Sora the Scribe (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
cinnamonicles) wrote2009-04-12 10:58 pm
cinnamonicles) wrote2009-04-12 10:58 pm
Entry tags:
Fanfiction - Welcome to My Nightmare.
Title: Welcome to My Nightmare.
Fandom: Bomberman (Edenverse).
Pairing: Zoniha/Regulus.
Words: 3814.
Summary: The nightmare may be weak, but it still lives. Will it ever die?
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Notes: Post-TSA fic. Actually, it takes place waaaay after TSA, considering that Eirena's around. I'm not in a cracky enoughmood to finish MKE and I can't concentrate enough to figure out Shiro vs. Zhael for FM. So you get this, which is an odd idea that came to me two weeks ago and which sounded a helluva lot better in my head. No plot, just haphazard angst, as per the usual with these ficlets. It's not my best piece by any means, but I miss fandom so I wanted to visit it again for a bit. Besides, it's got OHGODSFATALLYCUTE!Eirena in it, at least for the first scene.
...dear Gods, Regulus and Zoniha are so ridiculously messed up. It's a wonder Eirena grows up as sweet and well-adjusted as she does.
Zoniha wakes up in a cold sweat, with the invisible claws of forgotten fear clamping her throat shut and trapping her screams in her lungs.
The digital clock on her nightstand marks the time - 3:33am - in hellfire red.
Her mind clouded by panic, she fumbles around frantically for a way to fend off the suddenly suffocating darkness.
Just as one shaking, slender finger is outstretched to flick on the light switch on the nightstand, she remembers the ones who slumber in the bed with her, undoubtedly passing the night in a far more pleasant manner than she.
She decides not to disturb them.
Instead, she curls up, with her back against the headboard and her knees to her chest. She lets out a shuddering sigh and bows her head, as though in defeat. She rubs the sleep and the tears from her eyes. Clad in a long silk nightgown, with her ghostly lilac hair spilling in tangled waves all around her face and shoulders, she looks like a grieving goddess.
"Maman?" Eirena's voice, clearly drowsy but also clearly concerned, flutters to Zoniha's ear like a tiny angel. "Maman, are you okay?"
"Go back to sleep, love," Zoniha says quietly.
Eirena doesn't. She scoots closer to Zoniha, and clasps the side of Zoniha's nightgown in her pale hands as she leans against her. Zoniha's grateful for the presence of her daughter, who seems to possess - among other talents - the ability to pick up on the true feelings of others, even someone as emotionally reserved as Regulus. She slides an arm around Eirena and squeezes her shoulder gently.
"Was it a bad dream?" Eirena asks.
Zoniha doesn't see any reason to lie about her answer to that. "Yes."
"Then maybe Papa can help. He got rid of all the monsters in my bedroom, remember?"
Zoniha can only laugh mirthlessly. How is she to tell Eirena that her own father is the one responsible for this nightmare? That it's his face she sees, his voice she hears in the roiling darkness that shreds her soul to miserable threads? For that matter, how is she to tell Eirena that the "monsters" Regulus banished from her room were his own shadowbirds, created by him to give the illusion of chasing the darkness from their child's haven? Perhaps later she would confess, when Eirena was old enough to understand without feeling offense. For now, though, there will only be silence.
"Why aren't you asleep?" Zoniha says. "It's far late for you to be up."
A guilty pause. "I couldn't sleep."
"You were eating those cookies again."
"I only had six."
Zoniha rolls her eyes. "That's six too many for a girl your age." Regulus has a bad habit of feeding Eirena desserts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When Zoniha had to take an extended travel trip last week for a modeling gig, she'd specifically ordered a catering service specializing in well-balanced (or at least not as sugar-laden) meals to deliver to the condo every day, which seems to have curbed the glucose intake of father and daughter for a bit. "If you wanted cookies, there were those oatmeal cookies I bought a few days ago. Those are healthier."
"I didn't like those. They tasted funny."
"What about the granola bars?"
"I didn't like them either."
Zoniha sighs. On the one hand, that means more healthy snack food for herself. On the other hand, what in the cosmos is she going to do with Eirena's apparently inherited sweet tooth? If only she could yank it out like the real thing. Were such a thing possible, though, she'd have done it to Regulus ages ago. "Are you at least taking your vitamins every day?" she asks.
Eirena nods her head.
"That's good. There's some hope for you yet. I don't understand why you won't eat what I buy for you - it's good for you and it tastes good."
"It doesn't taste as good as Papa's cooking."
Zoniha snorts, and concedes to herself that Eirena does have a pretty strong argument there.
The two fall silent for a while. Zoniha adjusts her position so that she's lying down again, with Eirena in her arms. She's not sure if she'll be able to get back to sleep, or even if she wants to get back to sleep, not with that nightmare waiting to devour her own mind again. But with Eirena nearby, she can at least stay sane. She strokes Eirena's dark violet hair softly, and wonders whether it's time for Eirena to get a haircut. Her hair, now past her waist, is starting to look a little scraggly at the ends.
Eirena cranes her head up to whisper conspiratorially into Zoniha's ear. "Papa was having bad dreams last week, too," she says.
Zoniha's hand freezes, still entangled in Eirena's hair. She looks down at her. "How do you know that?"
"Well...I think he did, anyway. Because one night he was moving all over the bed and talking while he was sleeping, so I had to wake him up and when I woke him up he looked scared." Eirena sighed. "I tried asking what he was dreaming about, but he got mad at me and didn't answer my question. And then he told me not to tell you."
Zoniha blinks. "But...you just told me."
There's a glimmer of something like mischief in Eirena's face. "Then don't tell him I told you, okay?" She snuggles back into Zoniha's arms. "But talk to Papa anyway - about his dreams and yours."
And Zoniha wonders, didn't she talk to him about this, years ago? Didn't they already talk about this thing between them? Didn't he apologize - in his own convoluted, indirect way? Didn't she forgive him - eventually? So why did it all still matter now? Had they only buried the corpse, and forgotten to appease the ghost? Why did this have to haunt her when she had finally gotten all the things she had only dreamed of before?
She glances over at Regulus, sleeping on the far side of the bed. He hasn't seemed moody lately, as far as she can tell, but of course it's always hard to tell at any given moment what Regulus is truly feeling, truly thinking. And apathy tinged with disdain for the rest of the world and a dash of brooding tends to be his default mode, anyway.
This is nothing, she tells herself, frowning. It's your own fault for letting this get to you after all this time. You worked it out with him already, didn't you? You don't have to forget it, but you do have to stop dwelling on it so much, you idiot.
Yes, of course. Just stop dwelling on it. Because having been killed in cold blood by the love of her life because she accidentally got in the way of his grudgematch is totally no big deal.
"You promise you'll talk to Papa?" Eirena asks softly. "Because he won't talk to me and he seems upset about something and I don't like it. And I want you to feel better, too."
Zoniha thinks this over. "Tell you what. If you promise to eat healthier for a week, I'll talk to your father."
"Okay. What do I have to do?"
"First off, no more soda for a while - you're drinking juice. Secondly, you'll get fruit for dessert instead of cookies. And I want to see you eating at least some of your vegetables."
Eirena stares earnestly. "You promise you'll talk to Papa."
"I promise."
Eirena hugs Zoniha tightly.
B-O-M-B
A week later, Eirena's been eating nothing but fruits and vegetables (and has even requested tofu!). Zoniha can't help but laugh hysterically at Regulus' puzzled expression upon finding out that one of the best patrons of his cooking has suddenly decided that his homemade sweets aren't so hot after all. Inwardly, Zoniha wishes that Eirena had given into her hereditary sugar urges just once.
Because that would mean she didn't have to confront Regulus about something so insignificant and yet so worldshattering.
It's a shameful, cowardly wish, but Zoniha will own it with a jeweled collar and matching leash.
After a tame breakfast of yogurt, oats, and strawberries, young Eirena is sent off to her usual private academic lessons with Baelfael, and Zoniha is alone in the condo with Regulus. They sit across from each other in the living room; Regulus flips through records of recent financial transactions, making sure that the numbers are in order, while Zoniha hand-stitches an applique to a new dress she's making for Eirena. Alternative rock - Regulus' main choice of sound food - plays at a pleasantly low level from the stereo system. The scene is almost unbearably quaint, and Zoniha suddenly bursts out laughing upon realizing this, nearly pricking herself in the finger with her needle.
"Yes?" Regulus says, not even looking up.
"I just can't get over how normal this all feels," she says, grinning. She pauses. "Well, I guess 'normal' is the wrong word for it, since this definitely isn't 'normal' for us. 'Ridiculously domestic' is probably a better phrase."
"And...does it bother you?"
"Not at all. This Zoniha is just amused at how things change, that's all."
He grunts a response and rips a page out from the stapled packet he's perusing, setting the page on the clear glass coffee table.
Some things change, Zoniha muses, returning to her sewing. She studies Regulus out of the corner of her eye, watching him scribble notes and quick calculations on the papers. Some things never do.
And maybe never will.
She doesn't realize that she's forgotten about her sewing until Regulus looks up at her, seeming annoyed. "What is the matter with you?" he demands - the gentlest way he has of asking after anyone's well-being.
Zoniha only smiles serenely. "I should be asking that question of you." At his now perplexed look, she clarifies: "Eirena's been worried about her daddy having scary dreams."
Regulus gives an exasperated sigh, muttering an unintelligible something in his native tongue. "I told her not to tell you."
"Pfft! Threats from you don't work on her - she's like the only person in the world who isn't scared of you one bit. Anyway, we all know you're not going to follow up on your threat to her 'cause she's Daddy's Little Girl, am I right?" Zoniha leans back in the sofa and smirks.
He just barely hides his embarrassment. "What is the point of this conversation?"
Zoniha waves a hand around. "Look, I understand not wanting to tell her details, especially after she got spooked after watching that one ridiculous movie with the killer hair scrunchies, but it can't be that bad to tell me, right?"
The hollow look in Regulus' eyes proves her dead wrong. He says nothing as he wades back into the numbers.
She frowns. "What is your problem? Since when is the high-and-mighty Regulus Solaris bothered by a pathetic bad dream?"
"Since he sees himself killing his own wife and child with no remorse in such a dream."
The utter confessional frankness of the response stuns her - and frightens her - more than the actual content of the dream. True, the content alone is still problematic, to say the least, but the fact that Regulus of all people has actually vocalized it speaks volumes upon encyclopedic volumes about his own emotional state.
Zoniha bites her lip in thought, and puts down Eirena's dress. She hadn't been expecting this at all. "Reg, you're not - "
You're not like that.
Her reassurance stops dead on her tongue once she realizes how utterly false it sounds.
"Well, this Zoniha doesn't see what you're so worried about," she jokes instead, although the sharpness of the words is dulled somewhat by her own uncertainty. "After all, it's not like we're in the way of your hatecrush on Shiro, since you gave up on that ages ago."
In a singular motion, Regulus slaps the papers onto the table, stands up, and stalks out of the living room and into the kitchen.
Zoniha quickly follows after him. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" she says, inwardly smacking herself for such a ridiculous comment, true as it might be. "Just talk to me about it, will you? I'm not exactly fucking fluffbunnies in my dreams, either!"
He doesn't answer her or look at her as he pulls a small bottle of Daverian raspberry wine from the fridge and pours himself a glass. It's a small glass, but it seems to take forever before Regulus finishes downing the whole thing, and then after that he pours another glass. He gets halfway through this glass before speaking. "I do not trust myself," he says.
"It's just a dream," Zoniha insists, sitting down on a kitchen stool, but she knows it's much more than that. It's a shared memory of a...Zoniha's still not sure of the right word to aptly describe The Incident that transpired all those years ago. "Mistake" and "accident" sound far too benevolent; "tragedy" implies that innocents were involved. "Big-ass clusterfuck" is perhaps a better description, but it's not very elegant. "Disaster" comes close, but it suggests that the scale of the incident was greater than it actually was. "You're an ass, Reg, but you're a practical one. You don't do anything without a reason. And while you've got a million reasons to get rid of me" - she's surprised at the steadiness in her voice upon saying this - "you haven't got any such motive to lay a hand on Eirena."
This actually just seems to make his mood worse. "I am not as purposeful as you seem to think me," he says, setting his glass on the counter and still not looking at her. "There are many times when I have done things - unpleasant things - simply because I could."
Zoniha then remembers incidents from even further on in the past, before the BHB fiasco, when Regulus had still been establishing his legitimate authority as the Crown of the Obsidian Phoenix by dealing with offenders and traitors in a...forceful way. She'd been simultaneously terrified and impressed at the time; now it all feels like adolescent bravado to her, and she wonders if Regulus feels the same. "But Eirena is your daughter," she says, somewhat meekly. "And you've changed with her around."
"How much?" Regulus asks rhetorically. "I do not believe the presence of Eirena has changed me significantly. Perhaps if I had any inclination to step down from my position as Crown for Eirena's sake, I would concede you your point. But..." And he trails off.
Zoniha thinks she's caught a faint glimpse of the spectres that haunt her husband now. "You're bothered by your core nature," she murmurs. "As the Prince of Shadows."
Regulus finishes the rest of the wine in his glass.
Zoniha refrains from closing the distance between them and taking him into her arms; he needs the distance to work something like this out. It breaks her heart, but she knows better by this point. She's long since figured out that touching him in a time like this is actually more for her comfort than for his. "You honestly believe that you're capable of killing Eirena and myself without any provocation other than because you can."
"I know I am."
She bites her lip. "Is...is it because of Abraxion? Even after all this time?"
Regulus turns and strides towards the window, setting down the empty wine glass in the kitchen sink along the way. He looks out at the view of Lake Hektaion, shimmering blue in the bright sunlight. "I cannot tell if it is because of the way he ended up twisting my soul," he says, "or if it is something more intrinsic to who I am." His hand drops to the windowsill. "But the reasons don't matter in the grand order of things. My inclinations are what they are, now."
"Let me ask you this again," Zoniha says, speaking like a patient mother to a stubborn child. "Why would you have any reason to kill Eirena?"
"Because it would be painfully satisfying to find different ways to make her scream in pain?" he says, meeting her gaze head-on now. "Because she - and you - weigh me down and chain me to a virtual cage, and I would be freer without the both of you?"
Zoniha's eyes go wide. Regulus lets out a strangled laugh, and she shivers at the glitter of wildness she sees in his eyes.
"Regulus..." she whispers.
"Merde, Zoniha, I don't pretend that any of this follows any sort of normal logic! This is merely what it is." He closes his eyes, seeming exhausted by his internal struggles. "But I dislike it. I cannot figure out what to do with it, how to...how to kill it."
The quietness fills the room like a toxic gas.
When Regulus opens his eyes again, he suddenly looks...lost. "Why do you remain here?" he asks. "Why do you stay, knowing what you know, holding the experiences that you do?"
Why, indeed. Zoniha has to amend her answer nearly every time the question comes up...which is pretty frequently. Usually, though, it's her asking the question of herself. This is the first time Regulus has posed it to her that she can remember.
She smiles thinly. "The easy answer is that this Zoniha is clearly as insane as you are," she says. "The longer answer is that if I don't, then who will? Someone needs to prevent you from going on a rampage." She smirks. "And in the slim chance that I end up failing in that, Eirena's definitely going to kick your ass. Remember what the Angel said about her powers once she gets a handle on them? That girl will own you." Zoniha crosses her arms. "So stop being a worrywart. You'll never kill your kid, 'cause she'll get to you first."
Despite the gravitas and the utter wrongness of what is being discussed, Regulus cracks a crooked smile. "That prospect sounds far more reassuring than it should."
"Anything to turn that frown upside down!" Zoniha chirps with a cheer that is only half-facetious. She gets up and marches over to Regulus. "Reg, listen to me, you son-of-a-bitch." She reaches out to cup his cheek in her palm. "I didn't stalk you all this time for nothing. I know you now, every part of you - the good, the bad, and the hideously ugly.
"So take my word for it when I say that you're not going to turn on me or Eirena. That you've changed, more than you know or even realize, and that while you'll always be a jackass, the rumors of your jackassery at this moment are greatly exaggerated."
Regulus' fingers brush against the back of Zoniha's hand. "And you believe this because..."
"Because holy hell, you're actually talking about these things. With me." Zoniha smiles. "You didn't do that so often before. You're learning that you're not alone, just like I've been saying all these years. I'm here, so you might as well make use of me."
"The meaning of that phrase changes remarkably often with you," he murmurs.
"But it's still true whenever I say it, isn't it?"
Regulus fixes her with an oddly earnest glance. "Do you...'make use' of me sufficiently enough, as well?"
Zoniha does a double take as she tries to process Regulus' question. When she finally realizes what it is he's asking, she laughs again. "Sweet Angel, can't you just ask 'Am I good enough for you?' like normal men? Wait, never mind, don't answer that." She throws her arms around his neck and lets them rest there loosely. "Yes, I do 'make use' of you quite sufficiently. More than sufficiently at times, I suspect."
His arm circles her waist and brings her close. "You mentioned that you also suffered a nightmare lately."
She blinks. "When did I say that?"
"Earlier in this conversation."
Zoniha shuffles through her recent recollections of the things she's said, but can't figure out what the hell Regulus is referring to. She'd probably made some offhand remark about it somehow. She shrugs. "And if I did?"
"What was it about?"
"What do you think?" Zoniha responds quietly, pressing her cheek against his neck.
A contemplative pause.
"And so you seek refuge...in the very source of your nightmare." Regulus sounds mildly confused.
"Pfft. I've done stupider things."
The two stand there for a while, still and silent.
"You can't kill these kinds of things, you know," Zoniha says thoughtfully. "You can keep them trapped for a while, you can beat the hell out of them, you can scream yourself hoarse while hurling curses at them, but after it all, you can really only wait for them to die in their own time."
"You can walk away from them."
"They'll hunt you down eventually. That's why you have to face them as often as you can." She looks up at him. "It's just as tiring to keep confronting them as it is to keep running from them, but at least if you confront them, you have a chance of taking them down." She shrugs. "That's what this Zoniha thinks, anyway. It's what makes sense after all these years."
"And that is the reason you remain here?" With me, was the unspoken question.
"Well...it's part of it." Zoniha kisses Regulus' jaw. "The sex is good, too."
Regulus clears his throat. "You don't say."
"And the food."
"You don't eat it as often as you used to."
"I'm trying to set a good example for Eirena - an example that you keep on sabotaging."
"Considering the developments of the past few days, you must have made some progress on that front."
"Oh, that. That's only because I promised her I'd talk to you if she ate healthier for a week."
Regulus takes a moment to ponder the implications of this. "That girl...puzzles me quite often, I must admit."
Zoniha giggles. "'That girl' just loves her daddy, jackass or no. There's nothing puzzling about it." She tugs gently on his shirt. "And I love you too."
"...hm."
Zoniha rolls her eyes. "An eloquent declaration of affection, as always." But she doesn't mind it, not really. She's used to such things by now, and she's come to appreciate the fact that Regulus' naturally reserved personality forces him to truly express himself in concrete actions rather than through words, which are so easily tossed aside and which never carry the same weight twice. And yet, by virtue of who he is, his words are that much more precious to her. She's had to work hard for what she has now - had to work hard to understand Regulus and the things he brought with him - but it's all been worth it.
The nightmares are worth the living dreams.
Fandom: Bomberman (Edenverse).
Pairing: Zoniha/Regulus.
Words: 3814.
Summary: The nightmare may be weak, but it still lives. Will it ever die?
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Notes: Post-TSA fic. Actually, it takes place waaaay after TSA, considering that Eirena's around. I'm not in a cracky enoughmood to finish MKE and I can't concentrate enough to figure out Shiro vs. Zhael for FM. So you get this, which is an odd idea that came to me two weeks ago and which sounded a helluva lot better in my head. No plot, just haphazard angst, as per the usual with these ficlets. It's not my best piece by any means, but I miss fandom so I wanted to visit it again for a bit. Besides, it's got OHGODSFATALLYCUTE!Eirena in it, at least for the first scene.
...dear Gods, Regulus and Zoniha are so ridiculously messed up. It's a wonder Eirena grows up as sweet and well-adjusted as she does.
Zoniha wakes up in a cold sweat, with the invisible claws of forgotten fear clamping her throat shut and trapping her screams in her lungs.
The digital clock on her nightstand marks the time - 3:33am - in hellfire red.
Her mind clouded by panic, she fumbles around frantically for a way to fend off the suddenly suffocating darkness.
Just as one shaking, slender finger is outstretched to flick on the light switch on the nightstand, she remembers the ones who slumber in the bed with her, undoubtedly passing the night in a far more pleasant manner than she.
She decides not to disturb them.
Instead, she curls up, with her back against the headboard and her knees to her chest. She lets out a shuddering sigh and bows her head, as though in defeat. She rubs the sleep and the tears from her eyes. Clad in a long silk nightgown, with her ghostly lilac hair spilling in tangled waves all around her face and shoulders, she looks like a grieving goddess.
"Maman?" Eirena's voice, clearly drowsy but also clearly concerned, flutters to Zoniha's ear like a tiny angel. "Maman, are you okay?"
"Go back to sleep, love," Zoniha says quietly.
Eirena doesn't. She scoots closer to Zoniha, and clasps the side of Zoniha's nightgown in her pale hands as she leans against her. Zoniha's grateful for the presence of her daughter, who seems to possess - among other talents - the ability to pick up on the true feelings of others, even someone as emotionally reserved as Regulus. She slides an arm around Eirena and squeezes her shoulder gently.
"Was it a bad dream?" Eirena asks.
Zoniha doesn't see any reason to lie about her answer to that. "Yes."
"Then maybe Papa can help. He got rid of all the monsters in my bedroom, remember?"
Zoniha can only laugh mirthlessly. How is she to tell Eirena that her own father is the one responsible for this nightmare? That it's his face she sees, his voice she hears in the roiling darkness that shreds her soul to miserable threads? For that matter, how is she to tell Eirena that the "monsters" Regulus banished from her room were his own shadowbirds, created by him to give the illusion of chasing the darkness from their child's haven? Perhaps later she would confess, when Eirena was old enough to understand without feeling offense. For now, though, there will only be silence.
"Why aren't you asleep?" Zoniha says. "It's far late for you to be up."
A guilty pause. "I couldn't sleep."
"You were eating those cookies again."
"I only had six."
Zoniha rolls her eyes. "That's six too many for a girl your age." Regulus has a bad habit of feeding Eirena desserts for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. When Zoniha had to take an extended travel trip last week for a modeling gig, she'd specifically ordered a catering service specializing in well-balanced (or at least not as sugar-laden) meals to deliver to the condo every day, which seems to have curbed the glucose intake of father and daughter for a bit. "If you wanted cookies, there were those oatmeal cookies I bought a few days ago. Those are healthier."
"I didn't like those. They tasted funny."
"What about the granola bars?"
"I didn't like them either."
Zoniha sighs. On the one hand, that means more healthy snack food for herself. On the other hand, what in the cosmos is she going to do with Eirena's apparently inherited sweet tooth? If only she could yank it out like the real thing. Were such a thing possible, though, she'd have done it to Regulus ages ago. "Are you at least taking your vitamins every day?" she asks.
Eirena nods her head.
"That's good. There's some hope for you yet. I don't understand why you won't eat what I buy for you - it's good for you and it tastes good."
"It doesn't taste as good as Papa's cooking."
Zoniha snorts, and concedes to herself that Eirena does have a pretty strong argument there.
The two fall silent for a while. Zoniha adjusts her position so that she's lying down again, with Eirena in her arms. She's not sure if she'll be able to get back to sleep, or even if she wants to get back to sleep, not with that nightmare waiting to devour her own mind again. But with Eirena nearby, she can at least stay sane. She strokes Eirena's dark violet hair softly, and wonders whether it's time for Eirena to get a haircut. Her hair, now past her waist, is starting to look a little scraggly at the ends.
Eirena cranes her head up to whisper conspiratorially into Zoniha's ear. "Papa was having bad dreams last week, too," she says.
Zoniha's hand freezes, still entangled in Eirena's hair. She looks down at her. "How do you know that?"
"Well...I think he did, anyway. Because one night he was moving all over the bed and talking while he was sleeping, so I had to wake him up and when I woke him up he looked scared." Eirena sighed. "I tried asking what he was dreaming about, but he got mad at me and didn't answer my question. And then he told me not to tell you."
Zoniha blinks. "But...you just told me."
There's a glimmer of something like mischief in Eirena's face. "Then don't tell him I told you, okay?" She snuggles back into Zoniha's arms. "But talk to Papa anyway - about his dreams and yours."
And Zoniha wonders, didn't she talk to him about this, years ago? Didn't they already talk about this thing between them? Didn't he apologize - in his own convoluted, indirect way? Didn't she forgive him - eventually? So why did it all still matter now? Had they only buried the corpse, and forgotten to appease the ghost? Why did this have to haunt her when she had finally gotten all the things she had only dreamed of before?
She glances over at Regulus, sleeping on the far side of the bed. He hasn't seemed moody lately, as far as she can tell, but of course it's always hard to tell at any given moment what Regulus is truly feeling, truly thinking. And apathy tinged with disdain for the rest of the world and a dash of brooding tends to be his default mode, anyway.
This is nothing, she tells herself, frowning. It's your own fault for letting this get to you after all this time. You worked it out with him already, didn't you? You don't have to forget it, but you do have to stop dwelling on it so much, you idiot.
Yes, of course. Just stop dwelling on it. Because having been killed in cold blood by the love of her life because she accidentally got in the way of his grudgematch is totally no big deal.
"You promise you'll talk to Papa?" Eirena asks softly. "Because he won't talk to me and he seems upset about something and I don't like it. And I want you to feel better, too."
Zoniha thinks this over. "Tell you what. If you promise to eat healthier for a week, I'll talk to your father."
"Okay. What do I have to do?"
"First off, no more soda for a while - you're drinking juice. Secondly, you'll get fruit for dessert instead of cookies. And I want to see you eating at least some of your vegetables."
Eirena stares earnestly. "You promise you'll talk to Papa."
"I promise."
Eirena hugs Zoniha tightly.
A week later, Eirena's been eating nothing but fruits and vegetables (and has even requested tofu!). Zoniha can't help but laugh hysterically at Regulus' puzzled expression upon finding out that one of the best patrons of his cooking has suddenly decided that his homemade sweets aren't so hot after all. Inwardly, Zoniha wishes that Eirena had given into her hereditary sugar urges just once.
Because that would mean she didn't have to confront Regulus about something so insignificant and yet so worldshattering.
It's a shameful, cowardly wish, but Zoniha will own it with a jeweled collar and matching leash.
After a tame breakfast of yogurt, oats, and strawberries, young Eirena is sent off to her usual private academic lessons with Baelfael, and Zoniha is alone in the condo with Regulus. They sit across from each other in the living room; Regulus flips through records of recent financial transactions, making sure that the numbers are in order, while Zoniha hand-stitches an applique to a new dress she's making for Eirena. Alternative rock - Regulus' main choice of sound food - plays at a pleasantly low level from the stereo system. The scene is almost unbearably quaint, and Zoniha suddenly bursts out laughing upon realizing this, nearly pricking herself in the finger with her needle.
"Yes?" Regulus says, not even looking up.
"I just can't get over how normal this all feels," she says, grinning. She pauses. "Well, I guess 'normal' is the wrong word for it, since this definitely isn't 'normal' for us. 'Ridiculously domestic' is probably a better phrase."
"And...does it bother you?"
"Not at all. This Zoniha is just amused at how things change, that's all."
He grunts a response and rips a page out from the stapled packet he's perusing, setting the page on the clear glass coffee table.
Some things change, Zoniha muses, returning to her sewing. She studies Regulus out of the corner of her eye, watching him scribble notes and quick calculations on the papers. Some things never do.
And maybe never will.
She doesn't realize that she's forgotten about her sewing until Regulus looks up at her, seeming annoyed. "What is the matter with you?" he demands - the gentlest way he has of asking after anyone's well-being.
Zoniha only smiles serenely. "I should be asking that question of you." At his now perplexed look, she clarifies: "Eirena's been worried about her daddy having scary dreams."
Regulus gives an exasperated sigh, muttering an unintelligible something in his native tongue. "I told her not to tell you."
"Pfft! Threats from you don't work on her - she's like the only person in the world who isn't scared of you one bit. Anyway, we all know you're not going to follow up on your threat to her 'cause she's Daddy's Little Girl, am I right?" Zoniha leans back in the sofa and smirks.
He just barely hides his embarrassment. "What is the point of this conversation?"
Zoniha waves a hand around. "Look, I understand not wanting to tell her details, especially after she got spooked after watching that one ridiculous movie with the killer hair scrunchies, but it can't be that bad to tell me, right?"
The hollow look in Regulus' eyes proves her dead wrong. He says nothing as he wades back into the numbers.
She frowns. "What is your problem? Since when is the high-and-mighty Regulus Solaris bothered by a pathetic bad dream?"
"Since he sees himself killing his own wife and child with no remorse in such a dream."
The utter confessional frankness of the response stuns her - and frightens her - more than the actual content of the dream. True, the content alone is still problematic, to say the least, but the fact that Regulus of all people has actually vocalized it speaks volumes upon encyclopedic volumes about his own emotional state.
Zoniha bites her lip in thought, and puts down Eirena's dress. She hadn't been expecting this at all. "Reg, you're not - "
You're not like that.
Her reassurance stops dead on her tongue once she realizes how utterly false it sounds.
"Well, this Zoniha doesn't see what you're so worried about," she jokes instead, although the sharpness of the words is dulled somewhat by her own uncertainty. "After all, it's not like we're in the way of your hatecrush on Shiro, since you gave up on that ages ago."
In a singular motion, Regulus slaps the papers onto the table, stands up, and stalks out of the living room and into the kitchen.
Zoniha quickly follows after him. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry!" she says, inwardly smacking herself for such a ridiculous comment, true as it might be. "Just talk to me about it, will you? I'm not exactly fucking fluffbunnies in my dreams, either!"
He doesn't answer her or look at her as he pulls a small bottle of Daverian raspberry wine from the fridge and pours himself a glass. It's a small glass, but it seems to take forever before Regulus finishes downing the whole thing, and then after that he pours another glass. He gets halfway through this glass before speaking. "I do not trust myself," he says.
"It's just a dream," Zoniha insists, sitting down on a kitchen stool, but she knows it's much more than that. It's a shared memory of a...Zoniha's still not sure of the right word to aptly describe The Incident that transpired all those years ago. "Mistake" and "accident" sound far too benevolent; "tragedy" implies that innocents were involved. "Big-ass clusterfuck" is perhaps a better description, but it's not very elegant. "Disaster" comes close, but it suggests that the scale of the incident was greater than it actually was. "You're an ass, Reg, but you're a practical one. You don't do anything without a reason. And while you've got a million reasons to get rid of me" - she's surprised at the steadiness in her voice upon saying this - "you haven't got any such motive to lay a hand on Eirena."
This actually just seems to make his mood worse. "I am not as purposeful as you seem to think me," he says, setting his glass on the counter and still not looking at her. "There are many times when I have done things - unpleasant things - simply because I could."
Zoniha then remembers incidents from even further on in the past, before the BHB fiasco, when Regulus had still been establishing his legitimate authority as the Crown of the Obsidian Phoenix by dealing with offenders and traitors in a...forceful way. She'd been simultaneously terrified and impressed at the time; now it all feels like adolescent bravado to her, and she wonders if Regulus feels the same. "But Eirena is your daughter," she says, somewhat meekly. "And you've changed with her around."
"How much?" Regulus asks rhetorically. "I do not believe the presence of Eirena has changed me significantly. Perhaps if I had any inclination to step down from my position as Crown for Eirena's sake, I would concede you your point. But..." And he trails off.
Zoniha thinks she's caught a faint glimpse of the spectres that haunt her husband now. "You're bothered by your core nature," she murmurs. "As the Prince of Shadows."
Regulus finishes the rest of the wine in his glass.
Zoniha refrains from closing the distance between them and taking him into her arms; he needs the distance to work something like this out. It breaks her heart, but she knows better by this point. She's long since figured out that touching him in a time like this is actually more for her comfort than for his. "You honestly believe that you're capable of killing Eirena and myself without any provocation other than because you can."
"I know I am."
She bites her lip. "Is...is it because of Abraxion? Even after all this time?"
Regulus turns and strides towards the window, setting down the empty wine glass in the kitchen sink along the way. He looks out at the view of Lake Hektaion, shimmering blue in the bright sunlight. "I cannot tell if it is because of the way he ended up twisting my soul," he says, "or if it is something more intrinsic to who I am." His hand drops to the windowsill. "But the reasons don't matter in the grand order of things. My inclinations are what they are, now."
"Let me ask you this again," Zoniha says, speaking like a patient mother to a stubborn child. "Why would you have any reason to kill Eirena?"
"Because it would be painfully satisfying to find different ways to make her scream in pain?" he says, meeting her gaze head-on now. "Because she - and you - weigh me down and chain me to a virtual cage, and I would be freer without the both of you?"
Zoniha's eyes go wide. Regulus lets out a strangled laugh, and she shivers at the glitter of wildness she sees in his eyes.
"Regulus..." she whispers.
"Merde, Zoniha, I don't pretend that any of this follows any sort of normal logic! This is merely what it is." He closes his eyes, seeming exhausted by his internal struggles. "But I dislike it. I cannot figure out what to do with it, how to...how to kill it."
The quietness fills the room like a toxic gas.
When Regulus opens his eyes again, he suddenly looks...lost. "Why do you remain here?" he asks. "Why do you stay, knowing what you know, holding the experiences that you do?"
Why, indeed. Zoniha has to amend her answer nearly every time the question comes up...which is pretty frequently. Usually, though, it's her asking the question of herself. This is the first time Regulus has posed it to her that she can remember.
She smiles thinly. "The easy answer is that this Zoniha is clearly as insane as you are," she says. "The longer answer is that if I don't, then who will? Someone needs to prevent you from going on a rampage." She smirks. "And in the slim chance that I end up failing in that, Eirena's definitely going to kick your ass. Remember what the Angel said about her powers once she gets a handle on them? That girl will own you." Zoniha crosses her arms. "So stop being a worrywart. You'll never kill your kid, 'cause she'll get to you first."
Despite the gravitas and the utter wrongness of what is being discussed, Regulus cracks a crooked smile. "That prospect sounds far more reassuring than it should."
"Anything to turn that frown upside down!" Zoniha chirps with a cheer that is only half-facetious. She gets up and marches over to Regulus. "Reg, listen to me, you son-of-a-bitch." She reaches out to cup his cheek in her palm. "I didn't stalk you all this time for nothing. I know you now, every part of you - the good, the bad, and the hideously ugly.
"So take my word for it when I say that you're not going to turn on me or Eirena. That you've changed, more than you know or even realize, and that while you'll always be a jackass, the rumors of your jackassery at this moment are greatly exaggerated."
Regulus' fingers brush against the back of Zoniha's hand. "And you believe this because..."
"Because holy hell, you're actually talking about these things. With me." Zoniha smiles. "You didn't do that so often before. You're learning that you're not alone, just like I've been saying all these years. I'm here, so you might as well make use of me."
"The meaning of that phrase changes remarkably often with you," he murmurs.
"But it's still true whenever I say it, isn't it?"
Regulus fixes her with an oddly earnest glance. "Do you...'make use' of me sufficiently enough, as well?"
Zoniha does a double take as she tries to process Regulus' question. When she finally realizes what it is he's asking, she laughs again. "Sweet Angel, can't you just ask 'Am I good enough for you?' like normal men? Wait, never mind, don't answer that." She throws her arms around his neck and lets them rest there loosely. "Yes, I do 'make use' of you quite sufficiently. More than sufficiently at times, I suspect."
His arm circles her waist and brings her close. "You mentioned that you also suffered a nightmare lately."
She blinks. "When did I say that?"
"Earlier in this conversation."
Zoniha shuffles through her recent recollections of the things she's said, but can't figure out what the hell Regulus is referring to. She'd probably made some offhand remark about it somehow. She shrugs. "And if I did?"
"What was it about?"
"What do you think?" Zoniha responds quietly, pressing her cheek against his neck.
A contemplative pause.
"And so you seek refuge...in the very source of your nightmare." Regulus sounds mildly confused.
"Pfft. I've done stupider things."
The two stand there for a while, still and silent.
"You can't kill these kinds of things, you know," Zoniha says thoughtfully. "You can keep them trapped for a while, you can beat the hell out of them, you can scream yourself hoarse while hurling curses at them, but after it all, you can really only wait for them to die in their own time."
"You can walk away from them."
"They'll hunt you down eventually. That's why you have to face them as often as you can." She looks up at him. "It's just as tiring to keep confronting them as it is to keep running from them, but at least if you confront them, you have a chance of taking them down." She shrugs. "That's what this Zoniha thinks, anyway. It's what makes sense after all these years."
"And that is the reason you remain here?" With me, was the unspoken question.
"Well...it's part of it." Zoniha kisses Regulus' jaw. "The sex is good, too."
Regulus clears his throat. "You don't say."
"And the food."
"You don't eat it as often as you used to."
"I'm trying to set a good example for Eirena - an example that you keep on sabotaging."
"Considering the developments of the past few days, you must have made some progress on that front."
"Oh, that. That's only because I promised her I'd talk to you if she ate healthier for a week."
Regulus takes a moment to ponder the implications of this. "That girl...puzzles me quite often, I must admit."
Zoniha giggles. "'That girl' just loves her daddy, jackass or no. There's nothing puzzling about it." She tugs gently on his shirt. "And I love you too."
"...hm."
Zoniha rolls her eyes. "An eloquent declaration of affection, as always." But she doesn't mind it, not really. She's used to such things by now, and she's come to appreciate the fact that Regulus' naturally reserved personality forces him to truly express himself in concrete actions rather than through words, which are so easily tossed aside and which never carry the same weight twice. And yet, by virtue of who he is, his words are that much more precious to her. She's had to work hard for what she has now - had to work hard to understand Regulus and the things he brought with him - but it's all been worth it.
The nightmares are worth the living dreams.