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Chapter Text

It felt, simply, as if someone had taken to beating a drum at regular intervals inside Cassandra’s head. This continued, without reprieve, for several hours and, all too suddenly, she found herself stranded in the early hours of the morning, making a valiant attempt to memorise the floral pattern stencilled upon her bedroom ceiling. This was utterly fruitless as her mind consistently strayed from the task, wandering ceaselessly to the dreaded topic: That of Tobias.

She could not fathom how she could have made him feel so inadequate in her presence. After all, there was not a soul she would prefer to spend an afternoon in the company of- This, she assumed him to understand. Their work- The guise behind which they met- became a mere afterthought the moment his eyes met hers. Three days, she turned this over in her mind. The pounding headache was inconsistent. It returned only when she considered resting.  

On the first day, she had attempted to attend a garden party with her mother. Forty-five minutes after their arrival, she felt as if she may relinquish her breakfast to one of the imported Noxian rose bushes. Her mother had her chauffeured home immediately, a distinct glint of disappointment in her dark eyes.

The second day, she had spent at her desk suffering something she could only describe as a lucid nightmare. The third had only just begun. Her hair stuck to her forehead and neck, drenched in perspiration, as she squirmed and winced. No matter her discomfort, she could not bring herself to think of anything other than the obvious.

At some unknown point during the ordeal of the second day, her mother had brought a physician to Cassandra’s bedside, an older woman with ropes of greying hair. Following half a dozen interrogatory questions, she announced haughtily that Cassandra was a victim of the flu and was to rest, unmedicated, for an unspecified amount of time.

“She doesn’t have a fever.” Her mother replied evenly and the doctor, whoever she was, shrugged, already racing toward the exit.

As Cassandra lay upon bare sheets on the dawn of the third day, Tobias’ face barrelled through her mind. His unyielding habit of scrunching his brow when considering how to answer a question of hers, his hands, capable of such delicate work despite their size. Even his voice, the memory of it, tugged at her mind. She had never met anyone quite like him. It was refreshing, she supposed, to meet someone who knew her firstly not as the scion of House Kiramman.

In such a violent contrast to Torman and those of his kind, Tobias truly cared for the books that she read and the authors of the letters she received. In him, she found a side of herself she hardly recognised. This new girl was bright-eyed and inviting. She spoke at length about meaningless things. She concerned herself with more than the necessity of her duties or the merit of her birthright. She was entirely foreign and yet it felt as if Cassandra had always known her to some extent.

He had asked her, in those final desperate moments, if she could ever grow to love him. The question did not merit a reply as he was already storming through the doorway, but now it was abundantly clear. As Cassandra looked to the books on her shelf, and she could have laughed.

Clearly none of the authors had ever experienced love themselves. That, or they were merely pathological liars.

☆☆☆

Three days had passed since Tobias’ foolish departure. Blinded by his supposed revelation, he failed to realise the consequences of his actions. He allowed his rage to render him blind to the truth of the matter. Now, he realised that her loss was simply excruciating compared to the dull sting of her rejection. Her absence felt, if he was to attempt to condense the pain into words, as if someone was attempting to tear his heart out with their bare hands.

His activities since had been nothing as active as dragging himself to the pantry for a piece of half-rotten fruit. In fact, his designated roommate- A native of the Southcity whom Tobias had hardly interacted with- had even taken the time to leave a note of concern tacked to his door.

If it’s the Kiramman girl, He had written, trust me, she’s nothing to write home about. Pick yourself up off the floor and shower already. It’s been three days.

Tobias scoffed at this, balling the paper in his fist. Though the note contained several kind statements and humorous remarks, it was that comment that stuck with him. He sifted through half a dozen drawers until he came upon a box of matches. Then he simply lit the paper alight, holding it above the ceramic wash basin that he kept usually beneath his bed.

Cassandra’s voice chided him as he attempted to scrub the soot from the porcelain. Now, why would you ever think to do it here? She asked, My, I’d hate to see you attempt to wash up after dinner.

He heard the door open as he was still frantically cleaning. It was his roommate, whose name, he realised, had entirely evaded him. Tobias heard the boy’s footsteps trail toward Tobias’ bedroom, then his own, and finally to the kitchen. He froze in the doorway, “Oh, thank- Your girl is downstairs terrorising Heimerdinger. What the hell did you do to her? She wants our room number- Where are you going?”

Tobias didn’t think to reply as he bolted toward the exit.

☆☆☆

Councillor Heimerdinger was a friend of Cassandra’s mother, and Cassandra possessed a vivid memory of him having graced her with some mechanical marvel as a young child. She considered their relationship to be strong, especially when tinted with the nostalgia Heimerdinger was so often inclined toward. Regardless, he seemed vehemently against the idea of giving her what she wanted.

“It is simply not appropriate, my dear.” His high voice chided her, “Tobias is a valued student to our famed institution. If I was to offer you details of his living arrangement… Why, I’d be expected to do so for every stranger that wandered in off the streets!” He chuckled, turning to leave her.

Some factor of his logic, Cassandra could admit, was appealing to her ear. Logic was safe, after all. It could not be debated or disputed. Her actions were not logical. They were fuelled solely by emotion and desperation. That did not bother her as she had expected it would.

Hastily, Cassandra stepped in Heimerdinger’s path. He leaped backward, eyes widened. Her voice was level, “Councillor, we both know I am not a stranger off the streets. If you do not grant me what I wish, then I am afraid I may be forced to relay this conversation to my mother. She just donated quite a sum to the academy scholarship fund, did she not?”

Heimerdinger swallowed, “If I didn’t know better, Miss Kiramman, I may begin to think that was a threat.”

“Lady Kiramman.” Cassandra corrected, “And yes, I believe it was. A threat, that is. I am not familiar with the terminology, do forgive me.”

He looked upon her, now, as if she was entirely alien to him. Not the child he had impressed with a spinning top, but a determined young woman. He bowed his head, “What you seek is merely steps beyond you.”

Cassandra stalled.

“Excuse me?” She asked, blinking in disbelief, but Heimerdinger had already retreated at quite a pace. His survival instincts were far from impressive but at least they were present in some way.

Quite a number had congregated around the scene during its execution. Heimerdinger attended to attract a crowd no matter the situation but an obvious argument with the scion of House Kiramman? Well, that was scandal, plain and simple.

In her peripheral vision, she noted a man frantically ducking between classmates, dressed in only a housecoat and pyjamas. Excellent, she thought, I’ve brought them from their beds now.

She allowed herself a final moment gawking at Heimerdinger’s turned back before she spun on her heel. Her footsteps seemed to echo across the courtyard with a horrifying clarity. Her mother would force an apology from her throat in the days to come. She would never stumble across anything even resembling what she and Tobias had shared. The greater shame was clear, but she feared her mother regardless. Tears stung her eyes.

His touch was soft, but his touch was rough, dripping in some cruelty or another.

“There are other fish in the sea, Cassandra.”

Torman’s eyes glinted with that sheen of unintelligence that she felt may be present among the depths of her nightmares. He held onto her wrist for longer than she deemed acceptable, and she tore the limb from his grasp.

“Think about that.” He told her viciously.

Cassandra scoffed, “Well, you’re hardly the pick of the litter yourself.”

The air between them remained charged until he pulled away, limping toward the main building like a wounded animal. She doubted he could have accentuated the limp any further if she drew a rifle and fired. It was an entertaining idea. Torman Hoskel rendered nothing more than a stain on the pavement courtesy of a Kiramman rifle. It was the beginnings of a civil war, and she knew that, but her fantasies were private.

Regaining her mind, Cassandra once more noted the man dressed in his housecoat. He was drawing nearer through means of hesitant, pained steps. She could do nothing more than watch his approach, heart seized. He had neglected to comb his hair or shave his face, but her gaze remained fixed upon him.

“Cassandra.” The reverence with which he spoke her name.

☆☆☆

“You’re bleeding.” Cassandra’s first words, uttered as she pulled Tobias by his sleeve into a deserted alcove, keen blue eyes studying his hastily wrapped hand. She bowed her head, content to spend all her attention on the injury.

She reached rather suddenly to take his hand in hers and he started, “No, your gloves.” He told her, only to realise their absence. The jagged line of scar tissue across her left palm was on all but on display, yet Cassandra hardly noticed. She dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand, peering still at his hand. Fat droplets fell upon the cobblestones by their feet. Tobias had torn a strip from his shirt sleeve, employing it as a poor man’s bandage. Light-fingered, Cassandra slowly began to peel it away, inch by excruciating inch.

He winced, inhaling sharply. Now, her eyes flickered upward. Tobias saw a mere glimpse of apology before she spoke, “I think a doctor’s attention would be wise.”

Tobias shook his head, “It’s not that deep.”

Mutely, Cassandra nodded. She took a distinct backward step, the footfall echoing. Students passed still, converging by the dining hall and racing between bed and laboratory. It was not strictly imagination, Tobias thought, that the same half a dozen people seemed to hurry past as often as humanely possible. If he noticed, then he could be certain Cassandra did so.

He rushed to speak before she could retreat, before she could excuse herself and disappear into a crowd. If he allowed her to do so, he knew he would never lay eyes upon her again.

“Would you still entertain the idea of seeing my room?” His voice sounded distant, as if he and Cassandra were worlds apart and yet he still wished to speak only to her.

To his infinite surprise, a smile overcame her features. She only nodded, brushing hair back from her face. If Tobias did not know better, he would almost call her giddy. A ridiculous notion, you understand.

His hand stung, yes, but Cassandra had rewrapped it without mercy. He could not complain, as he knew it to be a superior substitute to his own. Though, if he was to defend himself, Tobias had paused for a scarce moment to tear his shirt then wrapped his hand while steadily continuing forward. It was an accident and a rather inane one at that. The doors in the halls of residence were of a shocking weight and required several keys to access. Merely, Tobias had failed to remove his hand from the frame before the door came swinging closed. Cassandra’s face- A fusion of guilt and horror- almost made him curse himself for the injury. How he could blame himself, he did not know, and yet he felt he must.

His roommate, the name of whom was still a mystery, had thankfully vacated their shared space. Tobias sat by the dining area while Cassandra conducted a search for a medical kit, beginning in the kitchen. She did not ask permission, nor did she hesitate.

She entered his field of vision before long, a silver box in her left hand. She claimed the chair to his left, laying the box on the table. From it, she produced a pair of scissors, a bottle of iodine solution and a roll of gauze.

Ever the pragmatist, she set about cutting away the makeshift bandage and cleaning the wound with a damp cloth. Tobias winced with each instance of contact. He saw the tightness around her eyes, how she tensed with each sharp intake of breath. He resolved himself to hide the damage before long.

“Thank you.” Tobias muttered when her work was done. Her skin had taken on a queer, pale tinge. She smiled politely, rising to reorganise and replace what she had taken from the kit.

Suddenly, Cassandra was laughing, “I may have just threatened a councillor in broad daylight among a crowd of teenagers.” She covered her face with her hands and seemed, for the first time, to really take note of the fact that she was missing her gloves. This bothered her far more than the dried blood under her manicured fingernails.

“All that… All that because he refused to give me your address.” Cassandra scoffed, “I suppose now is where I apologise?” It wasn’t a malicious statement, nor was it sarcastic or sadistic. An honest, earnest question.

“You don’t-” Tobias began on instinct, wishing to save her pain. But she raised a silencing hand.

Her smile was delicate, “Yes, I do. I cannot excuse my actions, but I will begin by saying this: I’ve never been sure whether my parents can endure residing in the same space for more than five minutes. I’ve never had a friend that I haven’t employed for purposes entirely selfish. Truly, I know neither love nor friendship. One of the pair would have been difficult enough to recognise… Together, they almost ruined me entirely.” From her pocket, she removed a small wooden box, “I am sorry. I believe I held you to an impossible standard and attempted to flee when it no longer suited me. What you said… Then. I’m afraid I haven’t grown to love you. I always have. I was merely blind to the feeling in the beginning and… Afraid, I suppose, of it in the middle. Acceptance is the last stage, I believe. I’m there, if you’ll have me.”

The box swung open on silent hinges. Tobias could have gaped at her for a century. The rings were forged in the same fashion to her earrings, those she had worn when he first laid eyes on her. Hers held a large blue stone in addition to the golden band, whereas his was inlaid with half a dozen miniscule stones.

All the pain and anguish he had felt just moments ago evaporated. His world narrowed to her: Her tendency to gnaw at her lower lip when anxious, her unrelenting curiosity, her ceaseless attempts at goodness.

The sharp tang of her perfume and how the vein in her neck stuttered under his fingertips. Her skin of her lips was broken and bleeding where she had torn at it. It was a sharp, metallic taste, and Tobias found he wasn’t strictly against it.  

Chapter Text

There were flowers stencilled on the ceiling of Cassandra’s bedroom- Violets, Tobias thought. Their absence was strangely striking as lay in his impersonal university allocated bedroom. There was nothing of his there, save for a wedding suit and a number of books Cassandra had refused to move into the Kiramman house. He thought it wise not to argue with a woman a week away from her wedding.

His roommate- Whose name, he learned after an excruciating stretch of time, was Corin- had begun to use the room as storage. There was any amount of medical apparatus laid against the far wall, some of which rather interested Tobias. His family was in the business of supplying such things and the engineering of several pieces was simply inspired. Though, patents and the like were the farthest thing from his mind.

The dawn arrived in good time. With the first stray strand of sunlight, Tobias leapt from the bed and rushed to ready himself. He needed not hurry. It was mere impatience that drove him, as well as an innate eagerness.

Corin met him in the kitchen after some amount of time. He received an invitation, of course, as an acquaintance of the two. He had denied, however, on the claim that to see such a fortune spent on a single day sickened him. Neither Tobias nor Cassandra were particularly injured by his rejection. In any case, he wished Tobias the best before retreating to his bedroom. After all, for him it was simply another day. Average in all respects except that his roommate was to be moving out for certain. Strange to think.

The engagement had shocked Tobias’ family, but they were all too eager to board their boats and set sail for the magnificent City of Progress. His mother, in all her letters, had objected only to the act of Tobias’ adopting the Kiramman name. He understood her stance, even lent it merit. Strangely, however, he did not think of the Kiramman name as the daunting figure others seemed to. Cassandra embodied the name. It was her and, when they were reduced to footnotes in history books, he wished only for his name to be alongside hers.

In the days following the wedding, Lady Kiramman would renounce her position as matriarch and Cassandra would assume her place. It was symbolic, Tobias knew, for Cassandra would not be true leader of the family until her mother’s eventual death, but this would signify a distribution of power between the two. Mere tradition, as he believed, but it gave them joy and that was enough for him.

They were to marry not in a house of worship but rather under the Kiramman’s own roof. Cassandra had objected but her mother remained quite persistent. Tobias stumbled upon the two one afternoon, arguing in the open air.

It was Cassandra’s voice that had attracted him: “Do you plan to remain dictating my life until you reach your deathbed?”

Here, Tobias thought it wise to retreat. Not, however, before he heard Lady Kiramman’s reply.

“Everywhere else in this city may as well be reduced to ruin tomorrow.” She spoke with the temperament of someone speaking with a deeply unreasonable child, “But this is your home. You know it will never falter or fail you.”

He heard Cassandra scoff, “Eventually, Mother, you will relinquish control.”

“Today is not that day.” Her mother retorted haughtily.

Cassandra stifled a chuckle, “I’m glad. I would prefer to spend time with my husband before integrating myself completely into society. Although, I fear you would not understand the feeling.”

Tobias left with an understanding that Cassandra had won that particular argument and, by her mother’s stormy expression at dinner that evening, many more.

On the day of the wedding, Lady Kiramman dressed in a formal coat and suit. She seemed to avoid Tobias’ gaze even as she was seated almost directly in his field of vision. All these anxieties, however, dissipated the very moment he laid eyes upon her.

It is a strange sensation, truly, to look upon another and know in that instant that all you could possibly desire is guaranteed.

Tobias failed to recognise the traditional wedding march, nor did he manage to identify the vast majority of his guests, but these facts were nothing more than trivial. Each face in his periphery faded into vague shadows and even the music notes bled into one another until they were reduced to a queer cacophony, rather than an elegant melody.

When the two had met, he likened them to ships meeting in the dark. Neither his nor Cassandra’s attendance at that event was guaranteed. The music may have delayed, or he may have thought to change outfits before arrival. Their meeting was no sure thing. Rather, it was the result of a million coincidences. Together, they brought them this union and for that he would be eternally grateful.