you make me a maniac / aud

The day had started off so well too...at least from what he could remember. Which wasn't much, if he was honest; he had started off more sober than he liked and well, whatever they brought back from Guivre tasted horrible, but it only took a couple shots and he had been in a much happier mood. Whatever that was, it had been strong. Stronger than anything he was used to. All he could remember was a blur of shapes and faces and maybe throwing up once in the bathroom and then deciding that it'd be better to just take the rest of the day off.

To be realistic, Cassian had no idea what day it was, much less the time of day. Wasn't today cleared off his schedule? He could swear that there wasn't anything on the agenda today. Then again, what was today? He swore he couldn't remember having to meet a delegate until Friday morning...

He landed in a heap on the floor, looking up at Aela with a dazed expression. "Mm what day is it?" he mumbled, running a hand through his wet hair, "it's still Thursday, isn't it?" Had he already slept through to the next day? 

As much as he had really taken the time to be acquainted with this sort of life, he hadn't exactly missed a meeting before. Yes, ten, fifteen minutes late, but hey, it was in fashion to never arrive on time. He was the king, wasn't he? They were simply early. The look in her eye said it all. How did he lose over twelve hours? 

"I mean Esso'tera doesn't even have a formal government, right?" he could remember that at least from his books and the comments his father made when doing business, "thought they were just run by a bunch of gangsters or something." It was a pathetic excuse, but frankly, his head was still spinning and well, he was naked on the floor thanks to his lovely wife. 

"I'm sure you handled it fine." 

Honestly, Cassian was not in the mood for this. Her voice was extremely grating and loud at the moment; it practically echoed in his ears. "Yeah yeah," he rolled his eyes, crawling up to his feet, still feeling the world spin a little too fast, "what's the point of me being there anyway? It's not like I would've made a difference. They have to make trade deals with us anyway; we're the only link to their water source in the first place." He scowled, a hand on the furniture as he manoeuvred towards the bathroom. Did she have to march him back like this? He could've at least gotten dressed. 

He rolled his eyes at her comments. Oh, so nothing new. The same old lecture he had already heard time and time again. "I'm sure you'd love that, wouldn't you? You know, you sound exactly like him too, calling me names all the time." He came out with a bathrobe on, tied loosely at the front.

"You know what, why didn't I see this before?" his voice was dripping with sarcasm and malice now, "you're both whiny, annoying, completely obsessed with work that if you didn't have it, you'd only be an empty shell of a person...you guys would've made a perfect match. Too bad my father's still married, or I'd have to call you my evil stepmother." He stuck his tongue out at her in the most immature fashion, before tossing her another scowl and moving towards the dresser, where a carafe had already been set. 

He gave her a smug grin that didn't quite meet his eyes. "You and I both know you're not going to do that, sweetheart," he sneered, "you need the church's approval to annul the marriage despite all the bullshit they say about having free will for two years. Not to mention....can you really afford losing my father's funding?" He blinked in faux innocence, "you're just as stuck as I am in this situation, honey." 

"See? I told you you'd love him," Cassian sneered. As much as he knew Aela was clever, she didn't seem to have nearly the fight nor the rage he had. She still seemed like she was holding out for something, but by now, Cassian knew he could get away with anything, and wasn't that what he did best? Get away with things? He was a world-class disappointment, so none of this was new. 

"I do actually," he gave her a cool smile, "beats sitting here and listening to you talk about how shitty I am. It gets kind of boring after the first few times, to be honest. It'd be more entertaining if you used your insults a bit more, you know, spice it up a bit." He had no desire to play along in a court that couldn't care less about what he really thought, and frankly, the lessons that he showed up for weren't helping at all. Even if he wanted to be a good king–and that was a big if–there were just too many things to catch up and understand in such a short amount of time. Every meeting or conference or dinner just felt like pulling teeth. 

Her next comment just made his blood boil. He didn't need her pity. So what if he was a lazy piece of shit? Or if his family thought he was a disappointment compared to his siblings? He had dealt with it, and that was his own problem anyway. Frankly he didn't need some judgemental bitch trying to dissect him and calling him weak-willed. She didn't even know the half of it. His demeanor changed from the sarcastic amusement to anger.

"You know what? I feel sorry for you too," he snapped, dark eyes blazing as the shadows seemed to creep a little higher around the room, "I feel sorry that you never had a normal life. Do you have anything other than these fucking responsibilities you pretend to like? Any friends? Lovers? Hobbies other than hiding away and reading, or hiding away in your garden?" 

He laughed dryly. "You literally lost your first fucking kiss with me, I don't think I need to contend with you about who's really more pathetic." 

The words left a sour taste on his mouth, and as soon as Aela fled the room, he knew he was in the wrong. She wasn't like them, at least not in the way he could gauge. Both of his siblings had always been a type of silvertongue, spinning insults and rebuttals so quickly it left him reeling, unable to to think of a way to hurt them until much later on. It was the reason the two of them constantly picked on him about everything, his small stature, trying too hard and still not understanding his lessons, any sort of enthusiasm he had for something he enjoyed... He had learned to be as sour and insulting and cruel the same way they did, the apathy and sarcasm creating a spiny gauntlet that never let anyone through.

Cassian had almost made up his mind to follow. His words were truly uncalled for, even if she was a prissy little bitch. It wasn't her fault she was locked up in this labyrinth of a castle, its walls made of stone and rules that were never to be crossed. He turned to the door, but as his hand reached for the handle, hesitation took root in him.

A Rotherhithe shows no weaknesses, his father's voice boomed, and suddenly, he was a child again, running to his parents after he had a nightmare. His mother had picked him up in her embrace, when his father entered the room. 

"What is this?" the man snapped, "A Rotherhithe never runs and hides." The man had grabbed Cassian by the collar, dragging him out of the room, the young boy crying and whimpering muttered apologies. They had descended to the dungeons of their old manor, a room usually prohibited to enter, and he had thrown the boy against the wall as he curled up on the floor, tears running down his eyes. 

"I'm sorry father," the child had spoken with his shaky voice. 

"Apologies are only a sign of weakness," the man only ever had a sadistic look in his eye when lecturing, "the strong don't apologize. You know what a dark fairy is capable of? If you were strong, you could be the one who controlled nightmares of another, but here you are, letting them take control of you. I see your mother's turned you soft. The next time you cry, I'll give you a nightmare to cry about." 

Cassian's eyes were clenched, his jaw tight as he sat on the bed, his hands buried in his thick curls. A Rotherhithe never apologizes. But you're a Sutfcliffe now, the voice in his head spoke. He sucked a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. He needed another drink, he thought miserably. As much as he knew Aela had no power in this–nor really any power to annul this marriage–the idea of going back home empty-handed terrified him. The man had never really beat him; no, physical violence left bruises and evidence. No, he was much too clever for that.

Stumbling to his feet, he went to the bathroom, washing his face. There was no way he could face Aela with the ghost white pallor of his face right now. Hopefully by the time she was back, he'd be asleep. He didn't quite make it that far. The man had poured himself a little nightcap, ready to crawl into the bed when she returned and immediately gestured to their 'royal duties.' 

What? "No," he frowned, "what the fuck." Were they just going to leave the elephant in the room unresolved? What were they, just a bunch of animals? "I'm not fucking you while we're still angry." Frankly, he didn't trust himself to anyway; it was always a problem with dark fairies, the more chaotic the emotion, the more likely their powers could react, and as much as he disliked Aela, he didn't want to hurt her.

Unbelievable. He could almost laugh, as he stared, wide-eyed at Aela. "So that's it?" he spoke breathlessly, "I'm just...what, you glorified man-whore? Is that all that I'm useful for? Just some commodity my father traded from his hand to yours?" While it wasn't like this was the first time he really thought of their little arrangement this way, it was certainly the first time he voiced it. The first time he truly acknowledged what was true. He knew his father thought of this as a privilege ill-deserved for Cassian, but if anything, it was probably the cruelest punishment the man had ever given. 

The only way out of the stifling family home was to be sold like property for his father's political aspirations. Sold like cattle to a Queen who clearly felt the same about him, that he was nothing but a glorified pet, simply there to sit still and be pretty, to answer all the right questions in all the appropriate manners, to sit and stay and heel and roll over at her every whim. Of course this was how his father saw him; a purposeless creature with nothing–no talents, no aspirations, no feelings–other than his literal value, as a pawn of some sort. But now, apparently everyone else did too. Just sit still, pretend to be happy, come when he was told and apparently, fuck when he was told. No thoughts, no feelings, nothing. 

So that was all he'll ever be worth, he thought bitterly at the realisation as a dry laugh left his mouth, his hands white-knuckling the sheets under him. His breathing was shaky as he tried to compose himself; his teeth gritted as he held his own tears back. It felt like something in him just died, and he couldn't be bothered to care. He almost wanted to swat Aela's hand away the moment she passed him the tea. Calm down. As if that was a totally normal reaction to this absolutely bat-shit crazy thing they had going on. He shut his eyes, drawing in deep breaths like he did whenever he was steeling himself for a punishment. 

"What do you want me to do, your majesty?" he kept his shaking voice flat, the exhaustion now evident in his posture, as his lifeless eyes finally met hers, "your wish is my command I suppose." He couldn't exactly keep all the hurt from his voice. 

Cassian couldn't help the relief that flowed through his veins, though is expression didn't change. No sign of weakness, he thought; there was no way he'd give her any weapon to use against him in the future. Part of him knew that Aela wasn't his father. If she was, she would've simply taken what she needed from him, regardless of how unenthusiastic he was about all of this. That was what the man always did anyway, and the rest of them had an inability to say no. So she did have a heart, he thought bitterly.

As she left for the bathroom, he could feel himself releasing a breath he had been holding. He didn't mean to be on the edge of a breakdown like this. All of a sudden, the room itself felt stifling. He had always hated small spaces, but even a room this big felt infinitely like a prison cell or the basement of their manor in which they were only taken down to be taught a lesson. A shudder ran down his spine, his chest feeling tight. He ignored the feeling, only crawling into the bed. When Aela had returned, he was already practically buried in the pillows and blanket, only a mop of messy hair visible, his face completely buried in the softness of the down pillow he was provided. He could feel her weight set onto the other side of the bed, and he fell still, breathing in slowly as to appear asleep already. 

He wasn't quite sure whether she was asleep, but her breathing seemed to indicate it. He had hoped to hold it all in just a little longer, but the silent tears were already soaking into the pillow. He knew that this was just a delay in the inevitable, but the thought of the next morning terrified him, almost more than the elephant in the room. Eventually, she'd still expect him to lay with her once more, to...what did they call it? Provide an heir? He knew what people thought, that a young boy like him must have been excited for this opportunity, but it only terrified him. After all, he was the one with the problem of not being able to follow through. He hated the feeling of being a disappointment.

Cassian hated to admit that he was incredibly overwhelmed. After what seemed like forever, when he was certain Aela was asleep, he finally found his way out of their bed. He needed some room to breathe. Finding himself climbing towards the ledge of the window, he found solace in the moonlight, finally allowing his tears to flow unstifled. 

The boy king didn't exactly stop his drinking and debauchery after, but it was clear that whatever he was doing, it was plenty more discreet than it was before. Maybe in the public eye, it seemed like he was getting his shit together–finally arriving to things on time, a look of seriousness on his face instead of the drunken grins and slurred words–but in reality, it had felt like months since he was last sober. 

At least there was one thing Pyxis and Vela had in common; whatever rare substances and hallucinogenics imported from Kama could be found as long as one paid the right price, and frankly, even if the rest of the kingdom–and well, he doubted that; people didn't care all that much anyway–hated him, he knew his guards didn't. It was easy enough to curry their favour, to set aside some of his favourites. He was a generous man with gifts that were not of his own, and well, they were discreet in return. Getting high was certainly less noticeable than getting drunk, and there were much less of the side effects too, and well, it seemed like he wasn't the only one avoiding his betrothed like the plague. 

As much as Cassian wanted to avoid anything to do with Aela, the gardens...were quite nice. He had to admit that this space was one of the few places more beautiful than home. He didn't spend too much time here, knowing that his wife often took walks here, but whenever he was sure the coast was clear, he'd find himself wandering the space. 

He had purposely chosen to come during this hour because he knew she'd be usually be somewhere else in some meeting or other that, luckily, he wouldn't have to attend. However, being out of the loop meant that he had no idea she even had visitors. They only saw each other for moments of the day when they were forced to be in meetings or the few silent moments before they both went to bed. Still dressed in a coat he had been wearing at some lunch with a diplomat earlier, he had found himself lost in his own thoughts, when the ring of laughter could be heard. 

Turning to the sound, he was surprised to see Aela. He was immediately ready to leave, in order to avoid the awkward conversation and niceties that they'd have to perform, but she was with...a child? What? He couldn't be that out of it that he was hallucinating this, right? He had never seen her so...well, normal. She always acted like some prissy poised royal that he found himself rooted to the spot, trying to figure out whether the mushroom tea was stronger than he thought, and next thing he knew, he was on the floor. 

Damn, she really had a talent for throwing him down, he thought, a bubble of amusement rising in his chest. As he looked up, he realized Aela had been talking to him, but it was clear from looking at his dilated pupils that he wasn't all himself at the moment. Perhaps that was a blessing in disguise. 

"Oh, uh, no worries," he spoke, his voice a strange calm, "I didn't mean to interrupt you. I–" he glanced at the little girl who was peering at him curiously. Okay he definitely wasn't hallucinating. "I–who's this...?" 

Nice things, huh? He could almost laugh. Of course they were nice things; he knew she couldn't even stand the sight of him. Still, he wasn't the kind to be vindictive in front of the children, at least, not in his current mindset anyway. There was a smile on his face, his shoulders rather relaxed instead of holding up the posture he often had to wear. 

Surprisingly, he took the offer of Aela's hand, 

"It's nice to meet you, Jessi," he offered his hand to the little girl for a handshake, "do you live in Pyxis, or are you from outside?" He hadn't met any of Aela's other relatives, at least not really. Perhaps at the wedding but he had been too nervous to really remember anything from that. Even her sister seemed as elusive as anything. The castle was a lonely place, after all. Other than delegates and servants and guards, there really wasn't anyone else to connect with, and there were times when Cassian truly felt it as something more than homesickness. 

It was one thing to be flirting with whatever guard or what not here and there, but eating alone constantly felt so empty, that in his hazy mind where the walls weren't nearly as high, he didn't seem to mind spending time with someone so carefree as the young child, even if it was in the presence of someone who clearly hated him. Then again, she was a professional; she could handle it. 

"The meeting's actually tomorrow," he interjected, ignoring Aela, "I'm quite free tonight for dinner, actually. What's on the menu? As long as it's not that weird desert stuffed bird from Esso'tera, I'd be happy to join. " 

He turned to Aela with a raised brow, as if expecting her to continue protesting. Frankly, in this mood of his, he was only amused by everything going on around him. 

Cassian was what some would call a true asshole. Even when he was high, he enjoyed deriving pleasure from other people's annoyance, after all. Still, he was more amused by the child than dissuaded by Aela at this point. Still, her enthusiasm was infectious. Cassian chuckled. "I've been to Columba a few times," he offered, "there's a university there, right? I was there one summer, maybe I would've bumped into you?" It was true, his family had sent him there for some summer course on diplomacy in preparation for their expansion to Nyre. He had met a few of his friends there too. As much as he had hated the idea of being sent away, that summer held fond memories for him. 

The child was already dragging the two of them towards the kitchen, and Cassian followed along. He raised a brow at the comment about cherry pie. "I did not," he offered, "but I suppose cherry pie's as good as any." He was fond of sweets himself, though his personal favourite was a lemon merengue tart, the one their cook made. 

Huh, so Aela wasn't just a cold, stone-hearted bitch all the time. Seemed like he had gotten that wrong; she was actually decent with kids. Who would've known? As the child threw him an apron, he couldn't help the way his lips twitched upwards. At least the kitchen was somewhere he was familiar with. When he was a child, he had often hid there whenever his father was home. Out of sight, out of mind; that was what the children were supposed to do anyway. Not to mention his siblings would rarely come down there. The cook had been a nice man, teaching him how to make his favourite recipes, especially dessert. The man made a pretty good cherry pie too, though he had always preferred the cakes. 

Glancing to Aela creating the crust, he tied the apron around his waist and started on the cherries. Hm, the servants had already pitted all the cherries, it seemed, a mixture of dark and light colors dappled in the glass bowl. "Do you do a lot of cooking back home, Jessi?" he asked absentmindedly, listening to the child read the instructions. Lemon juice, coarse sugar, cherries, corn starch....hmm, a simple recipe huh? 

He turned to a servant nearby, already working on their dinner. "There's kirsch somewhere around here, right? Or brandy?" he asked in a low voice.