn’t know what he’s begging for, not really, but he means it nonetheless.
“Would you die for me?”
“Yes.” He answers, immediately and without hesitation.
“No.” She sighs. “That’s too easy.” She smiles wickedly. “Would you kill for me?”
His mouth is dry as he answers.
“I don’t know. It would depend, I think.”
She hums, as though the answer disappointed her but didn’t surprise her, and the sound cuts him to the quick because disappointing Roxana is the worst thing he could do.
“It’s alright I suppose.” She answers after what seems like an eternity to Cassis. “I’m more than willing and capable enough to kill for the both of us.”
She grabs him by the throat and Cassis lets her, pliant as a doll, as she kisses him brutally this time, her tongue invading his mouth and her teeth biting his bottom lip so viciously as to draw blood.
“You’re mine.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him again, her fingers tightening on his throat.
He passes out in his dream and wakes up in the real world, drenched in sweat and his every nerve on fire.
“We’re going to be happy together. I’ll make sure of it.” He declares, a promise and a vow all at once.
Her face is unfeeling and unmoving as she takes a step forward and traces the side of his face with her knuckle.
“You’re a fool if you believe that.” She answers. “Happiness and happy-ever afters aren’t made for people like me.”
“I want to try anyways. Let me try. Please.”
She shakes her head and moves away from him, face impassive, although he could swear her top lip was trembling slightly, a barely visible crack in the mask.
“Don’t bother. Go craft a happy ending with someone else.”
“It wouldn’t be happy. Not for me. Not if you’re not there.”
“You would be a fool,” she retorts back sharply, gaze as cold as ice, “to let your happiness depend on a woman like me.”
“Say you don’t want me too.” He says, half a dare and half an offer. He would go mad if he had to stay away, but if it was what she wanted stay away he would. “Tell me to go away and I will.”
She says nothing, simply shakes her head and walks away from him and into the mists.
“She might have forgotten about you.” Sylvia tells him one day, not to be cruel, he knows this, but because she loves him and doesn’t want him to get hurt, no matter how much he would welcome Roxana shattering his heart into a million pieces forever if it meant she got to hold it for a second.
“I know.” He answers instead. “It’s still worth it. She’s worth it.”
Sylvia pouts her lips, doubtful, and says nothing else. He will not see Roxana for two more years, and suddenly that feels like a very long time indeed.
“I miss her.” He whispers softly, not looking at Sylvia.
Sylvia’s face softens a fraction and she drags him down for a hug.
“I hope she misses you too.”