Destrian x Ari x Cyra x Caspian x Roman

I need to speak with you. The gravity of the statement was not lost on Caspian, and he knew by the look in Roman’s eyes that this was it; he was finally willing to share his story. Whatever had transpired between him and the man who stood solemnly outside the front gate had convinced Roman that it was time. As Roman took his hand, Caspian felt the spiteful resistance drain out of him, replaced by a nervous anticipation for what was to come.

Caspian followed Roman through the house and to his bedroom, not daring to break the careful silence out of fear he would ruin Roman’s sudden bout of courage. As he was urged to sit on the edge of his bed, he felt a sense of déjà vu overcome him. He watched Roman exit the room before turning his eyes downward, staring at his boots as an old memory resurfaced.

Tiny boots thudded against one another as six year old Caspian swung his feet back and forth over the edge of his bed. Round, green eyes peered toward the bedroom door where his parents were arguing on the other side. As the knob turned, Caspian held his breath and released a sigh of relief when it was his mother who stepped through the threshold.

“Cas,” her voice was gentle, but stern as she approached him, “Did you leave the pig pen open?”

“Yes,” Caspian replied, pouting up at her innocently.

“On accident, or on purpose?” she pressed.

“Umm…” Caspian hesitated, glancing toward the door before he offered a quiet, “On purpose.”

His mother sighed and pushed her hands through her golden colored hair, looking tired, “Why?”

“Because they asked me to,” Caspian replied honestly, referring to the pigs.

There was a pause as his mother studied him with a torn look that wavered between disappointment and pride, “We’ve talked about this.”

“But Dad was going to kill them,” Caspian insisted, a bitter edge to his tone.

His mother hesitated, sadness creeping into her gaze as she regarded her youngest son, “Do you trust your father, Caspian?”

Young Caspian hesitated, clearly struggling with his answer, “Yes.”

“Do you think he is a good man?” she continued.

“I…” Caspian faltered, for once at a loss for words. His father was a butcher- someone who killed innocent creatures day in and day out. Every day, Caspian watched his father harvest their animals for meat. And every day, Caspian struggled to understand why. But, despite his frustration with their family’s way of life, Caspian also perceived the good in his father. The man sustained their community and offered food to the hungry. He treated the family dog with love and respect, and taught him to honor each animal for the food they provided. Judging someone as good or bad- someone he loved, no less- felt impossible. Unable to reach a decision, Caspian looked away, feeling tears of frustration build in his eyes, “I don’t know.”

Before he had the chance to fall into a fit of tears, he felt his mother’s gentle hands push through his hair. The soothing gesture was enough to placate him as she continued, “There is no right answer, Cas,” she told him.

“Listen to me,” she coaxed, settling onto the bed beside him and pulling him into a warm hug, “The world isn’t black and white, is it? There are so many colors in between, and you are going to find that people don’t view the world in the same way that you do. But when you find yourself surrounded by darkness, I urge you to be the shining light.”

Her next words engraved themselves into Caspian’s heart- words that he strived and struggled to live by.

“Don’t give up on the people you love; show them a better way.”

The memory came and went in a matter of seconds and Caspian looked up as Roman reappeared, chair in hand. He might’ve joked about how similar the scene was to his childhood scoldings, if Roman wasn’t looking at him like the world was about to end. He sat forward and opened his mouth to speak, but Roman beat him to it. Respecting his wishes, Caspian clamped his mouth shut and vowed to himself not to interrupt, no matter how tempted he might be.

Finally, Roman began to share his story, and Caspian listened with the intent of absorbing every painstaking detail that he was willing to offer. For some reason, he hadn’t expected Roman to start from the very beginning. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t wanted to consider the very real possibility that the trauma was rooted all the way back in childhood. Imagining a small, dirty, and angry Roman already made his chest tighten painfully, and he realized that this was going to be far more difficult than he could’ve imagined.

With each revelation, Caspian found himself comparing their lives in parallel. They likely discovered their abilities around the same age, though it seemed that they had far different ways of exploring and coping with being different. The beginning of the tale gave significant insight into Roman’s psyche, but was relatively unsurprising- until the mysterious man came into the picture, and things took a dark turn.

Caspian never could have prepared himself for the graphic description of the abuse that Roman had endured as a boy. More than once, he wanted to tell Roman to stop- that he didn’t need to hear the details- but he didn’t dare interrupt as his vivid imagination conjured up images of the torture that he would never forget. He was glad that they broke eye contact, because silent tears had begun to stream down Caspian’s face, and he was powerless to stop them.

The tale only grew worse. It became apparent that Roman thought about these memories often by the way he recounted them with such detail. He imagined that they haunted his dreams and plagued his thoughts. Caspian’s worst assumptions were confirmed as Roman described the first time he used his abilities to kill someone. As naïve as he sometimes came across, Caspian had imagined how easily Roman could entice someone to harm themselves. When they’d first met, he’d even feared that he might meet such a fate.

Soren. The name was familiar, and Caspian realized that the girl- Lennox- had spoken it before and provoked Roman into a blind rage. Things were beginning to make more sense as Roman offered up the missing pieces of his past that made some of their troubling experiences together suddenly very clear. But the story inevitably took a turn, and Roman started to sound like less of a victim and more of a villain.

Caspian struggled to keep up as Roman described his time working for Raevaryn. Attacking foreign villages, werewolves, torture, war, and…kidnapping the Queen of Nethilor? He remembered when the news had broken. The entire nation had been in mourning, and Caspian’s heart bled along with the rest of them, despite being distanced from society by then. He was sure his face had paled by now, and he was grateful that Roman’s eyes were still cast downward as he struggled to accept the true darkness he was being presented with.

Hearing Roman express his guilt and remorse and hope was enough to cause another torrent of tears to spill from his eyes, blurring his vision despite his best efforts to hold himself together. The man he’d fallen for was a product of truly horrific circumstances, but Roman had undoubtedly done terrible, perhaps unforgivable things. But Caspian was a believer in following his heart and his instincts. The truth was that he was proud of Roman, and so intensely relieved that he wanted to be better.

Caspian’s grip tightened, locking Roman’s hands in a vise-like grip at the mention of leaving, as though he expected him to up and walk away that very moment. Suddenly, everything else seemed inconsequential. The idea of Roman abandoning everything they had built, and returning to the hellish nightmare he’d described was enough to spur Caspian to action.

In one abrupt movement, he stood up and stepped between Roman’s legs, pulling his hands free. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them and pushed his hands through Roman’s hair, pulling him into a comforting embrace. Caspian held Roman close, cradling his head to his abdomen in a desperate attempt to show his acceptance before it was too late.

“I forgive you. I know it’s not my place to forgive, and I know you aren’t asking for it. But I do. I forgive you, and I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through,” he insisted softly. His fingers pushed soothingly through Roman’s hair before dropping to his chin, forcing him to look up into his eyes so he could understand the weight of his next words, “But I will not forgive you if you leave me.”

For the first time, the sadness in Caspian’s eyes was replaced with a new, blazing fire. “Love isn’t one sided, Roman. I love you, and I will protect you with every fiber of my being.” The fire blazed until it was an inferno- meant to burn down the people that had wronged Roman until they were nothing but ash and memories. Roman wasn’t tainting him with darkness; rather, Caspian was dragging him into the light. They needed to spread that light until it shined upon the demons of Roman’s past and exposed them for the monsters that they were.

“I am not the one who needs saving. And, maybe, neither are you. Maybe it’s the countless other children that are likely being stolen from their mothers as we speak and forced into an endless cycle of suffering. You can’t change the past, but the future is what you make it. You can be different. We both can. If I am truly your cause, then listen to me: I will never give up on you. So don’t you dare turn your back on me.”

A voice in the back of Roman's mind rationalized that it wasn't presumptuous to infer that his childhood had been abusive. If it had been Caspian relaying the story to him, Roman reluctantly acknowledged that he would be enraged and disgusted with what Caspian would have endured. And even more so, Roman couldn't deny that he often looked back on his childhood experiences with contempt and resentment. But even though it seemed perfectly logical to lay blame against the organization that had raised him, Roman was bewildered by Caspian's allegations. As much as Roman detested what he had been forced to endure, he hadn't ever entertained the possibility that it was profound abuse and neglect. That's because there was a critical difference between his upbringing and true child abuse and neglect: legitimate child abuse was purposeless and malicious, stemming from instability and anger of the guardian, with no regard for the successful of the child. Conversely, the severe treatment Roman had undergone had all be apart of a master plan to shape him into the man he was meant to be.

"I wasn't stolen," Roman rebuffed defensively, feeling surprisingly protective over a childhood he resented. He reserved the right to feel bitter of what he had went through but it was unexpectedly offensive to hear that same bitterness come from someone else. There had been some sort of miscommunication because Caspian clearly hadn't understood the necessity of what he had gone through. Before he had been taken in, he had been like every other poor, entitled, angry brat with no future - and where he grew up, they came at a dime a dozen. Without their guidance, he wouldn't have amounted to anything greater than an empty bottle of booze and a unmarked grave. It was through those hardships that he had found purpose and greatness and ultimately, the man the he was destined to be. "I chose to go with him. I chose to leave my life and my mother behind."

Roman didn't like to think about his mother but unfortunately, especially with his evolving relationship with Caspian and his newfound emotional upheaval, she was finding her way into his thoughts more and more frequently. From the little Roman could remember about her, their short relationship had been strained under the weight of poverty and his deeply-rooted resentment. Looking back, he recognized that his mother had probably done the best she could with what she had but as a child with limited understanding of the world, he couldn't understand why things were the way that they were and he couldn't see that his mother was a victim of an unjust system. All he saw was someone who worked twelve to fourteen hours a day and still couldn't afford anything more than their cockroach-infested shack. Remembering those decades-old emotions always stirred up guilt, but it was what he couldn't remember that really made it hard for him to sleep. After he had left, it had been a couple of years before his mother had even crossed his mind and by then, her face had already started to fade. Now, she was just a faceless ghost that haunted the back of Roman's mind, reminding him that he didn't even have the decency for one last parting look over his shoulder as he was led away. There were other details that eluded him, too, like his mother's name or the sound of her voice. The older he got, the less real she became until she was nothing more than a manifestation of his regret. By the time he had reached his late teens, he definitely had the influence and resources to track down his mother if he had wanted to, but something always stopped him from exploring that old avenue of his life. They would always share a bond in the sense that she was the woman who gave birth to him, but she had stopped being a mother to him the day he had left, and he had long since stopped being a son to her.

"You don't understand," Roman snapped, unsure of exactly what reaction he was looking for from Caspian but frustrated he didn't receive it nonetheless. "I didn't... don't need saving. I don't want forgiveness. Everything that happened, I deserved all of it. My actions dictated the consequences that came afterwards, and once I learned that, I stopped blaming everyone else around me and realized that I needed to change. I stopped fighting against the rules and started to realize that everything they were doing wasn't just to break me down, but it was to build me back up into something greater."

Frustration built up inside of Roman until he could feel the pressure mounting inside of him. He ran a hand through his hair, grabbing his hair by the roots and tugging, grounding himself in the stinging pain. "I wasn't a victim of circumstance," Roman spat, spiraling resentfully at the thought of Caspian's pity. "I was an active participant in everything. I chose what happened. I made those decisions. Sometimes, there are no good decisions. Sometimes, hard decisions have to be made and people have to die. People don't want to accept that, but its the truth. Nobody wants to make those ugly decisions but someone has to, so I was that someone. Do you think I enjoyed participating in the massacre of entire villages? Do you think I want to live with their blood on my hands? But do you know what would have happened if I hadn't done that? They would have died anyway. Grovakha was being overrun by werewolves. They thrive in that cold, snowy climate and their numbers were growing out of control. They were growing so fast that deer and moose and caribou were hunted almost to extinction. Starving bears and wolves were coming into villages and attacking people. People from these remote villages, who relied on hunting for survival, were starting to starve. And werewolves, without large prey to hunt, were starting to hunt villagers. Do you remember what happened at Yasmin's wedding? It took several people to control one beast, and that was with the added benefit of other supernatural abilities. They would only need a couple thousand werewolves before they could completely overrun the entire empire - hundreds of thousands of people, Caspian. And whatever other wildlife lives up there. So their deaths were inevitable - they were destined to die either by starvation or at the teeth of a werewolf, or in a covert effort to campaign against werewolves before the problem got out of control. And guess what? It worked. The entire ecosystem has rebounded and natural order has been restored. So do I enjoy what I did? No. Does their faces haunt me? Every single night. But was it the right decision? Yes."

"Don't be mistaken. My guilt does not equate to regret. And while there are some moments I wish I could back and make a different choice, I stand what happened and what I did because it was necessary." By now, his tone was bitter as he mercilessly smashed the idea that he was anything but an active participant in his long list of immoral acts. Roman knew how hard it was to look at himself in the mirror, to fully in take the gravity of what had been done to him and what he had done, but he wouldn't let Caspian look away now. He wanted to see it all, to truly see Roman for the person he was, and now he was going to look - even if he didn't like what he saw. Roman let out a humorless chuckle, an ugly sound full of contempt, as he leaned back and regarded the man in front of him. "What makes you so sure I won't be able to live with your anger? I have lived my entire life shouldering the sins that no one else wanted to commit and I hate to break it to you, but your hatred will not be the straw that broke the camel's back."

There was a brief pause before Roman continued, his anger growing with the momentum of his words as they spilled out, "You know why I'll be okay with your anger? Because that means you'll be alive. Dead people can't be angry. And that's exactly what you'll be if I don't walk away." His anger climaxed with that prediction and he started to soften as he stared at Caspian. The thought of living with Caspian's hatred made him physically sick, but it was something he would unquestioningly bear if it ensured his survival. He had never felt so convinced that this was undoubtedly the right choice, but why did it feel so wrong?

Every creature had its breaking point. No matter how gentle or patient- one could only be pushed so far into the corner before they snapped. The instinct was apparent in animals and humans alike, and Caspian knew deep down that he was no different. No matter what Roman thought of him, or what pedestal he continuously placed him on, Caspian was only human. It was only a matter of time before he too discovered his breaking point. And as Roman threatened his animals and invaded his mind, he wondered if that day would be today.

The assault could only have lasted a matter of moments, but it left a lasting impression on Caspian that he would not soon forgive nor forget. It was sudden, overwhelming, and terrifying. His immunity to Roman’s mind games apparently didn’t stretch far because he felt every second of the burning pressure- like he was being dragged down into the depths of the sea. His head throbbed, his eyes burned, and his heart leapt into a panic. It was over in an instant, and while the pain was gone, a newfound distrust had lodged itself between them. He felt violated- and that emotion was made clear as he glared back at Roman through tear filled green eyes.

While the bedroom remained still and silent, the energy had subtly shifted outside. Crows had begun to circle over the house, one after another joining in a building tornado. A beehive attached to the shed out back had begun to buzz violently. Caspian was seeking the closest form of retaliation- a defense against the man he supposedly trusted with his life. As Roman spoke of the impossibility of his redemption, Caspian was busy unearthing cockroaches from the dirt beneath his house. His subconscious recalled the story that Roman had just imparted- including his childhood trauma of bugs crawling over him in his sleep. And as the creatures crawled up the side of his house, he seriously considered invoking that trauma as revenge for the betrayal he felt. The only thing that stopped him from reaching that inevitable breaking point was the conjured image of baby Roman that refused to leave his imagination. Just as quickly as the darkness had crept in, it receded with a wave of empathy, dispersing the gathering animals with it.

“And you’re just another consequence of my bleeding fucking heart.” It was the truth that he’d never felt compelled to speak aloud. Caspian had a penchant for taking in the most damaged and discarded creatures he could find- and Roman was no different.

Caspian slowly relaxed his fists, feeling stinging pain from where his nails had dug in too deep. He listened to Roman’s final ultimatum with a sense of impassivity that was very much unlike him. His concern was no longer to appease Roman- it was to keep himself from retaliating in a way he would certainly regret. He needed distance and distraction from the man who had begun to dominate his life in every way imaginable. The declaration that once might’ve broken his heart merely landed atop the other blows that he was becoming all too used to.

“If that’s what love means to you,” he responded coldly, unwilling to give Roman the emotional response he’d likely grown used to receiving, and unable to complete the sentence he had started. All that mattered was that Roman had decided to stay. In the most fucked up of ways, Caspian felt relieved. That had been his goal, after all. Despite all of the drama, he needed Roman here and safe. Whatever between them was undeniably twisted, but it was real and Caspian would never let it go.

Caspian turned toward the door, wiping a lingering tear from the corner of his eye once his back was to Roman. He paused in the doorway, needing to make it clear that this conversation was over, and that he never wanted to speak of it again, “Breakfast will be ready soon.” With that, he left the bedroom with a new perspective on Roman and the path that lay ahead of them.

Heading straight for the front door, Caspian popped his head out to locate Ari and Destrian at his front gate, “Come on in,” he invited, eager for the guests to act as a buffer before he and Roman ended up killing each other. Retreating to the kitchen, Caspian began to gather ingredients from around the room, busying himself as a distraction from the emotional turmoil that was beginning to threaten his sanity. Although his mood had inevitably shifted, Caspian was remarkably skilled at putting on a front for the sake of others. But as he cracked eggs and sliced fruit, he couldn’t help but wonder if Roman was truly incapable of the unconditional love that he desired.

---

Destrian was busy tracing the lines of Ari’s knuckles as she ventured to describe the relationship between Roman and Caspian. Even after the word ‘love’ was thrown into the equation, her meaning didn’t seem to register right away. Love had many meanings, but the strangest part of the sentiment was that it was attached to Roman in any way, shape, or form. Eventually, the implication seemed to sink in, and an unusual hint of color touched his pale cheeks. The embarrassment was followed by a distinct sense of dread- Roman most certainly did not want him to know any of this. He grit his teeth, forcing the stoic look to return to his face- one he was intent on maintaining any time Roman happened to look in his direction for the foreseeable future.

Destrian, being perhaps the least nosy person on earth, did not care about the personal lives of others. His range of emotion was limited to whatever Ari was able to evoke out of him, and he preferred to be oblivious to anything else. He studied Ari closely as she elaborated, sensing her valid concerns. Messy was something they could not afford to add on top of everything else.

Before he could dwell further on the matter, Ari interrupted him with a kiss that he accepted with the ease and natural flow that had always come between them. He looped his arms around her, pulling her against the fence that acted as an unwelcome barrier between them. Ari had helped him to overcome so much. She was the catalyst to his growth from an unfeeling machine to an idealistic rebel intent on changing the world. They were far from making up for their sins, but Destrian had discovered an inkling of hope somewhere along the way- even if it came in the form of revenge on those who had wronged him. As farfetched as it sounded, if love could change him, then perhaps it had the power to change Roman, too.

He held Ari close as they parted, shaking his head in response to her impatience. Not only did he have no intentions of interrupting the private discussion going on behind closed doors, but he also didn’t want to let go of Ari in such a rare moment of peace. It wasn’t until Caspian’s voice carried across the yard toward them that he reluctantly released her, realizing that he would, in fact, have to enter the lion’s den. After all, there was much to discuss.

Finally, Destrian stepped through the front gate, setting foot on the property for the first time. He sighed and took Ari’s hand, sporting the look of a petulant child about to be dragged into church service.

“Don’t get too attached,” he warned her as they approached the front door, sensing Ari’s affinity for the farmer from what she had disclosed, “You know as well as I do that weak links don’t last long in a war like this.” Whether or not Roman’s baggage was as weak as he appeared had yet to be seen. However, Destrian wasn’t foolish enough to rely on first impressions. More often than not, the most unassuming of characters turned out to be far more capable- or dangerous- than they appeared. But, until Caspian proved himself otherwise, they couldn’t afford to waste time and energy protecting civilians that got caught in the crosshairs of what was to come.