#titus

I don’t think I’ll ever finish this…so here

Basically titus is just his inflated ego with the imagery of a beautiful king butterfly after his mom dies

titus danforth x y/n

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a/n: throughout the chapters, certain songs will be mentioned at the beginning or after a partition. the music is chosen mostly for the vibes and the melody. if the lyrics align, yay. if not, play along. but i highly recommend listening to the songs on loop for its section if you're a 'take-your-time' reader. idk, the music just adds some oomf to it.

summary: the final game is at your doorstep. and there is no way out but through it.

warnings: mention of guns and weapons, physical violence, gun violence, assault, attacks, body harm, blood, guts, gore, graphic mentions of violence, multiple character deaths, DARK THEMES, some implied some explicit, moral dilemma.

the morning of the final game was when the dread truly washed over you.

you stood in the attic where you had been imprisoned not even three weeks ago. you took a deep enough breath, and still smelled the faint, iron tang of your own blood lingering in the floorboards and the rust on metal. the salt circle sebastian had drawn had dampened and greyed.

and yet, as you stood there in the quiet dawn light, there was an unexpected, almost comforting silence in the room. it wasn't as daunting as it had seemed back when you were shivering in chains. the space no longer felt like a cage designed to break you.

instead, it felt as if the room still had a purpose unfulfilled.

you sat down on the rusted chair once more. it creaked beneath your weight, and for a split second, phantom chains almost coiled around your limbs again, heavy and ice-cold. you took a long, steady breath, letting the dust settle in your lungs.

the day had an agenda—a rather grim one—and the outcome, as it slowly dawned on you, was going to be far deeper than a simple matter of outlasting the rest of them.

you'd spent the entirety of this ridiculous necrofest wondering what on earth you were actually fighting for, because 'your life' just didn't feel like a satisfactory answer anymore.

you put on what could only be called an armour. black, the danforth colour. boots that could help you trudge across the grounds. then, reaching for a pair of scissors from the vanity, you trimmed the frayed ends of your hair, hacking it back to the exact sharp, jagged cut you had given yourself before.

you lifted your chin and looked at yourself in the mirror.

for a moment, the person who looked back at you finally looked like you.

not mrs danforth, nor sebastian's pawn. just who you were before all of this, who you had always been. and that was the onyl reassurance you needed.

stepping down and into the grand foyer, you overheard titus and ursula, both clad in their respective attire and weapons.

"victory's going to be fun. i for one can't wait to relax a little," ursula said, her voice echoing off the high marble walls. "have you thought about what you're going to do once we win the high seat?"

titus answered with the most honesty he'd ever equipped in his life. "you know what, i think i'll start that war chester ceased before."

ursula chuckled, a light, humorless sound. "be honest. you don't even know what it was about."

titus shrugged, entirely unbothered. "just a button, ursula."

an unsettling, nervous chink set off in your stomach upon hearing that. a cold drop of reality pooled at the base of your throat as you paused on the bottom step. clearly, victory meant vastly different things to everyone in the family. to titus, it was simply carte blanche to unleash whatever chaotic, violent urge crossed his mind next. and to you? victory meant getting through the next twenty-four hours with your soul intact.

keeping your sickening feelings aside, you stepped off the last marble stair and took your place beside titus and ursula. after all, you were one team now—a united front. one by one, the remaining competing members of the council families stepped into the heavy morning air of the foyer. the last one to enter was your father, a solitary figure who didn't look too bright in the morning light, his posture stiff.

yet, despite their previous failures, every single one of them looked just as smug and just as bloodthirsty as the next. it was as if their past losses in the previous games didn't matter in the slightest. all that mattered was today.

the lawyer stood near the threshold, his ledger tucked beneath his arm as he laid out the rules of the game—the hunt, really—that there were no limits to the terrain. none to weapons. a council member either had to be rendered completely unable to play, in which case their next of kin would immediately step in until they too were incapacitated, or they played until death.

the only strict rule that remained was the one preventing family members from killing each other off. this was no ordinary game; the necrofest was on its final piece, and whichever house stood victorious at the end of it would acquire the high seat of mr. le bail's council.

mr. silcox was the first to speak, his lip curling in open disgust as his eyes dragged over your tactical black attire. "i see the danforths are bringing charity cases to the table now. adding an outsider to our council is an insult to the purity of the council families."

titus let out a low laugh beside you, resting his hand casually on the hilt of his axe. "i'd worry less about my wife and more about whether your knees can handle a sprint."

from beside you, francesca leaned in. "you're really not that bad. under any other circumstances, i might actually like you. pero my family and duty matter more, so like... don't expect any mercy out there today."

your father spared you no speech. he didn't mock your presence, nor did he offer a fake, theatrical display of paternal concern. he simply regarded you, like the glowing yellow sign pasted over radioactive material.

but through all of this, you stayed quiet. you had no words to pour out, no witty retorts left to throw back at the council.

outside, the sky was completely overcast, thick and gray despite it only being seven in the morning. the petty comments of the old men and francesca were the least of your concerns. the reality of the entire event was deeply unnerving, filling your chest with panic that you couldn't shake off no matter how many deep breaths you took.

your pulse hammered against the golden tattoo cimbing up your wrist.

you looked past your father, past the lawyer with his ledger, and straight out toward the dark line of the woods waiting beyond the estate gates. the fear was there.

the lawyer cleared his throat, announcing that as the house with the most wins—a title now solidly secured by the danforth family, thanks to your very srategic marriage—you three were awarded a full minute's headstart.

before the lawyer even finished his sentence, titus and ursula were already moving. he leapt down the stone steps and vaulted into the driver's seat of a golf cart parked by the drive, slamming his foot onto the gas.

"get in, baby!" he called out over the electric whine of the engine, sweeping a pair of dark sunglasses onto his face.

you sprinted down the steps and threw yourself into the passenger seat just as he yanked the wheel, shooting a tremendously smug grin back at the remaining council members before tearing down the gravel pathway at full speed. you held onto your seat for dear life, cold air whipping past your ears as the manor house rapidly shrank behind you. you kept your eyes glued to your watch, watching the second hand sweep relentlessly around the face.

fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty

the minute ended, and almost instantly, sharp gunshots shattered the in the air. screaming and the clash of metal followed close behind. you spared a look back over your shoulder. the foyer had dissolved into a total bloodbath—a savage dog-eat-dog start to the game. it was only a matter of time before the survivors wiped the blood off their blades, turned towards the tree line, and darted out to hunt you down.

you didn't hear a single thing said between titus and ursula. the twins were already celebrating. but the sound of the wind howling muffled everything else, even your heartbeat. suddenly, razor-sharp reality hit you right in the gut. there was a very real, very lethal threat to your life today. there were no second chances, no technicalities, no safety nets. either you made it out alive, or you died out here in the dirt.

and you were proven right the exact second a high-caliber bullet tore through the air.

BANG!

the round struck the back tire of the golf cart, instantly shredding the rubber and causing the vehicle to lose balance and topple sideways. titus yanked the wheel tightly, trying to compensate, but the momentum was too much. the cart flipped onto its side, hurling you and ursula out onto the ground before skidding another ten feet ahead and crashing into the thick trunk of a tree. smoke began puffing out of the engine.

you hit the grass hard, rolling to absorb the impact. scraping yourself up, you wiped your stinging palms on your trousers and jogged straight towards titus.

he was sprawled near the wreckage, shaking his head like a dog trying to clear its ears.

"hey, hey, come on," you said, your voice tight with adrenaline. you grabbed his arm, hauled it over your shoulder, and pulled him up with everything you had. he wasn't bleeding, but the force of the crash had left him dizzy.

ursula caught up to you two a second later, clutching her side and spitting a mouthful of dirt onto the grass. "that was francesca. bitch knows how to shoot."

"doesn't matter, we have to go," you snapped, planting your boots firmly and keeping your husband steady against your side.

titus slurred a little, his hand tightening reflexively around your waist to anchor himself. "casino... 's closer."

he was right. the private casino was the tallest building on the danforth estate, looming up ahead. its size meant plenty of corridors, rooms, halls, bathrooms that could conceal you—the exact terrain titus had spent the last two days dragging you through. holding him up, the three of you marched straight toward the doors.

thankfully, the main casino hall had plenty of heavy furniture and supplies for you to barricade the doors from the inside. while titus leaned against the mahogany bar, chugging a glass of water straight from the crystal carafe, you and ursula threw your weight behind a heavy velvet-topped poker table, dragging it across the floorboards and jamming it firmly against the double doors.

"we're not gonna stay holed up in here the whole time, right?" you asked, wiping a smear of sweat and dirt from your forehead with the back of your sleeve.

ursula shrugged, resting her palms on her hips as she caught her breath. "we could. let them tear each other apart out in the woods first, then clean up the scraps."

titus slammed the empty glass down onto the bar, his eyes flashing impatience as he shook his head. "fuck no. we go out there and behead them."

you looked between the two of them, stepping back as they began to argue over strategy. you didn't join in. you couldn't.

within you, waves of turmoil crashed against the shores of your morals. did you really have it in you to end a life again?

your father was out there—a man who had viewed you as nothing more than a bargaining chip, who looked at you like a biohazard warning only hours ago. he absolutely deserved to lose, but the thought of thrusting a blade into his chest made your blood run cold.

a part of you hoped someone else would do it for you. that if you just dodged, ducked, and outlasted the clock, you could walk away with the high seat without having to wash someone else's blood off your hands.

but yu knew better. in a cultist world like theirs, choices were always forced out of you.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

a volley of gunshots tore through the thick mahogany doors, sending sharp splinters flying around.

the three of you dropped low, ducking behind the heavy velvet tables and the solid marble counter of the bar.

before you could even hit the carpet, titus' arm wrapped around your torso, hauling you against his chest behind the bar top. his heart thundered against your back, breathing heavy in your hair. even in the middle of a literal siege, his grip on you was unyielding. a cold knot of worry twistef in your gut—his suffocating attachment to you was going to be a liability out here if he kept prioritising your safety over his own ass.

"we can't stay here," you whispered frantically against his collarbone, the smell of gunpowder beginning to seep under the doors.

"i know," he murmured, his eyes locked on the entrance.

across the room, ursula had scrambled behind a sturdy cabinet, aiming the gun at the door.

an iron fist slammed against the weakened wood of the left door until the panel gave way with a crunch. ursula didn't hesitate one bit. she squeezed the trigger and sent a bullet flying. an agitated scream left mr cheng fu.

more bullets ripped through the damaged doors from multiple angles, shattering glass light fixtures overhead and showering the floor in sharp debris.

you frowned, raising an eyebrow as you pressed your back harder against the marble bar. "are they... teaming up?"

titus sighed, rolling his broad shoulders and cracking his neck. "just until they kill us, i suppose. honour amongst crocodiles."

without waiting for an answer, ursula leaned out and opened rapid fire into the broken doorway, suppressing the hallway with a hail of lead that kept francesca and cheng fu pinned down outside. titus took the chance to grab you and whisk you away and out of the main hall.

you didn't head for the wide grand staircase leading up toward the private hotel suites—that was a bottleneck waiting to happen. instead, titus steered you towards a narrow service door, kicking it open and dragging you through just as a stray bullet shattered the mirror next to you.

"where are we going?" you asked, breathless, your boots slapping against the cold stone floor.

"the tunnels," titus grunted, taking the lead and pulling you toward an iron grate set into the floor. he yanked it up with one hand, exposing a pitch-black ladder plunging straight down into the earth. "it's the quickest way back to the manor. far enough to reach the danforth armoury. we need real firepower if we're going to tear that alliance apart."

you took a deep breath, looking down into the damp, familiar blue-lit darkness. two days ago, titus had chased you through the tunnels, preparing for this very moment.

"titus... we just left ursula back there."

"she's fine," he grunted, not even slowing his pace as his heavy boots thudded on the damp floors.

true, ursula was a skilled markswoman, and on the home terrain, more than capable of holding her own against some arrogant council members with maggots for brains. but you had a bad feeling knot in your stomach. you had a horrid feeling about the entire game. worse than any of the games before.

titus was trudging ahead, cutting through the vapour hissing out from old pipes, hss eyes locked on the iron door that led toward the estate's main armoury.

but you stopped.

the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

you turned around, staring blankly into the absolute void of darkness stretching out behind you—the direction you had just come from.

"y/n, come on," titus growled, turning back when he realised you weren't beside him. he was in no mood to argue or play around; his jaw was set, impatience radiating off him in waves. he stepped back and reached out for you to pull you back to him.

the second his skin made contact with your arm, the golden archangel sword tattoo flared. titus hissed, dropping his hand as if it just touched the rim of a hot pot. he pursed his lips; he'd heard rumours about the sword. that even when not in its weapon form, it could react, could match its wielder's instinct. a mystical sync really. and who could ever argue with a woman's instinct?

you looked up at titus, then turned your gaze back to the pitch-black void, taking slow steps backward.

"something's here..." you whispered.

"what are you talking about—"

SKRRRRRRTCH!

an ugly sound echoed down the corridor, like wet leather dragging across stone, accompanied by rapid erratic clicking. then, out of the shadows, a pack of horrors burst into light. they were disfigured, human-like abominations—flesh, limbs, and bone fused together in random angles, their bodies morphed into one another. they scampered, slithered and dashed at you with unnatural speed, jaws unhinged and multiple sets of bloody teeth flashed at you.

"what the fuck—!" titus' grip over his axe tightened as he unslung it and stepped before you.

he brought it down with a bone-cracking force and the blade lodged itself directly into the shoulder of the creature and send it back into two other creatures behind it.

the sword materialised from your arm in a spark of light. you stepped past titus and with a fluid stroke, sliced your burning blade through the creature's malformed torso and chest, cauterising the gore that spilled out. the creature dissolved into ash and crumbled on the floor.

titus and you cut through the other two the same way. amputation was the best way to defeat them, it seemed.

you looked at the melting ash, then up at titus, whose eyes were wide as he readjusted his grip on his bloody axe.

"again, what the fuck!!???"

the sound of footsteps echoed over the sizzle of the remnants of the creatures.

sebastian emerged from the darkness, a little hunch in his posture. he looked at the ash arund your boots, at titus' blood-soaked axe and gave a slow nod.

"not bad..."

his eyes fell on your sword, glinting.

"not. bad. at all."

"the fuck do you want?" titus asked.

sebastian chuckled dryly. "what... all those years i spent under your father, you think i just sat there handing out pills?"

he took another step forward. "i know your cult. i know occult magic isn't a fucking bedtime story."

titus stepped before you again, holding the axe ahead just in case. "get to the point, old man."

"i've been down here longer than you've been alive, boy," he retorted, not fazed by the threat of the axe. "when you people though i went off grid, i set up my workshop right here. in the tunnels, the catacombs you don't even know of. that's how old they are."

"workshop?"

"laboratory, of sorts," your father corrected casually.

he looked at you. "it was for your mother. i wanted to bring her back. use my science and their magic together. but... the spells failed or the biology did."

he got closer, eyes dropping to your sword. "until you showed up. and fucking translated the dementhund. it was like handing me the ultimate grimoire. i spent weeks experimenting, using these trials as proof of concept. part science, part magic."

"i assembled human parts—pieces i harvested from my kills over the years. used those… binding incantations to knit flesh with flesh. i wanted to create the perfect man, a masterpiece to command. but practice makes perfect..." he gestured to the ash on the floor. "that's how i ended up with these deformed things. they're pathetic, but i can work with that. once i get the high seat, i'm sure mr le bail would see the potential in my skills. i could raise him his own army. you people waste the sacrifices. i would use them."

for a moment nobody said anything. the 'evil villain monologue' always did have a flair for the dramatic.

"i'm a pragmatist," sebastian continued. "they can outrun most humans, their bite crushes bone. and the best part? for ever limb you sever, there are simply more to compensate. that... is my weapon for the game, y/n. you can play with your iron and bullets. me? i have an army to spare. and then some."

he raised two fingers, reciting a quick string of words that made the air static, and with motion, flung a sentient jaw at you.

your sword pierced it just in time, and you watched it slide down the blade, sizzling as it caught fire, twice the amount of teeth snapping and clicking at you until it burnt to a crisp and turned to ash once more.

but then more crept out from behind sebastian. dozens of severed, decaying human limbs. a stockpile he had accumulated over decades, dragging themselves across the stone.

"could've used you by my side, y/n. we could've ruled," he said to you.

it was never, NEVER a good idea to to participate in the monologue. that much you knew.

so you just gestured to titus. "run"

boy were those things fast. they practically rolled and tumbled towards you, faster than your legs could manage. titus was faster, but it was only a matter of time before one of them bit his heel and dragged him into the mess.

the horde was closing in too quickly for you to reach the main armoury stairwell. titus pivoted on his heel and spun his axe in a wide semicircle to ward them off. sure, it did force the ones on the frontlines back into others, but realistically, he couldn't keep swinging forever. there were simply too many, and with just half-cuts, the limbs managed to stitch themselves back and morph into one another again.

you had but a moment to think. putting all your eggs and trust into one basket, you spun on your heels, locked your eyes on the center of the mass, and threw your sword straight at them.

to your surprise, archie, having sensed your idea, left your grip and spun around in a vicious circle, shining as its orbit caught speed. like an infinite blade. it sliced through the creatures repeatedly, sending bits and pieces of meat flying around, some wet splatters landing on your clothes.

"holy shit!" you gasped, hopping up and down, grabbing titus' shoulder. "it worked! go! go! go!"

titus didn't waste a single second. he grabbed you by the hips and hoisted you up toward the nearest escape route—an emergency ladder leading up to a ceiling hatch. you scrambled up, pushed the heavy wooden cover open, and hauled yourself into the room above, reaching back down to help drag titus up right behind you. he slammed the hatch shut and threw his back over it, panting.

the two of you found yourselves breathing in the dusty, quiet air of one of the manor's many servants' rooms. you made your way inside the manor which was dark and silent. a momentary respite—you were safe for a while.

you wiped off the flesh off your body. it was the le domas game night all over again jesus. the game was still raging outside. there were still other council members hunting for your heads, and above all, you had to find ursula and regroup.

you felt titus' hand cup your cheek. his thumb swiped steaks of blood and wet grime off your skin. he looked at you fondly despite the adrenaline rushing through him.

"good thinking…" he murmured, a half-crooked smile spreading across his lips. "it's fucking hot. fighting with you. with my wife."

you rolled your eyes. "you think he'd take the sword for himself now?"

titus shook his head, his thumb lightly brushing your lip before dropping his hand. "trust me, that thing is loyal to you and only you. almost makes me jealous."

you blinked, raising an eyebrow at him. "of a sword?"

"of its loyalty," he replied without a hint of hesitation. "baby, if i could turn into a tattoo and wrap around your arm, i would."

it was oddly endearing how much he always thought of you no matter the situatton. his atrocity, childishness, and love for you all coexisted, condensed inside him. you weren't sure you could ever separate them.

"so if he tried to pick it up..."

titus finished the sentence for you, a smirk playing on his lips. "chances are it would cut him instead."

it dawned on you once more—the bond the blade had formed with your very soul. and with pure trust, you held out your left hand toward the floorboards again.

"here we go again..." titus sighed softly, shaking his head with a chuckle as he wisely took a couple of steps back for his own safety.

for a long stretch, there was nothing but silence.

then the floorboards rumbled, metal clanked and wood chipped. god only knew how it found its way out of the tunnels, but within seconds the windowpanes shattered and in came your beloved sword.

archie streaked through the air like a meteor and landed right in your open palm, sending a kickback into your shoulder.

"IT'S LIKE THOR'S HAMMER!" you gasped, eyes giddy and a smile on your face.

titus huffed, equally impressed. "oh, mjölnir's with the lawyer. he never lets us see it in action."

you chose to not question it.

now at rest, you and titus scoped out the manor. he dug out the guns that were in the house—it was as tactical as you could get. you moved up to find a vantage point that allowed you to oversee the grounds. it was around 10 am now.

had three hours really passed by that quickly? your ccart crashing, the run to the casino, the ambush there, and the descent into the tunnels where you fought against your father's grotesquerie had distorted your sense of time. while tituys kept watch, you slipped into the kitchen and made yourselves a sandwich. some bread, tomatoes, and cheese. you made your way back up and handed half to titus, who devoured it in two bites without taking his eyes off the perimeter.

he was set up near a window on the second floor, rifle rested securely on the sill as he sniped at movement below.

"look at this dimwit," titus muttered.

you leaned over his shoulder to look through the scope's line of sight. out near the edge of the tree line, mr. silcox was wandering around, looking paranoid and completely out of his depth. just as titus spoke, the old mans boots skidded on a steep patch of wet earth, sending him slipping and flailing gracelessly into the mud before scrambling back up.

both of you chuckled to yourselves.

CRACK!

the rifle barked once, metallic clap that cut through and through. down in the woods, mr. silcox' body dropped instantly into the mud like a felled tree.

"down he goessss" titus beamed, as he smoothly ejected the spent casing and reloaded the chamber.

you on the other hand went still, breath caught in your throat. and right on cue, that heavy feeling came washing you again. the hunt meant unceremonious death. you were forced to witness more bloodshed in a day that anyone should in a lifetime.

but what disturbed you equally was titus.

he was entirely too comfortable taking a life like that. he didn't display a single shred of remorse, hesitation, or weight. hadn't the danforths known the silcoxes for generations? hadn't old silcox sat at the table for dinner? hadn't titus been sitting, sipping champagne at modesty's wedding just a short while ago?

did decades of history and shared bloodlines mean so utterly little to these people? did life hold no value?? all for what, mr le bail's ring?

titus turned to glance at you, still wearing that boyish triumphant grin, completely oblivious to the horror swirling in your eyes.

according to the rules of the game, the second a council member was incapacitated or killed, the next of kin was required to step in and play. non-playing family members were seated right inside the main manor hall. they were forbidden from intervening untl their turn, meaning you and titus could roam the upper floors in relative safety without worrying about being attacked by them.

and that... was the best tactical advantage you had.

no sooner had mr. silcox's body gone cold than the manor doors burst open below. mrs. silcox stepped out onto the pebbled foyer, her face pale, her hands trembling as she assumed her duty. clearly, she never thought she'd have to make it this far.

BANG!

titus didn't hesitate even for a heartbeat. he squeezed the trigger the very instant her foot hit the stone. she collapsed dead before she could even take a second step.

titus popped bullet after bullet, systematically wiping out the older generation of silcoxes on the danforth threshold till there was a small hill of them on the stairs. every casual kill of his only made you feel more dreadful. at how easy this was...

then came modesty.

she was dumber than anyone had given her credit for. instead of taking cover or scanning the elevated windows, she tried to make a frantic run for it through the side courtyard. but her ridiculously long dress caught under her own feet. she stumbled, fell flat on her face and smashed hard straight into the pebbles.

BANG!

titus took the last of his rifle shots without an ounce of emotion, ending her right where she lay in the gravel.

a very furious and upset patrick yelled as he stomped in next. "YOU FUCKING MONSTERS"

the last surviving silcox sprinted out into the open grounds, carrying a gun of his own. he aimed it right at the window where titus was trying to get the rifle unstuck. you tried to pull him back away from the window, but patrick shot his bullet straight at you instead, and it grazed your arm.

all it took was one involuntary wince from you and titus' eyes went black.

"no... no no no. i'm okay. it grazed me! titu—"

too late.

out went your bulldog of a husband.

titus threw the jammed rifle aside, vaulted straight over the window sill, and dropped to the lower roof before hitting the muddy lawn with a thud. didn't even take the door...

patrick tried to shoot his gun wildly—BANG BANG BANG—but titus was a blur closing the distance at a zigzagging speed. truly a rabid dog set free off its chain. before patrick could align for another shot, titus hit him in the face with all the force of a speeding truck. he tackled the last silcox onto the grass.

and then came the one-sided slaughter.

a barrage of sledgehammer punches rained down, botching poor patrick's face in a matter of seconds. titus didn't even need a weapon all this time. he simply let his fists speak. or scream.

"YOU SHOT MY WIFE??? MY WIFE???"

patrick's face was beyond recognition. teeth shattered out of their gums, sliding down his throat to choke him. his nose was cracked, broken sideways. his lips were streaming blood which painting titus' knuckles. and then his throat was crushed in the grip of titus' headlock.

you sprinted out of the manor doors and jogged right after him, clutching your bleeding arm. you were unsure whether to stop him and run away, or beg him to end the man's life a little more kindly. you knew logically that it was a kill or be killed situation, but you didn't actually want to make that choice.

"titus..." you said softly.

he paused, chest heaving like a forge. hw turned and looked at you dead in the eye. and you saw it again. absolute atrocity, and true love.

crack!

in an instant, wthout taking his eyes off you, titus twisted his wrists and you heard the sound of patrick's spine breaking. titus released hs grip and dropped the lifeless body on the ground.

you stood there, completely frozen, utterly unable to form a coherent thought. people always talked about feeling profound shock and pain when losing someone they loved... but what about when you saw the love of your life brutally end another's?

what was one supposed to feel then?

you shakily reached out for him, and gently took his hands into yours. "let's go... please."

he followed you without questions. the two of you walked past the casino just in case, keeping your guards up. the doors you had barricaded earlier were destroyed. inside, the grand hall was an absolute mess—velvet tables overturned, glass shattered across the floorboards, and spent shell casings everywhere.

ursula was nowhere to be seen. neither was francesca.

mr cheng fu however, lay sprawled near the broken doorway, riddled with bullet holes and soaking in his blood.

which meant his formidable mother was likely playing now.

"maybe ursula made it out." you tried to convince yourself more.

titus didn't answer you. he just scanned the corners of the room before bringing his gaze back down to you. his eyes immediately landed on the dark stain spreading across your sleeve. he reached out and took your arm gently in his calloused hand.

"i'm fine," you murmured.

"sit down," he commanded softly.

he guided you to an intact plush leather chair behind the ruined bar, pulled a high-proof bottle of vodka from a shelf, and tore a thick, clean strip from a discarded linen tablecloth. without a word, he poured a splash of the stinging alcohol directly over the graze on your arm. you gasped, your fingers digging into the leather armrest, but his hold on you remained steady and delicate.

he wrapped the cloth tightly around the wound, securing it with a firm knot, then poured a generous splash of the vodka into a clean glass and pushed it into your hand.

he sank down onto his knees on the floor between your legs, lifting your uninjured hand to his lips and pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your knuckles.

your heart was beating fast in your chest, full of shock, adrenaline, and dread. but looking down at him, you knew the last thing you needed right now was a conflict of interest with the world's most impulsive man. if his mind stayed snapped in half, he'd march straight back into the woods and get himself killed just to burn it all down for yhou.

you neeeded to diffuse the bomb.

setting the glass down, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, pulling his heavy head against your chest. titus let out a long ragged exhale, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his arms locking around your waist. you slowly ran your fingers through his thick hair, gently stroking the back of it. he clung to your like a starving man.

time blurred as you sat there coddling your man. you remained holed up in the casino keeping watch from time to time.

titus' phone buzzed, spiking your tension once.

it was ursula. she kept it brief: she was alive, somewhere in the woods. but she needed you to come find her. she had just heard francesca scream—a blood-curdling sound—and couldn't be sure who, or what, had taken her out.

the two of you double-checked your weapons, securing your extra handguns. it was past 2 pm now and the day was slowly slipping away. the stormy clouds didn't seem to budge, coating the estate in a thick grey fog. now the woods? they were vast and dense. you couldn't just wander in and hope to spot someone.

"look down, baby," titus murmured, dropping low as soon as your boots hit the damp soil. his voice was calm now, back in his element.

he pointed a finger at a patch of mud. "footprints are obvious, but out here, the mud takes shape fast. look for the depth—ursula weighs less than the men, her stride is longer because she moves fast."

he stepped forward, sweeping a low branch aside and gesturing to a small snap in the wood. "broken twigs at waist-height mean a person brushed through in a hurry. crushed leaves leave a smear on the dirt if they were stepped on recently. and if they're hurt or panicked..."

he brushed his thumb against the bark of a nearby birch, pulling away a tiny, fresh smear of blood.

luckily, you were spared the gruelling effort of tracking ursula for miles when sound of gunshots echoed around you. you and titus sprinted toward the sound, staying low behind the thick trunks until the tree line broke into a steep lowland. but as you closed the distance and looked down into the ravine, your heart sank.

francesca was writhing in the mud, screaming in agony. her body was covered in bites—courtesy of your father's grotesque creations. a few yards away, sebastian stood with his hands folded neatly behind his back, watching the show with the calm, clinical detachment of a scientist observing an experiment.

because francesca was now considered incapacitated, the rules had forced her younger brother, felipe, into the ring. the boy had initially rushed down the slope to save his sister, but she was already far beyond rescue; her lower limbs were shredded, chewed to the bone, and she was rapidly bleeding out.

ursula stood right beside the dying woman, her handgun aimed straight at francesca's head to grant her a quick death and eliminate her from the board. but ursula couldn't pull the trigger—because felipe, sobbing and shaking, had his own gun aimed at ursulas forehead.

beside you, titus rolled his shoulders, his jaw locking as he raised his axe, preparing to hurl it straight into felipe's back and wipe out the last of the family in one go.

but you shot your hand out and grabbed his arm, holding him back.

he glared at you in surprise. but you didn't even know why you'd stopped him. it was just a physica reflex.

down in the lowland, sebastian caught the movement. he slowly turned his head toward the ridge and rolled his eyes at your sudden display of altruism.

"still clinging to that pathetic, soft heart, y/n?" your father called condescendingly. "look at you. stopping your husband from winning the game just to spare a stray. it's disgusting."

without breaking eye contact with you, sebastian flicked his wrist and set another abomination at felipe.

you didn't calculate the score or consider the rules. you vaulted over the ridge, archie ready on your arm and threw yourself betwee the boy and the monster. wth a sweep, you sliced it clean in half, sending its dissected sludge back at its master.

"HE'S A CHILD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" you shrieked.

you looked back over your shoulder at felipe. he was trembling, clutching his weapon with white knuckles, murder warring in his eyes. why on earth were you protecting an opponent? why were you defending someone who had just been about to blow ursula's brains out?

but all you saw was a kid. who had just lost his sister.

BANG! BANG!

twin gunshots were fired in the air. ursula was icy and practiced with the shots. one round through felipe's chest and then the barrel redirected downward, a second bullet into francesca's temple, putting an end to her screams.

when sebastian slipped out of there, you didn't know. he was just gone.

you stood there in the lowland, shellshocked. your hand went numb around the sword as it diffused into air and curled back around your wrist as a tattoo. your eyes were locked on the two lifeless bodies before you.

in fractures, your mind replayed your bachelorette—to francesca showing a warmer human side that had almost made you forget who her family was, what the games were. you also remembered ursula joking around, letting her guard down around you proving she too could have fun. but standing there now, looking at the blades of grass catching red, you couldn't see any of it clearly anymore.

all of it was distorted. ruined. every single boundary of humanity was gone, burned away by the game. everything was so much worse than you could have ever imagined.

you felt titus' arm wra around your shoulder, guiding you away from the bloodbath. his lips were moving as he looked down at you but the ringing in your ears was so adamant. you just let him pull you into the trees.

back inside the casino, titus and ursula were already laying out their next move like employees discussing efficiency. last of the ammo and maps of the estate lay across a poker table. they moved on from the slaughter as if it didn't happen.

"mrs cheng fu won't last long once we push her out into the open. she's useless with that katana of hers," said ursula.

"and the boy?" asked titus, leaning over the table with his arms crossed. "her youngest is still on the board."

"please. the ipad kid?" ursula scoffed. "shut the internet off, flush him out. he'll likely stab himself in the foot."

all that talk about hunting and hurting literal children made bile rise in your throat. they were talking about actual children. not chess pieces to swipe off the board.

"i... i need a second," you croaked.

titus' head snapped uo instantly. "baby..."

"i'm just hitting the washroom," you lied, stepping back before he could touch you. "i won't go far. just gonna wash my face. i'm dirty."

he hesitated, reading the desperate strain in your voice. but he gave a slow nod. "five minutes, baby. then i'm coming to get you."

you didn't fucking go to the washroom.

the moment you crossed the hallway, you kept waling. you couldn't stand being near any of it. who you all were becoming. you slipped past the perimeter, intentionally avoiding the way you came from. instead, you drifted into the more uncharted end of the woods.

there, the forest was proper dense. trees grew gnarly and crooked, their branches swung low and interlocked. the foliage blotted whatever early evening sunlight remained in the day. it was eventually twilight.

you wandered in mindlessly. you half wondered if you could simply keep walking till you left the estate, till you reached hartford. maybe you'd blow up for disobeying, but at least it would be over. you'd be punished for your crimes in a way.

you slumped against a mossy log. the air around you was cold, and your breathing was already disturbed. you raised your hands to press them against your temples to ease the pain, but you couldn't look at them without seeing blood.

wet, crimson.

it dripped down your wrists and soaked your fingers, felipe, francesca, silcoxes, the rajan brothers, wilkinson. you rubbed your hands against your thighs, harsh enough to scrape your skin off. but it woundlnt' go away.

your hands were clean. just faint dirt under your nails. but every time you looked away, all you could see was blood on them. an ugly sob tore from your throat.

who the fuck have you been hanging out with?

what had you done? you'd sat there and let titus wipe dirt off your cheek like a loving husband after he smashed a man's head into the dirt. you laughed when your magical sword came flying back to you like, right after watching crafted human beings get butchered in front of you.

did you really just go and marry an actual killer?

a man who enjoyed killing as a child enjoys playing with trains? not an ounce of remorse. a man who talked about hunting down a child as if he were taking out the trash. and you kissed him, slept with him. you had held him against your chest to calm him down. you had rationalised it all because you loved him.

you told yourself you weren't one of them, that you did what you had to, that your promise to chester about ending his entire lineage was just a threat. but you'd done exactly what they did. and you told yourself it was okay. just like them.

so really, you were no better.

twigs snapped behind you, and you whipped your head around, your breath catching in your throat.

you should've known titus would track you down easily. to him, the broken leaves and crushed grass you left behind were practically a high-visibility billboard. he stepped into the clearing, taking in your trembling frame before he lowered himself onto the mossy log right beside you.

"i don't like it when you lie to me…" he said softly.

you sniffled, scrubbing aggressively at your tear-stained cheeks and avoiding his gaze completely. "yeah well, i don't like it when you kill people."

titus let out a long sigh. he leaned sideways, resting his solid shoulder against yours. "what do you want to do? give up? share the seat with everyone? this is how it is, y/n."

"that does not make it okay… titus… we're killing actual people," you whispered.

he turned to look at you, at your distressed face. cashing in the softness only reserved for you, he tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ear, and stroked your head.

"would you rather die instead?"

you didnt' have an answer to that.

you didn't want to die. you wanted to live, to breathe, to go back to a world where blood wasn't drying under your fingernails. but the cost of that survival was eating you alive from the inside out.

he draped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you against his side. you didn't pull away, but it also didn't feel warm. your body and your moral panic tried to repel each other.

"i don't want to do this. i just want this to end," you mumbled into his shoulder, feeling utterly defeated and dejected.

"you know we can't quit," he murmured, his thumb rubbing rhythmic, soothing circles into your shoulder.

"what, 5/6 wins isn't enough for mr. le bail?" you scoffed.

unfazed by your bite, titus said, "rules are rules."

"oh, the nuremburg principle hates to see you coming."

he pressed a kiss to your damp hair. "if it keeps you breathing, i don't care what principles i break."

"this isn't about me!" you cried, pulling away. "i am not asking you to do any of this. if anything, your family roped me in, forced me to do your grunt work with the book, and had i not translated it, my father would've never been able to enter the council, and none of this would be happening!"

the words hung with all the resentment you'd been keeping buried. titus listened to your rant, his face unreadable, but he was barely conflicted. there was no flash of guilt in his eyes, no sudden moment of clarity.

"i can't fucking turn back time, can i?" he asked, his voice deadpan and grounded.

"oh, don't give me that bullshit argument!"

"then what do you want me to do?"

it irritated you just how pointless your conversation was. he was looking at a survival equation; you were looking at the rotting remnants of your own morality. you were speaking entirely different languages.

"nothing. you do you," you huffed, turning your face away and folding your arms tight across your chest.

"you sure? because i'm gonna go back out there and kill the rest of them."

you found yourself unable to accept his answer, yet totally powerless to stop the system he was part of.

"just go..." you muttered, staring at the damp mud beneath your boots.

that was never going to work on a man like him. without a word, titus reached down, grabbed your hands, and hauled you up in one swift motion.

"it's gonna get dark," he said, not letting go of your wrist even as you tried to yank it back. "you're not sitting out here alone."

you let him walk you back. the closer you got, the more you felt something was going to go severely wrong. the whole day, you'd been feeling a cloud of pure dread hover over you. the kind of feeling you got when you could sense lightening about hit you.

the nature of the game haunted you. all the lives you'd ended tore you from the inside. your attachment to titus, who was objectively a killing machine, bothered you. the fact that your father was fully corrupt scared you. there wasn't a single redeemable thing about the day.

and all your dread solidified when you reached the casino.

ursula sat slumped against a wall near the entrance. her head lolled against her shoulder. a katana was lodged into the side of her chest, pinning her to the wall behind. her blood pooled around her, soaking her.

"ursula!" titus roared, dashing towards her, skidding on the wet floor.

he dropped to his knees to hold his sister, reaching for the sword.

"don't pull it out! don't pull it out," you yelled, grabbing a few tableclothes scattered around and wrapped the linen tightly around the lodged blade, pressing down to stem the bleeding. ursula's hand grasped at your wrist feebly.

"where is she?" titus demanded.

"in… the courtyard…" ursula choked out, a thin trail of crimson spilling from the corner of her mouth. "i shot her… she couldn't have… gotten too far…"

hearing that the woman was wounded—and still breathing—was like tossing gasoline onto a furnace. titus began to pace like a caged animal with his fists clenched and teeth gritted. he stopped dead in his tracks and snapped his head toward you.

"stay with her," he ordered.

before you could even reply, he spun on his heel and stormed out of the casino, axe in hand. you didn't need to ask where. you all knew. he was going to finish the job, and he wasn't going to leave a single soul alive out there.

you kept your attention and weight on ursula, on the bloody linen, your hands shaking against her ribs. you squeezed your eyes shut for a second, trying not to think of the worst.

"he's going to be unstoppable," ursula rasped. "y/n, listen to me."

you opened your eyes and met hers.

"he will kill anything that harms us. if you get in his way… he would kill you too. do—" she broke off, coughing a splash of blood out, staining her chin. "don't go seeking reason or mercy in him right now."

"come on, you're not gonna die," you croaked, your throat burning as you forced the words out. "maybe we'll win and get you treated right away. just stay still."

ursula gave you a pale, small smirk. "killed in action is a pretty impressive way to go."

"shut up..."

she rolled her eyes, but said it anyway. "look..."

"no. no, please don't," you begged. "don't do the speech."

"y/n. i don't like you," she murmured.

"because you... are too good for us. it's a stupid reason, but... you got away back then. did your own thing, built your own life. titus and i... just did whatever chester told us to. but even when your father came back, you didn't jump ship and choose him. you stayed with us and it's... fucking pathetic. we're not worth it. we know we're monsters."

you couldn't exactly disagree. every terrifying thought you'd had the whole day screamed that she was right. but you did not want to hear a dying woman's confession while your hands were covered in her blood.

"you need to save him. or stop him," ursula whispered, her hand weakly tightening on your wrist. "there's only one choice, y/n."

nausea hit you so hard your vision swam. your entire body revolted against the moment—that visceral sensation where your mind desperately tried to fight off panic, only to make every physical sensation ten times worse.

"just… just hold on."

ursula looked at you and unbeknownst to her, she felt sorry for you. a feeling she hadn't experienced before.

"i kept the photo."

time dragged on and on. you'd told ursula to save her energy, to not move or talk much. every minute felt like an hour. your arms were growing numb from putting all your weight onto her chest. you checked on her periodically, made sure she was breathing. her heart was beating slowly, but not enough to put her at risk. though, without a surgery, she wouldn't make it. no one could. you offered her small, measured sips of water once her blood clotted enough. then you changed the rags around her wound, which spilled blood anew.

after what seemed like eternity titus returned. and he was drenched in blood. it was splashed across his face, thick stripes of it ran down his neck and especially his hands. as if he tore into someone's flesh and skin. the axe spoke for itself. you could only imagine the carnage he rained down. you didn't want to ask, you didn't want to know.

as he reached you, you released the makeshift bandages and stepped back, letting out a gasp as the blood rushed painfully back into your numb arms.

titus crouched down in your place without a word, his stained hands taking over the pressure on his sister's chest.

you leaned weakly against the doorframe, trying to catch your breath, but the words that came out of his mouth next stole the air right out of your lungs.

"she's done," he told ursula flatly. "made sure the bitch suffered. dragged it out."

"and the boy?" she whispered.

"made sure the midget saw her state before I finished her. should've heard him beg," he chuckled bitterly.

you couldn't breathe.

the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

this was the man you had married? this monstrous, ruthless creature who tortured a mother and traumatised a child just to make a statement? this was the 'love of your life'? a storm brewed in your head, but your heart was empty. what were you supposed to feel right now? rage? betrayal? shock? disgust? nothing? even feeling nothing meant you were losing your mind. it meant selling your soul.

you took a step back. titus didn't notice. he was still leaning over ursula, making promises to her.

you took another step back. then another. away from nothing you could recognise anymore. you turned on your heel and sprinted off, plunging yourself into the woods, under a dark sky. a single haunting thought grated in your mind, beating agaainst your skull.

there was no winning.

if you stayed, you died. if you won, you became a monster. if you won the high seat, there was no saying what titus wouldn't do to fuel his victory.

you ran and ran, no destination in your mind—just one clear target. you didn't care if your lungs burned, if your legs gave out, or if you had to scale every single acre of the land to hunt him down. your stomach n knots, you went back into the deep neck of the woods. you had a feeling he'd be there. that he'd been watching you all alone—watching you falter, suffer, patiently waiting for you to grow tired and break.

you jogged to a halt in the middle of a clearning and raised your head to let your voice cover the range.

"just us left! why don't we finish it!!?"

you didn't let the stillness and silence deter you. no, that piece of shit was there.

"sorry i disappoint you, dadddd," you spat. "now's your chance to get even!!!!"

♬⋆.˚ chhil gaye naina; sanjiv darshan, kanika kapoor, deepanshu pandit

sebastian stepped out unhurried, a conductor arriving at an empty amphitheater.

"i hope you see it now. choosing those danforth reptiles over your own blood was not a good idea," he mused.

you rolled your sword in your hand, the only source of mild light in the dark forest. "look at where it's ended. a pile of dead kids and broken bodies. none of this is a good idea."

he had the audacity to shrug, and chuckle dryly. "ended? my dear child, this... is not the end. no, mr le bail uses us as his entertainment, but now that i've touched alchemy, the flesh-crafting, this is the beginning. why settle for a fucking seat, when i can raise an army of hell itself? become what mr le bail thinks he is..." you chewed the insides of your cheek, tasting the salt as you listnened to him. he was completely out of it. gone. the magic he wielded and the science he commanded had rotten his mind through and through, corrupting him beyond salvation. there was no remorse in his eyes, no apology. there was nothing fatherly left about him.

his fingers curled like claws as he muttered incantations. here we go again

the ground trembled as his ugly amalgamations started to saturate at his feet under leaves, through barks, wood now encasing their flesh like a shield. some hung from the swinging branches above you. with every creation he made, it only got stronger, almost... better.

the first one dropped down at you from above, and archie sliced through it on its own, dragging your arm up. you gripped it tight and refocused. one wrong move and you'd be chewed apart. you couldn't risk relying on the sentience of your sword alone.

your blade hacked at another, catching its bone and producing a skeletal rattle. you cleaved one more into two. another, all teeth and dripping black fluid, lunged for your throat. so you ducked low and drove the tip of your sword up its belly, right into its jaw. blood and guts spilled over you, but that was the least of your worries.

for every creature you felled, three more surged forward like heads of hydra. they only grew in numbers; an endless horde.

you slashed left and took off a pair of limbs, kicked another square in its chest to send it back, only for a slithering critter to slip past your guard.

crunch!

pain flared through your calf as its needle-like teeth chomped down hard on your leg. shrieking in agony, you brought your boot down straight onto its head again and again—squelch! crack! squelch!—grinding its skull and its insides into jelly.

slash after slash, thrust after thrust, push after shove, you waded through the horde of severed heads, broken bones, past their dystopian groans. no matter how many you killed, they kept coming. and behind that wall of creatures, sebastian simply backed away step by step. he knew he was useless in hand to hand combat, that too against a sword like archie. all he had was his magic.

just when you finally cleared a square of free space to lunge directly at sebastian, a snap! cracked through the woods.

iron claws bit into your leg. you wailed loudly, harsh screams tearing from your throat as you collapsed into the dirt. looking down through your blurred vision, you stared in horror at a fucking bear trap. you didn't debate where it had come from. all that existed was blinding pain. and you didn't have a single second to process it.

the remaining creatures swarmed forward, sensing your vulnerability, ready to tear you apart. as a desperate resort, you wound back your arm and tossed archie straight into the horde. the glowing blade caught in the air and spun once more, whirring like blades of a helicopter, cutting through flesh, bone, and black sludge in a perimeter around you while you fought for your life on the ground.

panting, tears blurring your eyes, you reached out and grabbed a rock from the mud. you slammed it repeatedly onto the iron hinges of the contraption. CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

it was old and rusted—you prayed to whatever was listening that the metal would give in. you hit and hit, trying to shatter the mechanism, gasping through the excruciating surges of pain shooting up your body. reaching out, your hand brushed against a femur belonging to one of the severed abominations. you grabbed it, jammed the length of the thick bone into the jaws of the trap, and threw all your weight against it, using it as a lever to pry the rusted teeth apart. with a screech, the iron jaws gave way just enough. you yanked your shredded leg out and sank down onto your elbows sobbing in relief.

it fucking hurt like hell. acting on pure instinct, you bit down hard on your collar, tore off the long sleeve of your shirt, and wrapped it tightly around the deep punctures. a classic move, really, but it worked. you pulled it taut, knotting it tightly above the injury as a makeshift tourniquet, then grabbed another bone to use as a stilt to keep your leg sturdy.

ahead of you, archie was still spinning, keeping the gory swarm at bay, letting the bodies heap over each other, some dissolving into ash, the others lying still in slow decay.

your only aim was sebastian.

and karmic luck was on your side for that wasn't the only bear trap lurking around. in his arrogant, backward retreat, several of sebastian's own creatures had blundered blindly into a second, massive trap concealed beneath the leaves. they were clumped together, thrashing as one solid mass. their limbs were all entangled and shredding against the iron teeth as they struggled to escape. several such bear traps went off and froze the evergrowing horde.

you just knew his magic had to have limits. that no matter how many creatures he could conjure, they were born out of tangible humans he'd killed, and there could only be so many.

so all you needed was one. at the right time and right place. just the one.

scrambling and limping, you dragged yourself forward in pursuit. sebastian was running too—no longer the calm mastermind, but an old man cursing at his own abominations as their tangled forms blocked his path. he too had realised that the woods were covered in bear traps and that a single misstep could backfire on him.

a small, gelatinous blob of a creature tried to scuttle up your good leg. and driven by utter disgust, you bent down and snatched it, fingers digging into its squishy eye socket. and you hurled it at the back of sebastian's head.

"COWARD!!!!" you yelled after him.

you saw him panic, his lips moving wildly as he tried to chant more spells, to conjure a fresh batch of monsters. but you didn't let up for a single second. you snatched up severed limbs from around you—claws, bones, pieces of flesh—and tossed them at him like missiles. it was your only ranged attack until your battered body could close the distance.

was he scared? no, not yet. but he was profoundly disturbed. disturbed that in his arrogant obsession to prove his prowess, he had raised so many creatures that they became his own fence, a deadly moat that blocked his path.

and it was only a matter of time before you caught him.

your fingers snagged the collar of his coat and you threw yourself over him, dragging him into the mud, straddling his abdomen. you rained down enraged, unyielding punches. you reached for rocks, branches, more bones, anything in your vicinity, grabbed it, and hit the man in his face. you didn't care where your attacks landed. his nose, his cheek, his forehead, his jaw, his lips, his eyes—it didn't matter. as long as they collided with his flesh, you kept striking, over and over and over, pouring every ounce of your trauma, your rage, and your tainted humanity into every blow.

when his face was a swollen, bloody mess, you grabbed his broken jaw, squeezing hard to force his unfocused eyes to meet yours.

"you can chant all you want, read every text, make thousands of these monsters, sell every last part of your soul to the devil... but you'll never get what you want... 'father'," you snarled.

you slammed his head back into the cold dirt once, then grabbed him by the throat, leaning in so close he could smell his own blood on your breath.

"your 'perfect' creation... is right fucking here."

you didn't give him the chance to speak. you didn't want a grand speech, an excuse, or a fatherly plea. the only sound you wanted to tear out of him was a scream of pain.

digging your bloody fingers into his silver hair, you yanked his head back as you shifted your weight upward—and slammed his skull straight into the gaping teeth of a solitary, rusted bear trap resting in the dirt right beside him.

CRACK!

it snapped shut around his head with force, fracturing his skull and rupturing his face with a spray of red. his cry never made it past his lips; his throat was torn open, blood spurting out. beneath you, his body writhed and squirmed, hands clawing uselessly in the dirt.

yet you felt he deserved so much more pain.

pushing yourself up on your good leg, you grabbed a thick, heavy vine dangling from a branch and looped it firmly through the iron frame of the trap. you tossed the other end back over the branch, grabbed the end of the vine, and turned your back on him. you marched forward, slowly lifting sebastian's seizing body up. he gurgled your name, a pathetic, wet sound, begging through choked breaths for you to release him. the iron splitting his flesh held his voice hostage, but even as the muffled gasps reached your ears, you did what orpheus couldn't—you kept your eyes fixed strictly ahead. you trudged forward and forward, dragging his full weight higher and higher until the heavy branches above squeezed and creaked under the strain, until gravity implored you to yield.

sebastian's mangled body tore from his neck and landed on the ground with a cracking splatter.

only then did you release your grip and let his head fall too. it hit the ground and the trap broke open into pieces.

you had heard war stories of brave soldiers who fought on long after being mortally wounded, how life clung to the body even when beheaded, the spinal cord refusing to truly surrender. and down in the mud, sebastian's gruesome, disembodied head twitched, his eyelids still fluttering like those of a broken doll.

you held out your hand.

and in a flash, archie returned to your grip, humming hot.

eyes bloodshot, your heart thudding in your ribs, you raised the blade high with both hands and drove it straight down into the center of sebastian's skull, letting the metal lodge in deep like excalibur in stone,  silencing the man and all that he did to you in one second. 

you stood there, knuckles white as you held on to the hilt of the sword for dear life and balance, long enough to watch the dead man's creations die their respective deaths. one by one, without their master's dark magic to sustain them, they popped and imploded.

and then all that was left was silence in the dead of night.

through blurry, tear-stung vision, you saw a tall silhouette in the distance. titus. you'd never seen him move so... carefully. he crept towards you, picking his way, even flinching when a half-stuck bear trap snapped shut on its own a few feet away.

his eyes were locked on you—wide, shocked, completely unable to fathom you, or the massacre surrounding you.

he looked at the mountain of creatures piled around you like a cave, at the bloodpool, at sebastian's severed body, and then at his head, with your sword standing upright through his skull like the cross above a grave.

"y/n..."

you didn't even hear him. your ears were ringing, probably clogged with blood and mud.

if titus was here, it meant one of two things: either ursula had miraculously held on long enough to send him after you… or she was dead.

titus finally stopped right in front of you, taking in your wrecked, blood-soaked form. he looked entirely lost—torn between being astonished that you had singlehandedly fought through an entire horde and slaughtered sebastian to win the game, or being mortified that you were capable of this scale of mass murder after all.

he was in absolute awe of you.

reverently, he reached out and cupped your face with his trembling hands, his thumbs gently wiping away smeared blood from your cheek.

"come back to me," he whispered.

your eyes were still unfocused and hazy as you let him lead you out of the clearing. you could barely walk, your injured leg freezing up in pain with every step. it all felt unreal. like you'd been invested in a video game for hours and then it ended, leaving you staring at a black screen.

ahead of you, titus moved carefully, kicking away the mutilated limbs and bones to clear a path for you.

"titus?"

"yeah, baby—"

WHACK!

important: firstly, i apologise for the colossal delay in updating this chapter.

things are stressful in my personal life, but that comes secondary to the plight of my nation.

part of the reason i took long to write, was to face my own conflicted decision between giving this story the fictionally gratifying end we crave in most romance stories, and a serious reality check for (mostly myself) those of us who have romanticised titus danforth.

i love him as a character, but abhor him as a figment of the world's real life oligarchy. (not shawn hatosy. peepaw is cool)

what is happening in my country right now has broken my heart and trust in democracy. the student su!c!des were a direct result of corruption that had led to paper leaks of the ONLY national medical entrance exam of india.

i, along with so many others, grieving and betrayed by our f@sc!st govt, joined in a pr0test, calling for the resignation of our educat!on m!n!ster. and although it was a success, he was replaced by an even worse far-right, ultranationalist patriarchal stooge of the govt. and there has been zero accountability by the entire system.

so, as i spent the entire month of july preparing for my own studies abroad, i also carry guilt in my heart that i am leaving this country at a time when it needs the youth more than ever.

witnessing the downright criminal police brutality unleashed upon the students who were peacefully protesting, a right protected by our constitution, let me make it very clear: i can never support my country's current govt regime, nor the billionaires who profit from divide-and-rule conflicts, thereby, i can never support fictional billionaires like titus danforth.

i will of course, not be writing an unhappy ending, but i will never compromise my political rage, even for my own writing.

thank you so so much for being patient with me, for reading this, for all your love. i am forever grateful.

the final chapter will be coming soon.

limited taglist: @taniamiller @generation-zero @goddess-of-spring @1dhoe93 @saigereaper @onyxorbspire @fluffyassbutt @niki128 @darknessofhell666-blog-blog @margaretblue777@emotionalsupportdilf @yiiiikesmish @softundermoonlight @tomnooksbagofbells

and shout out to @mr-crusher-make-it-so-blog for the bear trap suggestion!!!!!

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Rage of Titus commission I did for Night-Reign

🩸DARK CONTENT STORY MDNI🩸

Please read at your own risk

WC: 2,178

Dark content ✄. TW: Dacryphilia, fear play, manipulation, slight mindbreak, dependencey, dumbification, fawning, pet names, pulling hair,

Fears: spiders/bugs, mold, the dark.

Uhg this was so fun to write there will definitely be a part 2!

Titus Danforth learns very quickly he loves it when you’re terrified. Not scared, he’s not talking about a flinch, wide eyes or a yelp of surprise. No that’s over far too fast for his liking. He’s talking about you curled up shaking uncontrollably. Your breaths nearly strangled as your chest heaves. Big glassy eyes flickering from him to whatever is causing your terror. Big tears running down splotchy cheeks as your nose turns pink. He’s not sure why he loves it.