Can't Fight Fate

Grim knew that the fact that his prison wasn't looking so much like a prison anymore was a problem. Soon, his captors might not seem like his jailers either. He needed to escape or he was going to lose himself down there.

Felicia was gone, and so were her guards and the mysterious shadow that hid while she ridiculed him and told him how she killed Freyja and her family. The only reasons the lights were even on now was because Felicia wanted him to see the ashes and be reminded of what he'd caused. She made sure she'd driven that point home.

Mocking, ridiculing, her voice tortured him day and night; waking, and soon he feared, in his sleep. "You could have saved her, my king. But you killed her instead."

But a part of him had been glad she'd decided on psychological torture instead of physical. It took power to heal his body, power that he wanted to conserve for when he made his escape. Grim wasn't sure when Felicia would come back.

Maneuvering his hands, he reached behind himself and scratched at his skin. Grim felt the hilt just beneath his skin and dug it out. The pain didn't bother him anymore; he'd figured out a way to numb himself. Instead of recoiling at what Felicia said or did, he dived in, submerged himself until it became him and became normal.

He grunted as he wiggled his fingers and pulled the blade out of his skin. Grim fixed his eyes on the entrance and bit his lip to keep quiet. No guards came down, but then again the grunts that sounded like blaring trumpets to him were probably no more than whispers to others.

"Ah," Grim sighed when he finally pulled out the knife and felt the pressure in his back let up. It hadn't been comfortable to stand with a knife pushing so close to his spine, but the occasional flickers of pain were well worth his prize.

Eyes moving from the door to his chains with lighting fast speed again and again, Grim unlocked his manacles. Freeing himself couldn't have taken more than a few minutes, but to Grim it felt like hours. He tried to move with supernatural speed, but his powers still hadn't recovered. He had no doubt that Felicia kept him on a steady dose of the poison, and that was what weakened him.

It will be fine, he reassured himself, needing the placating words more than his next breath.

The stone was cool and jagged on the balls of his feet as he tiptoed around the cell to the exit. Knife still in his hand, Grim wiped the blade off on his skin, crouched, and snaked it around the corner of the stone wall leading out of the cell.

Firelight bounced off the blade and reflected a blurry image of a man. Grim turned the knife this way and that to make sure there were no others. Once he was certain there was only one guard, he drew the knife back and pressed the cooled blade to his chest. He closed his eyes and reached inside himself for his reaper's power, finding it similar to dying embers instead of the deafening roar it usually was. Still, it was enough power to use his hyper-speed and catch the guard unaware.

Grim held his breath, forced his aching muscles and rumbling stomach to quiet. The only sound he heard was the small river of blood streaming from the wound at his back, down the backs of his legs, his ankles, and his arch, to collect in a small puddle on the floor.

Steady. Steady. He took a deep breath, and then charged. Grim covered the guard's mouth with his hand and cut deep into his throat and vocal cords. It would take longer for it to heal, and even longer still as Grim forced his small blade down the reapers throat and embedded it through a lung and in between two rib bones.

Guilt ate at him before he squelched it. This is not the time to feel pity. The guard was one of the reapers responsible for his torment, but he was Felicia's control. The man grew heavy in Grim's grasp and he slowly lowered the body to the ground.

Grim scanned the man's face. He'll be out and healing for a while.

The staircase was right in front of him and Grim stripped the guard of his clothes and tugged them on. He gripped the golden-hilted sword in his hands, stepping over the guard in his new boots. They were tight over his toes but better than nothing.

Clinging to the wall he took the stairs one at a time, sword held in front of him. Exhaustion gnawed at him, but he pushed it away with a shake of his head. Stay alert. Get out.

There was no way the princess would allow him to go unwatched again if he didn't make it out. And the thought of the repercussions his actions would have if he were caught sent a painful shiver down his bruised spine.

At the top of the staircase, Grim paused, breath held, and used the longer sword he'd stolen from the guard as a mirror. The steel blade reflected better than the dagger the maid had given him, and he waited to see if anyone would stroll down the deserted golden hallway.

No one did.

She doesn't consider me a threat, Grim mused, trying to mask his outraged anger under relief.

Chained like an animal for weeks assured others of his weakened state. The thought triggered more bloodthirsty ideas that painted the backs of his eyelid crimson.

Killing was a foreign concept--or had been. Reapers didn't take life as in stealing it, but ferried it to another location. That was what time dictated they be, but was not their origin. Thoughts of murderous kings and treacherous allies moved in Grim's mind as cautious lessons. Still, the messages were lost under his own pain and torment, and all Grim could see was Felicia's black hair wrapped around her pale throat, half of it shoved into her mouth, choking her. And he'd snap her neck, set her body alight, and watch the bitch burn.

"Later," he hissed, calming the waking beast in him, one he hadn't recognized as a part of himself until recently.

Stepping out into the hallway, Grim kept his eyes wide and jogged quietly down toward what, he wasn't sure. The sixth level of hell, whispered through his mind.

He didn't marvel at the colors or pictures surrounding him, wealth vaster than anything on Earth or in his own kingdom. He kept his eyes straight, followed the soft sounds of an active city that the walls of the castle couldn't hide.

All of a sudden an alarm began to blare. It was so loud it caused Grim to stop, bend at the waist and slap his hands over his ears. It was only the need to escape that forced his legs to move. Death was preferable to remaining Felicia's hostage.

Grim began to stumble, eyes searching blindly for something he could use to put himself out of his misery. The chimes continued, but eventually he grew used to the sound and removed his hands from his ears. One came away coated with blood and he realized that his left ear hadn't healed yet.

Cursing under his breath, Grim forced the image of Felicia and her sharpened knives out of his mind. The images fed the fear coursing through his body, telling him to go back to the cavern, that if she found him now he really would die.

But fuck if death wasn't preferable.

It isn't.

Grim swore harder and shot the hallway a look that could have killed. No, it wasn't.

A shuffling sound caught his good ear, and Grim drew to a skidding halt at a four way intersection. His eyes widened, and everything in him drew tight. Nina, his wife, pride and joy, everything in his life, stood before him mirroring his look with one tinged with horror. Grim couldn't imagine what he looked like, but from her eyes it was nothing like the man she remembered.

Shame pierced his heart a second later, before her husky voice took away the sting, "Grim." His name was a prayer on her lips, stronger than any medicine with the power to heal all his suffering.

Love her. So fucking much.

To his left, Grim heard the swift approach of guards, seconds away. Greedily, he drank in the sight of his wife, knowing that he would not escape his hell. Not if he wanted to keep his wife alive. It had been a fun thought, anyway. A welcome distraction. But somewhere deep down, Grim knew he would only escape the castle one of two ways: in ashes or surrounded by them.

Grim knew he should scream, "Run!" but he couldn't get the words out. He wanted to scream, "Run!"--should have--but looking at his wife robbed him of all thought. She had that talent. Enigmatic, beautiful personality that always hinted at a pessimism she thought she kept hidden. She didn't. But he loved that side, too. She was perfect because of her flaws, beautiful because of her worries, made for someone like him because she saw the bigger picture that didn't just involve them and hated herself for it.

He knew she did, knew every single thought that had ever flashed through her eyes. She wanted to leave him more times than she wanted to stay. Fear for him, his kingdom, her heart, he'd observed them all and crushed them. Yes, he was a romantic, but that didn't make him wrong. He loved her, with everything he was and ever would be. He'd go through it all again, walk the fires of hell to sit at her feet. That was love.

Nina's hair was longer, her black leather clothes were something he'd never seen her wear before. She had an edge, a danger to her now. But that wasn't the only change. Grim's knees buckled, but sheer force of will kept him upright, his eyes glued to the small bump of her stomach. She was pregnant.

Pregnant. The word bounced around his head for a minute, trying to find a comfortable place next to Nina's name. When it settled into place, he breathed out a terrified breath. The word "death" was settling down, too.

How long had he been kept as Felicia's prisoner? Long enough for his worst nightmare to come true. Her death was assured now, one way or another. Grim couldn't save her, not from Felicia, and not from the child slowly sucking the life out of her.

They mirrored each other's looks, stunned wide eyes, mouths slightly agape. Her fingers twitched, body jerked, and he felt his do the same. Grim wanted to go to her, wrap her in his arms and kiss her, but that was impossible. Instead they looked at each other as if across a wide, untouchable ocean.

Another whoosh of sound alerted him as Uriel arrived behind Nina. At the same moment the guards arrived a few dozen feet in front of her. Grim looked at his brother, surprised to see him. Uriel looked worn; his eyes shadowed with things Grim could sympathize with, his pale pink lips were drawn into a line on a face that looked twenty years older.

Jealousy twisted his body. Uri looked tired, but he had all his flesh, teeth, limbs. Did his wife look at his brother and see him? Cling to brawny arms so much like Grim's and imagine they were her husbands? Did she fuck him?

He looked in her eyes again and cursed softly under his breath, "Damned idiot." Never once had she looked at Uriel in such a way. Never.

Grim's gaze darted to the guards, then back to his brother and his wife. There was not enough time. Not enough time to say all the things he wanted to say to the both of them. Apologize to Uri for their fights about a throne that didn't exist anymore. To Nina, for stealing her life, for dragging her into a mess that was never meant for humans. He wanted to hug them, cry over them, and express every joy and pain and moment of living he had left with them.

But he couldn't. And Grim accepted it. He would commit himself to death in the hopes of joining his wife and other people in the next life, but only after Felicia came down, laughed in his face, and told him Nina was dead. Until that time he would cling with bloody fingernails and raw finger pads to this life.

He spared a moment's thought to his people, everyone he failed. Grim had thought about them a lot, and come to accept that there was nothing he could do. Berating himself over his own shortcomings did nothing. They were gone, fending for himself. A horrible realization, but one he accepted.

Acceptance: it was his last recourse against Felicia. He'd been through the denial, the anger, the moment when he thought he'd triumph and find a way out. Now he accepted it. Completely.

There was only one thing left to do.

Grim raised his arm and made a slashing gesture, "Get her out of here, Uriel!"

Grim knew that while his brother might look weak, he still had power. Grim had only one thing: the ability to save face. He stood, strong with as much of a cocky grin as he could have. He would not let the last time Nina saw be him on his knees.

He watched her try to wiggle out of Uriel's hold, and her scream ripped at Grim's heart strings, "Let me go, Uri! Let me go!"

Using what little strength he had left, Grim moved in front of her with preternatural speed. He held the sword in front of himself with shaking arms. "Now, Uriel!" Grim commanded as the guards shift and charge him.

He felt, rather than saw his wife leave, and with a groan of defeat, Grim collapsed to his knees. The guards secured his arms a second later and yanked his head back to stare at a golden ceiling.

His eyes traced the pattern, followed the circles into oblivion.

Nina was the bright spot his darkened soul could never go back to. Even if he had escaped, what life would he have waiting for him? Felicia destroyed any semblance of what he had before. Most nights he woke up screaming, feeling every pain he'd ever suffered. Those were the nights when his body had been so thoroughly destroyed that a deep, coma-like sleep had been necessary. Grim knew he'd been chasing a fantasy; one in which he found Nina, loved her for all her mortal years, and did... he'd never even gotten that far.

From the crowd of guards, Grim heard Felicia murmur as she approached him, "You look broken, my king."

He didn't respond.

She reached forward, dug her nails into his cheeks and chin and forced him to look at her. "Are you?"

Eyes glazed, Grim stared ahead of her, past her. Father down the hallway there was a giant chandelier designed to look like the Castoff crest. Pretentious assholes.

It was bad enough they had the symbol in his room, but it seemed to be flaunted everywhere else too. On the guard's uniform, the geometric patterns on the ceiling and floors. Always sixteen dagger-looking items pointed out.

"No." Her voice was clipped as she let go of his face. "Not yet."

He watched her slippered feet turn on the shiny marble floor. "What then?" she mumbled as Grim hung his head. He thought about biting his tongue. His body would go into that coma-like state again of repair and at least he wouldn't have to hear her talk.

"Something we can help you with, Highness?" a mousy-sounding guard called out from the group. "Would you like us to go after the human and reaper?"

Grim's body twitched, and Felicia stopped her pacing. "They're gone now, but--Tell me, what do you prize above all else?"

Grim looked up through the matted tangle of his hair. Felicia was staring down at him like he was an animal in a zoo. The guard stuttered, "My life...?"

"More."

"My family," the man replied quietly. "My wife and my daughter, Highness."

Felicia's mouth opened, face expanded. She'd never thought of that. Grim saw it in her expression, she'd never thought much about her own family, and she'd assumed the same applied to others.

Grim watched the moment when Felicia's twisted mind connected the two: Grim and his family. It wasn't about destroying him, but destroying those around him.

The maid had been a thought. She'd taunted him, blamed him for her death, but that was only the tip of the iceberg.

Her eyes flashed up to where Nina had been and Grim's body jerked against his will. Damn.

"Too late to get the human." She worried her shedding lip between her teeth. "Not brother. Her."

Something inside of him roared, No! Whatever she planned to do wouldn't break him, it would destroy him. Despite his resolve to accept death, Grim fought. He fought against the guards holding him down. Against his own weak abilities. Against the danger that laced the air and Felicia's words.

"Whatever you're thinking won't work," he said tonelessly.

"Everything is worth a try. Never ventured, never gained."

"And you hope to gain what exactly?"

"The same thing you hope to lose," she replied cryptically.

Grim wondered why she kept it from him, what the point of that was. She had everything. Weren't most villains supposed to show their hand by now, lay out the reasons they did everything? Gloat?

"When I kill you," he spoke softly, staring into her eyes, "I'll do it with my teeth. Rip you apart like the flesh of meat you are."

A sudden backhand across the face sent him flying into the wall, head mashing, cracking, splitting against the stone. Vision blurry and muddled with pain, Grim looked at a monster dressed in black with peeling skin and a legion of demons behind her. Scenes of what could have been plagued him as he slipped into a forced slumber.

CHAPTER SIX

I hate myself.

I hate who I am.

I hate what I've become.

These were the only thoughts Nina had. She couldn't think past her own self-loathing, her own pity and hate.

She was in a hole, small and cold, but one she couldn't get out of. Who cares about getting out anyway? Grim is gone, and nothing I do will change that.

She had faced her demons, given it her all, and nothing happened. If anything, things only got worse.

Doubt crept into her mind as she remained numb and immovable. If only she'd remained in the reaper world to face this with Grim. If only she would have died the moment she'd known that death was coming for her, none of the pain she was in now would matter.

She ignored the fact that by withering away in bed, refusing to do anything but sleep and bitterly scold herself, she was hurting her child because in the back of her mind Nina wondered if she was really pregnant.

What did she have? The word of two gods who performed painful experiments on her after they told her she was pregnant. That made total sense.

If time was linear, or even something close to that, then wouldn't she be showing? She'd been with Grim for almost three months, and they'd screwed like rabbits the entire time.

If Uri was right, and weeks had passed while she was with Yin and Yang doing God only knows what, then she'd be around four or five months pregnant. And showing.

But Nina wasn't.

Time faded into the background, meshing with the gray of her life. It was all just... useless.

A voice, loud, screaming, angry, and rushed, called to her. Someone shook her. Power rushed over Nina, trying to penetrate the walls she erected around herself.              

"Nina!" a voice screamed as heat flowed through her body.

It sounded familiar. The heat felt familiar.

It's time, her conscience whispered.

No! She raged at her inner voice, silencing the damn thing until she crushed it beneath her suffering and anger.

She didn't want to surface and return to dealing with her shit. She wanted to stay with her pain. It had become a friend, almost like a new, slightly bitter, Nicole. Except this friend hadn't been murdered by her father, her blood slick and sticky in his hair. This friend wouldn't die and leave her to deal with impossible things.

"Stop it! You're hurting her!" a female voice cried out at the angry male.

Nina knew who they were and could feel their power coating the air. Uri and Iris had been with her since she'd shattered. Uri had picked her up and carried her to the bed, and Iris had taken care of her. She realized they did it, but she didn't care.

You have to care! Her conscience screamed at her, coming to full awareness.

No! There was nothing left. The world was salt and lemon to her open wound. She needed to stay trapped, wishing for death, knowing it never comes.