Icarus
He scrutinised her now, her features, her bones, the arch of her cheeks. The resemblance was now embedded within his soul—a droplet of poison, a seed of doubt. God, how had he not seen the similarities? How had he not realised the truth? The bridge of her nose, the shape of her face, and the set of her eyes. It was all so familiar that he wondered—with a sharpened inhale and a long angry, ragged breath—had he erased her from his mind the moment he'd drank from her heart?
Why didn't he know?
How couldn't he have noticed the woman who was the reason for all of his suffering?
Euodia.
And now, he stared as she made her way towards him. And he was propped up against a bed, in a room that had a hundred soldiers lurking by the door. Icarus shouldn't be afraid. But he could see hints of her when she lingered in the shadows, when dullness touched her eyes and slid down the curve of her cheeks. A ghost of Euodia, like a waft of doubt in his chest, like the settle of a fog, dewy on his flesh.
But a flutter of her lashes, a raise of her head. And she'd turn her gaze upon him, all warm, coloured gold. All swathed sweetly in yellow autumn leaves, a softly kindling sort of fire. And he'd lose his breath and forget. It couldn't be her, his mind had whispered. How different she was, how antithetic, how odd.
Her mannerisms, Euodia's mannerisms, were gone. He observed the bounce of her head as she peeled an orange, plucked juicy flesh from a stringy core with clean nails. The way her body moved; the shy, yet strong curve of her back. The flutter of her feet, her fretting nerves, the flush of her cheeks, the bounce of energy. She was not the arrogant princess he knew, but a humble, kind, and gentle girl.
Euodia had been a fucking prude, a prancing peacock, a nasty, cowardly, selfish Beta who cared only for herself. She couldn't have been able to hide that part of herself. For Icarus had seen her at her worst, huddled on the ground with a chain to his neck. Euodia wasn't capable of acting, of fooling the fey and their taste for emotions.
Quinn was a survivor, someone who didn't back down to getting her hands dirty, someone who would listen, someone who genuinely cared. Euodia, he reminded himself, with amnesia, was Quinn.
How the fuck did that bitch survive without her goddamn heart?
And even that thought had him scoffing, had his mind reminding him of the gore he'd left. The gaping crevice of her chest, the bubble of blood from an open rib. He'd choked on the words when Elysian had whimpered a response. The eldest's eyes had been wide, trembling and horrified. Learning that his new mate was their dead mortal enemy had been the lowest fucking blow. Icarus supposed it wasn't what Elysian had envisioned when he'd drank Quinn's blood and learnt her truth.
"Explain it clearly to me," Icarus had barked, his heart thundering, blood deafening in his ears. "You can't be sure. You can't be fucking sure."
"Vampires can't see everything. We only see the memories when our mate feels strongly for us," Elysian reminded with a harsh snap. Icarus knew that; teeth grinding, his mind sweeping to his own experiences with his six. "We see the moments when things change, when they first meet us. We see memories that allow us to understand why they feel what they feel for us. I—" He'd choked on his words. "Her very first memory of me was with a sword to her chest, her heart in your hands. All of us fucking on the g-goddamn table," He choked on that. "Our laughter, she remembers that. She only remembers dying. It was—God, it was awful." He swallowed harder, nails digging into his skin. "Maybe, that's why she's always been so a-afraid…"
"You're lying." Icarus had snapped, mind twitching to that moment, the glee that he'd felt, the taste of her blood. It had been too fucking good, nothing like the droplets he was used to with Euodia. That blood had been rich, had been vibrant, had tasted almost as if it were different. And maybe it was.
"I—I don't know what I've seen." Elysian shook his head, fingers in his hair, desperation in his voice. "I don't know if it's true, I don't want it to be. Icarus, I don't." There were tears in his eyes. "But she awoke after that in a pile of dead bodies, surrounded by Lonely. Alive. She spent days in the cold trying to survive on her bare feet. And when she collapsed in town, when the people saved her, she saw my fucking face in the advertisement in town, smiling, laughing because the matriarchy was ours."
"So she recognises you?"
"I…Not really," he whispered. "I suppose she thinks of her death as a dream. She's lived a life of survival. It's true that she doesn't remember the situation from before, that she only knows of Omegas as selfish, hateful beings. No one has been kind to her." Elysian seemed to shiver, eyes growing red. "And it's so awful to be alone. What I did…It means so much to her, God—"
"There should be more memories," Icarus had snarled, didn't want to dig into that pile of worms. He didn't want to care for her. "How the fuck did Euodia survive? We killed her. We fucking murdered her. She didn't have a goddamn heart. How does one survive that?"
"I know what I saw." Elysian's breath was hot, tears wet in his eyes. "D-do you think, this…This has to do with the Lonely?"
"She was dead, dead for fucking days." Icarus shook his head, and slammed a fist on the bed. "I made sure, we made fucking sure. If this were true, we'd have Alphas rising from the fucking ground. No. Those Alphas with their hearts eaten? They rot, they're dead."
"I'm not sure Icarus, I-I don't know," Elysian had seemed distraught, hands in his hair. "I'm unsure if it were even real. Maybe, my mind was just reminding me of what I've done, of what we did. Maybe, I was just so hungry I was seeing things. I don't know."
Icarus's expression was grim. "But her feelings, her loyalty?"
This had Elysian looking down, a long, dangerous swallow. "Real," he whispered, a hand to his chest as if he could feel her through the bond. And Icarus supposed he could with the mating so fresh. "She cares so much. She would never hurt us. She'd rather die. And, that didn't matter to her," his eyes were glistening then, fingers trembling. "With all her suffering here, she thought it'd be better if she were dead. There's nothing here keeping her aside from us."
"Your Heat," Icarus's voice had risen a pitch. "You'll need her now as your new mate, with this news will you—"
"I don't mind it, it—it's still Quinn." Elysian blinked, bit trembling lips. "I know she's Euodia, but she doesn't know that. And she, she doesn't feel like Euodia. I knew Euodia's cruelty, Euodia would never do what Quinn does for us now—"
"You can't be fucking sure," Icarus snapped out a laugh, an exasperated chuckle. How did it become like this? "Euodia didn't give a fuck about you when you were her toy. You didn't fucking exist in her mind as a human being. None of us did. I was her fucking dog, Elysian. Her motherfucking dog. She could just be lying, now that she's weak, now that Omegas are in control. She might stab us in the fucking back, she might just have some kind of crazy fucking control over her emotions. You don't know what she's capable of, you don't know the magic she's inflicted on me — Fuck. What if this was all a part of her fucking plans?"
"So maybe she's not Euodia!" Elysian's voice rose a pitch, "Maybe I hallucinated that part of the bite—"
"Elysian, do not lie to me," Icarus snarled, then exhaled, exhaustion growing as he collapsed to the bed. Her blood swirled through his veins, flooded the tubes, and disgust swelled in his throat. "We're in deep fucking shit. Why did we choose her? Why did Zen fucking—" He laughed. "Of course, Zen was always so fucking enamoured with that bitch."
But Icarus knew it was his fault too, his fault for finding sweetness in her blood. It all made sense now. With the magic Euodia had embedded upon his neck, it had led to a desperation to fuck her, the need to obey, the explosive cum, the raging lust. That magic had remained on Quinn, and now he needed her too.
He'd scrubbed a hand across his face, rage growing. And all this time, he'd thought it was fucking lov—
Elysian's voice was small. "We could ask?"
"Ask?" Icarus laughed. "Gods, Elysian we're fucked. We're so fucked. We've fucked up, and it's all because of a Beta once again."
Elysian's voice trembled. He'd turned refusing to meet his eyes, anger rushing through his voice. "You don't know what she feels, what she's experienced. You don't know what I see in her. I want to believe in her. I don't think she's Euodia, and, indeed, she does not remember—"
"There is still blood on those hands," Icarus hissed. "Just because she's forgotten doesn't mean she's not that fucking woman."
"But don't we have blood on our hands too?" Elysian turned to him, brows knitted. "Haven't we already tortured her for all her wrongdoings? Perhaps, this is our punishment from God."
"Ah," Icarus waved his hands, a curse on his tongue. His mate was agitated, in pain, and suffering from a new bite. There was no way he could think clearly. "Whatever. You're right, you might just be hallucinating."
"Icarus…"Elysian had whispered, head bowed. He'd left the room then, but not before Icarus had barked a command.
"Don't tell our mates."
"But—"
"They'll kill her." His eyes flashed. "They'll snap her neck and burn her on a stake."
The concern flashed in his throat, and with that warning, he'd revealed his truth. His true feelings, his concern. Elysian's eyes had grown softer, warmer, a nervous smile. And Icarus had turned away, glaring at the wall, not wanting to face his feelings, to understand his damn decisions.
Fuck.
There were no hallucinations, they both knew that and had both experienced a mating bite six times. But Icarus couldn't bear to say 'I told you so.' Those words were lost in him and had lingered at the tip of his tongue, dissolving into ash.
Because Icarus would have done it too, would have bitten her when his eyes grazed the weakness of her face, when he'd seen the tears, when he'd known that she would be killed the moment she stepped out of that room.
And now they couldn't kill her, knowing what they knew.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
"Icarus."