Prince Jasper had only been at the palace for six days, and Callidus was already regretting his decision to allow the Eflians to stay until his Coronation banquet.
The presence of the boisterous Crown Prince was disrupting the otherwise orderly and formal atmosphere of the Ashlarian court. His lively and outspoken nature contrasted sharply with the reserved and stoic demeanor of the Ashlarian nobility. Callidus found himself having to constantly remind Jasper of the boundaries set for his stay.
The Eflian prince's curious and adventurous nature often led him to explore areas of the palace that were off-limits to guests, and his attempts to befriend the Ashlar guards and servants were frustratingly effective. His easygoing and affable personality seemed to win people over effortlessly, including Countess Fenella.
Jasper's uncanny ability to find Callidus every morning became an uncomfortable routine. Whether it was unexpectedly popping into his study or cornering him in a hallway, the Eflian prince persistently extended an invitation for Callidus to join him for breakfast. Despite Callidus's declining each time, Jasper seemed undeterred, making the morning encounters increasingly awkward and leaving Callidus feeling trapped.
In addition to his persistent attempts to befriend Callidus, Jasper couldn't help but inquire about Cressida at every opportunity. Each time he approached the subject of visiting his sister, Callidus firmly shut him down, reminding him of their agreed upon terms.
Meanwhile, Cressida remained unaware of her brother's presence in Ashlar. She spent most of her time sleeping or pretending to sleep. Callidus made numerous attempts to engage her, even offering to accompany her outside to the garden or the library, but she rejected his offers each time. Their interactions mainly consisted of Callidus sitting by her side, or curled up around her as she remained motionless on the bed. His attempts at conversation were met with prolonged silences or inscrutable glances from Cressida, leaving him feeling at a loss for how to reach her.
The only moments when she seemed to show any signs of life were during her visits with Quail and Cilla, which Callidus began granting her daily in the hopes of seeing a glimmer of life return to her eyes.
Every day, Callidus made his way to the Royal Tombs and opened Ferox's casket to verify that he was still deceased. On one particular morning, when Cressida refused to leave her bed even to visit Quail and Cilla, Callidus found himself sitting atop Ferox's casket, deeply engrossed in re-reading Mint's notes. With Ferox's lifeless face staring up at him, Callidus focused on the section about Cressida's food preferences, hoping it would offer some clues to help her overcome her withdrawn state.
Several days ago, to his dismay, Callidus realized that he had been mistaken about Cressida's favorite food. Unintentionally, he had been asking the kitchen to prepare lemon pastries for her, completely unaware that she couldn't stand them. This revelation served as a painful reminder of how little he truly understood the woman he loved most. Despite his sincere efforts to bring her comfort, he had unknowingly added to her distress.
(Quail was sufficiently punished for the misinformation.)
Callidus flipped through the pages of Mint's notes, first re-reading about Cressida's homesickness and feelings of loneliness. Then, he came across the section where Mint revealed Cressida's recurring nightmares of being crushed and trapped. However, it was the passage detailing Cressida's anger and resentment towards him that struck him the most. The words stung, yet he found himself unable to resist revisiting that passage over and over again. It was like reopening a wound that he didn't want to heal, a constant reminder of the pain he had inflicted upon her.
As Callidus continued to pore over Mint's notes, he was suddenly startled by a familiar horrible sensation. The air in the casket shifted and constricted, as if being sucked in. Callidus looked down, only to be met with the wide-eyed and fearful stare of Ferox, his brother's lifeless face now alive with terror.
The sight of his brother breathing once more should have brought Callidus a sense of dread and frustration. Instead, he found himself gripped by an eerie sense of acceptance, as though he had been prepared for this inexplicable return from the dead all along.
Ferox's eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings with both fear and bewilderment. He struggled to sit up, his movements clumsy and disoriented. Callidus remained perched on the casket lid, watching his brother closely but making no move to help or hinder him.
"Back again, Ferox?" Callidus remarked, his voice tinged with an unsettling calmness that mirrored the strange detachment he felt. "I thought you had decided to stay dead this time."
Ferox's gaze finally settled on Callidus, his eyes wide and filled with trepidation. "I don't know how it happened," he stammered, his voice shaking, "I... I just woke up here again."
Callidus leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Ferox's face. "You woke up here, in the tomb, after I killed you," he mused, almost to himself. "Do you have any idea what this means?"
Ferox shook his head, his fear mounting with each passing moment. "I don't know, Callidus. I swear, I don't know how this is happening."
"Is this some twisted form of punishment?" Callidus mused aloud, more to himself than to Ferox. "Is fate playing a cruel joke on me, bringing you back from the dead to torment me further?" He glanced down at the leather folder containing Mint's notes in his hands, bitterness lacing his voice as he muttered, "Hasn't fate plagued me enough with false hope?"
"...you're...you're dressed differently." Ferox rasped, "...how long was I...?"
"Seven days."
"...seven...seven days?" Ferox mumbled.
"Yes, seven days," Callidus confirmed, his eyes still fixed on Ferox's bewildered expression. "Every morning, I would come here to the Royal Tombs, and there you were, lifeless in your casket. But now, inexplicably, you're back."
"I know you want answers," Ferox said, his voice pleading, "But I don't have them. I don't know how I keep coming back. I don't know why fate seems to have taken an interest in playing with my life."
Callidus's gaze remained fixed on his brother, his mind racing with thoughts and possibilities. He knew he had to be careful with his next move. Ferox's inexplicable return from the dead was a puzzle he couldn't afford to ignore, but at the same time, he couldn't let his guard down.
"Tell me everything," Callidus said, his voice demanding but controlled. "Every detail of what happened after I killed you. Every sensation, every thought that crossed your mind."
Ferox hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts before recounting his experience. "I remember the pain," he began, "You...you squeezing my throat, and choking. And then, darkness. An endless void of nothingness."
Callidus listened intently, his mind searching for any clues that could explain Ferox's inexplicable return. But so far, it all sounded like the aftermath of death, nothing that shed light on how he had come back to life.
"And then," Ferox continued, "I felt a pull, as though something was dragging me back. It was like a force I couldn't resist. And suddenly, I was back here, in the tomb, gasping for air." His eyes tentatively met Callidus's icy gaze, "...and here you are. It feels like it's only been a minute or so. Not...seven days."
Callidus frowned, dissatisfied, "That gives me nothing."
"It's...it's all I have, Callidus..." Ferox said softly.
"Well, despite your vague answers, one thing is clear; I cannot allow you to roam free, disrupting everything I've worked for."
Ferox's eyes widened with fear, "What are you going to do?"
Callidus considered his brother's question for a moment, "I haven't decided," he admitted, "But you need to stay dead."
Ferox's shoulders slumped further, "So, what then? Are you going to kill me again?"
"Perhaps," Callidus replied calmly, "Perhaps one of those times, death will finally claim you as it should."
"But what if I never die...?" Ferox whimpered, "I...I've already woken up so many times."
"Do you actually want to die?" Callidus asked, unable to prevent curiosity from lacing his voice.
"I just...I don't want to go through that again. Being trapped in the casket. And...and..." His voice trailed off.
Callidus thoughtfully considered his brother's words, musing aloud, "You say it's as if only a minute has passed since our last encounter..." An idea crossed his mind. "So, perhaps I just need to kill you once a week for the rest of my life?"
Ferox stared up at Callidus, clearly appalled.
"...in fact, Ferox," Callidus murmured, "Your current situation raises many questions. If I were to remove a limb, what do you think would happen?"
Ferox's eyes widened with horror, his breath catching in his throat at Callidus's suggestion. "You can't be serious," he gasped.
Callidus remained eerily composed, his gaze unwavering as he continued, "I don't see any marks on your neck. You seem fully healed from, ah, our encounter last week."
Ferox's hands instinctively went to his throat, as if to reassure himself that he was indeed unharmed. "You can't experiment on me," he protested, his voice shaking.
"I am merely considering all possibilities," Callidus replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "And, frankly, Ferox. You don't have a choice. I have taken everything from you. Even if you were to come back, there's nothing for you to claim."
Ferox's face contorted with fear and anger. "This isn't fair," he muttered, "I didn't ask for any of this. You have no right to play with my life like this!"
Callidus's expression remained stoic, unmoved by his brother's outburst. "Fairness has little place in the face of the inexplicable," he said, his voice steady. "I didn't choose this either, but here we are. You may see it as playing with your life, but I see it as trying to understand a baffling phenomenon that could have far-reaching consequences."
Ferox's eyes searched Callidus's face, searching for any hint of remorse or doubt. But he found none. "You're so cold, so detached," Ferox spat, his fear turning into frustration. "You were always like this. I just never realized how much of a monster you actually were."
"Tell me in detail, Ferox." Callidus said softly, placing the leather folder down on the lid of the casket, "How much of a monster am I?"
Ferox's eyes narrowed, "You killed me," he said pointedly, "You killed your own brother, without a second thought. How can you live with yourself after that?"
Callidus leaned in, his fingers drumming on the edge of the casket as he stared down at him. "Easily," he hissed.
Just then, a loud voice echoed throughout the tomb.
"Cal! Are you in there?"
Both Callidus and Ferox locked wide eyes at the sudden intrusion.
"...Cal...?" Ferox rasped, "Who is the world is stupid enough to call you that?"
Immediately, Callidus hopped off the lid of the casket, snapping it shut with a burst of frigid air, sealing Ferox inside. Ferox protested, his voice muffled from within the casket before he began to pound from within.
"You will be quiet." Callidus snarled, "Otherwise I will kill you again."
"...I need...air..."
Callidus cracked the casket just enough to send a rush of icy wind seeping through just as Jasper came into sight, casually meandering past the old crypts of long dead Ashlarian royalty.
"There you are!" Jasper said cheerfully, as if he were at a party instead of a room full of corpses.
"This area is off limits to guests, Your Highness." Callidus said curtly. "I am growing weary of reminding you."
Jasper's eyes flickered over to the casket, curiosity, and sympathy in his gaze. "One of the guards said he saw you coming here, and I thought I'd join you," he replied, approaching the crypt. "You know, I've never had the chance to pay my respects to Ferox. I'm guessing this shiny new addition is his." Jasper's gaze darted around the tomb, "...where's your fathers?"
Callidus's fingers twitched, as he wrapped a thin tendril of air around Ferox's jaw, tightly keeping it closed from within the casket.
(If Ferox made any sound, he would be dead.) ((Again.))
"I prefer to spend this time alone." Callidus said through clenched teeth. "It is a solemn routine of mine that you are intruding upon."
"Oh, come now, Callidus," Jasper replied, a tinge of sadness painting his features, "Ox and I were childhood friends. I may not have been here for his funeral, but that doesn't mean I can't honor his memory now."
Callidus's grip on the icy tendril tightened further, silently warning Ferox to remain quiet.
"Fine," Callidus replied curtly, "But make it brief. This is not a place to loiter."
Jasper nodded understandingly and approached the casket. He placed a pale hand on the black stone of the lid. "Hey, Ox," Jasper said softly, "It's been too long. I wish we had more time to catch up. I still think of you every summer, you know? You taught me some of my favorite games."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "I never got to say goodbye properly, did I? Perhaps I should have tried harder to stay in touch. I regret not sending you an invite to my wedding. I thought we'd get a chance to catch up at yours, but, well..."
Jasper trailed off, his voice lowering with sorrow.
"...rest in peace, my first friend. I hope wherever you are, it's a lot less confusing than reality."
Jasper said a few words in what Callidus vaguely recognized was Ancient Eflian, before stepping away from the casket.
When Callidus met his gaze, he was surprised to see tears in his grey eyes.
"Thanks for letting me pay my respects." Jasper said, with a sad smile, "I...I can't stand goodbyes. So, I don't usually say them."
"I see." Callidus said, brows furrowing from the open display of emotion.
"Would you be surprised to learn that I've never actually been to a funeral?"
Callidus was surprised, given that Crown Prince's were often tasked with speaking at memorial services.
"It's true!" Jasper exclaimed, reacting to Callidus's incredulous stare, "I caught a 'fever' every time. I'm an expert at playing sick."
"And you are...proud of that fact?"
Jasper wiped a lingering tear away from his cheeks, "Proud isn't quite the right word, but uh. Life's made for the living, you know?"
Callidus frowned, as he muttered, "In my experience, it's always the living that demands funerals for the dead."
Jasper's expression softened as he regarded Callidus, "I guess you're right. It's the living who need closure, and who need to say their goodbyes." Jasper's gaze landed on Ferox's casket, "The dead don't give a damn."
Callidus found himself strangely understanding and connecting with Jasper's perspective, studying the man intently, trying to decipher his character.
Jasper paused, sensing Callidus's scrutiny, and met his gaze. He winced, "Ah, sorry. I don't mean to offend. The guards said you come in here every day. I'm not trying to make it out like funerals and memorial services don't matter. They're just not for me."
"No, I agree with you." Callidus said quietly. "I find them tedious, and pointless."
Jasper's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Really?"
Callidus nodded, "I've always seen those rituals as mere empty gestures, binding people to the past and hindering them from moving forward."
Jasper's eyes seemed to sparkle with understanding, "Exactly! I mean, I understand why people find comfort in them, and I respect that. But for me, it feels like we should be celebrating their lives while they're with us, not after they're gone."
Stepping away from Ferox's casket, Jasper made a sweeping gesture encompassing the multitude of crypts around them.
"I mean, look at this place!" Jasper exclaimed, "What a waste of space! No disrespect to your ancestors, but how many people actually come in here?" His hands moved in the air, outlining the scene he imagined, adding life to his vision, "In Eflia, I want to be buried in a garden under a tree with a swing set. Don't even bother marking the spot. At least then maybe my great grandkids will enjoy visiting me."
Callidus tilted his head, intrigued. "You're going to be the King of Eflia one day, and you would be fine with an unmarked grave?"
"Oh, I'm sure my family would have a fit at the idea," he said with a playful grin. "But I don't plan on being a traditional king. I want to be a king who brings joy and happiness to my people. And if that means having a swing set over my grave, then so be it."
"You are an idiot." Callidus said, surprised by the genuine (baffled) smile forming on his lips.
(He did not mean to say that out loud.)
Jasper burst into laughter at Callidus's candid remark, clearly taking no offense. "Perhaps I am," he replied, still chuckling. "But sometimes, the fool is a required role. Don't you agree?"
"No." Callidus said bluntly, but this only seemed to make Jasper laugh louder, filling the solemn atmosphere of the tomb. Callidus couldn't help but find himself amused by the Eflian prince's infectious joy.
As laughter filled the tomb, Callidus's amusement quickly turned to alarmed annoyance when he heard the faint sounds of banging coming from Ferox's casket. Without hesitation, Callidus wrenched the tendril of air, snapping Ferox's neck in a satisfying split second. The banging ceased, and the casket remained still once more.
Jasper's laughter died down as he noticed the sudden cold shift in Callidus's demeanor. "What's wrong?" he asked, his expression growing serious.
Callidus didn't respond immediately, his attention focused on Ferox's casket. He needed to ensure that Ferox's resurrections remained a secret, especially from Jasper.
"Nothing." Callidus finally replied. "I was simply contemplating your words. Perhaps the fool is a necessary role, but it's not one that I find myself familiar with."
Jasper nodded, "I think it would be a rare person who would be able to make you play the fool." He paused, before he grinned, "But wait till you get married."
Callidus raised an eyebrow, his gaze leaving Ferox's casket to meet Jasper's (Cressida's) eyes, "Married? I'm not sure what that has to do with playing the fool."
Jasper chuckled, "Oh, believe me. When you're married, you find yourself doing things you never thought you would, just to make your partner smile."
Callidus's expression grew pensive as he glanced at the leather folder of notes on the lid of Ferox's casket, the reminders of Cressida's pain and the distance between them.
Jasper followed Callidus's gaze, and his playful expression faded. "Hey, hey, I know that look. Are you fighting with a paramour?"
"...No."
(They weren't fighting. Cressida hadn't yelled at him in days.)
Jasper's eyes narrowed slightly, "Come on, Callidus. I may be a fool, but I'm not blind. As soon as I mentioned marriage, you got all mopey."
Callidus stared at Jasper, baffled that this man had the audacity to call him something as childish as 'mopey' to his face. He was not accustomed to being spoken to in such a flippant manner, especially not about something as meaningful as his relationship with Cressida.
"It is a personal matter, not one that I feel comfortable sharing with fools," Callidus replied curtly.
Jasper's expression softened, "I apologize, Callidus. I didn't mean to belittle your feelings," he said sincerely. "I only meant to offer my support and a listening ear if you needed one."
"I...appreciate that." Callidus said slowly, unsure of either Jasper's intentions, or his own feelings on the matter.
"You know, I'll be in the Banquet Hall if you care to join me for breakfast." Jasper offered with a light smile, "I might not seem like it, but I give pretty good advice."
Callidus hesitated for a moment, contemplating Jasper's invitation before declining as usual. "I believe I told you I do not enjoy breakfast."
"I don't suppose I could tempt you with lunch then?"
"Are you planning on poisoning me?" Callidus asked, semi seriously, "Is that why you are so insistent on having me dine with you?"
(Callidus had the antidotes to most poisons in his medical bag, but perhaps he should begin to carry a small satchel with him.)
Jasper burst into laughter at Callidus's half-serious remark, clearly amused by his response. "Poisoning you? You've got a dark sense of humor," he replied, "I simply enjoy good company and good food, and I thought it would be a pleasant way to spend some time together."
"I have never been described as 'good company.' And we have spent enough time together already."
"We're in a tomb, Cal." Jasper said, quirking an eyebrow, "This isn't exactly a pleasant atmosphere."
"I find it quite pleasant," Callidus commented, truthfully.
(The empty spot where his father's casket once sat filled him with immense satisfaction.)
Jasper looked around the chamber of caskets and statues, seemingly trying to understand Callidus's perspective, "I, uh, I guess it's nice looking. Cleaner than I thought it would be. Not a speck of dust or a cobweb in sight." Turning back to Callidus, he added, "But it's still a tomb, Cal."
"I believe I asked you to address me by my title," Callidus responded, though the irritation he initially felt at the nickname had diminished into mild annoyance.
Jasper's tone remained light, "Everyone calls you by your title. How often do you get to have a conversation with someone who can address you as an equal?" He playfully bowed low, his tone mocking yet not malicious, "Your Future Majesty?"
Callidus stared at Jasper, his mind grappling with the implications of that statement. All his life he was used to being addressed formally.
(If at all.)
"I suppose it is a rare occurrence," Callidus admitted, "You may call me Callidus if it pleases you. Just do not expect me to join you for breakfast or any other meal."
Jasper grinned, seemingly pleased with the small concession. "Fair enough," he replied, "But the invitation will always be open if you change your mind. Also, please, call me Jazz."
"I will not do that." Callidus said evenly, "But I shall call you Jasper, if you insist."
"Fair deal, Cal."
"Now, if you'll excuse me," Callidus said, "I have a meeting with my advisors."
"I find that hard to believe," Jasper laughed, still wearing his infectious grin. "Given Fenella and Donovan are meeting me for breakfast."
Callidus felt a flicker of annoyance at being caught in a lie, but he turned heel and left Jasper in the Royal Tombs.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That evening, Callidus found himself curled up beside Cressida on the bed, his hand tightly holding hers, seeking some form of connection even in her withdrawn state. The soft glow of a dim candle illuminated their faces, while the distant rainstorm outside provided a soothing backdrop.
She had worn her nightdress all day, not even bothering to have Mint help her dress. (Or Callidus, when he offered.) The only time she moved was to visit the restroom, drink some water, and nibble on a pastry. (Not lemon.)
Softly, Callidus broke the silence, his voice filled with concern, "Cressida... are you hungry? You hardly ate today."
Cressida gave a barely perceptible shake of her head.
"I...I could request something special from the kitchens." He continued, softly, wracking his brain. "...honey tarts? You like honey tarts, don't you?"
For a moment, he felt Cressida perk up, and he was pleased to hear her whisper in a voice she hadn't used all day, "...with cinnamon."
A soft smile spread across Callidus's face, and he gently squeezed her hand, "I shall have an entire platter prepared for you. Would you like that, My love?"
He felt her tense, and then sigh, "...maybe tomorrow."
Callidus squeezed her hand again, "...alright. For breakfast then?"
She didn't reply and silence settled between them once more, broken only by the distant sound of raindrops tapping against the windowpane. Callidus gently stroked her hand with his thumb, trying to offer her some comfort despite the emotional distance between them.
Callidus struggled to find any more words to say, struggled to find a way to bridge the gap. He loved her more than anything and yet.
"...Cressida...do you hate me?"
Callidus's voice was barely above a whisper, filled with helplessness and apprehension as he dared to voice his deepest fear.
Cressida remained silent for what felt like an eternity. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her response. Callidus's heart pounded in his chest, the weight of the question and the uncertainty of her answer bearing down on him.
Finally, Cressida turned her head slightly, her storm-cloud eyes meeting Callidus's gaze. "...what would you do if I said yes?" she rasped.
Callidus felt a lump form in his throat at her question.
"I would be devastated," he replied honestly, his voice tinged with emotion. "But I would understand. And...and of course, I would still love you."
Cressida's eyes softened slightly at his response, and a flicker of something vulnerable passed through her gaze.
"...I've been having horrible nightmares." She whispered.
Callidus bit back responding with 'I know' and instead murmured, "I'm sorry. What are they about?"
Cressida hesitated for several long seconds before slowly she started to speak, "They're about being trapped and suffocated," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "In my dreams, I can't breathe, and I feel like I'm being crushed. And then I see you, and you're there, but you're... different."
Callidus listened attentively, resisting the urge to interrupt, to defend himself, and instead let her continue at her own pace.
"In my dreams, you're cold and distant," Cressida continued, her words coming out in a rush. "And you look at me like I'm nothing. I...I go to hold you, and you..." she whimpered, her words cutting off.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and Callidus gently wiped them away with his free hand. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, his own voice choked with emotion as he knew from Mint's notes how the nightmares ended.
With Cressida being crushed to death.
"My love..." he whispered, "I...I would never hurt you like that. Remember what I told you? My magic loves you just as much as I do. I-"
Mint's notes.
He left them in the tomb.
With Jasper.
Callidus abruptly sat up, his body turning rigid.
Panic surged through him at the thought of Jasper reading through Mint's detailed accounts of Cressida's captivity. He cursed himself for being careless, and for allowing his emotions to distract him from his usual vigilance.
"...Callidus...?" Cressida stared up at him, wide-eyed at his sudden shift in demeanor.
Callidus's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to regain his composure.
He knew he needed to act quickly to retrieve Mint's notes before someone found them.
(What if Jasper already found them?)
But he couldn't leave Cressida, not now. Not when she just started to confide in him.
(How could he ever think about leaving her?)
Cressida's stormy eyes remained fixed on him, her confusion and hurt palpable. He realized how it must look to her. She had just started to open up to him, to trust him with her deepest fears and emotions, and now he seemed as if he were about to disappear.
Trying to keep his unease from showing, Callidus forced a reassuring smile and gently reached down to touch Cressida's cheek. "I'm sorry, my love," he said softly, hoping to deflect her concern. "I just remembered something I need to take care of, but it can wait. Right now, I only want to focus on you."
"...if it's important, you can go, Callidus." Cressida muttered, rolling her body away from him, "It's not like I can leave. I'll still be here when you're finished torturing prisoners, or whatever you do when you're done with playing dress up or house with me."
"Cressida," he murmured. "I love you more than anything else, and I promise you, I'm all yours. I want to hear more about your nightmares, about your feelings."
Callidus wracked his brain for his interactions with Jasper throughout the day. Jasper hadn't acted any differently during their encounters, and if he had read the notes this morning, surely he would have shown some sort of reaction.
Cressida rolled to face him again, and his breath caught in his throat. All thoughts of Mint's notes escaped his mind as she stared up at him. Her presence captivated him, and he found himself lost in her wide, beautiful eyes.
"I want to understand you," Callidus whispered with genuine intent, "You said I don't truly know you, but, Cressida, that's all I want. Please, let me try."
While Cressida's expression softened slightly, her hurt and doubt were still evident. Callidus desperately tried to soothe her, and he reached for her hand, bringing it gently to his lips, planting a soft kiss on her knuckles. "I'm yours, Cressida." He reaffirmed, "Please, let me show you how much I care about you. Talk to me."
Her hand trembled slightly in his grasp, but she didn't pull away. "I... I'm worried," she finally whispered, opening up a small window to her innermost feelings.
Callidus gently kissed her hand once more before settling back on the bed, enveloping her in a protective embrace. He spoke softly, trying to soothe her worries, "What's troubling you, my love?"
"I'm...I'm terrified you'll find out I'm not like the Cressida in those visions, and you'll..." her voice lowered, and Callidus strained to hear her, "...you'll kill me."
As she spoke, Callidus felt a surge of anguish coursing through him, her words piercing his heart like a dagger. He held her even closer, as if trying to shield her from her own thoughts.
"...Cressida..." his voice cracked, "I...how could-"
(How could she think that?)
((How could she ever think that?))
He quickly corrected himself, his words now gentle and reassuring, trying to comfort and soothe her.
"Cressida, I am sorry. I am so sorry that I've not been able to convey how much I care about you, how much I love you. It's my fault that you think that. It's my fault that I've scared you." He kissed the back of her neck, his heart aching. "You mean more to me than anything."
Gradually, he felt her body begin to relax against him, and he summoned a gentle breeze, gathering the sheets from the bed and wrapping them around their bodies like a protective cocoon, as the rain continued to fall outside.
"Cressida, please believe me when I say that you are safe with me," he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "I would never harm you, not in any lifetime. Not in any future."
"Do you love me?" she whimpered.
"Oh, Cressida..." he sighed, "With all that I am."
He felt her body shift, and Callidus opened his arms to her as she rolled around to face him on the bed.
"...but why, Callidus?" Her eyes were puffy and rimmed with red as she stared at him, "Why do you love me? Is it only because of the memory crystals?"
Callidus felt a flicker of uncertainty, his breath catching in his throat. "I..."
"Can you honestly say that you love me for who I am? And not for what I represent to you?"
"I...of course I love who you are."
"But you admitted you don't know me," she pressed on, "So, which is it?"
Callidus stared back at her, his mouth suddenly dry.
"When I watched those crystals, I didn't recognize myself." She continued, "It felt hazy. Like a distant dream, even the moments I remember. How can you honestly claim to love me, when you were just acting out seconds you had already seen? You've never even questioned it, have you?"
He found himself unable to respond.
"The Cressida in those crystals isn't me." She whimpered, "She's...she's someone I don't know. Someone I could never be. Callidus, no matter how much you claim to love me unconditionally, that...that kind of love just doesn't exist. I'm terrified that once you realize I'm not the girl that you've spent decades fantasizing about, you're going to-"
Fresh tears flooded Cressida's eyes as she stared up at him.
Callidus felt a knot tighten in his chest as he saw the pain in Cressida's eyes. Her words struck at his very core, and he realized the magnitude of her fears and insecurities. But somehow all his words were stuck in his throat, unable to escape his lips. He just watched her, heartbroken.
"...and...and when I asked which you cared about more. Me or the crystals. Callidus, you didn't answer...!"
"My love," he managed to say, "the crystals only matter to me, because they are visions of you. Of our life together. Of...of..."
(He wanted to say, 'our love' but that vision had been a lie, hadn't it?)
"I almost smashed them all today." Cressida said in a rushed bitter confession.
Callidus froze.
"...what?" he rasped.
The silence hung between them like a thread about to snap.
"I was...just so angry." She whispered.
Callidus felt a surge of emotions coursing through him - shock, panic, and dread, all tangled in knots together. Callidus jerked his body around, turning his head, his eyes darting towards the shelf of his crystals, unconsciously counting each of them to make sure they were all safe.
"Callidus, I didn't break any of them." Cressida muttered, a tinge of annoyance coating her words.
An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him, and he turned back to stare at her, wide-eyed.
"...Cressida," he managed to say, "I...I'm sorry you were so angry, but you...you know I love you more than anything."
"So, if I had smashed them all, you would been alright with it?"
Callidus swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words over the panic filling his veins.
"Weren't you just waiting for me to arrive in Ashlar?" Cressida continued, "Isn't that why you were watching those visions?"
Callidus's heart felt like it was being torn in two, torn between his love for Cressida and the truth of her words. He had obsessed over each vision, yearning for the day they would be together, but he had always believed that the love he saw in those crystals was real.
But with shock, he realized that the only thing real was the anger and fear in Cressida's eyes.
He watched, helpless, as she wrenched herself out of his arms, untangling herself from the sheets that he had carefully cocooned around them.
(He could stop her, of course, but-)
Cressida unsteadily rose from the bed, backing away from Callidus as he instinctively reached out a hand.
"These crystals shouldn't matter to you anymore," she said, bitterly showing off her engagement ring, "Since you have me now."
He stared at her from the bed, silently.
A whirlwind of emotions coursed through him as he watched her approach the shelf holding the memory crystals. He rose to a seated position, perched on the edge of the mattress, his fingers gripping the sheets.
"Cressida...!" he called hoarsely, as she plucked a crystal off the shelf at random.
"What vision is this?" she asked curtly, "I'm sure you know."
"...it's...it's of us kissing in my garden..."
"Well, if I promise to kiss you tonight, can I break this one?"
Callidus felt his hands tremble. He tried to rise, but he suddenly found his legs were too shaky to stand.
"What? I thought you liked choices." Cressida said, bitterly.
"...Cressida please."
"What would you do if I broke this?" Cressida held the crystal orb high up in the air. "Would you even let me?"
Callidus stared up at her, unsure of the answer himself. His instincts urged him to protect the crystal, a tangible representation of their cherished memories. But he couldn't bear the thought of Cressida thinking she meant less to him than a bauble.
He felt the air around him begin to stir, tensing around Cressida, hesitant about how to react.
(He could take it from her, of course, but-)
"What if I just threw it against the wall like you did?" she asked, rolling the crystal between her fingers. "It's not cracked. You clearly didn't care about it as much as the others."
He did care about it.
He just.
(When he was younger, it felt wrong to watch such an intimate scene.)
"I wonder, would you grab it from me?" Cressida continued, "Or would you catch it before it hit the wall?"
After a moment of intense internal struggle, Callidus tightly shut his eyes, feeling the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. When he spoke, his voice emerged in a fragmented whisper.
"...you...you can break it." He clenched his eyes tighter, "You can break all of them, if you wish."
He gathered his air forcefully around him, to prevent any subconscious reaction on his part as he waited for the sound of the crystal shattering. But instead, he heard the soft click of the memory crystal being returned to the shelf. A wave of relief washed over him, knowing that she chose not to destroy their cherished memories.
Yet, her bitter sigh and words cut deep into him, "...you really don't know me at all, Callidus."
Slowly, he opened his eyes, finding her standing there before him. Her gaze was downcast, lost in thought. A heavy silence hung between them before she spoke again, her vulnerability evident in her voice, "And you don't really love me."
His heart clenched, "I...I do love you." He whimpered, "I only love you. You know that you can do anything to me, and I would let you."
"Callidus that's..." Cressida sighed, long and mournful before she fell silent.
The rain outside fell in torrents, its gentle pitter-patter turning into a steady drumming on the windowpane. Occasional bursts of wind caused the rain to splatter against the glass, forming intricate rivulets that merged and parted like delicate veins. Occasionally, a flash of lightning illuminated the sky, turning the raindrops into transient jewels that sparkled for a fraction of a second before fading back into the darkness.
Callidus looked up at Cressida, tears welling up in his eyes, feeling the pain of his unrequited love and the uncertainty of where they stood.
In that moment, the room felt smaller.
Suffocating.
After several moments of rain-soaked silence, Cressida's face softened, and she approached the bed, her night dress billowing around her. "You make it really hard to stay angry at you," she whispered. Without hesitation, she climbed into his lap, seeking comfort in his embrace. "You just make me so sad."
He eagerly opened his arms to her, pulling her close as she nestled against him. "I don't mean to make you sad," he replied hoarsely. "I love you."
"Right now, I'm...I'm not sad because I'm sad." Cressida mused out loud, trying to put her feelings into words, "You make me sad. Just. This entire situation. Callidus, you're going to force me to marry you, just because you saw it in a three-second vision."
As she snuggled into his arms, he pressed his face into the crook of her neck, drinking in the solace she offered even as his heart was breaking. "I'm sorry," he murmured into her skin, his words filled with sincerity. "I love you."
Cressida held him tightly, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his back, and she spoke gently, "...I know you think you love me."
"I do," he whimpered, desperate to make her understand. "Cressida, please don't say that. It's the only thing in life that I'm certain of."
Cressida sighed softly, her breath tickling his ear. "...alright."
"I love you."
"Alright."
"I love you."
She pulled away, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she searched his gaze, seeking sincerity and reassurance.
"...can you really love me, even if I'm not what you expected?"
"Yes," Callidus replied firmly, "because every time I hold you, I'm the happiest I've ever been."
Cressida leaned back against him, a sigh escaping her lips. "...I think you're just touch starved, Callidus," she said softly, her voice tinged with both sadness and understanding. He felt the gentle touch of her lips against his hair as she continued, "...I expect those honey tarts tomorrow."
"I promise," he replied, his mouth feeling dry with hope, "Tomorrow morning, I'll have those honey tarts waiting for you. And anything else you desire, my love."
Cressida shifted slightly, drawing closer to him, their fingers entwined. Callidus tenderly stroked her hair and planted gentle kisses on her skin, trying to convince her of his love through each simple gesture.
"...can you stay here tonight?"
Callidus swallowed, "of course, love. Where else would I go?"
(Although he needed to find Mint's notes. As soon as Cressida was asleep, he'd-)
But Cressida's next words surprised him, "...no." she whispered, "...can you...can you stay here. Tonight?"
Callidus's mind went blank.
Before he sputtered, "Yes, I...yes, I can. I..."
"You say you'll keep me safe," she muttered, "...can you chase my nightmares away? Even if you're the one causing them?"
His response was immediate and passionate.
"I'd destroy myself to keep you safe." he whispered in return, his voice filled with raw emotion, "I'll hold you so close, the nightmares won't have a chance to reach you."
Cressida's eyes softened, and a tear escaped, trailing down her cheek. "...alright." She breathed.
"I love you," he murmured, his forehead tenderly resting against hers.
And then, against his lips, she whispered once more.
"...alright."