From the moment they were dragged to that dinner table, most of them knew it was over.
He'd successfully managed to take all of them when they least expected it. Elena had stopped expecting disaster at every event that was held. She should've never let her guard down to that extent but unlike Mystic Falls, not every dance or party or milestone of a moment necessarily ended in disaster. It all changed that night, though, and she can still remember being dragged off, how each of them disappeared, one by one, until they were nowhere in sight.
People must think they're long dead by now, one of the casualties of the wanderer disaster. It's likely why no one looked for them to begin with, but Elena hasn't thought that far ahead. She has not been able to with everything that happened immediately after.
It was only a small taste of the insanity Lucien would unleash on them but it was more than enough.
The breaking of bones, the shooting them on sight if they so much as looked at Lucien in the wrong manner. So as long as they could come back, of course. He didn't want to harm them beyond repair yet, but it was that night Elena began to understand the complete meaning of the word monster, and to this day she cannot reconcile the fact that he helped give life to these -- these amazing people that she's come to love as family.
Connor hasn't been able to reconcile with it either, and it's likely that he never will. Maybe he has to so that he can get proper closure with it all, but how do you reconcile that your father is a monster like Lucien? How do you accept that his blood is the same blood that runs through your veins?
That if you live long enough, as many years as Lucien has, that could be your fate, too?
The darkness he was able to bring out in each and every one of them was terrifying. Connor's own rage was murderous, and -- he couldn't kill his father, that was the thing. He designed it all so perfectly that none of them that carried his blood could kill him even if that's all Connor wanted. To tear him apart with his bear hands and he'd never -- he'd never thought or felt the urge and hunger to do that while he was still Connor, while he was still in his human form with his human emotions.
The werewolf doesn't think.
The werewolf only hungers. It wants to tear apart. It destroys and eats whatever's in its path, a crazed, bloodlust animal with only instinct and desire to guide him. Connor is more than that werewolf, and still, as a person, he wanted to rip another apart. He still thinks of it, and his hands shake, and he doesn't let himself think of it for long.
Thankfully, thankfully, he wasn't perfect at it. His own dementia must've added chinks to an otherwise terrifying armor of destruction and guiltless violence. The crazier he'd get, the more likely he was to slip, as talented as he is at crafting the minds of those that he's broken into something that can serve him.
Something, not someone new.
They were toys and they were not to be viewed as human. Emotions were a weakness, and they belonged to the putrid mortality that they did not have to be bound to. He wanted them unfeeling, save for that rage and hunger, and for days it's all Connor seemed to think as he saw his brothers tortured, as he was tortured himself, as they were all kept away from each other unless it was another one of those godforsaken dinners.
Needless to say, Connor's appetite is not what it once was.
He can't seem to stomach anything these days, and he'll always have an aversion to meat and red wine now. Connor was in between the oldest brothers and the youngest and as always a balance was struck with him not that the balance was merciful.
He did get to see Logan a few times outside of the dinners, and it was -- what little kept him going, when he saw brief glimpses of his loved ones, even when they were in pain. It was knowing they were in pain that kept him going, because he could never abandon them, and Elena couldn't, either. And he does know if it hadn't been something so specifically tied to Elena that Connor would be able to reach him in a different way.
He just has no idea what happened, so...yes. Though he's starting to piece it all together like Logan. ;;
Just hearing Ethan say a few words, as few as they are, they -- they make it possible for Connor to believe that it's not hopeless. He has to believe the same thing that Logan does. All of this hell and all of this hurting and pain -- it can't have been for nothing, for them to end up like this, wholly unrecognizable and wasting away to nothingness. Connor refuses to let that happen and Elena refuses to let that happen.
She still hasn't processed anything that's happened in the past forty-eight hours. It's probably twisted and sad that this lack of time to process is something she's more familiar with than the opposite. She doesn't need to process anything yet. She's able to place the fear and the ache and the doubts aside to do what she needs to do, to keep moving and surviving, trying to keep everyone safe in the process.
Elena's exhausted, and she hasn't stopped since she was dragged out of that cell, but she can't feel the exhaustion, either. She's vaguely aware that it's there, bone deep, but she literally cannot bring herself to feel it. There's the adrenaline and the determination of something so much greater than her own human weakness.
She couldn't let him die. Whatever happened, Elena couldn't let him die, much less if it was to spare her own life. It's nothing she lingers on either, though it is a big trait of hers that manifests at an extreme in circumstances like this one. She hadn't even thought of how he wouldn't have been able to live with himself after the fact; she couldn't think past that moment and how she could not let him kill himself.
Elena presses her lips against his forehead when he breathes in. She cups the back of his head and keeps her lips there, taking a breath of her own. It doesn't matter how long it takes for it to settle in or how many times she has to say it, how many people have to confirm what she is saying and that she is real. What matters is she can feel it, feel him slowly coming back, and even the slightest hint of something is better than the nothingness.
She latches on to it and she'll use it since she's not giving up on him.
It's just not an option.
"No, it wasn't anyone," she says, wiping at the corners of his eyes. It wasn't her and it wasn't another person. It was an animal that was thrown in there, and it was already dead. It was already dead and then the blood was poured all over. "You didn't kill anything. You didn't kill anyone."
Elena doesn't know that she can explain it. It's not as if it wasn't terrifying. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't one of the scariest moments of her life. But she just -- she knew it wasn't Ethan anymore. She knew, after he said he was sorry, he checked out and it was something completely out of his control. It wasn't him and everything that happened afterward, it was the hunger of the animal that made him do it. He's never hurt her. And he as Ethan never would, Elena trusts that.
"Yeah, you did," she says, and she smiles even if it's brokenly, too. "About time."
Connor also looks back at her, before he turns to Logan, the sheer weight of the gratitude nearly making him drop to the floor. His shoulders sag with the relief instead and he leans back against the door, looking up, thanking -- he doesn't know who he's thanking.
He doesn't believe in a god or any greater power, but he's thanking them.
"I did. I fought every step of the way but they didn't want you to see me. It was all a lie, Ethan," she says. She doesn't know that she'd call it a test, though they did want to see how much of a motivator Gilbert(s) could be. It felt more like just another mind game instead, but it wasn't real. And the moment she realized it, the moment she saw those blood bags and she saw that man dragging up the carcass of the animal, she realized the horror didn't stop there.
Connor steps away from the room along with Logan. They need to check and see if Adam has returned with any news. They need to check on everyone else also. He wouldn't have been able to step away if Ethan hadn't spoken at all, but he does know that a moment alone is needed and he's at least secure in the knowledge Ethan isn't completely lost.
It makes it easier to step away.
"It wasn't," she says, face crumpling against him when he buries his own face against her hair. Her hand cradles the back of his nape, bringing him even closer, eyes shutting tightly as the onslaught of tears attempt to force their way through. She doesn't understand how anyone could be capable of doing something like this, of making him believe anything like this, and she meant what she said -- she hopes Lucien rots. "It wasn't, Ethan, I'm so sorry that I was used to hurt you like that."
Elena tightens her hold on him, bringing him as close as she possibly can. Her tears press against his neck as the incoherent words string themselves together.
It doesn't matter. What matters is he believes her.
She brings him over to her, lips softly resting against his before she pulls back to look at him.
"I love you. Ethan, I love you and I know you would never hurt me. I'm here now, okay?" she asks, pulling him back in. Elena breathes in and closes her eyes against him again. She isn't going to move until he's ready to, until he's assured himself she's in one piece and she is.
no subject
He'd successfully managed to take all of them when they least expected it. Elena had stopped expecting disaster at every event that was held. She should've never let her guard down to that extent but unlike Mystic Falls, not every dance or party or milestone of a moment necessarily ended in disaster. It all changed that night, though, and she can still remember being dragged off, how each of them disappeared, one by one, until they were nowhere in sight.
People must think they're long dead by now, one of the casualties of the wanderer disaster. It's likely why no one looked for them to begin with, but Elena hasn't thought that far ahead. She has not been able to with everything that happened immediately after.
It was only a small taste of the insanity Lucien would unleash on them but it was more than enough.
The breaking of bones, the shooting them on sight if they so much as looked at Lucien in the wrong manner. So as long as they could come back, of course. He didn't want to harm them beyond repair yet, but it was that night Elena began to understand the complete meaning of the word monster, and to this day she cannot reconcile the fact that he helped give life to these -- these amazing people that she's come to love as family.
Connor hasn't been able to reconcile with it either, and it's likely that he never will. Maybe he has to so that he can get proper closure with it all, but how do you reconcile that your father is a monster like Lucien? How do you accept that his blood is the same blood that runs through your veins?
That if you live long enough, as many years as Lucien has, that could be your fate, too?
The darkness he was able to bring out in each and every one of them was terrifying. Connor's own rage was murderous, and -- he couldn't kill his father, that was the thing. He designed it all so perfectly that none of them that carried his blood could kill him even if that's all Connor wanted. To tear him apart with his bear hands and he'd never -- he'd never thought or felt the urge and hunger to do that while he was still Connor, while he was still in his human form with his human emotions.
The werewolf doesn't think.
The werewolf only hungers. It wants to tear apart. It destroys and eats whatever's in its path, a crazed, bloodlust animal with only instinct and desire to guide him. Connor is more than that werewolf, and still, as a person, he wanted to rip another apart. He still thinks of it, and his hands shake, and he doesn't let himself think of it for long.
Thankfully, thankfully, he wasn't perfect at it. His own dementia must've added chinks to an otherwise terrifying armor of destruction and guiltless violence. The crazier he'd get, the more likely he was to slip, as talented as he is at crafting the minds of those that he's broken into something that can serve him.
Something, not someone new.
They were toys and they were not to be viewed as human. Emotions were a weakness, and they belonged to the putrid mortality that they did not have to be bound to. He wanted them unfeeling, save for that rage and hunger, and for days it's all Connor seemed to think as he saw his brothers tortured, as he was tortured himself, as they were all kept away from each other unless it was another one of those godforsaken dinners.
Needless to say, Connor's appetite is not what it once was.
He can't seem to stomach anything these days, and he'll always have an aversion to meat and red wine now. Connor was in between the oldest brothers and the youngest and as always a balance was struck with him not that the balance was merciful.
He did get to see Logan a few times outside of the dinners, and it was -- what little kept him going, when he saw brief glimpses of his loved ones, even when they were in pain. It was knowing they were in pain that kept him going, because he could never abandon them, and Elena couldn't, either. And he does know if it hadn't been something so specifically tied to Elena that Connor would be able to reach him in a different way.
He just has no idea what happened, so...yes. Though he's starting to piece it all together like Logan. ;;
Just hearing Ethan say a few words, as few as they are, they -- they make it possible for Connor to believe that it's not hopeless. He has to believe the same thing that Logan does. All of this hell and all of this hurting and pain -- it can't have been for nothing, for them to end up like this, wholly unrecognizable and wasting away to nothingness. Connor refuses to let that happen and Elena refuses to let that happen.
She still hasn't processed anything that's happened in the past forty-eight hours. It's probably twisted and sad that this lack of time to process is something she's more familiar with than the opposite. She doesn't need to process anything yet. She's able to place the fear and the ache and the doubts aside to do what she needs to do, to keep moving and surviving, trying to keep everyone safe in the process.
Elena's exhausted, and she hasn't stopped since she was dragged out of that cell, but she can't feel the exhaustion, either. She's vaguely aware that it's there, bone deep, but she literally cannot bring herself to feel it. There's the adrenaline and the determination of something so much greater than her own human weakness.
She couldn't let him die. Whatever happened, Elena couldn't let him die, much less if it was to spare her own life. It's nothing she lingers on either, though it is a big trait of hers that manifests at an extreme in circumstances like this one. She hadn't even thought of how he wouldn't have been able to live with himself after the fact; she couldn't think past that moment and how she could not let him kill himself.
Elena presses her lips against his forehead when he breathes in. She cups the back of his head and keeps her lips there, taking a breath of her own. It doesn't matter how long it takes for it to settle in or how many times she has to say it, how many people have to confirm what she is saying and that she is real. What matters is she can feel it, feel him slowly coming back, and even the slightest hint of something is better than the nothingness.
She latches on to it and she'll use it since she's not giving up on him.
It's just not an option.
"No, it wasn't anyone," she says, wiping at the corners of his eyes. It wasn't her and it wasn't another person. It was an animal that was thrown in there, and it was already dead. It was already dead and then the blood was poured all over. "You didn't kill anything. You didn't kill anyone."
Elena doesn't know that she can explain it. It's not as if it wasn't terrifying. She'd be lying if she said it wasn't one of the scariest moments of her life. But she just -- she knew it wasn't Ethan anymore. She knew, after he said he was sorry, he checked out and it was something completely out of his control. It wasn't him and everything that happened afterward, it was the hunger of the animal that made him do it. He's never hurt her. And he as Ethan never would, Elena trusts that.
"Yeah, you did," she says, and she smiles even if it's brokenly, too. "About time."
Connor also looks back at her, before he turns to Logan, the sheer weight of the gratitude nearly making him drop to the floor. His shoulders sag with the relief instead and he leans back against the door, looking up, thanking -- he doesn't know who he's thanking.
He doesn't believe in a god or any greater power, but he's thanking them.
"I did. I fought every step of the way but they didn't want you to see me. It was all a lie, Ethan," she says. She doesn't know that she'd call it a test, though they did want to see how much of a motivator Gilbert(s) could be. It felt more like just another mind game instead, but it wasn't real. And the moment she realized it, the moment she saw those blood bags and she saw that man dragging up the carcass of the animal, she realized the horror didn't stop there.
Connor steps away from the room along with Logan. They need to check and see if Adam has returned with any news. They need to check on everyone else also. He wouldn't have been able to step away if Ethan hadn't spoken at all, but he does know that a moment alone is needed and he's at least secure in the knowledge Ethan isn't completely lost.
It makes it easier to step away.
"It wasn't," she says, face crumpling against him when he buries his own face against her hair. Her hand cradles the back of his nape, bringing him even closer, eyes shutting tightly as the onslaught of tears attempt to force their way through. She doesn't understand how anyone could be capable of doing something like this, of making him believe anything like this, and she meant what she said -- she hopes Lucien rots. "It wasn't, Ethan, I'm so sorry that I was used to hurt you like that."
Elena tightens her hold on him, bringing him as close as she possibly can. Her tears press against his neck as the incoherent words string themselves together.
It doesn't matter. What matters is he believes her.
She brings him over to her, lips softly resting against his before she pulls back to look at him.
"I love you. Ethan, I love you and I know you would never hurt me. I'm here now, okay?" she asks, pulling him back in. Elena breathes in and closes her eyes against him again. She isn't going to move until he's ready to, until he's assured himself she's in one piece and she is.
She's in one piece.