A HEART AS DARK AS MINE caos caliban x oc

scars and pages (edited)

PART OF ME IS TEMPTED to slip back into that old routine of ours. Sleepless nights together, and then pretending as though it never happened come morning.

Only the other, more rational part of me knows that I have slept enough in that endless darkness, and that now I have to think. Work. Or just talk, to begin with. The least that I can do is talk to him. To see if maybe, now that my father cannot force me to wed, Caliban's offer might still stand.

He had once been willing to give up his throne for me. But now...after everything, I'm not so sure. And so we'll have to find some other solution.

When I arrive at his quarters, I find him the same way that I always do, lazily sprawled out somewhere with a book or a joint or often both. I don't blame him. Hell is enough to drive anyone to things like books and joints and sex and madness. Typically madness.

I sit myself down on his bed. I don't bother asking permission anymore, before he trapped me, betrayed me, this room was as much mine as it was his. My books still clutter his nightstand, my creams and lotions are still stacked in his bathroom. It feels strange, trivial, seeing it all. It seems like so long ago when I'd spend nights here, with him. But his room still feels... warm. Private. It has small, delicate touches and details that make it so terribly inviting. I tell myself he isn't the reason that I have come to love this place so much

I think about the plain coldness of my own chambers. My room is dark, the only light that of the flickering candelabras. No windows, no not like his room of glass and crystal and light. No trinkets or memories of my family, my true home. Just a bed, a fireplace and a vanity. The rest of my room is bookshelves. I have come to find that I hoard books. They are lives that carry no pain. People who never leave.

"Hm," He says, not even looking up from his book, "I thought you'd still despise me too much to be back this soon, Sera."

"I'm not here to- I'm here to talk, Caliban."

When he still doesn't set down his book, I take it upon myself to haul it across the room. Caliban frowns at me as it clatters to the ground. "I liked that book." He says, nothing but amusement in his tone, dancing in his wicked grey eyes.

I scowl, leaning back against his cushions there are far too many. "I don't care," I hum, tossing a few of them to the ground.

Caliban rolls onto his side so that he's staring directly at me, and I turn my head to watch him in turn.

"Are we really...getting married?" I question him. I pray for his answer. Whether I pray for yes or no, I cannot tell.

"Having second thoughts, princess?" He asks, an air of teasing to his tone.

I suppose I am. "Something like that," I tell him.

Caliban only chuckles, but it is cold. Utterly without humour. "You forget, Sera, without this alignment, that throne is mine. Solely mine. You have no other way to be queen."

And there it is, the strategic, cocky bastard who I saw in those court meetings and dinner parties. The strategized, cunning prince- or rather...king.

"Did you truly think," His smile is wistful, amused, "That I'd give the throne up to you? You missed your chance, Sera. It's an offer I won't make again."

"And what if, in becoming your wife, I do not also become a queen?" I counter bitterly. "I know you, Caliban. And I certainly would not put it past you to take me as your bride simply to ridicule me, to keep me as some sort of trophy-"

"You truly think so low of me?" If I didn't know better, I might think that he was almost hurt. But I know Caliban. I know his games, his strategies. 

A small smirk finds its way to my lips, "Will you hate me if I say yes?" I ask.

He chuckles. Softer this time. Kinder. And the sound of it seems to echo in my body in a way that I cannot explain, blossoming heat from the inside out. It makes me want to lean into him, to be near to him. But I don't let myself. I know his games.

"A week." He tells me. "A week and I shall be crowned king, and we will be wed."

"A week? Heaven, Caliban." I repeat, "But when am I to be crowned?"

Caliban's smirk is intoxicating. I can't tell if I like him or want to punch him in the throat. "When I'm certain you won't kill me immediately after."

"I'll always think about killing you," I say with a tight-lipped smile. It isn't as much of a joke as I make it out to be. "Like right now, for instance."

Caliban shoots me a smirk and rolls his eyes. Sometimes I forget the power that he has over me. The way even the slightest smile or comment can reel me in like a moth to a flame. Sometimes I forget to stop myself before I can let that fire burn me to cinders and ashes.

"So this is it," I say with a sigh. "The trials, the fighting, it's...done."

Caliban's laugh warms my chest.

"On the contrary, I'd say that it's far from done."

I raise a brow, watching him through my lashes. "More games, Caliban?" I ask, "Or do you plan on the fighting instead?"

"And what if instead I was proposing that we play on the same side?"

I let out a soft, quiet laugh. "We'll see." I turn to leave. I have my answer. It's marriage for the throne. Just as I suspected.

I get up from his bed. I tear my gaze from his.

"Sera." He says, and I stop. I turn to look at him once more.

I can tell from the look on his face that there is far more that he wants to say to me. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to hear it. I know that under all that smugness and stupid little games there's something more. Something I don't know if either of us are ready to talk about.

He is about to say something, but he stops himself, pausing for a moment as if mulling over what to say. After a fleeting silence he asks me, "Do you still have the nightmares?"

"Every night." I say, but I keep the small smile and the nonchalant attitude. I don't feel like smiling. Not at all. But acting like those memories don't still haunt me has come to feel like second nature.

"I'm here," he says, "If you ever need me." There is a sincerity in his words that surprises me a little, but I do well not to let it show.

I want to thank him. To tell him that I do need him. I do need to talk. To be held for more than just passionate nights and fleeting kisses. I want to tell him so much, so so much. I want to lay beside him and let myself forget those nightmares, but I know in my heart that I can't. I know in my heart that I can never truly trust him.

It doesn't matter if I yearn for him, care for him, crave for him to be near. Caliban is a traitor, and we are both equally wicked and sinful. But we are both broken in places that no one can see, both desperate for the crown that we think will fill that terrible, all-consuming void. And the truth is, I'd betray him without a second thought for that crown. And I know that he'd do the same to me.

There is nothing without trust.

"I don't." I say. I wince at the harshness of my words. I do not mean to sound so cruel.

Truth be told, I want to talk about what happened. I do, truly. But I do not want to mention how much it hurt. I long for a way to care for my wounds without reopening them, to name the pain without inviting it back into me.