#lizard YEARNIN tuesday freal tho

[damienthepious]

y’all already know why i’m here let’s just cut to the fic yeah? love you love youuuu

Something That Matters More

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, The Keep, Rilla, Sir Caroline

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin' Tuesday, Seasons of the Citadel, Pre-Relationship, Canon Compliant, Suicidal Ideation, (canon-typical and kinda vauge but still), Alternative Perspective, Angst

Summary: When the Keep finally wakes again, Arum is still curled with his back against the front door.

Notes: The third and longest of my pieces for the @seasonsofthecitadel zine!

~

When the Keep finally wakes again, Arum is still curled with his back against the front door.

Perhaps he should have slept while the Keep did the same, but his mind races and roils without the buffer of his home, the soft influence at his edges. He cannot possibly rest while his thoughts are circling so, while he is haunted by the memory of Amaryllis’ voice and eyes and justified hatred, while the consequences of the loss of the Hermit loom large above him, while his knowledge of the Senate’s intentions grips him by the throat-

The Keep sings like stretching, a deep gradient of sound, and Arum scrambles to his feet again and he is relieved in a way he did not know he could be. His Keep is-

(saved, and he lifts Amaryllis without thinking, her warmth in his arms and her laughter in his ear and-)

Awake. Aware, again. It hums slow satisfaction and greets Arum with gentle vines and informs him that it believes the petrification has been reduced by half, at least, while it slept.

It pauses for a long moment then, and Arum can feel the Keep shivering off the metaphorical dust, can feel it pulsing its consciousness throughout the structure, taking inventory of itself besides just the shrinking blight. It hums confusion, and then-

A question.

Arum flinches, and drops his eyes.

“Gone,” he says, quiet. “Long gone by now, I should think.”

The Keep trills, confusion and concern and disappointment, and Arum… well, Arum agrees, but he cannot bring himself to say so. He sighs.

“The cause of your illness has been discovered, and we have made steps towards recovery. Amaryllis kept her end of the bargain.” His shoulders sink and he clings to the vines the Keep has draped around him. “I kept mine. We’re even, now. It is finished. She is gone.”

There is another pause, the feeling of a sigh drifting through their link. Then there is another sensation. A strange flicker of attention as the Keep takes stock of their wider territory, and then a sharp little lance of worry.

Arum tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, and after a moment he understands.

“Still… she is still in the swamp?” he asks, though he already knows the answer. “She should have reached the edge by now, no matter which direction she chose. She should be… well on her way back to her h- back to that Citadel. Why…”

Arum and the Keep feel out into the swamp together, reaching and searching, and they recognize the danger at the same moment.

The amalgam- the vicious little construct that Amaryllis created in her bid for escape-

It is still alive. Alive, and quite close to where Amaryllis is, right at this very moment.

“Keep,” Arum says, frantic. “Keep please I- a portal, now, bring me close, I must-”

He pauses.

“I must hold up my end of the bargain,” he finishes, voice uncertain. “If… it is not… if she does not escape my swamp alive, I have failed to satisfy our deal.”

This explanation is, by any estimate, unnecessary. The Keep is already constructing the portal as he speaks.

He has to wait an impatient moment as the Keep brings him a set of knives, but as soon as he is armed he is through to his wilderness, and he hears Amaryllis’ voice that very same moment.

“-and if we don’t get back and tell the Queen—” she says, her tone sharp, and Arum flinches hard when he hears another voice. Another human. The bisected corpse of the amalgam lies in the mud a few feet away, and the Keep informs him belated moments later that the creature is already dead.

“It sounds like we’re running out of time, then.”

Arum buries an instinctive hiss at the mocking in the unfamiliar voice. He creeps closer, slipping into the branches above as silently as he is able. An argument, then? Why would this stranger, a knight judging by the armor and the sword, why would they destroy the amalgam and protect Amaryllis only to speak to her so unpleasantly?

“We are!” Amaryllis cries, and Arum slips just close enough to see her from above, then, through the green. He sees her glaring up at the other human, her jaw set and her lips turned stubbornly down. She has only been away from him for so brief a time, but still he feels her presence again so keenly, so strangely.

“A fact which concerns you greatly.”

“It does,” Amaryllis grates out.

“Then in that case, I think you ought to get on with it,” the knight says, “and tell me: where is the lizard I must slay?”

Arum does not breathe, for a moment. It does not look as if Amaryllis breathes for that moment, either.

“Please…” Amaryllis says, and her eyes are wide and desperate, and Arum does not understand why she is hesitating. “He’s…”

“He’s what?” the other human says, hungry and eager.

There is a breath of pause, and then Amaryllis’ shoulders sink, her head drooping. “He’s… that way,” she says, halfway a sigh, hopeless and dull.

Arum is not disappointed by this. He is not surprised. He held this human against her will, kept her a prisoner, and despite any understanding they may have come to, they were only ever going to be enemies when all was said and done. A war is on, he had told her, and clearly she understands that. Arum is a monster, responsible however indirectly for countless deaths, and soon to be responsible for countless more. It is perfectly logical for her to explain to this knight where to find him. How to kill him. He never asked for her forgiveness, and he never expected it. He is not disappointed-

But when Arum pushes past the pressure in his lungs, when he makes his eyes focus on Amaryllis again, she is pointing in the wrong direction. She is pointing- as near to the opposite direction from the Keep as she could possibly manage.

Arum stares, his claws digging into the bark of the tree he is clinging to. What is she- why-

Her shoulders are tight, and when the knight looks in the direction Amaryllis is pointing with a satisfied half-smile, Amaryllis’ eyes raise again, narrowed and angry for only a moment before the knight turns her attention back and Amaryllis flattens her expression to something resigned.

She is- Amaryllis is-

She is aiming the knight away from Arum and his Keep. Deliberately. Intentionally.

Arum cannot focus on the words that follow, because he is staring at the little doctor, his mind turning and turning as he tries to reconcile that knowledge, the idea that she- that Amaryllis- that she would protect him. That she is protecting him. That she would look a knight in the eye and lie for him.

The knight is helping her move, now, and Arum understands what Amaryllis means to do only a moment before they step into the sunlight. Into the patch of gold, pooling among the duller green.

A stubborn, stubborn part of him wants to leap to save the Hermit, to protect it from that light it so dearly desires, but-

Arum knows what it is, to cling to the desire for life for so very long. An unceasing and unrelenting toil, because to loosen his grip on that desire will spell his end. Yes, Arum knows how it feels to live because he wants to live in some obstinate, contrarian way. To live because he must.

Arum knows, also, how exhausting that is.

Perhaps the Hermit deserves to rest, now.

It chimes one last time before it is kissed once, and only once, by honeyed light.

Its creations, Arum’s creations- those that remain will live on, their impact yet to be seen, but the potential of the Hermit ceases in an instant. The knight complains, but Arum is not listening. He spares attention for Amaryllis’ deflection only because he is- he is unsure he has ever seen her fully in the sunlight before.

He does not have the words for Amaryllis in the sun. Not even in his own mind. Some moments are too big for such small things as words. He hopes this moment is not too big for memory, as well.

He feels her absence, stretching into his future like a missing limb, like a wound. She steps out of the narrow shaft of light, and Arum’s eyes follow her. Of course they do.

She is brighter, by far, than the light she leaves behind.

Arum exhales, slow and unsteady, and forces himself to stop watching as she walks away. He- he came out here to ensure that she would not die before she left his swamp, he reminds himself, and he needs not worry himself over the matter, now. His assistance is not required.

She is with a knight, one dangerous enough to slay a magical construct that even he and his Keep failed to effectively destroy. Amaryllis will be safe, even if the knight seems- obnoxious and unpleasant. She will be safe. She will be…

He stills, claws digging into the wood.

No.

No, Amaryllis will not be safe, even with her grim-eyed bodyguard. She will not be safe.

She will leave his swamp with her eyes sharp and her heart still beating strong, but out there, out in the wider world, out with the rest of her kin-

She will die.

The thought hits Arum with the force of an arrow as he watches them walk away, the knight urging Amaryllis ahead of her despite the limp and the shoddy crutch. The both of them are going to die. All of them. Amaryllis, and- and every human. The entire Citadel. The place Amaryllis claims as home. If the Senate is successful, if they manage to force his prototype into a quicker growth-

They are all going to die.

Arum already knows this. Of course he does. Arum knew, when the Senate came to him, what they intended. He knew, with the power of the Hermit, that their goals might even be possible.

He knew, and did not care. Or- worse. He cared only that the end of this war would mean that the Senate would have no call to ever contact him again, or to conscript his services. If the war were to end, if humanity were eradicated-

It would have been convenient, for Arum.

Convenient. Amaryllis dead, and he would never have…

Without her, his Keep would be dead as well. He has no misapprehensions about that. And now, now she has aimed this knight of the Citadel away from him, and from his home. She has destroyed a tool she could have used to defend her people (he knows she is clever enough to learn to use the Hermit to its potential, he has no misapprehensions about that, either), but she chose to destroy it rather than allow it to be used and misused, and Arum-

Arum would have destroyed her, sight unseen.

(Would have destroyed Sir Damien, as well. Another bright, stubborn, fascinating creature he never would have known, another clever, infuriatingly charming-)

She is gone now. Step by step, further and further from Arum and his Keep. Far, far beyond him. Arum is alone in his own domain again, just as he desires. Alone, and the Keep on the mend, and he could simply return home now. He can tuck himself into the safety of his Keep and duck his head and wait to see who triumphs, the humans or the Senate. He can hide away in safety as he has always done, until the dust settles at last on this pointless conflict.

But there are consequences to his actions, and there are consequences to his inactions, as well.

If the humans perish, he will bear his share of responsibility for their fate. He will have their blood on his claws.

(He has already suffered honeysuckle’s blood on his claws.)

If the Senate destroys them, it will be with the weapon Arum created.

Arum chose not to kill Sir Damien in their duel, chose to let him stand and fight again. He chose not to kill Amaryllis, chose to let her walk away.

It is- ridiculous, of course, but-

Arum could be content to continue on alone, secluded from the world, if he knew they were somewhere, safe and bright and alive, even if they were far from him. Knowing that they will die, from his action and inaction-

It is unacceptable. He cannot bear- he could not endure it.

If that is the price for his survival, Arum- Arum refuses to pay it. He would rather pay his own life than theirs.

A strange realization to come to, ten feet in the air with his claws digging deeper by the moment into bark. He releases his grip on the poor flora at last, and drops down to the muddy ground below. He steps closer to the little pool of sunlight where the Hermit met its end, but he does not quite step into the light.

There is no trace left of the bloom, not a glimmer of magic or a sprinkling of dust.

The Senate intends to use Arum’s creation in their plan, but it is still… flawed. Slow-growing, unpredictable, and perhaps just as dangerous to monsterkind as to the Citadel, despite the focal object Arum managed to obtain.

… perhaps Arum could petition the Senate for the opportunity to amend those flaws. Perhaps, if Arum could just get close enough, he could-

Arum could… what? Sabotage the thing? Endeavor to destroy it? Even if he were successful, he would never survive the attempt. The Senate would annihilate him, burn him out from his bones, and then-

(Amaryllis aims the knight towards a false trail, fire in her dark eyes, and holds the Hermit out in sunlight)

(Damien gives a scrap of silk not his own, and allows Arum to rise again)

(the nature of caring is sacrifice)

And then, even with Arum dead, Amaryllis would be safer. Honeysuckle would be safer. The Senate would not even be able to then use Arum’s talents or the Hermit to further endanger their species. The Keep would grow a new familiar to follow him, and the Universe would continue on as it always has.

It is not a meticulously constructed plan, but it is not without merits, he thinks with a breath of grim laughter. The Keep will certainly not approve, but the Keep nearly died because Arum failed his duty as caretaker, because he failed through inattention to both of their needs.

Perhaps the Keep deserves a better Lord than he.

He will not resign himself to that fate, though. Despite all likelihood, he will choose to believe that he will survive this mad new strategy. In any case, he would rather not cause the Keep to mourn, and he suspects, as well, that Amaryllis would disapprove of that sort of hopelessness.

He crouches down and reaches to scrape up a clawful of rich, wet soil, watching as some tumbles dark between his fingers to find the ground again. He smiles, wistful, and tucks the dirt into a satchel at his side.

Arum will come home, if he is able. If the universe grants.

But first, there is something more important he must do.