❂
Gage stayed exactly where he was, belly pressed to the ice, head cast downward as if he were part of the frozen landscape itself. Shame so heavy it felt like rocks had filled his limbs, and his bones felt imobile, crucified in place. It was followed by raw confusion, and a furiousness so palpable it left a bitter taste on his tongue, leaving behind an uncomfortable knot in his throat. He could hear the venom in Fennick’s words—familiar, yet alien coming from this new form. But even in this new shape, Gage was so attuned to the man above him that he flinched with each accusation that was spat his way.
He had harbored many thoughts about his king, many unwelcome, far beyond the scope of his duty as guard but never once had he entertained the notion of harm. It went against everything he had been made to be; it was everything he was not.
Startled, his breath caught at the admission that burned his ears and darkened his mind, a cold rage turning hot and bloody beneath his skin.
Surely, he did not mean….
To the guillotine again— Impossible. Could it somehow be true? Had the Crown’s Dawn fallen, leaving their king and kin to the clutches of beasts too wretched to deserve breath? Had Gage brought this on by his own weakness? He had fallen, been weak. He’d failed.
Surely it was a jest, just a cruel mockery to try and widen the gulf between them.
A snarl tore from Gage, almost in time with Fennick’s words. His jaws snapped beside the paw he’d lain against, spittle flying and splattering across the ice. His chest heaved, tail an angry lash behind him, claws a screech against the frozen surface beneath.The desire to make the rebels pay flared within him, to rip flesh from bone until nothing remained, with him as judge and jury. Merciless; he’d be the very monster they whispered him to be.
But it was too late.
There was nothing he could do now. He could do nothing to change what had already happened and instead he was left with….this mess.. A fucking mess. One he’d played a part in.
He let the words be thrown at him, let Fennick draw out a sword and drive it against him without a fight. Gage lay there and took it, his breaths uneven and hot, sending a cascade of steam upward. Had it been anyone else, he’d have already attempted to rip the tongue from their mouths, would have never let it get this far. But for Fennick—he would allow most anything.
At last, he lifted his head, slowly, as though fearful of scaring off the man he had called King. His eyes, glazed with defeat, sought Fennick’s, searching, yearning. “You may not a wear a crown atop your head at this moment,” he hissed, voice low and leaden. It felt as though each word was ripped from his chest, baring wounds he wished no one would see. “But I’d bow to you a thousand times over.”
And he would.
As if to prove his point, his head dropped back down with a thump, another whine slipping out—loud and ragged, an odd sound to leave such a beast as he. Even his tail shifted with the gesture, tucking low beneath his hindquarters, the cold of the ice sending a shiver across his spine. His tongue swept out, only once, to brush against the light fur on Fennick’s paw. “I—” Gage cut himself short, teeth clenching. This wasn’t how a guard should act, not to the man he’d died protecting.
He swallowed roughly, and forced his limbs to obey, shifting until he found himself standing on unsteady paws. The weight of his own collar, strangling in its symbolism, made him wince. His gaze swept across the freckled face of the man he’d sworn himself too, head dipping in spite of his towering height. “I failed you,” The shame flared in his chest like a fresh wound. “I won’t make the same mistake again.”
Gage’s face twisted, rage flickering in the depths of a stormy gaze. His nostrils flared, short ears twitching.
Abruptly, he stepped back, giving them both space—a respite from his oppressive nearness.
“So I ask again… he began, his breathing ragged against the distant howl of the wind, "for forgiveness. If there is any left in you for me, I… I beg it.”
He had never looked weaker in his life, and had there been an audience, perhaps he’d have acted differently, but here, with just the two of them, his guilt was all-consuming.
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