Work Text:
The ringing in her ears wouldn’t stop - a thousand voices screaming at the top of their lungs, faceless yet everywhere, curling around her like a pit of snakes. Deeper and deeper she descended, the light from the surface fading into oblivion.
Earlier, she had seen some of them, vague figures in the shadows, blank faces. They could have been a trick of the mind, some vague memory that her mind conjured up to distract from the pain. It was unfair, after all, for her victims to suffer the same burning torment when their only mistake was meeting her.
Ceres remembered them now as her body ripped apart, recalled the way their fingers cramped as they took their dying breath. How their eyes rolled back in their sockets, sightless and blank, seeing right through her. She thought of the people who survived her, who changed the side of the street when they saw her and shut their doors in her face. It was almost funny how the unkind were the ones spared, but they must have had the right idea.
Yes, they had been right, they had all been right. In the end, Ceres should be happy to receive the judgement she deserved, so she burrowed her teeth into her lip until the taste of iron filled her mouth. She alone didn’t deserve to cry over this, not when she was the one who had started it all.
The booming headache drowned out most coherent thoughts, but there was an unfamiliar ache, settled within her. Was there something she had forgotten? Something was wrong, missing from the bigger picture, although words failed her.
Faintly, she realised she shouldn’t be alone here - someone was supposed to be at her side, even now, even in this darkness. Someone to hold her hand through the endless torment, someone to break up the silence between each hit.
She made a desperate attempt to connect to that feeling, that brief glimpse of salvation, but it remained just out of reach. Were her shackles not as tight, she might have been able to grasp it, to taste it, and might even have been saved.
But just then, another blade cut her body swiftly and deeply, eating through the tendons, and she let it slip away between her grasp.
Ceres woke up choking on a scream, hair clinging to her forehead with cold sweat. It was dark all around and much too quiet, the racing of her heart the only sound she could focus on. Suddenly, her survival instincts kicked in. She had to leave, to escape, to find a way out of this place, whatever it was. Something gripped her shoulders, just held her there, utterly unlike the chains she was used to, but still too confining.
Using all her remaining strength, struggled violently against her restraints, twisting her body in every direction until whatever held her had to let go and she felt herself falling. With a dull sound, she crashed to the floor, painfully landing on her side.
“Ceres!”
The shrill sound of her name made her stop in her tracks - neither her victims nor her tormentors had ever called out for her. Their voices had never been that soft, that gentle. They hadn’t known her name, and even if they had, they wouldn’t have spoken it with so much love, so much reverence.
Another one of her delusions, then? She dug her nails into her thigh to sharpen her senses before she looked up.
Oh, what a beautiful sight he was, slightly towering over her where he was still perched on the bed. His eyes wide and scared like a frightened deer, one hand hovering in mid-air, reaching out to her. A few locks had escaped his braid, gentle wisps in the pale moonlight. He seemed like another illusion, so she extended her hand to make sure he was real, her fingertips brushing his palm. A shudder ran through her when she found it warm and pliant, and alive.
“Ceres.” With slow movements, as if not to scare her, Lucas slid from the bed to kneel next to her. Delicately, he pried her fingers from where they were drawing blood on her thigh and intertwined them with his own. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
At last, she found the courage to look around. A few wisps of light had found their way past the heavy curtains, painting heavy lines across the floorboards. Their room looked as it always did: clean but cosy. Both of them had left their marks here: a few papers stacked on the desk in the corner, her own blouse thrown over the back of a chair, ready to be worn tomorrow. Dried flower crowns collected on a shelf, like declarations of love.
She shook her head to answer his question, forcing herself to calm down. “Just a nightmare.”
Lucas’ arms were around her in a second, carefully lifting her into his lap. She went willingly, keen to close the gap between them. He felt safe, as he always did, a little light in the darkness. Ceres had learnt to associate his scent with safety, all ink and incense and no trace of blood.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, resting his face in her hair. “Your heart is beating like a rabbit’s.”
“I’m not sure there’s much to talk about,” Ceres said. “I dreamt I was dragged into hell itself. It felt like something tore me to pieces, bit by bit, while fire burned me down to the bone. And I just couldn’t escape, no matter how hard I tried.”
In her mind, the sight was still vivid - the sight of her own flesh ripped to shreds, her skirt drenched in red. She didn’t even notice she was crying until Lucas wiped away a few stray tears, faintly dragging his fingertips over her cheekbones.
“The worst thing is that I felt like I didn’t want to escape. Like I deserved to be there, to suffer.” She nudged closer to him, grounding herself. Part of her longed to vanish within his arms, so that there was nothing left of her to judge.
Some elements of the dream remained a mystery to her, even now that she was wide awake. Back then, she had recognised those hazy figures haunting the edge of her vision, their names on the tip of her tongue. Although she couldn’t remember what she’d done, she knew she must have wronged them terribly. What other reason would have to haunt her even in the depths of Hades? She could barely bring herself to think about it.
Lucas didn’t answer right away. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she sensed his body going rigid for just a moment, cold as a corpse. Alarmed, she tried to move back a little to face him, but a soothing hand cupping her head stopped her, and she kept still.
“It was only a dream,” he said, voice weak. “You haven’t been sleeping well for a while.”
He was right, of course. Recently, her mind had been focused on too many things at once. During the day, she busied herself with helping Lucas teach, walking from house to house. It was as pleasant as it was tiresome. Sometimes, she stopped by the orphanage in her free time as well, just to help her mother and look after the children.
And Nadia had been released from the hospital just a few weeks ago. Ceres had made it her mission to make her feel welcome in their little home. Admittedly, the girl had adjusted with little effort, claiming her spot at the dining table and their lives, cheerful as ever. It was a comforting thought, knowing she was just a short walk down the hall, peacefully asleep in her bed, having finally found rest after all she had endured.
All these new experiences made Ceres feel a bit restless, but she never thought they could conjure up such horrors. Her nightmare had felt much too real for this, much too familiar, as if she had lived through it a thousand times before.
“That must be it.” There was no reason to worry him even more, not after scaring him so much already. Looking back, she wished she hadn’t woken him up: he had enough on his plate as well, although he tried to hide his weariness behind a smile. They both had. At the same time, it was impossible to hide the relief she felt at the sound of his voice, her heaven, her haven.
Their bed’s soft comfort welcomed her back as she was lifted from the floor. A deep, contented sigh escaped her lips as she nestled deeper into the soft blankets, the gentle hum of the world outside fading away. Lucas followed suit, not even flinching when she pressed her icy legs against his skin as soon as he was within reach.
“Don’t worry, love.” He moved her back into his arms, where she belonged and would always belong. “I promise you no hell can touch you here, not as long as I am by your side.”
Lips met the heaviness of her eyes, one by one. Instinctively, she melted into his gentle touch, her arms encircling his neck in a tight embrace. Even if the weak light, she could make out the noble contours of his face, so close to hers. She kissed him once, twice, until greed took over and she robbed him of his breath.
In this moment, it felt like nothing could touch them, no cruel fates, no dreams of eternal damnation, however near they might be. Whatever had haunted her dreams became nothing but a fleeting memory, sharp edges that were easily chased away by the warmth of his body, his mouth pushed sweetly against her own.
Hands settled on her waist, following the edges of her ribs lazily, then her arms, until all she could sense was Lucas. How she bloomed in his presence, the one thing that gave her nothing but peace. Hungrily, she opened her mouth so she could taste him better. A leg tangled between hers, awakening a heat deep inside her stomach.
“Wait,” she said against his lips. “It’s much too early in the day to get carried away.”
She felt him move more than she saw it, as he turned to check the clock, steadily ticking on the nightstand.
“We have to get up soon,” he whispered, not moving from her arms and instead resting his head against her collarbone, careful not to put too much pressure on her. Strands of golden hair tickled her nose, even softer than it looked, and she wove her fingers through it.
“I’ll start making breakfast then,” Ceres said, equally reluctant to leave their cocoon, their embrace. “Nadia asked for cinnamon rolls, and they might take a while. I have only made them once before.”
Thoughtlessly, she drew patterns across his shoulder blades, enjoying the way he shivered against her. It was so tempting, just staying like this a bit longer, indulging in his heartbeat, his love.
“Do you think I’m spoiling her too much?”
Lucas let out a tiny chuckle, light as bells and twice as bright. “She deserves to be pampered. However, I admit my judgement might be flawed.”
The mattress dipped a bit when he abruptly sat up. “I’ll help you.”
His eagerness was deceptively adorable, but Ceres also remembered the last time they had shared the small space of their kitchen. Smashed jars, broken knives. She usually admired his strength, though it wasn’t ideal for cooking.
“Stay here.” Playfully, she pushed him back onto the bed by his shoulders. She was astonished by how readily he yielded to her, despite her possessing but a sliver of his strength. “I’ll take care of it. We can all have breakfast in bed. I’ll also make some tea for you.”
As happy as Lucas seemed underneath her, he still followed her when she freed herself from the bedding and started getting dressed for the day.
Outside, the sun was making its way across the horizon, enveloping the world in its light. Drunks and night owls gradually made their journey home, leaving the streets empty until the morning folk arrived. Another day in their paradise, as mundane, as imperfect as it was.
“Ceres, let me at least keep you company. I promise, I will not touch anything.”
He didn’t want her to be alone just yet, not after what had happened earlier. Ceres felt her heart grow soft at that notion, and she couldn’t resist kissing him again, so she crossed the distance between the bed and the dresser to reach him. He met her halfway because, as always, they were made from the same piece and gravitated towards each other.
“Very well. Would you watch the oven for me? I wouldn’t want to burn anything.” She let her fingers linger on his face, tracing the lines of his bones beneath the skin.
“Of course, my angel.”