This is the last time. Could be the last time. They’re all at the end of their ropes, and there’s no telling what the future holds. Even if his walls hadn’t been torn down, he would still not be holding anything back. What’s the point of holding anything back when it’s all Ethan and it’s Ethan that he wants to hold on to so badly, that he needs to hold on to more than the louder, stronger force inside of him that always has been inside of him.
He should have known too. Ethan has seen enough, recognized the sound of the footsteps, but he thought Lucien needed Elena still if she was still alive, didn’t realize he’d been systematically draining her like a fucking blood bag.
This whole time. It wouldn’t have occurred to him, and it’s likely good that it hasn’t yet. They don’t want to think like him.
There’s only that relief though, and he’s- he’s grateful for it honestly even later knowing the truth, Ethan is grateful they have these few moments that aren’t tainted by what it means. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have embraced this moment like he has, wouldn’t have embraced her as fully as he is at this point out of sheer relief and this—this need to see her that is finally being met now that she is here in front of him and physically in one piece relatively. She’s not dead as he thought she was, as Lucien toyed with him.
His father is not human. His father is nothing but a monster, the worst kind of monster that he could never imagine in his entire life.
There has never been love in his life, and Ethan refuses to believe otherwise at the same time—at the same time he knows someone could not utilize people who do love in this way, use their love as a weapon without understanding intimately how it can be used, which takes understanding the love itself. At one point, he had humanity. He had to have. Hundreds of years ago, he must have had humanity or he would lash out blindly like the animals on the full moon who have never been human do without thought or need beyond hunger.
It is his father, their father. It’s their reason for being at all, and it’s all because of what eh wants them to be. It doesn’t matter who they are to him, to Lucien, because that is not why they were made. They were made to be the perfect army, and it’s what he wants from them. It’s what their bodies have been built for. All of it, it points to this one thing again and again and again.
They have nothing. It’s why hopelessness has taken over. It’s been days, and no one has seen each other, and they have fought as hard as they could, but it didn’t make a difference. They didn’t break the surface, didn’t push through the bars at all. There was nothing they could do. No matter how hard they fought.
No matter the stands they took, and Ethan finally did take his stand again and again, and this—the results are what happens tonight. That’s what happens when you fight back against Lucien.
Why wouldn’t you give in? Whatever it made of you?
As long as the people you loved were spared of torture, of being ripped apart by your own hands, why wouldn’t you spare them of that? When you have no other choices as it is? When there’s nothing else you can do and no hope to change things on your own?
The answer will be simple.
It’s all they have all ever wanted for each other, and it comes naturally wanting it for her, for Elena, because he loves and cares for her. It’s not that he thinks her life is worth more than others, but his father made him and she didn’t ask to be in this universe. It’s his father. If his father didn’t exist, if Ethan and his brothers didn’t exist, none of this would be happening at all.
The worst possible conclusion has happened despite how they fought against it, how they believed for such a long time they might have a chance.
Ethan closes his eyes, focusing on her hands on his face as his hands slide against her face and into her hair. He can believe it miraculously so. It hits him then through everything else he’s feeling that she trusts him, and he believes her in that moment. If he didn’t believe her, he wouldn’t kiss her, but the kissing is natural.
The need, the all of it pushes through him, and he pulls her into him and kisses her intensely. There’s need and want and love and pain and concern all wrapped up into that one kiss… desperation too. The intensity of it would floor him if he had time to think about it, but it’s intense on both sides, and his eyes burn helplessly so as he cradles the back of her head and deepens that kiss.
Until she has to pull back, and he breathes out, breaking off with a gasp too. His forehead rests against her forehead, painfully. His hand remains against her face too, tangled up in her hair until they fall resting against her shoulders instead. “I do know that, Elena,” he says, and there’s a pained smile on his face at the stubborn shake of her head. “I’m certain of it.”
If nothing else, he is certain of the fact that she will never leave him as long as she has the choice not to. She will be right here if she can be, and God, how they’ll both wish that wasn’t true so soon, so fucking soon, and he should have known.
Ethan’s fighting against it but he can’t reach anything, can’t do anything. The metal digs into his wrists, but he can’t feel it at all. He is completely unaware that it is happening, and it wouldn’t stop him from pulling on them, wouldn’t stop him from breaking his own wrists if he could to get out of them and get out. He can’t though, and he barely hears that whisper. It’s the pain of it that alerts him, but there’s still panic and rage flooding through his head again and again, and he yanks harder, ignoring the pain shooting up his arms. It’s just—it’s no use. These were built to hold him like he was built to be a certain amount of strong and fast and all… the rest.
This is exactly what his father can and will do to him, and he hasn’t let it settled in yet.
There’s still the fighting. The incoherent rage. The all of it shoving him forward, as he yanks at them again and again, and they’re bleeding- his wrists are bleeding and it’s making it worse, and he can’t. He collapses on the floor there, rage making him shake too as he glares daggers up at Lucien, staring in hatred and nothing but rage.
It’s not until he hurts her that Ethan is on his feet again, screaming out something incoherent, something that makes no sense. Leave her alone, and it makes Lucien laugh, knowing… knowing that it’s not him that will be touching her, spilling her blood next, and Ethan knows it too.
It’s what makes him sick, what has him dry heaving so he’s on the floor when his father points out the drain, the drain that will catch Elena’s blood, and he can’t- it makes it worse. The panic is sliding over him, and he can’t do this. He can’t live, he needs to be ripped out of his own skin. Someone needs to kill him. He needs to die before this happens.
Elena never would have seen him in the wolf form. The only times that he has ever shifted were when he felt he had to, when he was trying to protect someone that he loves… those—that was the only time that he ever would, because he hates being a werewolf, hated everything about the animal part of himself, and he never, ever wanted to let the monster out near anyone. It’s what he is terrified of, and it’s that terror that is rocking through him.
He doesn’t know how she’s so brave and amazing and beautiful and he loves her, and s’e's up there, to talk, to fight against his father. And he loves her even more, impossibly so, at the same time that he learns that he will be the one to kill her.
It should be him up there. He should be there beside her fighting too, but he was—has never been as brave as she is, as much of a fighter as hse is. And he hates himself a little more that he’s not standing by her side right now being half as strong as she is, but he is so terrified and he can’t push himself up from the ground that he’s on. The pavement that’s under him, he can’t push himself back up from it.
There’s nothing Lucien wants more than to break them down and remake them, rebuild them. No matter who is taken out in the process, and he is shaking and heaving, and tears burn at his eyes as his hands slide over his own skin, trying to figure out how he can kill himself.
If it’s even possible to do so with these shackles on his wrists and this-
He’s going to be sick but he can’t be sick, he can’t be sick because there’s nothing in his stomach to be sick with.
fuck.
The silence has never been more deafening. He can hear her forehead hit the metal, hear her drop to her knees but he doesn’t raise his head up. She’s shaking. He’s shaking too, the whole of him is shaking, and he lets out a pained sound when she says his name, the whole of him… shaking. “Why—why are you trying to comfort me? I’m going to kill you.” And it’s a sob finally, his hands slipped up against his ace, blood on his arms as he shakes his head, pulling his hands away again.
It’s all shaking as he cries, lifting his head up again so he can look at her. “I’m so sorry.” It screams through him, the strength and the whole of it, all of it panic and despair and his hands slide across his skin looking for a way to rip himself apart because that's all he wants right now for her to be safe from him.
no subject
This is the last time. Could be the last time. They’re all at the end of their ropes, and there’s no telling what the future holds. Even if his walls hadn’t been torn down, he would still not be holding anything back. What’s the point of holding anything back when it’s all Ethan and it’s Ethan that he wants to hold on to so badly, that he needs to hold on to more than the louder, stronger force inside of him that always has been inside of him.
He should have known too. Ethan has seen enough, recognized the sound of the footsteps, but he thought Lucien needed Elena still if she was still alive, didn’t realize he’d been systematically draining her like a fucking blood bag.
This whole time. It wouldn’t have occurred to him, and it’s likely good that it hasn’t yet. They don’t want to think like him.
There’s only that relief though, and he’s- he’s grateful for it honestly even later knowing the truth, Ethan is grateful they have these few moments that aren’t tainted by what it means. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have embraced this moment like he has, wouldn’t have embraced her as fully as he is at this point out of sheer relief and this—this need to see her that is finally being met now that she is here in front of him and physically in one piece relatively. She’s not dead as he thought she was, as Lucien toyed with him.
His father is not human. His father is nothing but a monster, the worst kind of monster that he could never imagine in his entire life.
There has never been love in his life, and Ethan refuses to believe otherwise at the same time—at the same time he knows someone could not utilize people who do love in this way, use their love as a weapon without understanding intimately how it can be used, which takes understanding the love itself. At one point, he had humanity. He had to have. Hundreds of years ago, he must have had humanity or he would lash out blindly like the animals on the full moon who have never been human do without thought or need beyond hunger.
It is his father, their father. It’s their reason for being at all, and it’s all because of what eh wants them to be. It doesn’t matter who they are to him, to Lucien, because that is not why they were made. They were made to be the perfect army, and it’s what he wants from them. It’s what their bodies have been built for. All of it, it points to this one thing again and again and again.
They have nothing. It’s why hopelessness has taken over. It’s been days, and no one has seen each other, and they have fought as hard as they could, but it didn’t make a difference. They didn’t break the surface, didn’t push through the bars at all. There was nothing they could do. No matter how hard they fought.
No matter the stands they took, and Ethan finally did take his stand again and again, and this—the results are what happens tonight. That’s what happens when you fight back against Lucien.
Why wouldn’t you give in? Whatever it made of you?
As long as the people you loved were spared of torture, of being ripped apart by your own hands, why wouldn’t you spare them of that? When you have no other choices as it is? When there’s nothing else you can do and no hope to change things on your own?
The answer will be simple.
It’s all they have all ever wanted for each other, and it comes naturally wanting it for her, for Elena, because he loves and cares for her. It’s not that he thinks her life is worth more than others, but his father made him and she didn’t ask to be in this universe. It’s his father. If his father didn’t exist, if Ethan and his brothers didn’t exist, none of this would be happening at all.
The worst possible conclusion has happened despite how they fought against it, how they believed for such a long time they might have a chance.
Ethan closes his eyes, focusing on her hands on his face as his hands slide against her face and into her hair. He can believe it miraculously so. It hits him then through everything else he’s feeling that she trusts him, and he believes her in that moment. If he didn’t believe her, he wouldn’t kiss her, but the kissing is natural.
The need, the all of it pushes through him, and he pulls her into him and kisses her intensely. There’s need and want and love and pain and concern all wrapped up into that one kiss… desperation too. The intensity of it would floor him if he had time to think about it, but it’s intense on both sides, and his eyes burn helplessly so as he cradles the back of her head and deepens that kiss.
Until she has to pull back, and he breathes out, breaking off with a gasp too. His forehead rests against her forehead, painfully. His hand remains against her face too, tangled up in her hair until they fall resting against her shoulders instead. “I do know that, Elena,” he says, and there’s a pained smile on his face at the stubborn shake of her head. “I’m certain of it.”
If nothing else, he is certain of the fact that she will never leave him as long as she has the choice not to. She will be right here if she can be, and God, how they’ll both wish that wasn’t true so soon, so fucking soon, and he should have known.
Ethan’s fighting against it but he can’t reach anything, can’t do anything. The metal digs into his wrists, but he can’t feel it at all. He is completely unaware that it is happening, and it wouldn’t stop him from pulling on them, wouldn’t stop him from breaking his own wrists if he could to get out of them and get out. He can’t though, and he barely hears that whisper. It’s the pain of it that alerts him, but there’s still panic and rage flooding through his head again and again, and he yanks harder, ignoring the pain shooting up his arms. It’s just—it’s no use. These were built to hold him like he was built to be a certain amount of strong and fast and all… the rest.
This is exactly what his father can and will do to him, and he hasn’t let it settled in yet.
There’s still the fighting. The incoherent rage. The all of it shoving him forward, as he yanks at them again and again, and they’re bleeding- his wrists are bleeding and it’s making it worse, and he can’t. He collapses on the floor there, rage making him shake too as he glares daggers up at Lucien, staring in hatred and nothing but rage.
It’s not until he hurts her that Ethan is on his feet again, screaming out something incoherent, something that makes no sense. Leave her alone, and it makes Lucien laugh, knowing… knowing that it’s not him that will be touching her, spilling her blood next, and Ethan knows it too.
It’s what makes him sick, what has him dry heaving so he’s on the floor when his father points out the drain, the drain that will catch Elena’s blood, and he can’t- it makes it worse. The panic is sliding over him, and he can’t do this. He can’t live, he needs to be ripped out of his own skin. Someone needs to kill him. He needs to die before this happens.
Elena never would have seen him in the wolf form. The only times that he has ever shifted were when he felt he had to, when he was trying to protect someone that he loves… those—that was the only time that he ever would, because he hates being a werewolf, hated everything about the animal part of himself, and he never, ever wanted to let the monster out near anyone. It’s what he is terrified of, and it’s that terror that is rocking through him.
He doesn’t know how she’s so brave and amazing and beautiful and he loves her, and s’e's up there, to talk, to fight against his father. And he loves her even more, impossibly so, at the same time that he learns that he will be the one to kill her.
It should be him up there. He should be there beside her fighting too, but he was—has never been as brave as she is, as much of a fighter as hse is. And he hates himself a little more that he’s not standing by her side right now being half as strong as she is, but he is so terrified and he can’t push himself up from the ground that he’s on. The pavement that’s under him, he can’t push himself back up from it.
There’s nothing Lucien wants more than to break them down and remake them, rebuild them. No matter who is taken out in the process, and he is shaking and heaving, and tears burn at his eyes as his hands slide over his own skin, trying to figure out how he can kill himself.
If it’s even possible to do so with these shackles on his wrists and this-
He’s going to be sick but he can’t be sick, he can’t be sick because there’s nothing in his stomach to be sick with.
fuck.
The silence has never been more deafening. He can hear her forehead hit the metal, hear her drop to her knees but he doesn’t raise his head up. She’s shaking. He’s shaking too, the whole of him is shaking, and he lets out a pained sound when she says his name, the whole of him… shaking. “Why—why are you trying to comfort me? I’m going to kill you.” And it’s a sob finally, his hands slipped up against his ace, blood on his arms as he shakes his head, pulling his hands away again.
It’s all shaking as he cries, lifting his head up again so he can look at her. “I’m so sorry.” It screams through him, the strength and the whole of it, all of it panic and despair and his hands slide across his skin looking for a way to rip himself apart because that's all he wants right now for her to be safe from him.