Alchemised

by SenLinYu

“The war is over. What is it you think you’re protecting in that brain of yours?” She met his stare without flinching. Luc. She was protecting Luc. “Holdfast is dead,” he said sharply, as if he’d seen the answer in her eyes. “The Eternal Flame extinguished. There’s no one left for you to save.”

Helena wanted answers, not sleep, but the warmth seeped under her skin like water. The room blurred, the edges disappearing. The face softening as it faded away. “Do I know you?” she asked as her eyes slid closed. “I suppose you do.”

“The world already knows she’s mine,” Ferron said, his words pointed, “but if you’d like, I can remind them. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m hiding anything, my dear.”

There had been so many women in the Resistance. Not many in combat, but everywhere else; they’d staffed the hospital, gone to the front lines as field medics and dragged the wounded bodies to safety, operated the radios and relayed messages, washed and repaired the clothes and uniforms, and cooked the meals. All the ordinary tasks that never ended, not even when a war began. It had been women doing them. They would have been in Headquarters, and they wouldn’t have been important enough to execute.

“I’ve tried to be patient with you, Aurelia. I’ve been willing to overlook your indecent behaviour and petty interferences, but do remember, aside from being somewhat decorative, you are useless to me. If you ever go near her again, or speak to her, or so much as set foot in this wing again, I will kill you, and I will do it slowly, perhaps over the course of an evening or two. That isn’t a threat. It’s a promise. Now get out of my sight.”

“What a pity,” he said to himself. “Such a waste of talent.” Ferron made a noncommittal grunt. The doctor turned to face him, flushing. “And you, sir. Remarkable that you could manage such delicate healing through imitation. Very impressive. You should work in the hospital.” “So I’m told,” Ferron said with an insincere smile. “Do you think they’ll still hire me after I murdered someone in the lobby?”

“Oh, Marino.” His thumb trailed along her neck, following the scar below her jaw. “If I’d known what pain you’d cause me, I never would have taken you.” He sighed, and she could smell the liquor on his breath as his head dipped closer. She had no idea what he meant, if she was supposed to apologise. “But at this point I suppose I deserve to burn. I wonder if you’ll burn, too.”

“I’ve tried everything, Soren. I try to believe, but it’s never enough. Even if I did really believe—if my soul’s the price of saving you, of saving everyone”—she choked—“that’s not a price. That’s a bargain.”

“I don’t need to talk. There’s—no point in talking, and as I have now been reminded publicly, I’m not a fighter. I don’t know anything about what war really is. So—what would I even have to say?” Lila’s prosthetic leg clicked as she shifted and then said, “I think the hospital’s worse than the battlefield.”

“At the front—everything’s so focused, you know. The rules are simple. We win some. We lose some. You get hit sometimes. You hit back. You get days to recover if it’s bad. But—” She looked down, her fingers tapping absently along the place where her prosthetic was joined to her thigh. “—in the hospital, every battle looks like losing. I can’t imagine what that’s like.” She looked at Helena. “All you see in there is the worst of it.”

“You’re so pragmatic.” The words brushed against her lips. He released her chin abruptly and stepped away, eyes glittering. Her cheeks were still hot as she packed up all her supplies, refusing to look at him again. He spoke just as she was leaving. “Don’t die, Marino. I might miss you.”

“You have no idea how hard it is to save someone, to fix all the ways the people like you break them.” She glared at him. “I hope someday you have to try. See how little you think of it then.”

“You gave me to him,” she said, her voice full of fury. “Now, and after the war. Those were the terms. You said it was Ferron or lose, and so I chose him. When was he ever expected to let me go?”

“You’re like a rose in a graveyard,” he said, and his lips twisted into a bitter smile. “I wonder what you could have turned into without the war.”

She had not comprehended her stark lack of intimacy until this moment. Now awakened, it seemed to claw out from under her skin, a need that she’d only ever known as an absence. She knew that people enjoyed sex, but she had always thought it was an indulgence. She had not known it was a hunger. Or that she was starving.

“Why’d you kiss me?” She stared across the room at a tapestry of Tellus, spinning the earth into being. “You made me feel like the parts of me that aren’t useful still deserve to exist. Like I’m not just all the things I can do.”

Her death count was the numerical representation of her failures. All the lives she hadn’t saved, the ways she fell short. For Kaine, it was a mark of power. His victims, even Principate Apollo, all represented what made him so valuable. They were the inverse and counter to each other. A healer and killer, circling slowly, the push and pull inexorable.

“Do you think the Eternal Flame can win the war?” He was leaning against the wall. “Does it matter what I think?” “I live among idealists, but all I see are bodies. I’d like the opinion of someone who doesn’t believe that optimism somehow improves the odds.”

“You always have to come back,” she said. “All right? Don’t die. Promise—” Her voice failed. “Marino, what’s wrong?” He tried to step back, but she wouldn’t let go. “Nothing! I just spent a lot of time making that medical kit for you, and I did spend an hour teaching you how t-to use it, so—I think it would be really ungrateful if you—d-died.” He gave a hollow laugh and stepped closer so that his chin grazed the top of her head. His sigh was almost despairing. “All right…” he said, “but only because you asked.”

“I’m tired,” she said, staring at the floor. “I’m tired of this war. I’m tired of trying to save people and watching them die anyway, or saving them only to watch them die later—in a worse way. It’s the same cycle, over and over. I don’t know how to get out, and I don’t know how to keep going, either.”

“I can’t—I can’t—” he kept saying over and over. Helena didn’t know what to do. She ran her fingers through his hair and just held him. “I can’t—I can’t do this again—” he finally gasped out. “I can’t care for someone again. I can’t take it.”

“You know, I used to think the circumstances of my servitude to the High Necromancer as cruel an enslavement as anyone could conceive, but I must admit, it pales beside you.” He tilted his head. “At least before, I could console myself that it wasn’t my fault; acceptance was the best I could do to keep my mother safe. It’s different when I have no one to blame but myself.” His hand came up, his gloved fingers wrapping around her throat, pulling her forward. “After all, I did choose you.”

“After you nearly bled to death here, I thought, at least I can keep her alive. She deserves to have someone who cares enough to try to keep her alive. I thought eventually you’d give up. But you will do anything to save the people you feel responsible for. Of course you’d weaponise your guilt in order to use mine.” He gave a low bitter laugh. “I’m sure there’s something poetic in it all, but right now all I feel is a new set of manacles.”

“You are not replaceable,” he said, his hands trembling against her shoulders. “You are not required to make your death convenient. You are allowed to be important to people. The reason I’m here—the reason I’m doing any of this—is to keep you alive. To keep you safe. That was the deal.” He searched her face. “They didn’t tell you.”

“Use the ring, call me, if you ever need anything.” She wanted to say she would, but she couldn’t bring herself to. He was a spy that they depended on. And she was— Not his handler. No, that role belonged to Crowther. She was— A prison.

“You don’t have to push me away to protect me,” he said in a hard, familiar voice. “I can take it. You can stop being lonely. I won’t misunderstand. I know you just want someone to be with.” She looked for a door. An escape. He didn’t let go. “Helena…” She stilled at her name. “I’m alone, too,” he said.

When he kissed her, it felt like the beginning of something that could be eternal.

“I think I’ve nearly memorised you,” she said. “Especially your eyes. I think I learned to read them first.” The corner of his mouth twitched, and he caught her hand, capturing it against his chest. “I memorised yours, too,” he said after a moment, and then sighed, looking away. “I should have known—the moment I looked into your eyes, I should have known I would never win against you.”

Kaine Ferron was a dragon, like his family before him. Possessive to the point of self-annihilation. Isolated and deadly, and now he held her in his arms as if she were his. The temptation to give in, to let him have her, and to love him for it terrified her.

“You’re mine. You swore yourself to me. Now and after the war. I’m going to take care of you. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. You don’t have to be lonely. Because you’re mine.”

“I used to think that we were the reverse of each other. Now—” She looked at him and extended her hand. “—I can’t help feeling like we’re mostly the same.”

“Kaine.” She pulled his hands off. “You can’t keep me here. I have to go.” His expression flickered, just enough to reveal a shard of possessiveness, something ravenous and desperate. Then it vanished and he let her stand, resignation sweeping across his face. She reached out, her fingers brushing back his hair. “Don’t worry. I’m always going to come back to you.”

“That’s why it’s better for all of us to die true to what we believe than to live on by betraying and corrupting ourselves. I know you meant well, saving us, but you should have trusted Sol.” Helena pulled her hand free. “Penny, if I thought we’d all die, I wouldn’t be so afraid of losing. What they’ll do to us if we lose will be far worse than death.” She shook her head. “There will be nothing purifying about it.”

“The offer stands. Say the word, and I’ll get you out.” She reached up, combing a strand of pale hair back from his eyes. “What about you?” she asked. He grimaced. “If I could run, I would have vanished while my mother was alive.” “Would you go now, if you could?” His eyes seemed to ripple with heat. “With you, I would.” She forced a smile. “Then we’ll go together. After the war.” She gripped his hand and pressed it against her chest, letting him feel her heartbeat. “When the war is over. We’ll run away somewhere no one knows us. We’ll disappear—forever.”

“I thought you said if I ever burned you—” He captured her hand and pulled her close. His other hand slid possessively up her throat, fingers tilting her head back, and he kissed her, long and deep, before he drew away to meet her eyes. “Call me, and I will come.”

He’d stare into her eyes until she almost felt their minds touching. “You’re mine. You’re mine.” He’d repeat the words over and over. “Say it. Say you’re mine.” He’d entwine their fingers, press their foreheads together, and sometimes his whole body would tremble. She’d wrap her arms around him, trying to reassure him. “I promise, Kaine. I’m always going to be yours.”

“Be careful.” It was always the last thing she said to him before he left her on some rooftop. She would hold his face in her hands, staring into his eyes. “Don’t die.” He’d dip his head forward, kissing her inner wrist or the palm of her hand, his silver eyes locked on her face. “You’re mine. I’ll always come for you.” He always did.

She’d make it happen. They’d go away, across the sea so no one would ever find them. She promised herself she’d find a way. She promised him: There would be an after. “I’m going to take care of you. I swear, Helena, I’m always going to take care of you.”

“It’s a war, Kaine. People die. Given your personal death toll, you should know that better than anyone else. You know that I’m not going to prioritise my survival over everyone else’s.” He stared at her for a long terrible moment, the rage stark on his face. “Well, you should.” He was suddenly ice-cold, and his eyes gleamed so silver that they were almost white. “Because I have warned you, if something happens to you, I will personally raze the entire Order of the Eternal Flame. That isn’t a threat, it’s a promise. Consider your survival as much a necessity to the Resistance as Holdfast’s. If you die, I will kill every single one of them. Given that the risk to their lives is the only way to make you value your own.”

She had thought she could do anything. That she was strong enough for it. That there would be no limit to what she was willing to do or endure. Apparently, Kaine had become her limit. She couldn’t imagine herself without him. She didn’t think she’d even exist anymore.

“I don’t want you to kill people because of me.” He gave a barking laugh. “What exactly is it that you think I do with all my time? I kill people. I order other people to kill people. I train people to kill people. I sabotage and undermine people so that they will be killed, and I do it all because of you. Every word. Every life. Because of you.”

“You could—become a healer,” she finally said, straining to feel the sensation of his hand against hers. A smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth. “I hadn’t considered that.” “You should. You have a talent for it—although your bedside manner is terrible.”

“We can open a practice together, like my parents did. Up on a cliff. We’ll be able to look out the windows and see the tides.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do I get any say about this future life of ours, or are you making all the decisions?” “Do you have ideas?” There was a pause. “Can’t say I do.”

“Do you see my scars that way?” he finally said. “When you look at me, are they all you see?” She flinched. “No.” “Well.” He met her eyes. “I don’t see you that way, either. You’re mine.” He let go of her wrist and lifted his hand, the fingertips tracing the scarring until it was covered by his palm, warm against her bare skin, then sliding up to curve around her neck. “You are. It doesn’t matter what happens to you, you will still be mine.”

I love you. It was right at the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated, biting the words back. There was a part of her that felt she might doom them if she said it. If there were important things left unspoken, tomorrow would come. She kissed him instead. I love you.

I love you. I love you. She told him in the way she let go of herself and held on to him instead. With every beat of her heart. I love you. I will always love you. I will always take care of you.

“Helena, please—” His voice broke, stopping her in her tracks. She turned back, and he gripped her shoulders. She knew what he wanted to ask her, could see it in his eyes. Run away and don’t come back. But he knew she wouldn’t. He swallowed, not meeting her eyes. “Don’t get hurt again,” he said instead. “Don’t—” She rose up on her toes and cut him off with a kiss. “Be careful,” she whispered. “Don’t die.”

“You’re always in danger, and I can never ask you to stop.” He ran his thumb across her knuckles. “You know I would if I could. I’d run with you and never look back.” “I know—” Her voice broke. “Don’t die, Kaine. You can’t leave me behind.”

They were always running out of time. Someday, she promised herself, someday I am going to love him in a moment that isn’t stolen.

“You’re mine,” he said almost against her lips. “Mine. You swore it. Your Resistance sold you to me. I’m not going anywhere without you. And if anyone touches you, immortal or not, I will kill them.”