The first time Nicholas Lammel dies, he’s barely twenty.
He spends most of his days crawling his way through school, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do with the rest of his life. If he had any say in the matter, he would continue to party, wasting the years away in a haze of alcohol and drugs until he finds himself in an unceremonious early grave. It’s expected of him. It’s what Isabelle expects of him, even though she won’t admit it. The sheltered, immensely religious girl he’s managed to seduce into his bed is a melancholy woman, one who doesn’t get her expectations high on the off chance that she might be disappointed.
He asks her why one time, and her reaction is simple.
“Those who aren’t overjoyed can’t despair.”
He doesn’t understand what that means until the day he dies. The blown tire sends them spiraling across a highway into the beaming headlights of an oncoming tractor-trailer, and he doesn’t remember much after that. Part of him thinks he heard Isabelle screaming. Part of him remembers her begging, pleading with a force he didn’t understand to fix this.
All he does remember; all he knows fully in his heart to be true is a woman with long dark hair, bound in chains. She leans towards his broken body, brushing a cold hand against his face, and murmurs, softly:
“She wishes me to save you.” The woman tips her head to the side. “Do you wish the same?”
“Yes.” Foolish as he is, he never truly wanted to die. He wants to live, to be in the world, and to live on his terms. However, he has a feeling that that particular want may be dwindling as he stays here, speaking to this beautifully dangerous woman. “I want to live.”
“My help doesn’t come without a cost,” she states, her dark hair curling softly around her face before fading into smoke. “Are you willing to pay it? Will you pledge me your life? Will you die for me?”
“Again?” The quip comes too quickly, and part of him flinches, knowing he might have just made a mistake. But instead, she laughs, deep and throaty.
“Sure. Again.”
He takes a deep breath before nodding, desperate for the breath of the life that lays on the other side. “Yes. I would die for you.”
“Good,” she grins, before leaning in and kissing him softly.
It was simultaneously both the highest high he’s ever ridden and the most soul-crushing low he’s ever hit. He knew without having to ask that his life isn’t his anymore. But, he’s more than willing to give it all away for her.
“Live,” she whispers as she pulls back.
“Who are you?” he asks, but she’s already gone.
The next moment, he’s gasping back to life, and he finds himself surrounded by candles and other ritual items. His eyes turn wildly to land on Isabelle, and she swallows hard before speaking.
“Shar says only the first one is free. Anything after that will be harder.”
Nicholas doesn’t even bother to ask what any of that means. He only leans in to kiss her, cupping her face in her hands and pulling her down onto the altar with him. He can feel the relief and joy in her kiss, the impatient way she tugs at his clothing to enjoy the solace of him being alive, for now.
When they finish, sprawled out on the floor with him tracing shapes against her bare skin, he learns all about her goddess, Shar. How she feeds on despair and desolation, and it all begins to make sense. If he was her joy, then losing him is the most painful anguish. He can’t help but feel the same for her, how if she were ever to leave his side, the pain would be immeasurable—what a delicious offering of pain to the goddess they now both served.
All they had to do was follow her call.
“So, what do we do now?” Isabelle asks, rolling over to face him. “Go back to school and pretend like this never happened?”
Nicholas nods, before leaning back and tucking one arm behind his head. “I think I know a fantastic way to serve her.”
- - - - - -
The second time he dies, coming back isn’t relatively so easy.
He wakes up in the dark and cold, and his body feels like it can’t quite keep up. His limbs are stiff and aching, forcing his movements to be shambling and slow. He groans as he pushes up from the altar, one arm dragging behind him in its uselessness, and he looks over at Isabelle with a frown.
She’s his wife now, and she’s always promised to bring him back, no matter what. She doesn’t look as broken as she had the first time he returned from the dead, but he knows her well enough to see the sadness. She doesn’t want to lose him any more than he wants to lose her. She’s his one anchor in this world, and he won’t allow himself any other distractions or opportunities for despair.
“What’s wrong with me?” he asks, trying to move towards her but not feeling steady on his feet.
“Resurrections with her aren’t free,” she replies, moving closer and placing a hand against his shoulder gently. “If you want to be at your full capabilities, you need to take the life force from something else.”
It’s in that moment that his ears alert him to the sounds of a struggle. He turns to face Isabelle, and over her shoulder, he sees a tall, broad man, the knight of Selune he was squaring off with – the one who killed him. She tips her head to the side and grins in response.
“I thought it would be poetic justice to take it from the man who stole your life.”
He grins as he leans back against her, dragging one of his stiff, cold hands over hers. “I do like the way you think, my love.”
She smiles in return, before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Lean back, and I will make you a whole man again. I promise.”
As he leans back and closes his eyes, he can’t wait to feel the power of life coursing through his veins again. And once that’s done, he will destroy the whole set of them, offering them to his goddess, like a tray of sweets.
- - - - - -
He’s lost track of the number of times he’s died and come back since.
He and Isabelle are not frequently together anymore, but he can still feel their bond. She has her work for the goddess to attend to, and he doesn’t want to keep her from it with their idle projects. He can’t help but be frustrated at the way Ric had fallen apart – though maybe it didn’t. Perhaps the return of his conscience had lasted far longer than he thought it had.
He’ll have to find out before he kills him.
Nicholas awakes on the cold, gray slab, the darkness coalescing around him. He turns and sees the flaming fire of Isabelle’s hair and holds up a hand to reach for hers. “You came.”
“I always will.” She leans in to press a kiss to his fingers. “Though I must admit I am ill-prepared. There have been many unforeseen complications.”
Nicholas rolls his eyes. “Ric and his merry little band?”
“I can’t say I know what you see in that boy,” Isabelle states, and Lammel waves a hand.
“It was a long term gamble that fell apart, thanks to Selune’s intervention. I very much intend to finish it, but first, I have to get me to feeling like myself again.”
Isabelle nods, before looking over the ritual room. “I could go obtain some sacrifices. Bring you back to your full strength.”
He shakes his head before pushing himself into a sitting position. “No, no. I know which ones I want. But we’ll have to act before they can get their guard up.”
Isabelle raises an eyebrow. “Going after those that stole you from me?”
Nicholas grins as he leans in to kiss her. “Why mess with tradition.”
She smirks, before kissing him back. “Alright. Then we better move quickly. I’ll be sure the team is ready.”
“Good.” He reaches for her hand before pulling her in close. “And my love, do remember – you are always the greatest joy I have.”
She smiles in return, squeezing his hand. “And you are mine.”
Nicholas slides off the slab and begins to shuffle after her, a determined look setting over his face. Time to pay back what was so graciously given.
#003 ~ brand new moral code got made reluctant renegade ~ fam game ~ 1,456
The first time Nicholas Lammel dies, he’s barely twenty.
He spends most of his days crawling his way through school, trying to figure out what he’s supposed to do with the rest of his life. If he had any say in the matter, he would continue to party, wasting the years away in a haze of alcohol and drugs until he finds himself in an unceremonious early grave. It’s expected of him. It’s what Isabelle expects of him, even though she won’t admit it. The sheltered, immensely religious girl he’s managed to seduce into his bed is a melancholy woman, one who doesn’t get her expectations high on the off chance that she might be disappointed.
He asks her why one time, and her reaction is simple.
“Those who aren’t overjoyed can’t despair.”
He doesn’t understand what that means until the day he dies. The blown tire sends them spiraling across a highway into the beaming headlights of an oncoming tractor-trailer, and he doesn’t remember much after that. Part of him thinks he heard Isabelle screaming. Part of him remembers her begging, pleading with a force he didn’t understand to fix this.
All he does remember; all he knows fully in his heart to be true is a woman with long dark hair, bound in chains. She leans towards his broken body, brushing a cold hand against his face, and murmurs, softly:
“She wishes me to save you.” The woman tips her head to the side. “Do you wish the same?”
“Yes.” Foolish as he is, he never truly wanted to die. He wants to live, to be in the world, and to live on his terms. However, he has a feeling that that particular want may be dwindling as he stays here, speaking to this beautifully dangerous woman. “I want to live.”
“My help doesn’t come without a cost,” she states, her dark hair curling softly around her face before fading into smoke. “Are you willing to pay it? Will you pledge me your life? Will you die for me?”
“Again?” The quip comes too quickly, and part of him flinches, knowing he might have just made a mistake. But instead, she laughs, deep and throaty.
“Sure. Again.”
He takes a deep breath before nodding, desperate for the breath of the life that lays on the other side. “Yes. I would die for you.”
“Good,” she grins, before leaning in and kissing him softly.
It was simultaneously both the highest high he’s ever ridden and the most soul-crushing low he’s ever hit. He knew without having to ask that his life isn’t his anymore. But, he’s more than willing to give it all away for her.
“Live,” she whispers as she pulls back.
“Who are you?” he asks, but she’s already gone.
The next moment, he’s gasping back to life, and he finds himself surrounded by candles and other ritual items. His eyes turn wildly to land on Isabelle, and she swallows hard before speaking.
“Shar says only the first one is free. Anything after that will be harder.”
Nicholas doesn’t even bother to ask what any of that means. He only leans in to kiss her, cupping her face in her hands and pulling her down onto the altar with him. He can feel the relief and joy in her kiss, the impatient way she tugs at his clothing to enjoy the solace of him being alive, for now.
When they finish, sprawled out on the floor with him tracing shapes against her bare skin, he learns all about her goddess, Shar. How she feeds on despair and desolation, and it all begins to make sense. If he was her joy, then losing him is the most painful anguish. He can’t help but feel the same for her, how if she were ever to leave his side, the pain would be immeasurable—what a delicious offering of pain to the goddess they now both served.
All they had to do was follow her call.
“So, what do we do now?” Isabelle asks, rolling over to face him. “Go back to school and pretend like this never happened?”
Nicholas nods, before leaning back and tucking one arm behind his head. “I think I know a fantastic way to serve her.”
The second time he dies, coming back isn’t relatively so easy.
He wakes up in the dark and cold, and his body feels like it can’t quite keep up. His limbs are stiff and aching, forcing his movements to be shambling and slow. He groans as he pushes up from the altar, one arm dragging behind him in its uselessness, and he looks over at Isabelle with a frown.
She’s his wife now, and she’s always promised to bring him back, no matter what. She doesn’t look as broken as she had the first time he returned from the dead, but he knows her well enough to see the sadness. She doesn’t want to lose him any more than he wants to lose her. She’s his one anchor in this world, and he won’t allow himself any other distractions or opportunities for despair.
“What’s wrong with me?” he asks, trying to move towards her but not feeling steady on his feet.
“Resurrections with her aren’t free,” she replies, moving closer and placing a hand against his shoulder gently. “If you want to be at your full capabilities, you need to take the life force from something else.”
It’s in that moment that his ears alert him to the sounds of a struggle. He turns to face Isabelle, and over her shoulder, he sees a tall, broad man, the knight of Selune he was squaring off with – the one who killed him. She tips her head to the side and grins in response.
“I thought it would be poetic justice to take it from the man who stole your life.”
He grins as he leans back against her, dragging one of his stiff, cold hands over hers. “I do like the way you think, my love.”
She smiles in return, before pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Lean back, and I will make you a whole man again. I promise.”
As he leans back and closes his eyes, he can’t wait to feel the power of life coursing through his veins again. And once that’s done, he will destroy the whole set of them, offering them to his goddess, like a tray of sweets.
He’s lost track of the number of times he’s died and come back since.
He and Isabelle are not frequently together anymore, but he can still feel their bond. She has her work for the goddess to attend to, and he doesn’t want to keep her from it with their idle projects. He can’t help but be frustrated at the way Ric had fallen apart – though maybe it didn’t. Perhaps the return of his conscience had lasted far longer than he thought it had.
He’ll have to find out before he kills him.
Nicholas awakes on the cold, gray slab, the darkness coalescing around him. He turns and sees the flaming fire of Isabelle’s hair and holds up a hand to reach for hers. “You came.”
“I always will.” She leans in to press a kiss to his fingers. “Though I must admit I am ill-prepared. There have been many unforeseen complications.”
Nicholas rolls his eyes. “Ric and his merry little band?”
“I can’t say I know what you see in that boy,” Isabelle states, and Lammel waves a hand.
“It was a long term gamble that fell apart, thanks to Selune’s intervention. I very much intend to finish it, but first, I have to get me to feeling like myself again.”
Isabelle nods, before looking over the ritual room. “I could go obtain some sacrifices. Bring you back to your full strength.”
He shakes his head before pushing himself into a sitting position. “No, no. I know which ones I want. But we’ll have to act before they can get their guard up.”
Isabelle raises an eyebrow. “Going after those that stole you from me?”
Nicholas grins as he leans in to kiss her. “Why mess with tradition.”
She smirks, before kissing him back. “Alright. Then we better move quickly. I’ll be sure the team is ready.”
“Good.” He reaches for her hand before pulling her in close. “And my love, do remember – you are always the greatest joy I have.”
She smiles in return, squeezing his hand. “And you are mine.”
Nicholas slides off the slab and begins to shuffle after her, a determined look setting over his face. Time to pay back what was so graciously given.