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I think that when Varian got arrested after the events of season 1, we couldn't see how he experienced the dungeons of Corona since it was mostly focused on Rapunzel travelling around with her friends. Still, when we did see Varian in season 3 he joined with the Saporian but what if in the moonstone au where he had his moonstone powers and his hair stripe glowed and then turned the same colour as the said hairtsripe and controlled the black rocks during the time in prison since the rocks took a toll on him and the guards put cuffs like what Elsa wore.
Well, unlike Varian's traditional handcuffs he got when he was getting arrested. They are specifically designed for him to not be able to control things, while it is an au and Varian's hair stripe is from alchemy incident. I think it would be interesting concept, don't you think?
Okay, but barley anyone has talked about Macaques trauma around chains.
Like, this monkey has been chained/bonded how many times?? Yeah, I get, anyone being bonded and chained up would make them worried. But with Macaque I feel it would be much worse.
He's gotten chained/bonded by Wukong, his own shadows, LBD, Xiangliu, and possibly more when he was down in Diyu, but who knows if he did.
I feel that because Macaque usually likes to know or be somewhat in control of whatever situation he would be in. That fear, or worry. Would have sprouted post fight with Wukong and when Wukong killed him.
It seems he broke out of whatever chains before, considering we see broken chains on him in that one scene, but then his own shadows were holding him in place as he tried to run. He would defiantly be panicking.
Also, I would be surprised if Macaque had scars from those chains/bonds. After all, he was always pulling on them and they kept him in place. So hypothetically, he probably would have scars on his wrists and faint scars on his upper legs and waist from pulling at the bonds/chains so hard that he rubbed his skin and fur.
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CW: death as a theme explored in depth, grief, past main character death, past torture, past non-con mention (very brief), aftermath of grievous bodily harm (stabbing, loads of stabbing) and torture, chains, gags, blood, captivity, fear of child abuse, mention of death of a child, necromancy, undead whumpee, captivity, compulsion, emotional whump, death wish (sort of)
Summary of the previous NSFW chapter: welcome to the finale. Ashe is frozen in her sarcophagus, commanded not to move. Kyriel makes Kai scream on top of it, stabbing him everywhere so that Ashe can see what heās done with him. Kai pleads and surrenders so that Kyrielās rage is directed towards him, because he will do anything for her no matter the cost to himself.
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The thing about death, Kai thought, was how absolute, how final it was. How inevitable the darkness at the end of the line, how cutting the knife severing the tread of life. How cruel the demarcation between what once had been and then no longer was ā how one could feel, watching the body of a recently passed one, how they were no longer there. No longer them, no longer in the vessel of the flesh ā death, death, and then gone.
That was, unless Kyriel had anything to say about it.
No wonder people worshipped the angel when he could raise people from their graves. No wonder there were those, even among Kaiās people, who thought him a god ā for the monster could make reality out of what were mere promises for other religions, could make tangible the return to the flesh from the valley of shadows. He could back with power and magic what were only tales, only shushed comforts given in the face of a truth too hard to bear ā that life didnāt end after death, that there was more to discover after one passed. Why there were queues, decade-long queues, entire families staking everything they owned and all their hopes and fortunes for the chance of being selected to serve in the ranks of Kyrielās Fallens ā for the chance of becoming immortal, to transcend the limits of the mortal flesh and live alongside their immortal god.
Kai had never thought heād come to understand them, one day.
The boy wheezed, his lungs constricting as he slowly came back to himself. He groaned, chained and slumped on the stones of Asheās cell ā his entire body aching, throbbing where heād suffered his captorās wrath. His muscles knotted, his flesh a tangled mess of sharp and bruising pain ā his body caked in blood from head to toes, his and the Fallensā both, his skin covered by thick bandages wrapping everywhere Kyriel had stabbed him over and over again. Kaiās wrists raised above his head, manacles tight around them ā a gag, a dirty rag stuffed tightly inside his mouth, silencing his every sound.
The boy moaned, folding forward over the stones.
It took him a second, an aching beat, for him to realise that he was still breathing, despite it all. That he was still underground, in the same cell Ashe was ā and that he was chained to his wifeās coffin, back pressed uncomfortably against the jewelled sides of the sarcophagus that held his love. His torso and thighs wrapped with thick bandages that were already soaked in blood ā as if Kyriel had healed him just enough for him not to die, the power-suppressing runes on the walls turning his magic into the faintest whisper deep below his skin, but not enough for Kai to be comfortable about it. The red seeping through the gauzes where heād been stabbed, each breath bringing a renewed flash of pain ā as if Kyriel had wanted him to feel the aftermath of his punishment, hadnāt wanted to spare him any minute of it.
Kai blinked where he sat, covered in blood and grime. The taste of iron sharp on his tongue, the sound of his breathing muffled by the dirty rag stuffed deep in his mouth. His silver eyes wide, shiny in the low light, only the cracking of the eerie green flames on the walls breaking the silence of the cold cell underground.
Ashe.
The boy shuddered, shifting even as the movement sparked a white flash of pain down his insides. He winced, the memories of his wifeās frozen body assaulting him like a fresh stab of the knife ā her perfectly preserved face, pale and beautiful like an immortal statue carved in marble, crying blood as he was made to scream bent over her coffin. As he was stabbed over and over again, taking whatever Kyriel would give him to spare her the pain ā the boy mindless of the agony again once more as he twisted to try to look up towards her. Towards his wife, his love, his soul, trapped in that crystal coffin he was now chained toā
He could only see a few inches of the girlās elbow from where he was, a few strands of her carefully braided hair pushed against the edge of the crystal lid of the sarcophagus that held her prisoner. Could only see a small bit of her too-pale skin, pearlescent porcelain ivory as Kaiās had been, covering the freckles that had once covered every inch of her ā the girl still, perfectly still like only a commanded undead could be.
His heart squeezed, so deeply he thought he would die of it.
It was a blessing and a curse both, he thought, to know her revived. A blessing, for how could he deny the wrenching swelling of his heart, the desperate love and joy filling up his chest, even when mingling with the claws of despair? For Ashe ā Ashe wasnāt dead, wasnāt gone, wasnāt lying in a clearing all alone. Her flesh wasnāt rotting off her bones, worms burrowed inside her body as heād thought for a year now ā she was alive, she was back. She wasnāt in the ground, all alone in the dark, her soul lost in the valley of shadows. No, she hadnāt left where he couldnāt reach, but had joined him in his new life now ā in the torture and the darkness of the captivity under Kyrielās knife.
Kai screwed his eyes shut, whimpering in shame at the relief he felt into his chest. At how his stupid, treacherous heart rejoiced, the bastard, in knowing himself no longer alone.
He shouldnāt be happy about it at all, knowing what awaited them now.
He knew, better than anyone, what Kyriel would do now. What heād done to him, when heād wanted to break him and in the months thereafter, in that first year of captivity underground ā what a curse Asheās return really was, what a Damoclesā sword dangling over his neck to ensure his compliance from now on. And how effective that was, when Kai was willing to fight and bleed for the world when heād lost everything before ā but not now, now that it was her pain, her life, her wellbeing on the line. For Kai had seen her die already once, and knew deep in his bones the terror of seeing his love kneeling, gagged and prisoner with a knife to her throat ā the jelly feeling of seeing a loved one hurt, the horror of her body bleeding instead of his own. A horror he couldnāt live again, no matter what it took.
Heād do anything to spare Ashe what had been done to him, no matter what that turned him into.
He remembered faintly, frozen on the dungeonās floor, how glad he had been, even in the darkest of hours, that it was him under the knife and not his wife or their child. How even then heād known, deep in his bones, how so much worse captivity could have been if he would have been made to listen to their screams in addition to his own. If heād known them under the knife rather than himself ā for he could handle it, he thought, he could handle anything at all as long as he was the one paying the price, rather than his wife or child. He could sustain anything in the world but not the sound of Asheās throat being ripped once more. Not her screams, not the sight of the light leaving her eyesā
Kai wheezed at the thought, terror gripping him like a vice.
He wondered then, faintly and with the immediate risk of throwing up what little was left in his stomach, what Kyriel had done to their child. If they had survived, or if they had suffocated in Asheās womb before she could have been revived. How long sheād been left in that clearing, after Kai had been dragged bodily through the portal into Kyrielās home ā the boy remembering how heād been blindfolded, knowing the reason why now, and how heād been dragged, kept there kneeling in the Throne Room until Kyriel had finally returned. Had it been one hour, or more, before the angel had finished whipping him to an inch of his life, bathing him and then chaining him to that bed underground? Was it that much longer until heād finished fucking him for the first time ā until heād left him there, shocked and numb, pinned to that bed that would be his place of torture for the next year and more? And how long did it take to revive someone, after all ā or to cut a corpse belly in half, extract a perhaps still living magical childā
Kai shook his head, his heart squeezing in stupid, oh so stupid, terrified hope.
It didnāt matter, he thought, whether Kyriel had cared enough to try to save their child or not. It didnāt matter, and it was better if he hadnāt ā for if he did, that was the worst possible thing Kai could imagine in this world. No horror scenario in his head being worse than the one of the monster putting his hands on his child ā of Kyriel having access to their baby, their vulnerable flesh and mind, to do as he pleased for the whole year heād spent underground. For eternity, for it wasnāt like Kai could stop him if he decided to bring the child there underground, to, toā
The boy had to repress the instinct to be sick then, sinking his nails in his palms to steel himself.
He tried not to think about what Kyriel liked to do with babies, what he did to children barely old enough to stand on their feet. The horrors Kai had witnessed when heād been an undead, the Councilās dinners served with the youngest cuts the monsterās underground meat grinding machine could provide ā or what Kyriel would have done to a child with power, taking and shaping them away of Kai and Asheās protection for his own twisted goals. If they had indeed lived, if they hadnāt died as Ashe had done.
Kai wished they had then, knowing how any alternative was so, so much worse.
The boy grabbed at the chains around his wrists, knuckles whitening as he steeled himself on the stones. He swallowed, fighting against the instinct to throw up once more ā breathing raggedly through the rag, at the shame of the thought. Feeling the love in his chest slowly drown into a sea of black despair, for the still, desperate need to know. For heād been alone so long, after all, nothing had ever felt home like love ā nothing had ever felt home like the promise of Ashe and the babe, of the life of peace theyād claw fighting through the darkness holding each other close. Of the family they would have built together, how desperately heād wished for that peace ā and how selfish that had been, now that Kyriel had put his claws on him. How stupid, how foolish heād been, having dared to hope even though heād known there was an immortal that wished for nothing but possess him ā how arrogant in thinking he could fight him, how reckless for allowing himself to love and put someone else in danger by allowing himself not to be alone. How dear the price to pay now, how steep the cost of love ā no resistance possible anymore, not unless he wanted Ashe and perhaps, who knew, their child to pay the price for his stupidity once more. Kai feeling himself utterly trapped, like it always way in his fight with his captor, knowing that he would have to choose between his loved ones and the world.
There was no question, really, what he would opt for.
Kai breathed deeply, raggedly, shuddering against his constraints. He craned his neck again towards Ashe, towards his love trapped behind him now ā the princess in the Tower, ready to be made to scream if her prince even so much as breathed wrong. The boy swallowing down the nausea alongside the pain in his gut ā the pain in between his legs, where Kyriel had assaulted him in a way he didnāt want to name. Focusing on Ashe, of what he could see of his love, his soul.
He remembered, like it was yesterday, how it had felt to wake up on the angelās altar upstairs. Knew intimately, for heād been through the valley of shadows himself, what dying meant ā what the darkness swallowing one whole did to oneās soul. How it had snuffled out everything he had been, until heād been made to re-emerge in a body that was his and was foreign both ā the nothingness, the sheer absence of self, the nightmare of how heād been erased when the knife had been driven into his heart. How wrong that new body had felt at first, colder and harder and unfeeling at the fingertips ā how the hunger had churned in his gut, how his entire mind and thoughts had narrowed over the vision of Kyrielās face above him. His whole being wanting to please him, how he hadnāt been able to conceive disagreeing with himā even as the hunger had demanded blood, so much blood, to satiate the magic that had kept him alive then. The all-encompassing hunger of the undeads, Kyrielās creatures needing flesh, fresh human flesh to feed upon, to sustain themselves ā how Asheās mind must be close to going insane after a year on her own, for that need alone.
Out. He needed to get her out, now.
Kai yanked his wrists against the chains, the desperation in his chest suddenly turning into rage, welcome and hot and alive in his gut. For he knew he was chained, he was constrained allright ā but if there was something heād learned, something he knew deep in his gut, was the need never to give up no matter how hopeless the situation was. To try, to always try something, to knock on every surface and wall ā for everything could be cracked, and Kyriel hadnāt ordered him not to free his love yet after all. Hadnāt ordered him not to wake her up, not to take care of her or try to make her run ā and so he had to try, try try try no matter what, no matter how he knew deep in his heart that an undead couldnāt disobey their maker, Ashe wouldnāt be able to run even if he pushed her out of the Tower with his own hands.
He had to do something, if he wasnāt to go insane himself in the terror and pain.
The boy grunted, the sound muffled by the gag in his mouth as he slowly, so slowly, begun to push his knees under himself to hoist himself up. He bit down the rag, grinding his teeth against the pain in his gut ā his vision darkening in spots, sharp bright pain stabbing him with every inch he moved. Sweat broke on his brow as he tried to stand, to reach for the crystal lid of Asheās coffin to knock it downā
The runes on his back flared, angry and crimson, as soon as his wounds opened up for the strain.
Kai let out a strangled scream, crashing as the compulsion on his back seized him whole. His gut ripping as his legs gave out on him, his body seizing before going limp ā the boy falling back down where heād started, after heād barely managed to push one knee under himself. Fresh blood beginning to seep through the bandages wrapped around his chest, Kyrielās words ringing in his headā
You are not to harm yourself.
The boy laughed then, a hoarse and hysterical thing, angry tears beginning to bite at his eyes. As he sat chained exactly in the position where his captor wanted him to be ā the compulsion taking away even the autonomy of trying to reach his love, the runes burning crimson on his back as all strength suddenly left him. The boy knowing Kyrielās orders, his rules, of course ā for he understood that wounded as he was, every attempt at movement was a threat to further harm. Everything but staying there, exactly in the position Kyriel had left him in, feeling every inch of the aftermath of his punishment and reflecting of what was now to come ā everything but that could be interpreted as rebellion by the runes, as threatening his wellbeing and life, and thus to be nipped in the bud. Kaiās body going limp, slumping on the floor like a puppet with cut off strings, as soon as heād begun to bleed.
Kai bit down on the gag, feeling the first tears spilling down his cheek, clearing up a path in the blood covering every inch of his skin. His stomach churning, his whole body uselessly revolting against the compulsion declawing him ā as if it cared about his feelings at all.
Ashe. Ashe, Ashe, Asheā
The boy lifted his head towards the crystal lid of the coffin behind him once more, the green eerie flames on the walls illuminating him.
He had to hope their child had died, that Kyriel hadnāt used that time when Kai had been blindfolded to take them out of Asheās corpse. He had to hope they were human, powerless, and that theyād suffocated inside her womb ā because while death was merciless, a clean cut after which nothing was anymore, it was better than the alternative that would await any child of his now. It was better for them to be spared this pain, the horror of knowing Kyriel at all ā for Kai didnāt know how he would get Ashe out of there if he couldnāt even stand without Kyrielās say so, and he had to god damn well hope their child was dead so that he wouldnāt have that one more failure weighting on his soul. That they would be beyond the monsterās reach, a human babeās useless to revive, good for nothing more but be fed to the dogs.
Kai screwed his eyes shut, hating himself for that horrible thought.
He didnāt need to be stabbed again, truth be told, to see how their lives would unfold now. To know that Kyriel would do horrible things to them both ā unspeakable things to them and the world, to punish them if Kai even so much as breathed wrong. If he wasnāt his perfect pupil, his perfect monster, his prince and weapon and whatever else the monster wanted him to be now. His soldier, his whore, it didnāt matter anymore.
Kyriel had won. And Kai, in the same way as he couldnāt even stand without his say so, knew he wouldnāt be able to do anything to stop him at all. And that through him, and the Damoclesā sword hanging over his love, heād give him the world.
Previous - Masterlist
This was really hard to write and has been rewritten a thousand times. It can be a non NSFW conclusion to Kai and Kyrielās Tumblr story, or a launchpad for something more ā if I have it inside me to write that, I am not sure how it might go. Itās been eight months bbs, and I saw my best friend die ā these words, Ashe, were really, really hard to push out. And I am still proud of myself because itās not perfect, but itās done ā and whether I end up writing more or not, we have a complete story of sorts now :)
