Caligula's Blood - Charmed fic - R

[tigriswolf]

Title: Caligula’s Blood
Fandom: “Charmed”
Disclaimer: I did not think up Chris, Wyatt, the Charmed Ones, or anything else to do with their world.
Warnings: spoilers for the entire Chris plotline. Seasons 7 and 8 are ignored.
Pairings: incestuous slash of Wyatt and Chris, the poor boys.
Rating: R
Wordcount: 1150
Point of view: second
Notes: originally posted under another username. Please don’t accuse me of stealing my own work.
More notes: personally, I think this to be among the top five best things I've written.

There’s magic, like Disney godmother magic, and then there’s magic—the magic of blood and bone and tears shed. There’s gentle going to the ball and sleeping a hundred years—and there’s world domination in the blink of an eye.

Sometimes you wonder which is yours, but then he turns to look at you with a smile and you know.

Often, you think of leaving and never looking back, of vanishing into the city and fighting for what you know is right. But you can’t.

Because this is you, now, this is your blood doing this, and you’ve only ever belonged at his side.

-

Once, you dreamed of being the prince in the tale, instead of the bungling sidekick. You wanted to be the one Mom and Dad and the aunts spoke of with such reverence, such pride.

Once, he’s all you ever wanted to be.

Once.

But now you look at him, the madness glinting in his eyes, held back only by you—and you wish you were anywhere else. Anyone else. Anything would be better than this.

-

He gestures; you step forward. All his guards leave—you are no danger. He smiles down at you, gently touches his finger to your lips.

You don’t jerk back and you don’t yell and you do everything silently. He says your name like a plea and you do anything he wants.

This is your power, now. No longer magic of your blood and family, no longer magic of any kind except what he grants you by his love, demented it may be.

-

You wait until he’s gone to seriously ponder leaving. The moon is high in the sky and people scream in the street. Demons prowl and witches cower, and he rules with a smirk.

You look and look in him for the man you once knew, the boy you once loved, the child you used to want to be.

You look and look, but if he’s there you can’t find him.

-

Your mother died on your birthday, and her sisters with her. Your cousins survived for months after, though your uncles died later that week.

Your father vanished, abandoning you even after everything.

Your sister, your baby sister, is consort of the strongest demon, given by your brother for his loyalty.

You could kill him, that bastard who dares to touch her, but your brother won’t allow it.

You often wonder if your brother died the same day as the Charmed Ones, or if he’d died long before.

-

There is magic, and there is magic. One is gentle and sweet and so, so soft, easily broken. The other is dangerous if wielded wrongly, or by the wrong person.

Your brother proves that every day.

He beckons you closer, with eyes full of love and desire. You look up at him and he asks you what you want—your birthday is next week, after all, and he’s king of the world.

He will give you anything you ask for. The promise is in his eyes.

What you want is yesterday, back before all this, back when magic was soft and gentle and you didn’t know the power of blood.

But that is the one thing you cannot request.

-

Your sister is consort to the strongest of demons. You see her infrequently, and she is broken when you do. No longer Piper’s vibrant daughter, she is a shell, shattered by her brothers’ betrayal and the touch of evil imprinted on her skin.

Your sister is consort of one born evil, one without a choice.

You are consort to the greatest evil the world has ever born, one who is evil by choice and declaration. And your sister was not given an option, but handed over as a prize.

You stay because you have nowhere else to go, and because you know nothing else, not anymore.

When you die, you are not going to heaven. If any heaven even exists by that time, because he could call down the stars.

-

He knows you do not love him the way he loves you. He knows you cannot love him, not after everything.

He tells you he’s killed your father. You smile and kiss his lips.

You cannot love him. You cannot leave him.

You cannot save him.

-

You stand by his side as city after city, country after country, continent after continent—the world falls to him and bows at his feet. Human, demon, witch—none can strike back with any force, because he is the ultimate, the culmination, the strongest being ever born.

He is the Twice Blessed. He is the Heir of Magic. He is beyond all obstacles.

In your dreams, Melinda Warren whispers that you could defeat him. In your dreams, Pruey begs you to fight back and save her.

In your dreams, your mother smiles and kisses your forehead and says she loves you, no matter what.

Upon awakening, you stand beside him and watch the world burn.

-

Briefly you wonder about leaving and joining the Resistance, pitiful it may be. They haven’t a chance, but they take pride in attempting the impossible, even if it will kill them all.

He traces your jaw and whispers in your ear and you do as he asks silently.

He says he loves you and you wonder if he even remembers what that means.

You do not love him and he knows it. Revels in it.

He keeps you by his side without even really trying, because there is nowhere else to be.

Pruey is broken and everyone else dead.

He is your blood, all that remains. And even though it means nothing to him…

To you, it is everything.

-

The meaning of magic is changed for you. This is not what Mom and the aunts taught, this shattered world.

You wear his kiss like a brand and the demons cower away from you. Your eyes burn with forbidden tears and your power flies with abandon whenever someone angers you.

You are not him, but now interchangeable, and he watches with a smile.

-

You are drenched in sweat and blood and come, the knife still tight in your grip.

There’s magic and then there’s magic—both are dead to you, and his eyes still stare, shock and love frozen in his final glare.

You trace his lips and know that at last—you are in your place.

After everything, you finally understand.

This is not what they taught you, but it is what you finally learned.

Power is in your blood. Pruey and Wyatt are both gone, beyond you, free of the world and pain.

Melinda Warren told you that you alone could defeat him. Your mother said she’d love you, no matter what.

Barbas whispered you’d forever be alone.

They’re all right, in the end, and come morning you are king.

Comments

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

That...is a very striking (and, if you'll pardon me, sexy as hell) thought! There ~would come a moment when Wyatt would see what Chris intended to do, and have to make the choice of whether to stop him or not-and I don't see him being able to stop Chris short of killing him. Once Chris made up his mind to do it, he'd keep trying.

So letting himself be killed would be Wyatt's last act of love for Chris. And if Chris knows that, and has to live with it...D:

[tigriswolf]

Ooooh. *shivers* Dude. Can I add that to my prompt list?

[realpestilence.livejournal.com]

HELL YEAH! :D :D :D


~coughs


I mean, sure. I don't mind.