118 | necklace; the punishment of living

In the small, enclosed cave, sounds echoed and rattled the scatter of thin bones. The sound of a punch, in particular, protruding knuckles slamming into muscle and bone, made a rather wonderful sound.

Niklas' face swerved sideways, coughing as blood residue from his previous cough dribbled out of his mouth.

Kaden huffed, green eyes blown wide as he drew his fist back, rubbing the reddened knuckles. It didn't hurt—not as much as Niklas' face likely did—but there was a dull throb of sensation pulsing in his fingers.

"I never asked," he said slowly, enunciating each brittle word. "To be saved."

Behind him, the dragon who'd watched the flow events in both surprise and contemplation blinked. He hadn't thought to stop Kaden, even if he could've, because it was no longer his discussion to participate in.

Holly's eyes wildly searched the pair, her hands hovering unsurely in the air. She looked up and Noah shook his head. Chewing on her bottom lip, she dragged an equally startled Arlo to where Noah stood, taking a spot by the rugged walls.

The elder spat out a huff of air and fell backward with raucous cackling, hooting as her scaled, inhumane legs kicked in the air.

Finally, a response came from the patient, seated on the ground with a splendid red hue on his cheek. "You never asked?" He wondered and in seconds, he was on his feet, lunging at Kaden.

His hand struck out but Kaden dodged it coldly, and Niklas glared. "Don't dodge it?"

Kaden stepped back as another strike swept the air.

They were skilled movements but lacked the necessary strength to overpower a person like himself.

"What? Are you asking me to be hit?"

"Yes, you can't even complain because you hit me first! A thank you would've been preferred. Or a long time no see? Hello? You'd never ask to be saved because you don't think you're worth saving, goddamnit Kaden!"

This time, with a falter from Kaden, Niklas' strike connected with his jaw. Kaden's head jerked and from the sidelines, Noah's eyes narrowed darkly. Still, he did not move.

The two men collided, crashing into each other in a flurry of exchanged anger, irritation, and frustration.

Bruises speckled them both, deeper and in more variety across Niklas' body, but he hardly cared.

Kaden ran a bruised hand through his hair, breathing deeply. "Why would you do any of it, Niklas? Without asking me first."

"Because your answer would've been no," Niklas wheezed, squatting down. "And that isn't one I could accept if it meant giving up your life."

"I don't want to live by somebody's sacrifice—"

"Come on, Kaden. Do you hear yourself? Who was the one who left us all those years ago? I never asked for your protection—and even now, I don't want it!"

Kaden's eyebrows knitted together and he turned his head away—before having it roughly yanked back. Niklas tugged up his sleeves so they covered his hand, clutching Kaden's collar with the other.

"We watched you die, Kaden. Maybe I made a mistake in keeping you in the dark, maybe everything I've done is riddled with mistakes. But you died. You died, and there was nothing any of us could've done."

Niklas gasped, sliding down as Kaden bent to one knee to slow his fall. Instead, the two of them tumbled to the ground, groaning as their spines pressed into the scatter of bones.

He was speaking of regrets that transcended lifetimes, a regret much deeper and older than Kaden's execution three years prior.

Kaden lay there, pressed against bone and stone. "Niklas," he said slowly, chest falling and rising. "Who are you?"

They'd both been working in the dark to protect each other.

But allies, separated by stubborn ideology, could only go so far apart. With secrets dividing them, they could never be honest.

Niklas let out a shuttered breath, closing his eyes. Kaden hadn't held back on his punches, and for a skilled murderer who participated in fights daily, it was extremely painful.

He cursed at Kaden under his breath.

Really, weren't they just talking it out? Who told him to be violent?

Kaden dragged himself up, pulling on knee in as he turned to look at the collapsed and limp body on the ground who was mentally letting out a thousand grievances.

He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. He probably could've held back a little.

Niklas took one look at him and sneered. "Oh, so now you're feeling apologetic? After bringing my body to such a state."

Hearing Niklas' taunting, Kaden didn't feel like apologizing, like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. "I'm only helping add character to your simple face."

"This simple face has charmed countless, I'll have you know."

"They have poor taste."

"You're insulting countless men and women with that sentence." Niklas grinned through his split lip, lying blood and battered. "Let's redo our introductions, Kaden. Under no pretense or lies."

If they'd introduced themselves before the tragedy occurred, what would they have been?

Kaden lowered his eyes and huffed. His entire body ached in overuse. "Alright."

"My name is Niklas Rosa Astors—I identify with my deceased birth mother's last name in public in order to not associate with my father."

He sucked in a breath, gazing at Kaden calmly. "I am the son of the Grand Duke and the only woman I've considered a mother, Rosa Alexandra Chauvet. I took her first name—or so I decided and nobody can stop me."

There had been a boy that Rosa spoke to Kaden of, her dear and precious son who shone like the sun, with a gleaming white smile, and lovely curved eyes that spoke of endless delights.

Kaden's fingers clenched around his leg, swallowing.

His breath caught in his throat and he felt his lungs being pooled with water, suffocating and overwhelming.

His gaze trembled, a light shake chilling his body.

"I infiltrated the Chauvet household; the royal palace, to exact vengeance for my deceased mother."

Kaden's head snapped towards him, confusion spreading in the green gaze. Niklas smiled lopsidedly.

He took a deep breath, a face dipped in wariness. "My mother's last wish was to protect a boy with startling green eyes. A dear child that deserved not violence, but peace."

Niklas' eyes fluttered in memory, the dark chaos of bloody battles and misery that ran the streets of the Kingdom. Shadows that loomed over the dreary and the weak, telling of a destined death approaching.

The citizens thought of it as a foreboding plague; Niklas had known it was a man-made tragedy.

"I didn't know who that child was until their exile."

It had been fitting weather, the heavy rainfall that dampened his clothes to match his low moods.

The Royal Family had perished under the noble hero's hand, Noah Bellamy. The man in question had disappeared, gone without a trace. Nobody could say whether he was alive or dead, but perhaps that was for the better.

Humans had a way of fearing the strong, and a hero could easily become a monster in cowardly gazes.

Later, several years later, the crown prince would return and reclaim his throne by mysterious means—he was as stubborn as a parasite, eternal and undying.

But that future had not yet come.

Niklas had been part of the group that ransacked the palace. Except, for a reason he couldn't tell, he drew himself to a secluded room at the end of an empty hallway, deprived of living.

It took three minutes of looking around to realize that it was the room belonging to Kaden Chauvet, the crazed dog of the Royal Family.

And it took another three to realize the absence of life.

If Kaden Chauvet lived in the palace, Niklas didn't think it had really been in this room. At least, it wasn't where he spent most of his days.

And if it was, could it be called living?

It was a strange understanding that didn't make sense. There were no rumours of the man leaving the palace often—his loyalty and devotion were to the crown, even if it scraped his skin raw until all that was left to sacrifice were his bones.

Niklas, in his short time working before being beaten half to death and discovering the Crown Prince's true face, had definitely seen Kaden living inside.

A chill had crept over his skin, there and then. A wandering thought that perhaps there was another story to the tale of villainy that was Kaden Chauvet's character.

That underneath the laughing facade of madness, he was somebody else.

Kaden stared at Niklas, whose eyes had glazed over with thought, distant and empty. He seemed to be recalling something terrible, that he wanted to deny.

"Niklas?"

Niklas snapped his head and breathed slowly. "Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking. I'll continue telling my story."

The entire palace was turned upside down, searching for clues where the Crown Prince might have disappeared to, and what other crimes had been kept under wraps.

Niklas hadn't planned it, but he ended up following the angry crowd to the basement. At the bottom stood a single cell, a cage to keep a prisoner still plagued with the stench of blood and torture.

It was said that the hero, Noah Bellamy, had suffered extreme violence under the Crown Prince's cruel hands.

Niklas scrunched his nose and turned away, covering his nose at the repulsive stench. He wasn't accustomed to such lingerings of violence, and could hardly bear it.

The day he became used to it was the day he no longer remained himself.

Niklas had dived into the Underground, deeper and deeper into the darkness of their world.

All for revenge.

A fleeting vengeance when he couldn't bear to kill that man in their Academy days, that man with a lonely back and despairing green eyes.

But at least this—he could not, or would not, witness such horrible scenes and remain calm.

His eyes trailed over to a bolted, heavy door beside the cage, leading to another room. The edges were heavily worn, odd, since it took a lot more to wear down doors than opening and closing them often.

A smear of dried blood on the door, and the heavy chains draped over to keep whatever was inside.

Niklas had frowned, then. Noah Bellamy had been locked in the prison—then what creature was locked beside the dragon, with far heavier chains?

He swallowed, and unlocked the first bolt, untangling the chains. It was surprisingly easy, yet whatever had been inside must've felt locked away for eternity.

They'd been trapped by psychological chains. He wondered if they'd know, that escaping from this cell would've been easy.

He didn't think they did.

He licked his dry lips, the clatter of metal loud in his silence. The others had already left in disgust, wanting to explore other areas before returning to this filth of torture.

Finally, that last chain fell to the ground with a thud.

This time, it was Kaden's turn to turn his head, breath weakening as his eyes shuttered close. Because without Niklas' description, though the man attempted to be vague, only Kaden Chauvet could describe it in its full glory.

The cracks along the door where occasionally, a slip of light would creep, the places that were often cold and desolate, and the corners that were the closest thing to warmth that he had.

Niklas watched his friend's pale expression grimly.

"Kaden." He said softly. "What sort of life had you been living?"

"It's not my turn yet."

"What?"

"I'll tell you about my life when you're done, Niklas Rosa Astors." Kaden smiled weakly. "I want to know who you are."

"...right, right. I'll continue then."

As soon as the heavy door was pried open, Niklas' face turned pale in an instant. There was a chilling cold in the isolated space, hardly fit for a body. A blanket was carelessly tossed on the ground. Niklas stared blankly before taking a tentative step inside.

There were marks engraved into the wall, uneven tallies that spanned all over the room—countless days that he couldn't even begin to count.

Some marks were shallow and disorderly as if somebody or something had clawed the walls desperately, scratching until their fingers smeared with the marks.

Dried blood stains also splattered on the ground, dust collecting along the lines that connected floor to wall.

It looked as if everything had been scrubbed, but the desperate attempt to erase the deep stains was futile.

A completely isolated space.

Then, Niklas had frowned, realizing the glimmer of metal that was only revealed by the light outside, wedged into a space along the ground that was barely noticeable.

His hand trembled suddenly as he approached, walking further into the gloom.

Crouching down, he pried the metal out of the sliver of space. There were marks scratched out there too, deep dents that seemed to be both harsh and desperate.

Niklas sucked in a breath, reading the words with a chilly expression.

"I am,"

There was a disconnect in the space, and the words weren't in a straight line, some letters spaced far too wide, and others overlapping.

Whoever had written it likely wasn't able to see where they were writing.

"Kaden Chauvet."

Niklas felt his heart go cold.

The line repeated itself in tiny, messy scratches.

"I am alive."

"I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive."

"I am Kaden Chauvet. I'm human."

"Human, human, human, human. I'm human, I'm human."

"I'm human."

Niklas lowered his eyes to the metal jewelry, a necklace he soon realized, wrapped in his fingers. It was a simple silver necklace with a hanging butterfly charm, a single metal wing bent in flight. Half the wing was broken, and most would assume it was accidentally snapped, but it wasn't.

A broken butterfly. When what was once beautiful became damaged, would people still want it?

And how did Niklas Astors know this?

Because the woman who had purchased it hadn't hesitated, smiling and ignoring all the whole, beautiful butterfly designs that brimmed with life and joy.

That woman had been Rosa Alexandra Chauvet.

"Your mother," breathed Kaden, distantly remembering the cool metal that grasped so tightly in his young fingers that they left imprints.

He feared having it taken from him and slotted it underneath a gap in the wall that could barely fit the thin chain.

Niklas trembled and smiled. "My mother." He sighed. "I'm surprisingly not completely stupid, though I had been rash with Reed. It wasn't difficult to connect that the one my mother wished to protect with her dying breath and the exiled sinner was the same."

Kaden looked away. "It was a mistake for you to assume I was worth saving. No matter what you saw, or who your mother made me to be, I was no longer a child then."

"I'm aware, Kaden. If you were just anybody, even if my mother had wished it, I wouldn't go so far for you."

"Then?"

Niklas sat up slowly, dropping his gaze to his hands. It was ironic, but perhaps it was destined. That he could do nothing but love the child his mother adored. He spoke quietly, but his soft words were heard by all.

"You weren't just anybody." Niklas lifted his gaze helplessly. "We became friends, Kaden. My motives weren't pure in the beginning, I'll admit that. I had planned to kill you if you didn't live up to my mother's trust and prayers."

"...I don't. I still don't." Kaden rolled over, clutching his wounded body with a fierceness in his gaze. "If you're her child, blood-related or not, then you have the right to kill me here. Many do, but only her child or her love, will I abandon everything I've been trying to save."

"What?!" Niklas jumped up, backing away. He winced at the pain in his body. "Hey, hey, that's definitely not the point of this. I'm telling you about me so we can properly be friends!"

Kaden frowned. "You're a fool. Don't you want your vengeance?"

"It was more than your tiny hands that killed my mother. Don't you get it? Do you think it was easy? Sometimes, just looking at your happiness while my mother lies under the ground feels unbearable!"

"Then kill me!"

"No!" Seeing Kaden move closer, Niklas backed away again in horror. "God, why is that the only solution you think of?! Kaden Chauvet, you murdered my mother! But I want us to be friends!"

"I don't want your pity. You've succeeded in your mother's last words already. You don't have to keep to them."

"Oh shut up! Isn't that my choice?"

"You're mad," snarled Kaden. "Losing years of your life and your vengeance."

"Yes, I'm mad! I'm absolutely insane—I've been skittering around like a rat trying to find a way to keep you alive when you are so insistent on dying, and then I hear you'll die anyway! What did you want me to do?"

Kaden stared, wide-eyed and buried his face in his hands. He didn't care about those watching as he choked.

The son of the woman he'd loved like family. The mother he remembered when his memories of his own mother were brittle and withering.

A parent when he had none.

Niklas stilled, his hands curling and uncurling against his body. His voice softened. "This is my vengeance, Kaden. To you who wants to die, you have to live."

He crouched down, warm hands pressing on Kaden's shoulders. They were broad and strong but carrying a weight they never should've had to shoulder.

"Please live, Kaden." Niklas brushed back the bed of pink hair, revealing a clean and pale forehead. "I want you alive more than I ever wanted you dead."

Then, he raised his hand, pressing his fingers together.

Smack—!

His fingers flicked against Kaden's forehead loudly, and Kaden jerked his head up in bewilderment.

Niklas grinned, letting out an exasperated laugh. "There we go. If you're so insistent on receiving a beating, I'll give you one. In all the years coming, this proud big brother will beat you to your senses."

"....." Kaden opened his mouth and closed it, rubbing the red bloom on his forehead. "Alright. I'll endure your weak beatings."

"Hello? That is not the right answer—I'm your righteous saviour, you should be on my beck and call and showering me with praises—"

Niklas' words fell short as he stared at Kaden.

Kaden exhaled and when he looked up again with his startling green eyes, the shade of a polished jewel or the plains of a flourishing field of grass, a tired smile formed on his lips.

"Yeah. This little brother will listen to you."

———xxx———

Lukiyo says,

I did it again... I have no words. I'm very sorry T^T forgive this forgetful author. I've been in weird moods, although I know I always seem to be busy with something lol life has not quite been life-ing as splendidly as it could.

I estimate 20 - 30 more chapters to the end.  It makes me feel a little complicated to think about, so I'll leave any extra notes for when it comes.

I wish all the stars and wonders in the world cross your dreams and waking, dear reader.

See you Sunday. (For real!)