"I do not wish to kill you, Achillean. But if you refuse to surrender..."
But what if Achillean did surrender? What if, on that fateful night atop Mt Velgrin, Achillean laid down his staff? 154 years is a long time to wait for plans to fall into pla...
Achillean jolted at Ingressus' reasoning for their position, and he scrunched his face in disgust. With every word that sliced his ears, Achillean found less and less reason to listen.
His raw nerves were being played with and he was not happy about it.
Silence, still. Ingressus' patience was wearing thin fast, and he growled. He pushed the plate closer to Achillean and made to get up, tired of trying. He really thought that childhood stories would make Achillean realise that his resistance was futile and that they were stuck together forever, whether they liked it or not. But no. He knew the process would only repeat itself again and again and he anticipated that this would be their relationship from now on – cold and distant.
As he took hold of Voltar to return to his cave, Achillean turned around and pushed the plate away from him with force and the ceramic scrape along the ground abused their ears as he looked him dead in the eyes.
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"I would never have rescued you if I had known this was what you'd become."
His face was straight, and his body was unmoved as he attacked Ingressus with the coldest words he'd ever said, and Ingressus stood agog at the swiftness with which they hit him. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and both were hurt. Achillean didn't mean to be so heartless but he had been bottling it all up for too long and they manifested themselves into hurtful words that he had never imagined saying aloud. He sat back, and his gaze darted away from Ingressus and he resumed his usual position on the ground. He looked to his wrists and his hands turned to fists as he allowed himself a sigh of frustration.
Ingressus could see that, deep down, Achillean didn't mean what he said, but from the outside, every word rang true. He wasn't proud of what he had done to get to where they were, but he did it all for a far greater purpose than himself. There was still so much more that Achillean wouldn't understand simply because he wasn't Voltaris. Ingressus was out for redemption and the clans denied him. Now, he was out for revenge. He had no interest in ruling Ardonia. He had no interest in making anyone suffer, but if that was what it took for the world to let the Voltaris back in, then so be it.
Of course, that wasn't what he wanted to do when he first found himself in Nestoria, so... Perhaps Achillean was right...
He looked to his brother sat in his frustration. He understood Achillean. But it was past time Achillean understood him.
"When I confronted Aegus for the Aggressium Prime-"
"'Attacked,' you mean?" Achillean interrupted, narrowing his eyes. "When you attacked Aegus for the Aggressium Prime..."
Of course... It was him that intervened...
Ingressus rolled his eyes as he leant Voltar against the wall again and brushed off Achillean's accusation.
"When I fought with Aegus for the Aggressium Prime, he saw past my rage. There was belief in me from him, even then. I know that, for a time, you had some in me, too..." He paused to stand directly in front of Achillean. When Achillean refused to look up and acknowledge him, Ingressus bent down and grabbed his jaw to force him to. He wasn't harsh. He was longing – longing for answers, for closure. Achillean squinted in anticipation as Ingressus continued. "...so, where is it now?"
Achillean stood up in protest, Ingressus still gripping his jaw, and his gaze grew sharper at the question posed to him by the Deathsinger. He had no answer for him.
Where was his belief in him? Gone. Shattered. For now.
He leaned towards Ingressus, getting closer to his face and tried to show him that he was not going to push him around anymore. The heat from their breath crossed the space between them, but it burned with aggression, just as the lava did around them. Achillean remained completely silent, but his rage was building as he clenched his jaw and tightened his fists. Ingressus noticed this and tightened his grip in return. He scoffed.
"My purpose, here, is far greater than Aegus was ever going to understand – just as the other Masters didn't." He stopped and stared daggers into Achillean's eyes. "Just as you won't."
Ingressus released the Tidesinger's jaw and pushed him against the wall in frustration. He didn't know what else he could do to make Achillean see that he wasn't the enemy in all of this. Their situation was all too similar to their old childhood days. They were stuck together, going nowhere – Achillean being cold and Ingressus just wanting acceptance. The only difference was that it was Achillean who felt like a prisoner – because he was.
As Ingressus turned to walk away, Achillean scowled and gritted his teeth. He was not willing to let Ingressus walk away after having done that. Not so easily. He reached for his arm to stop him, but he was too late. Ingressus had already walked far enough away and Achillean's reach was cut short as the chains held him back. He fought against them in a desperate attempt to get Ingressus to stop. He tugged at them with everything he could give, grunting and gasping as his inner anger had escaped, uncontrollable. He'd begun tugging so hard at his chains that his wrists began to bruise, and he looked as though he was about to scream, yet he did not.
"Ingressus, don't you dare turn your back on me!"
Ingressus reached for Voltar, and he stopped with his back to Achillean fighting his restraints. A strange feeling overwhelmed him. He'd managed to crack the Tidesinger. It wasn't what he had intended on doing, but it was a reaction, and, to him, it showed that all was not lost. If Achillean had responded, it meant that he still felt something, whether it was negative or not. He waited for Achillean to tire and his desperate sounds were reduced to just the chains clattering as he tried to pull away.
"You know, Achillean," he began, turning to enter his cave, "you will have more fight in you if you eat."
Achillean had forgotten about the plate of bread that Ingressus had presented to him earlier and he looked down at it still untouched on the floor beside him. He sighed in defeat and waited until Ingressus was completely out of sight before returning to the floor. He slid down the wall exhausted and eyed the plate again. Maybe he was right. It was pointless to resist. There was nothing that could be done to change anything in the meantime.
Achillean pulled the plate closer to him and began tearing small pieces of bread apart, tentatively taking them one bite at a time. He couldn't stop shaking as he held the bread lightly in his bruised hands. He had never experienced such anger and helplessness until now and he grew tired in himself with the passing time that they spent in their confined space. With his breathing becoming shallow, Achillean let out soft whimpers as the anger melted away from him. What he hadn't realised was that Ingressus had peered around the wall of his cave entrance and was watching.
He allowed himself a small smile. They may survive each other, yet.
He couldn't say the same for the people back in the Overworld for he had been keeping a close eye on his plans as they fell into place, with thanks to Tygren. But they had a spanner in the works that threatened everything they had been working towards for almost 150 years.
