During his early years, on a rare occasion when his mother was allowed to visit his father outside the tower, Callidus received a thoughtful gift from her: a plant adorned with tiny orange flowers.
Butterfly weed, he later learned.
(Freedom.)
The plant came with an unexpected surprise - a fat white and yellow worm clinging to its thick hairy stems. Despite his initial instinct to protect the precious gift from his mother, Callidus was captivated by the tiny creature.
Unlike the horrible rats and roaches of Windridge, this little being was a delightful blend of colors and movements, appearing both delicate and oddly focused. Callidus would lose himself in hours of observation, enchanted by the worm's meandering journeys and gentle leaf-nibbling.
Until one day, it perched underneath a green leaf in a hooked shape and remained motionless.
He asked his mother if it had died.
(He had seen many visions of death from his mother's crystals. Large fields of death. Those always went straight to his father.)
But his mother only said no and nothing else.
He had been horrified to watch as his fat friendly worm seemingly ripped its skin open to hide itself away into what looked like a wet flower bud.
He, again, asked his mother if it had died. But she only said no and nothing else.
The bud eventually hardened into something beautiful. Green like the gemstone on his mother's ring. And then eventually a charming creature emerged, somehow completely different from his fat worm and yet equally colorful and clumsy.
For five weeks it fluttered around the room, delighting Callidus with its beauty and love of his breezes. Instinctively, he knew he needed to be gentle with his delicate beloved creature, but despite his reverent treatment, one morning he found it on the ground.
Motionless.
He asked his mother if it had died.
And this time she answered yes.
As Callidus slowly awakened, he became aware of the gentle weight of Cressida's head resting on his chest. In that dreamlike state between sleep and wakefulness, a vivid image formed in his mind - he and Cressida cocooned together inside an emerald chrysalis, like a single butterfly yet to emerge.
The storm outside continued to rage, having grown stronger throughout the night, but the sound of the violent thunder felt distant and irrelevant as he pressed a loving kiss to Cressida's cheek.
Time seemed to blur around them as they stayed there, tangled, and bound in each other's warmth. The white sheets remained encircled around their bodies, pressing them closer together, and he felt a surge of delirium at the sheer intimacy of sharing a blanket together, of their entwined limbs and body heat intermingling, trapped beneath the silken fabric.
Throughout his life, Callidus was an outsider, watching life unfold around him, an observer rather than a participant. Even when viewing the memory crystals, the Callidus from the future seemed untouchable, out of reach, a vague figure on the edges of Cressida's life.
(He had never wanted his mother to show him visions of himself.)
But now, waking with Cressida in his arms, he felt a sense of belonging he had never known. The memory crystals that had once consumed him seemed insignificant now, overshadowed by the real, tangible presence of Cressida pressed against him.
The intensity of his passion for her was almost unbearable. Every gentle sigh from Cressida, every little movement as she nuzzled into him, sent him into a euphoric frenzy. He etched every detail, every sensation, into his mind so that he could carry them with him forever and always.
In that moment, Callidus yearned for eternity, to freeze time and stay in Cressida's embrace forever. The idea of being apart from her felt unendurable, and he couldn't fathom a life without her by his side. He wanted to become one with her, to merge their bodies and beings, to share every breath and heartbeat.
The desire to keep her, to forever hold her close, was so fierce that he felt as though he could rip open his own skin and drag her inside.
He wanted to encase their bodies in a gemlike cocoon, melt into a single entity, and never emerge.
Not even to fly.
Not even to breathe.
As Cressida slowly stirred from her slumber, Callidus found himself holding his breath, afraid to disrupt the delicate moment. He watched as her eyes fluttered open, revealing the beautiful shade of storm cloud grey that always captivated him.
Her lips curved into a smile as she gazed up at him, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his face. It was a smile reserved only for him, intimate and rare, and Callidus cherished it more than anything else.
"...no nightmares," she murmured in a wispy sleep-laden voice, her gaze filled with affection and trust.
To his astonishment, Cressida leaned in, her eyes still half-closed, and tenderly kissed him. Her lips were soft and warm, and the touch of them against his felt like a gentle caress from a dream.
In that moment, everything felt perfect.
The room carried the faint echoes of distant lightning and the low rumble of thunder, while the window remained veiled in a dense, ink-like darkness. The enchanting floral fragrance of Cressida's hair floated towards him, and Callidus felt that if he were to die at that very second, he would have no regrets.
The weight of her kiss on his lips, her hand on his cheek, felt like a revelation, and he remained frozen, afraid to break the magic of the moment. He savored her touch, her gentle affection, and the overwhelming sense of love and contentment that enveloped him.
(He dared to let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, she could love him in return.)
As Cressida pulled away, a soft blush graced her cheeks, making her look even more radiant in the dim light, "...good morning." She murmured.
"Good morning," Callidus replied, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in her every detail, "I... I thought you were angry with me."
"I was," she said gently, before snuggling back into his arms, "...and still am. I'm not sure if I'll ever not be angry with you."
"I'm sorry." Callidus whispered, his eyes involuntarily fluttering closed as she willingly nuzzled into his chest.
She sighed, her voice both soothing and sad, "I know you have your reasons for being the way you are. I just..." she sighed again, "...sometimes I think you're permanently broken. Like when you hurt people without thought."
"...I'm sorry..." he repeated, his heart aching.
"But then, sometimes I think you are capable of change." her tone softened, "Like last night..."
He felt his mouth grow dry, '...what do you mean, my love?"
"Last night when you told me I could break the crystals. You surprised me."
"I...did?"
"At first, I was so angry!" she confessed, "Because, Callidus, how could you think I would ever actually do something like that? I thought that just proved that you didn't know me, if you thought I could do something so cruel."
Her fingers idly traced patterns on his nightshirt, and he listened attentively, his heart yearning for her to continue.
"But then, I saw how afraid you looked. But despite that fear, you were going to let me break the things that meant the most to you. I think I finally realized that you do care about me, in your own complicated way."
"I do," he instantly assured. "I care about you more than anyone."
Cressida held him close as she murmured, "I don't know if I can ever trust you, Callidus. Your actions have shown me time and again that you have your own agenda, and you're willing to do whatever it takes to achieve your goals. And... I still think you'll go back to watching those visions, to being obsessed with what you think should happen. How you think I should behave."
Callidus felt a lump forming in his throat, and he held her tighter, as if trying to convey his sincerity through the strength of his embrace. "I don't want to be led by the visions anymore," he confessed. "I want to be led by my love for you."
Cressida looked up at him, her eyes searching his, and he saw the wariness mingled with hope in her gaze. "Can you really change?" she asked, her voice soft yet full of uncertainty.
"...I..." his breath caught, preventing a lie from leaving his lips.
Instead, he buried his face against her, unable to answer.
(She deserved an honesty he couldn't provide.)
Cressida gently caressed the back of his head, sighing with disappointment. "Alright," she whispered, her voice a soft murmur against his ear, "I know."
"...you're deliriously kind to me, my love..." he whispered into her body, his breath tickling the silken fabric of her nightdress.
Cressida held him close, her fingers gently threading through his hair. "Maybe, I am," she said, "...or maybe I'm just trying to survive."
Callidus lifted his head to look at her, his eyes filled with concern. "Survive?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. "I thought you said you had no nightmares."
"I didn't," she confirmed. "It was nice being able to actually sleep for once. I think you scared them away."
Cressida leaned in, pressing a subdued kiss to his cheek, and he felt a flutter of butterflies in his stomach, merging with a sense of deep accomplishment.
"Despite knowing what you're capable of," she murmured, "I still feel safe in your arms, like you'd be able to protect me from anything."
"I could. I can," he quickly promised. "Even if the roof were to collapse. Even if the ground were to fall from beneath us. Or you were shot with a hundred arrows."
A breath of laughter escaped her lips, the first in a week. "...what about all at once?" she asked.
"Yes," he said confidently, captivated by the spark in her eyes.
Her fingers gently traced patterns on his skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. "I know you could," she said, "And that's what both frightens and comforts me."
"It should only comfort you, my love."
"It would, if you weren't keeping my friends and people hostage." She sighed, but it lacked its usual anger. "If you weren't going to force me to marry you." Her words emerged without any emotion except for mild disappointment, as if she were simply stating facts.
(Which, admittedly she was.)
Callidus felt a pang of guilt, and he pulled her closer, his voice filled with sincerity, "I'm sorry. But I'll be a good husband to you. I'll be so good to you."
"...but what about my people?"
"They'll be free at my Coronation banquet," he murmured.
Cressida's body suddenly went rigid in his arms, and he abruptly realized he had never shared his plans to free her people with her. He had grown so accustomed to keeping things from her that he had unintentionally neglected to inform her.
"You're going to set them free?" she whimpered, raising her head to stare at him with wide eyes. "Truly? Honestly?"
"Yes," he said, softening his tone to something gentle and soothing, "I promise you, Cressida. I will release your people at my Coronation banquet. Plans are already in place. In less than a month, they will be traveling back to Eflia."
Cressida's breath caught, and tears glistened like gems in her eyes as she looked at him. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "If you truly do this, it will mean everything to me and to my people."
"I mean every word," he assured her, and then slowly, in an even, purposeful purr, "It's my engagement gift to you."
Cressida clung tightly to him; her face buried in his chest as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Thank you," she sobbed, her voice muffled by his nightshirt. "Callidus, thank you so much. If you're lying, I'll never forgive you. Please, please, don't be lying."
Callidus held her close, his arms wrapped protectively around her, and he whispered with sincerity, "I'm not lying, I promise. I love you."
Her grip on him tightened, seeking comfort in his embrace. "Even if you were..." she choked out, "I don't want to be angry anymore. It's exhausting. Just, please, don't be lying."
"I'm not lying," he repeated, gently pressing a tender kiss to the top of her head. "Truly, honestly."
"I want to believe you."
"Then, believe me."
Cressida trembled against him before finally whispering, "...alright."
As she accepted his words, relief and joy flooded through him, but he couldn't shake off the underlying apprehension.
(Technically he wasn't lying. Quail was an Ashlarian citizen.)
Nevertheless, he held her close, cherishing the precious moment they shared. Despite the storm raging outside, he stroked her hair gently, offering comfort and reassurance. Gradually, her grip on him loosened, and he felt her tension easing.
"...I'm so tired of being afraid and angry all the time," she confessed.
"I'm sorry," Callidus said, closing his eyes, and snuggling closer to her, "We could go back to sleep if you'd like-"
To his disbelief, Callidus felt the warmth of her lips pressing against his, and he was momentarily taken aback, his words lost in the unexpected kiss, salty with her tears. His eyes shot open in surprise, and a brief exhale of a laugh escaped her at his reaction.
With a rush of yearning, he whispered, "...or not," his heart pounding rapid pace, "we...we could go back to kissing."
"I'm tired of sleeping," she replied, her fingers gently tracing his jawline, sending shivers down his spine, "I think I'd like to try making you breathless."
His heart skipped a beat at her bold statement, and a surge of desire coursed through him. "I would never breathe again, if you would kiss me like that forever," he fervently declared.
In response to his challenge, Cressida leaned in and kissed him again, her lips gentle and inviting as she curled her arms around him. Callidus felt a rush of greedy devotion, reciprocating her kisses with the intensity that had been building up inside him for so long. His fingers longingly traced the contours of her face, of her throat, of her hips, remembering every soft curve and gentle dip.
Callidus was overcome, drowning in her touch, and never wanting to be found. Her fingers found their way into his hair, pulling him to her with an urgency that matched his own. Their hands explored each other's bodies, tracing familiar paths and discovering new ones as the tempest roared outside.
As lightning illuminated the chamber, their lips met with an insatiable hunger, fueled by the intoxicating pull of their emotions. Callidus's love for Cressida was like trying to control a hurricane; it was intense, powerful, and devastating. It lifted him to the highest heights of ecstasy, only to plunge him into the deepest depths of despair.
But in that moment, it was natural and untethered, soaring like the wind outside the window, feral and free.
As they lost themselves in each other, their hearts beating the same rapid dizzy pace, he realized that this was where he truly belonged. No vision or memory crystal could compare to the reality of being with Cressida, of feeling her passion and reciprocating it with all his heart. For the first time in his life, he felt complete, as if all the pieces of his fractured self had finally come together.
As they finally broke the kiss, they were both left breathless, their foreheads resting against each other. Cressida looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her before, her hair a fiery tangle within his fingers, her eyes bright with desire, and her mouth swollen from their passionate kisses.
"I love you," Callidus instantly whispered, his voice filled with awe and devotion.
For a moment, her expression flickered before fading into a complex blend of sadness and affection.
He leaned in to kiss her again.
"I love you." He repeated, and when her sad expression remained unchanged, he kissed her again, repeating his declaration once more.
And then again. And again.
The air around them crackled with the concentration of his emotions, and his repeated confessions were like a prayer, a promise, and a plea all at once.
He punctuated each kiss with those three words, kisses on her lips, kisses on her cheeks, on her fingers.
To his astonishment, Cressida let out a muffled giggle after one kiss and Callidus perked up with interest, his eyes lighting up with curiosity as he looked at her. "What is it?"
"It's just... you kissed my elbow," she said, a hint of embarrassment in her voice.
Briefly Jasper's words from yesterday echoed in his mind; 'you find yourself doing things you never thought you would, just to make your partner smile.'
Intrigued, Callidus kissed her elbow again, and Cressida let out another involuntary giggle.
Relief, and delicate hope washed over Callidus at the sound of her beautiful laughter. He leaned in once more, pressing soft kisses to her elbow, her wrist, and her chin. Each light-hearted kiss was rewarded with a gentle giggle, like little bubbles of happiness floating in the air.
As Callidus continued to plant playful kisses on Cressida's skin, her laughter filled the room, making the dark and stormy atmosphere seem distant. Her laughter was infectious, and he felt a surge of joy within him, as if the sun had suddenly burst through the storm clouds.
"You snorted just now," he said, his eyes wide with amazement and adoration.
Cressida's cheeks flushed scarlet, "Well, you kissed my elbow," she mumbled, her fingers poking at his side.
Callidus let out a startled yelp as her fingers found a sensitive spot on his side.
Cressida froze, her expression shifting in to one of confused concern, before a realization seemed to dawn on her.
"...Callidus, are you...ticklish?" she asked, breathlessly.
Callidus blinked, his brows furrowing, "Am I what?"
"Ticklish," Cressida repeated, an amused glint in her eyes. "You know, when someone touches or pokes you, and it makes you laugh or... squirm."
Callidus looked at her with a blend of bewilderment and curiosity.
Cressida's expression softened, and a hint of sadness crossed her face. "...right. Who would have ever tickled you?" she whispered. She stared at him for a moment, before her eyes sparked with mischief, and a playful grin danced on her lips. "Well, that's about to change," she declared.
Before Callidus could react, she pounced on him, her fingers seeking out his sides and other seemingly sensitive spots. Callidus let out another surprised yelp, squirming and wriggling under her touch. The sensation was electrifying, and he couldn't help but let out a burst of raw unfiltered laughter, a sound he had never heard from himself before.
A sound he had never made.
Cressida's face lit up with glee, and she continued her ticklish assault, discovering more areas that made him squirm and laugh. Callidus was both horrified and captivated by the odd, uncomfortable feeling.
"C-Cressida!" he stammered, trying to catch his breath between the strange fits of laughter. He had never felt anything like this before, and it was both exhilarating and overwhelming.
It didn't hurt. It couldn't be described as painful. And yet it was somehow unbearable.
His air tensed and swirled around them, and he was unsure what to do. He could stop Cressida, of course, but it was a relief to see her playful side emerge after weeks of anger and after days of despondent despair.
"You're ticklish!" Cressida exclaimed with a delighted shriek, "I can't believe you're ticklish! Callidus, this is hilarious!"
Cressida's giggles mingled with his involuntary laughter, and she didn't let up, delighting in the discovery of this new weakness.
"C-Cressida, please!" He managed to gasp out, but there was no real desperation in his voice. He was having fun, and he didn't want her to stop entirely. It was a novel experience; one he was surprisingly enjoying.
As Callidus continued to laugh and struggle under Cressida's playful assault, he couldn't help but wonder if she would react this way as well. The thought of retaliation was tempting, but he hesitated, not wanting to ruin the moment.
(Was this a normal moment between lovers?)
((Would a normal lover 'tickle' back?))
He sent a burst of air straight into his lungs, instantly catching his breath, before pouncing on Cressida. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she let out a satisfying squeal as Callidus imitated the movements that had left him helpless only seconds prior.
Cressida's laughter filled the room once more as Callidus playfully tickled her, and they tumbled into a lighthearted, joyous exchange of giggles and squirming. It became a strange non-painful duel, each trying to outmaneuver the other, and Callidus found himself lost in the sheer silliness of it all.
Jasper's words once again came to mind, and in that moment, any lingering doubts about what was 'normal' between lovers faded away.
At some point, Callidus found himself on his back, Cressida straddling him, her fingers having once again claimed the spot that turned Callidus into a helpless puddle of abnormal laughter.
As Cressida finally relented, letting him catch his breath, they both lay there, panting and smiling at each other. Their eyes locked in a tender gaze, and in that moment, Callidus knew he would cherish this memory forever.
However, in the midst of the tender moment, a subtle pang of confusion and longing tugged at Callidus's heart. He wondered why this beautiful and intimate moment with Cressida hadn't been preserved in a memory crystal. Why hadn't his mother seen a vision of it?
(He would have watched it over and over-)
His thoughts were interrupted as Cressida leaned in to kiss him, her voice soft and inviting against his lips, "...Callidus..."
His eyes fluttered shut and he kissed her back, but this time it was with gentle reverence, a slow exploration of her lips that conveyed both his love and his desire to cherish her. He didn't want to overwhelm her with his passion; instead, he wanted to show her the depth of his feelings in the softest and most intimate way. He wanted her to know that even though he was broken beyond repair, his love for her was unbreakable.
He felt Cressida's body melt into his embrace, and in his delirium, he once again pictured the emerald cocoon. For a brief beautiful second, he imagined their beings merging together, sprouting wings, and soaring as a single entity.
He wanted nothing less.
He wanted-
Breathing heavily, Callidus pressed his forehead against Cressida's and in that hushed second, he felt an overwhelming urge to tell her everything, to share his deepest secrets and fears, and to lay bare his soul before her.
She deserved nothing less than his complete honesty.
She deserved-
(But he never deserved her.)
"I love you," he whispered again, his voice trembling with emotion. He felt tears begin to form in his eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of his feelings, overwhelmed by how much he wanted to stay in this moment forever. "I love you, Cressida. I-"
Suddenly she kissed him on the elbow.
Callidus froze, baffled by the unexpected gesture.
But then she playfully asked, "Where are my honey tarts, Callidus?"
Callidus blinked in surprise, but then, a soft smile spread across his face,
"I promise you'll have your honey tarts," Callidus replied tenderly, "I'll make them myself if I have to."
Cressida giggled as she teased, "Callidus, I doubt you've ever been in a kitchen."
"I have," he said, pressing an affectionate kiss to her cheek.
(He poisoned the wine after all.)
"I would like to take you outside today," he said, quietly, "If you're feeling up to it."
Cressida's smile slowly faded, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.
"I...I promise I have no crystals of today." He said, his throat tightening involuntarily. "And...and even if I did, I...I won't force you. I..."
"Alright." She whispered. "I would like to go outside. Although, I suppose we'll have to wait to visit the garden with the pond and ducks."
"Why?"
An incredulous smile formed on her lips, "Callidus, it's storming."
"I can shield us from the rain." He said sincerely.
"Yes, but can you shield us from lightning?"
He paused, brows furrowing as he contemplated the question, but Cressida laughed, "Callidus, I was joking."
Callidus blinked, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. " I see," he murmured, before he paused, a playful thought bubbling to the surface of his mind, "...would...would you like to call me 'Cal'?"
Cressida was taken aback, freezing for a moment, and then she burst into laughter once more. Falling against his chest in amusement, she managed to say between giggles, "Cal? I guess that's better than 'Dus' or...or 'Cally' but..."
Callidus's smile wavered slightly, feeling a hint of embarrassment as she playfully twitched atop him.
"Did Quail call you that?" she asked with a slight frown as her laughter subsided, propping herself up to meet his eyes, "If he did, I expect he'll have another broken finger."
"He...he didn't," Callidus muttered, "...and I...I promised not to break his fingers anymore."
A flicker of guilt crossed her face as she took in his expression, "Oh, I'm sorry Callidus. That name just...doesn't suit you at all. It's like something my brother would call someone as a joke."
"I understand," he said softly, trying to hide the brief pang of hurt from both her reaction and the realization that perhaps Jasper only called him 'Cal' as a joke. "It was just a thought."
She leaned in, comforting him with a sweet kiss, "I already have a nickname for you." She whispered into his lips, "...aren't you my unyielding circumstance?"
"I'd rather be your Larkspur," he murmured, and Cressida pulled back, startled.
She searched his gaze as she asked quietly, "...would you really?"
"Yes."
Cressida's expression softened, her eyes filling with compassion (pity), "...alright." She breathed, "My Larkspur."
She kissed him again, and in that moment, all coherent thoughts vanished from his mind. He embraced her possessively, wrapping his arms around her as tight as they could go. This time he imagined himself as her protective cocoon, and she, his cherished caterpillar, forever shielded from the outside world.
Because he would never let her emerge.
Not even to fly.
Not even to-