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acourtofladydeath · 2 months

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Take These Broken Wings: All Your Life

It's here folks, the climax of this story. Cassian follows through on his plan, causing a cascade of events throughout the House of Wind. Azriel’s life will never be the same.

This chapter includes blood, self harm, self mutilation, graphic depictions of self harm, panic attacks, and dissociation. New tags have been added on AO3 for this chapter, please read them in their entirety before you proceed.

Please consider your own health before and as you read.

If you or someone you know are struggling, there are resources that can help. You are not alone, and things will get better even if it doesn't feel like it right now.

My overwhelming gratitude to @pippsmcgee, @chunkypossum, @secret-third-thing, and @queercontrarian for their constant support and assistance editing this chapter.

Start reading "All Your Life" below the cut, or on AO3.

The air in Nesta and Cassian’s room was stiff and suffocating. Before the attack, they’d slept every night with the window spanning the length of their bedroom cracked open. Given the location of the house and the nature of its residents, almost every room had a window that opened large enough to fit a person through. Now the windows were closed16973, much like Cassian’s demeanor since the trial. Not being awoken by a cool mountain breeze had been an adjustment for Nesta, and the implications of its absence choked off what little air remained.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get someone to stay with you?” Nesta asked Cassian for what felt like the hundredth time. Gwyn needed her urgent assistance in the library on a task for Merrill, and it would be the first time Cassian had been alone since the trial. They still hadn’t talked about what happened that day.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Cassian responded from his seat by the window. The view before him was full of snow-capped peaks, freshly kissed by the rising sun. He didn’t look up as Nesta walked over to kiss his forehead in goodbye. Cassian flinched away just as her lips touched his skin. It was subtle, but Nesta felt it all the same.

She pulled her hand back from his shoulder and tucked it into the small pocket of her dress. Nesta clenched her hidden fist hard enough to feel the bite of her nails as they pressed through the soft flesh of her palm. Nesta secretly hoped that maybe a moment alone would help Cassian work through some of… well, whatever he was thinking.

Cassian just gazed after the clouds that floated by, his eyes full of an emotion that Nesta couldn’t quite place. She walked toward the door and looked back, only for a moment, and took in her mate. Her eyes glanced at the disheveled bed where Cassian had lain for a greater part of the past days before skating across the braces on his wings to gaze upon his quiet façade.

“I’ll be gone for less than an hour, okay?” She didn’t tell him how to contact her. He knew how, but Nesta knew he wouldn't. Cassian had barely spoken to her. She couldn’t blame him, not after everything the Camp Lord’s had said about him and forced Nesta and Azriel to reveal.

“I love you, Cassian.”

Uneasy about Cassian’s potential response, Nesta quickly left for the library. Something inside her twisted, and she wondered if she had made the right decision.

When the door closed, Cassian forced himself to gaze unseeingly out the window for a minute longer. She couldn’t know, couldn’t suspect. It would ruin everything. Once he was sure he could no longer hear her footsteps, Cassian stood on unsteady feet and walked toward his bedside table.

Inside were the vials of medication that Madja and the healers had been using to try and piece his body back together. But what did any of it matter if his soul was broken? What good were their attempts to heal him if he had no heart left to try and survive? If he couldn’t be a male worthy of the people he loved most?

No, Cassian thought as he shook his head. He didn’t want to die- he had too much to live for. But he couldn’t live like this anymore. Not as a broken, cripple of an Illyrian, forced to carry the weight of his failures on his back every day. Cassian had to cure himself of this sickness, and so they had to go.

His wings had to go.

Cassian’s hands shook. He knew what he wanted to do, what he had to do, but the task was still monumental. A curse slipped from his lips as Cassian nervously fumbled the vials. There were only two he needed… one of which he’d stowed away for this exact purpose. The drawer contained so many concoctions that the healer hadn't noticed the extra he’d included.

His healing journey had not been easy. Madja explained early on that the sheer amount of damage meant large masses of scar tissue would accumulate through his wings as they healed. The best way to treat them and prevent further loss of function would be to regularly remove the accumulated scar tissue. Every day since, the healers cut into his wings and carefully stitched them back together, over and over again. Madja and the other healers used faebane to slow the healing process and decrease the amount of scarring left. During each procedure, they massaged and manipulated the incisions to slow the scar tissue. The process was incredibly painful, but the pain wasn’t what scared Cassian.

He could handle pain.

What he couldn't handle was the absolute failure he had become. He’d failed his mate and Azriel when he’d allowed those Lords to take stock of their private relationship in front of Windhaven. He’d failed his soldiers when he’d allowed his personal feelings to come in the way of being their general. He’d failed Devlon when he let the male fight for him instead of defending Devlon’s life, telling him to run. He’d failed Rhysand, robbed him of a functional General of the Night Court with wings to command the Illyrian legions. And he’d failed himself from the second he let his guard down and thought he might be able to find common ground with the other Camp Lords.

A moment later, Cassian found the bottles he needed. He’d carefully planned and managed to convince each new healer that the last bottle was gone so they would send for more. In the week since the trial, Cassian had siphoned off bits of the faebane to a separate vial when he took each dose. He’d taken less than he was supposed to in an attempt to amass enough for his plan to work. Between what he’d saved before and the new vial the healer had dropped off at his session last night, Cassian finally had enough.

As he tucked both vials into his pants pocket with trembling fingers, Cassian took one last longing look out his bedroom window toward the sky. Toward the sanctuary he’d never be able to visit again.

Nesta wouldn’t be gone any longer than absolutely necessary, so Cassian had to work quickly. His hands shook as he worked the harness around his wings. He’d made sure Madja and the other healers trained him to take them off without assistance. He’d assured them it was only in case of emergency, but he’d known it was all leading to this moment.

It took him longer than he wanted to admit to remove each brace from his wings. Knowing he didn’t have much time left, Cassian stripped his shirt and laid it next to the braces on the bed. But he took the time to do one more thing. With his shaking fingers, Cassian wrote a short note for Nesta and Azriel, which he placed between the braces where they were sure to see it.

As he left the room, Cassian pulled an oiled sword from the wall beside the door. Unsteady feet carried him to the bathroom down the hall, his useless wings dragging on the floor behind him. He wouldn’t sully his and Nesta’s bathroom with this act. And besides, he needed to be able to lock her out and this bathroom was easier to blockade.

Cassian stumbled into the bathroom, still not used to the weight of his limp wings behind him. He placed the sword on the sink counter and stared himself down in the stone-ensconced mirror for a few seconds. Before he could second guess himself, Cassian shut and locked the door. Moments later, he’d stacked a sturdy trunk, a pair of shelves, and any other moveable piece of furniture in front of the single door into the bathroom.

This bathroom was relatively small compared to the one connected to his bedroom, and though he’d moved most of the furniture there wasn’t much room to maneuver. A bath took up most of the wall behind him. To his left, though he dared not look through it, was a large window. The light that shone in through the panes danced across the blade before him tauntingly.

Even though he was certain that this was the right decision, none of this was easy. Cassian’s ragged breathing sawed out of his chest as he approached the vanity. With one hand he fumbled in his pocket and drew out the two vials full of faebane.

It should be enough. It had to be enough.

Cassian looked up at his haggard reflection in the mirror for a moment. He took in the bags under his eyes, the atrophy in his muscles from being bed-bound and injured, and the sallow skin from his lack of regular sun exposure. His once vibrant curls hung limp and greasy on his face. And his wings- one of the great prides of his life- now hung weak and lifeless off his back, as if they were part of his broken soul. Cassian had to cut them off before they infected him further.

He took one shaky deep breath and as he exhaled slowly, Cassian cut off his bond to Nesta completely. For the past several minutes he’d been pulling away slowly, not enough to notice, but hopefully enough that his complete separation took more time to register. I’ll come back to you, he thought, this is all so I can come back to you, to both of you. With sturdier hands, Cassian uncorked and downed both bottles of Faebane quickly. And before he had another moment to think, he lifted his sword.

Bracing one hand tightly on the sink, Cassian hefted the weapon up and over his shoulder, placing it at the base of his wing joint, closed his eyes, and began to cut.

Continue the chapter on AO3.

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clickerflight · 3 months

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Muir: Part 2 - Bonded

And part two for ya. Hope you enjoyed. Perhaps a bit rushed but I still had fun with it.

Masterlist

Part 1

Content: human police whumpee, bad injury, shrapnel, near death experience, vampire damaging his own wrist, a human becoming a vampire

...........................................

Joseph laid on the couch, slowly reading through some course work. Since he’d only been in stasis for a few years there wasn’t too much to catch up on compared to a lot of his peers. Still, he needed to catch up on some of the things that had happened. He would be out of the rehab program pretty soon, actually, once he finished the last of these papers and got all of his documents up to date.

He was pretty sure he’d stick around the rehab center, though. He didn’t have very many vampire friends back in the day. Or many friends in general besides David. Now he had a bunch of interesting friends, including the humans that worked at the center, and he felt a part of something as he took on responsibility here and there to help other vampires that had been in stasis for much longer than he had been. He hadn’t felt like he was a part of something helpful since even before he met David. He wished his late bond mate could see where he was now.

Joseph sighed very softly to himself, scrolling on his Devpad as he kept reading through his assignments.

He was just thinking about getting up and starting dinner when he felt something pulse like a wave through his chest. He laid breathlessly on the couch, trying to figure out what was wrong when he felt it crash into him again before sucking at him like a wave headed back out to sea.

He followed it, getting to his feet, putting his Devpad down in confusion. It wasn’t until the third wave hit him that he realized what was happening. Flashes of silver, screaming, and ritual knives shot through his mind and he was out of the apartment, keys in hand and no shoes on his feet.

He sped off in his car, the familiar steering wheel spinning under his hands and he rushed to follow those waves. The feeling of his bondmate in danger.

He and Muir didn’t mean to become bondmates, but it wasn’t exactly a surprise when it happened. One morning, after a late night drinking beers together and watching soccer on TV, Joseph had woken up to find that the huge gap David left behind had been partially filled. It wasn’t enough to fill the gap he knew was supposed to be filled, but it was comforting all the same. Muir hadn’t noticed anything besides having more energy at the end of the day, which he was always glad to have.

And of course, Joseph could tell when Muir was in danger, when his heart was beating quickly in his chest, when he fell or got bruised tackling someone. And now Joseph could feel the wounds buried deep in Muir’s guts, could feel the scratches on his arm. He could feel death breathing down both of their necks.

Joseph screeched to a halt at the warehouse. He couldn’t remember most of the drive. All he knew was that Muir was inside and Joseph needed to get to him now.

Muir was only inside the warehouse for another couple of moments as officers pulled him out of there, talking loudly.

Joseph threw himself at the barrier that had been set up around the warehouse and a tall vampire caught him, holding him back.

“Sir, you can’t be here. There-”

“THAT’S MY BONDMATE!” Joseph shrieked. He didn’t care if he sounded hysterical. He was.

He was released quickly and Joseph was grateful. The instincts coursing through him would have had this vampire’s windpipe in his teeth if that vampire hadn’t let him go.

He slid across the sidewalk, hissing at Granger, who looked like she was about to tell him to go away.

“Josh?” Joseph asked urgently, pushing Muir’s hair back and digging through his layers of clothing to see where the radiating pain was coming from.

“Seph?” Muir asked weakly, opening his eyes. “What are you doin’ here, man?”

“You’re dying,” Joseph replied in a tone so cold and accusatory that even all of the officers and agents fell silent.

“Nah, man,” Muir said with a nervous laugh. “I’ll be fine. The ambulance will be here in a moment and- AH.”

Joseph had finally peeled away the last layer. Whatever had blown through Muir was powerful enough to make it through his vest and had blown a huge hole into him. There was another one, just a bit higher. Joseph just knew it only barely missed Muir’s spine. He knew that there was shrapnel everywhere inside.

Someone swore behind Joseph at the blood flowing freely from the wounds and soaking his clothing. It was harder to tell on his black clothing, but on his previously white undershirt the entire thing up to his collar bones was soaked red.

Someone got down, putting pressure on the wound, making Muir shout, but with how the blood flowed, they both knew he only had minutes to live. Joseph grabbed Muir with blood soaked hands, forcing him to make eye contact.

Muir’s breath hitched in his chest under Joseph’s elbow. He knew what Joseph wanted.

“Seph,” he said warningly. It was the only reason Joseph hesitated. “Wait… I’m, ah….”

“You’re going to die,” Joseph replied seriously. “You are going to die and there is nothing human medicine can do for you, no matter how good it is. Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong.”

Muir looked him in the eyes, but he felt his own mortality as surely as Joseph could feel it.

“I can’t lose you too,” Joseph said softly.

Muir swallowed hard. His mouth felt so dry his teeth ached, his head pounding with blood loss. He looked up at the members of his team, who stared at him wide eyed, Granger watching with a hard look.

He swallowed twice more before he said, “Okay. Okay. So, uh-” he blinked hard as his vision started to fade in and out with a weakening pulse. He could barely feel the pain of someone’s hands against his wounds anymore.

“Drink,” Joseph said quickly, taking that as his permission. He quickly bit his own wrist open, putting it in Muir’s mouth. Muir did his best, sluggishly and numbly.

He shuddered as the first swallow of blood hit his stomach. It was just slightly too cold to be normal human blood, but it seemed to heat him from the inside out. He felt strength begin to return to his limbs and something new, something loud in his mind screamed at him to latch on and drink quicker.

When Joseph felt Muir grab on tighter, saw his arm come up to grab onto Joseph’s and hold it there, Joseph dipped down and bit into Muir’s jugular. Muir flinched at this, but the drive to feed was too powerful to fight now. Though the sight caused most of the group to look away, the humans and vampires alike huddled around them to hide them from view.

Joseph kept going, keeping thoughts of David doing this for him out of his head as he cycled the blood between them three times, Muir twitching occasionally as something shifted or changed inside of himself. The ambulance got there as Muir opened his mouth to sink newly formed fangs into Joseph’s wrist a bit better, his wounds slowly beginning to seal.

A paramedic pushed through the crowd and swore when he saw how bad the injuries were. Joseph licked the wound he made, helping heal it a bit and letting his fangs hide back up at the roof of his mouth like a snake, looking up at the paramedic as he gently tried to get Muir to unlatch from his wrist.

“There wasn’t time,” Joseph explained and the Paramedic nodded.

“Yeah, looks like it. We should take him along with us, anyways. And you. You probably gave him a fair amount of blood that you’ll be needing back.”

“Yeah,” Joseph said distractedly, trying to pry Muir off without breaking his new fangs. “Muir, come on. Let go.”

Muir whined, his eyes distant now. He would be out of it for a few days while his body recovered from the experience and his mind sorted itself out again. Joseph was grateful he and Muir could hide out in the ambulance away from the eyes of all the officers. From what he remembered, being a just barely formed fledgling was quite frankly embarrassing.

………………………………..

Muir had to take time off from work. He could still do some of it at home and help with coordinating teams, but he couldn’t actually go into work. Not unless he wanted to bring Joseph along. If he could go right back to work. Joseph said he would get over it in a couple of weeks, but just the idea of leaving Joseph’s side for even 15 minutes seemed like the end of the world. He tried to get over it, tried every night to sleep in his own room, but he would have to give up after an hour of laying awake, shivering and unable to sleep as his incredibly slow heartbeat thumped louder and louder in his ears until he was driven to find safety in Joseph’s room.

Joseph didn’t mind the fact he tried to sleep in his own room every night, nor that Muir came in eventually to sleep with him instead. He let Muir work his way through the process, explaining what Muir could expect but not forcing him to do anything. Muir might be a fledgling, but he wasn’t a child. And the gaping hole that couldn’t quite be filled by Muir’s presence before, now was comfortably fitted besides a little sliver that remembered Joseph’s own Sire.

Muir and Joseph sat together, Joseph working on updating his documents while Muir worked on applying for the documents necessary for being a vampire in this society, comparing notes as they worked.

“This is infuriating,” Muir said moodily.

Joseph reached out blindly as he filled in another detail, patting Muir on the face and making his bondmate snort. “There there. It’ll be alright. OW!”

He pulled his hand back, looking at the already healing fang marks in his hand.

Muir just went back to his paperwork, looking smug enough that Joseph knew that wasn’t just an instinctive fledgling bite.

Joseph drew himself up to his height on the stool, though he wasn’t taller than Muir and snarled.

Muir yelped, leaping off his stool and tripping, collapsing to the floor. He got to his elbows, looking up over his chest at Joseph in shock. “What did you just do to me!?”

Joseph didn’t reply, simply waggling his head and giving Muir the same smug smile before he went back to working on his documents.

Part 1

From Dust to Ashes: @honeycollectswhump @writereleaserepeat @tragedyinblue @hyrules-sleepiest-knight @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thecyrulik @gt-daboss @currentlyinthesprial @pigeonwhumps @not-a-space-alien

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#whump #writing #from dust to ashes #muir #part 2 #human whumpee #police whumpee #explosives injury #shrapnel #near death expirience #self mutilation #human to vampire transformation #we vibe #and that's how muir became a vampire #they busted that warehouse up too #found some drug dens where vampires were being held hostage #and used to make vampire ash for drugs

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