#dayknighter

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It all started after Simon first came to the Seelie Realm with Jace and Clary - the day Simon learned the true nature of the Queen and her Realm. Unlike Clary, who hadn’t even noticed Simon leave after her kiss with Jace, Meliorn saw the emotions that crossed the vampire’s face. He saw the hurt of betrayal, the disappointment of misplaced trust, the heartbreak… but he also saw the way Simon looked at the Queen and her Knights with a mixture of fear and awe after such a cunning, yet cruel, display of power. Meliorn still to this day doesn’t know why he cared so much - about what Simon thought of him or how Simon felt after being humiliated - but he did.

So, after the Queen dismissed him and he was certain no one would notice his departure, Meliorn went to check in on Simon. Simon was, rightfully, wary of his intentions, but before long the vampire was rambling half his life story out to him, and Meliorn found himself increasingly drawn in by his disarming authenticity.

They met again several times, the visits made easier to arrange by Meliorn’s increasingly frequent trips to the city for Downworlder Council meetings. If he invented a few extra vampire-relation-specific trips as an excuse to go to the Dumort between meetings, well, no one questioned him on it. Talks turned into lingering glances, which turned into touches.

It started as a simple curiosity, then an interest Meliorn never planned to be anything more than casual.

The thing about Simon Lewis is that few things ever go as planned when it comes to him.

Meliorn didn’t realize how far gone he was for Simon until Simon made the deal with the Seelie Queen to free Maia.

“What were you thinking?” Meliorn demanded. He left the Seelie Realm to seek out Simon the first chance he got and found him lingering outside the portal as if waiting for him. Expecting Meliorn to come chasing after him. Had he grown so predictable?

“I didn’t have a choice,” Simon defended.

“You could have left her. You should have left her.” Meliorn knew it was cruel, that it wasn’t who Simon was and it never would be, but he didn’t care.

“No. You know I couldn’t, Mel,” Simon said. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“It isn’t. You have no idea what you just agreed to. I have no idea! I can protect you from a lot of things, Simon, but I cannot protect you from her.” He hated to admit it, but it was a truth he needed to make perfectly clear, now more than ever.

Meliorn knew he wasn’t angry at Simon for being so selfless, but angry at himself for not being able to do the same. And he was scared: scared for Simon, and for their relationship should the Queen ever find out about it to use as leverage against either - or both - of them. Meliorn tried to imagine what he might do if his hand was forced... if he might actually be capable of standing up to the Queen for Simon’s sake.

It was then that Meliorn realized that the feelings he held for Simon went so much deeper than he thought. The idea of anything happening to Simon made his stomach churn, and he wanted to wrap Simon up and put every bit of protection magic he knew on him to keep him safe forever.

“I love you,” Meliorn said the moment he realized it.

“I love you too,” Simon said back.

And for a little while, that was all that mattered.

--

Until now.

“Has the spear been prepared?”

The Queen knows. Meliorn can hear it in the lilt of her words, he can see it in the mischievous light dancing in her eyes. She knows about him and Simon, and this is a test.

It’s a test Meliorn is about to fail as he watches the fear cross Simon’s expression while he’s restrained and hears the panic in his voice. Simon’s addressing the Queen but his eyes dart behind her to where Meliorn stands, a silent plea for help that Meliorn can’t answer. Meliorn just barely resists the urge to cross the space between them and pull Simon from the guard’s grip to hold and comfort his lover the way he craves to… the way Simon deserves.

“It has, M’lady,” Meliorn says instead, his words cool and clipped behind barely concealed frustration.

He does all that he can to ease Simon’s mind in the moments that follow. Instead of allowing the other Knights to continue to restrain and escort Simon, Meliorn steps forward and takes Simon by the crook of his arm, following two other Knights that lead the escort to the Wander Woods with the Queen trailing behind them.

She’s close enough to hear anything he might try and whisper to Simon, so instead of reassuring him vocally, Meliorn allows his grip on Simon’s arm to loosen. It’s just enough for his fingers to trail back and forth, ever-so-slightly, in a calming pattern. I’ve got you. I’m right here. It’s going to be okay. He can’t speak the words but he tries his best to convey them with every touch and every glance.

“What are you planning on doing to me?” Simon asks again, and Meliorn wants nothing more than to simply tell him. Telling him won’t change what’s about to happen and maybe if he knows, maybe if he understands that in its own twisted way the Mark will keep him safe - that it’ll keep him protected in all the ways Meliorn always wished for (though not like this, never like this) - it might make this easier.

Instead, the Queen keeps him in the dark. Meliorn uses his own magic to wrap the vines around Simon to restrain him, hoping the familiar feel of it can serve as a small comfort. It’s the best he can do at the moment and, he’s painfully aware that his best is lacking. Simon looks to him briefly, then looks back to the Seelie Queen. Simon’s smart. He knows pleading to Meliorn won’t help him now; if there was anything Meliorn could do he would’ve done it already.

What Simon doesn’t know is that no amount of begging can change what’s already in motion and that his fate was sealed before he ever entered the Woods.

“Why are you gonna hurt me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked. I’m a good guy. I sang you a song about nature!”

Meliorn loathes this. He hates the tremor in Simon’s voice, the wide-eyed look on his face, terrified and helpless. Most of all, he hates that he’s the cause of it. Him, standing there, spear in hand, is the thing causing all of Simon’s distress. Meliorn thinks he might be sick from the guilt of it all but holds himself together.

If refusing in an act of defiance would spare Simon then Meliorn would do it with no hesitation, no matter the cost to himself. But it wouldn’t help. Meliorn needs to do this, because if he doesn’t, if he can’t, then someone else will. Someone less kind. Someone without Simon’s best interests at heart in the process.

As much as Meliorn despises the idea of causing Simon even a second of pain, he wouldn’t dare let anyone else near him with this spear. Being in control of the ceremony is the only way Meliorn can guarantee Simon is as safe as possible and that nothing will go wrong. It’s the only way he knows how to protect him now.

“Do not fret. The hurt will be over before you know it.”

“So this is it? This is the end?”

Something in Meliorn breaks at the resignation in Simon’s voice, realizing that Simon doesn’t just think they’re here to mark him. Simon’s defeated acceptance is for the fact that he believes Meliorn is standing in front of him to kill him. How? How could he think Meliorn capable of that? He loves Simon, and if that were the task set before him then Meliorn would not be standing there with a spear at the ready. How does Simon not know that?

For the first time since this process was put into motion, Meliorn hesitates.

 “Proceed.”

Meliorn flips the spear around so that the mark, red hot and burning, faces Simon now.

“What is that? What are you doing?”

There’s no time left to stall. Meliorn takes the final steps forward and touches the spear to Simon’s forehead.

Simon’s screams echo through the wood.

Meliorn wants to close his eyes against the sight of Simon’s twisted face, to retreat inward to muffle the cries of pain, but he doesn’t. He forces himself to watch, to listen, to be fully present in the agony he’s causing the man he loves. It only takes a few seconds but they feel like days, weeks, months stretching out in front of him as they pass. He wonders if it feels that way for Simon, too.

When it’s over Meliorn looks down as he steps back, unable to meet Simon’s eyes.

Only now does Meliorn allow himself to retreat inward, the conversation between Simon and the Seelie Queen growing muffled in the background of his thoughts.

Meliorn replays the chain of events over and over, trying to find a moment he could’ve done something different. He can’t think of any that wouldn’t end up with him locked away for betrayal, or maybe even killed. He’d done everything he could short of refusing to perform the ceremony. Hadn’t he?

The look of betrayal on Simon’s face as he walked toward him with the brand said otherwise. It’s a look Meliorn only ever saw on Simon’s face once, and one he never intended to have aimed at him. This is everything Meliorn had feared when he warned Simon that he wouldn’t be able to protect him from the Queen. Did Simon expect him to risk both of their lives by trying to flee with him?

...should he have?

The chances of them escaping the Queen indefinitely are practically zero, but there is a chance however slight, so should he have taken it?

No.

Does he wish the Queen had gone about it a different way? Or that he could’ve warned Simon ahead of time, or gotten his consent? Yes. Of course. But Simon was never in any actual danger. The Mark wouldn’t kill him, it wouldn’t even hurt him longer than those few seconds now that it’s in place. He just needs to explain that to Simon, to reassure him that he’d never been in any danger, that Meliorn would never willingly allow him to be.

“Anyone but you would be dead, dead, dead. Only a Daylighter can survive the ceremony.”

Those words bring Meliorn back into the moment because with them the Queen turns and begins to walk back to Court. This time Meliorn hesitates to follow.

“Allow me to escort the Daylighter out,” Meliorn suggests. If he can just talk to Simon, if he can explain, then maybe-

“No thanks,” Simon says before the Queen can answer. “I think I’m good on my own.”

The weight of that statement hangs heavy between them. Meliorn’s throat feels tight.

“Are you certain? The Wander Woods-”

“Then I’ll take one of the other guards as an escort,” Simon says, his voice flat.

Meliorn swallows thickly and nods. “As you wish.”