CW: Abuse, Gore?, Description Of Burning Death

CW: abuse, gore?, description of burning death

AO3

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Sunburn

“Ah… I wish you had found your new friend.” Sylris smiled and placed his crown on a pillow. “The imaginary intruder should be on the stacks too, don’t you think so? They were very disrespectful at us, my dear.”

Kenyan didn’t bother to answer, as she was busy trying to take off her rings, what at the moment seemed like an impossible task. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking and her body was burning inside out.

Burning almost as much as she had burned those people.

The difference between them and her was in their innocence. They were people who begged for food. People who ran from a slavish job. People who fought to protect their family. People who denounced an injustice.

And she was a murder wearing a lavish long gown. Pampered by all, adorned with jewelry; an elegant example of holiness and grace to Martra.

Her nail bent over and she hissed. Blood was simmering from there, dripping down on the white skirt, and all she could do was stare at it. Stare at the red blur, at least, as her trembling wouldn’t let her focus on anything.

It was deeply awful. Herself, she meant. She was awful. She should be dead with them. Or better saying, they should be alive, and she should suffer the worst death in this world. That was all she deserved.

“Hurting yourself already?”

Sylris came from behind when she noticed his hand holding hers. His other hand had fell on her waist, keeping her close to him on this embrace.

“You know this won’t change anything, right?” he whispered against her pointy ear. “Hurt yourself or no, they’re still dead. Unmoving, unchangeable, permanent: that’s what death is. That’s what you did, my love.” He took her hand to his lips, and kissed her fingers, one by one.

His voice was nauseating. His words made her skin crawl. His kisses were poison. And his hands? Treacherous, horrendous hands? Always knew where to touch, where to press, where to hold.

He had slid his arm around her belly, and her body faltered slightly over his. She shivered as her unsteady heart went out of control.

What kind of personal betrayal was it? How could her body lean upon the evil she despised the most? How could she feel anything other than hatred for this nasty creature?

But perhaps a monster called for a monster. Her other half would be like her half.

It was only fair.

Even so, she’d rather be alone forever than staying with him.

“Let me go, I’m tired,” she muttered. “I need to rest in my chambers.”

“Why not in mine? You’re shaking so much; it wouldn’t hurt to have someone to hold you, would it, love?” He turned her over, keeping them face to face. “Or are you thinking about staying with your pet at this time of night?” He smirked.

“He’s not my pet,” came the automatic answer. However, her throat tightened at the thought.

After their discussion, Hiélo came to say sorry a thousand times. His ears were flat, his tail dull, and hearing his voice cracking gnawed at her conscience; which led her to accept his apologies. But, honestly? She didn’t want to. For some reason, she only wanted to be mad at him a little longer. She only wanted to have time to organize her feelings and find a proper reason to forgive him.

But since when did she have a choice? How could she be mad at the person who was trying to love her despite her actions?

She swallowed dry. “Hiélo won’t be there, I promise. I won’t call him.” She slowly took his hands off her. “I want to rest alone; is there a problem with it?”

His eyes scrutinized her wholly. It felt like being under a predator gaze, waiting to be devoured at each minute, counting the last seconds of her life— but then he let go of her waist.

“No, there is not. You can go ahead.” His hand lifted her chin softly. “Ask a maid to help you with the rings, okay? I don’t want to see my wife fingerless.” He chuckled and his face approached hers.

The knot on her stomach increased as she knew what was happening. Knowing didn’t make it the slightest better, so she shut her eyes and counted to five for what seemed an eternity. A hot, burning eternity. Hell itself.

Curse her head for getting lighter.

When he broke the kiss with that grin of his, she didn’t stay a second to hear him. Nothing good could come of that mouth, and she kept repeating it for herself as she stormed on the empty halls.

The heat was unbearably clinging to her, suffocating her lungs and expeling the oxygen left on her. And the tricky part of it? She could stop it, if she wanted. Her spiky halo was lightening the environment, and it was the blatant proof that her powers were acting over something, over herself. Warming, heating, burning until her head was spinning, until her gut was churning, until her skin began swelling.

And they had it worse. They didn’t have time to dwell in a little dizziness.

It was pure torture. Flesh tearing apart, splitting, and shearing from the bones; fire crackling and screams breaking through the space; the stench of coal and smoke flying in the sky… until there was nothing left to see—not even their ashes.

That was the power she held. That was the sin she carried.

Her insides unraveled midway her room, throwing up the contents of her stomach on a corner. She gagged and cried as her body fell its temperature, taking advantage of the unease to finally turn her furnace off.

Really, how could someone live like this? How could someone like her still be alive? Just who allowed her existence in this world?!

She should be dead. She should be dead. She. Should. Be. Dead.

But as she wasn’t, she raised from her place and stumbled forward.