Chapter Text
The Primordian shrinks in size, but it doesn’t happen right away. Over the period of a week he transforms and every time Seraphine looks at him he’s just a little bit smaller, the difference miniscule enough for her to wonder if it’s only her imagination, but by Sunday he’s not fifty feet, more like fifteen, and the problem of what to do with him becomes a lot more manageable.
His enclosure is in the sublevels of Anima headquarters, a floor dedicated solely to him, and the glass surrounding it is a foot and a half thick, reinforced with titanium siding. You could probably drop a bomb in there, Yuumi told her, and she’d sounded way too happy when she’d said it. The Primoridan doesn’t look so happy. A third of the huge cell is dedicated to a saltwater pool, and after he first stirs awake he lays by the flimsy, artificial pond, motionless, one of his thick arms submerged at the water’s edge. Were it not for the slow rise and fall of his chest, he could be dead, or maybe dying, but his vitals are good—maybe a little too good.
Seraphine finds it hard to believe it’s over. The tides have finally receded, and the endless swarm of Primordians have stopped washing up on their shores. For now. Without them Final City is eerily quiet. They can rebuild. They can prepare.
Not everyone is happy about capturing Aatrox alive. When Yasuo sees him behind the glass he shakes his head and wanders off in a slouch. When Briar sees him she picks her teeth with one long fingernail and says, “This might end up bad.” When Seraphine looks at Aatrox she thinks he looks—sad, even though he’s still as stone, eyes closed and expressionless. Briar told them all she could about the Primordians, the truth of their war, explained in her own colorful way. The Primordian Queen —the name swims through Seraphine’s imagination. At night she lays in bed, looking at the ceiling, wondering when the sirens will ring again, if she’ll be called up in the middle of the night, rolling out of bed and rushing to put her suit on. (But the Primordian’s biggest threat has been subdued. No sudden attacks, no ambushes. Right now it’s over. Maybe Anima Squad as Seraphine knows it won’t be around for much longer. Maybe the team will disband and they’ll go their separate ways, doing separate things, and they won’t call or text. They’ll say they won’t drift apart, but they will. And maybe Aatrox will lie by his artificial pond forever, dreaming of bigger oceans.)
Night makes every negative thought ten times worse, Seraphine's learned.
She gets up, wandering the quiet halls to one of the squad kitchens. Sometimes Yasuo will be leaned against the counters, brooding, or Vayne, living up to her bat reputation, will still be up at some awful hour, lurking. Seraphine’s a good sleeper, mostly. Sometimes she can’t help but worry, and now when all the worries are supposed to be taking a break, here she still is. Life is supposed to be better now. Or at least it’s supposed to be getting there.
Seraphine opens the fridge and stares at the contents. She’s not hungry or tired at all, not even a little bit. It feels like something’s going to happen, another attack, another big wave, another building falling, another day of being desperately optimistic. She used to have all these dreams of what she’d do after Final City was safe, but now all those plans seem far-fetched. The threat isn’t gone, even if everyones acting like it. Primordians are still out there, deep in the undersea trenches where no sun can reach them.
Seraphine takes the elevator down to Sub-level A, where Aatrox is kept. Barely any lights are on, just a few here and there, illuminating the edges of the massive, sandy enclosure, and it’s all quiet except the hum of the water pumps. Getting Aatrox inside had been the really hard part. The reinforced steel ceilings can split open but he’d still been dead weight, unmoving. It’d taken him half a month to first stir in captivity, another day to even lift his head. Now he’s just a dark lump, laying in the dimness, their greatest enemy.
Seraphine presses her hand flat against the glass, willing him to move, but he remains motionless, and she waits there for a long time.
***
The sea wall is repaired, the streets are getting paved over, and Seraphine celebrates her birthday. She hadn’t been expecting it—hadn’t even been thinking about it, really, and after two hours of karaoke she thinks maybe her friends won’t be going anywhere after all.
(Aatrox is also not going anywhere.)
That night she sneaks back to Sub-level A. She’s been here after-hours over half a dozen times, between not being able to sleep or dealing with a newly rising tide of guilt. She’s visited during the day too, with the rest of her squad, but it’s not the same. Seraphine skirts the edge of the enclosure, trailing her hand against the cold observation glass as she follows the walkway around. Maybe she’s feeling extra emotional because of the birthday party, her friends’ love leaving her soft and tender. She’s on the same side as the water, and Aatrox is still a dim, monstrous shape on the other side of it. He hasn’t shrunk any more but he hasn’t grown either. Seraphine can’t help but feel weirdly sad. She’s been feeling this way for weeks. Empathy is one of Seraphine’s greatest gifts, maybe second only to her voice. She’d championed for Briar’s acceptance, and that's been swell but—
The other side of empathy is seeing a terrifying, apex Primordian trapped in a cage and somehow feeling bad for him.
Seraphine's always hated going to zoos. It never mattered how healthy or happy the animals looked. It was always something that tickled the back of her throat like a sneeze. And Aatrox doesn’t even look happy. Seraphine leans her forehead against the glass, spells strange regret on her tongue.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, closing her eyes.
When she opens them again, Aatrox is looking back at her, molten orange eyes bright in the dark. Seraphine’s breath hitches. She takes a step back. He’s never woken up before. In fact, HQ has yet to establish contact or even see him eat. (They’ve drone-delivered piles of fish that lay there until they start to stink, or they tried varieties of kelp, raw meat, and even a stack of cooked chicken wings, because Briar insisted it was her favorite. But he’s never so much as opened his mouth. Aurora supposes maybe he’s in another stage of hibernation, or brumation—Seraphine doesn’t remember the difference. But maybe he’s finally woken up.)
“C—” her voice cracks. It was all the karaoke. Seraphine winces, clears her throat. “Can you hear me?” she asks, against the glass, wondering if she’s also just a dark shape to Aatrox. Briar doesn’t have night vision, but maybe he does, being the best of what the Primordians have to offer.
Aatrox closes his eyes, unresponsive.
Seraphine swallows thickly. When she gets back to her room she brushes out her hair, which is what she always does when she needs to think. It’s supposed to calm her down but she keeps remembering Aatrox’s eyes, brimming with hot hatred like the sun. She brushes out every tangle, until her hair is especially soft.
(We won because we took risks, Seraphine thinks in bed. Briar, the lab, Yasuo— she rolls over. Risks that all paid off.)
One night later Seraphine is back on Sub-level A and she’s about to do something very risky.
Risky is Briar crossing traffic without looking both ways. It’s Yasuo waiting till the last minute to finish paperwork and it’s letting Yuumi plan out your day with no limits. It’s not supposed to be scanning her access card and slipping inside Aatrox’s giant cell, by herself. The ground is all artificial sand and Seraphine walks unsteadily forward, flashlight in hand. He’s much smaller now, but he’s still very large, larger up close, and his scales glint in the light. She smooths out her suit, stops just short of Aatrox, maybe ten—twelve feet away. He’s the same as always, just laying there by the pond, hadn’t even moved when the door opened. Seraphine rubs her arms. It’s colder here. She should’ve brought her jacket, though the chill runs bone deep as well. This is such a bad idea. Like maybe the worst idea she’s ever had, but Seraphine can’t explain it. It’s like song lyrics, it’s like having to sing. Sometimes there’s a muse that floats down, and all Seraphine can do is follow it, like optimism, the promise of a pretty note.
“Hello?” Seraphine’s voice is thankfully clear and strong tonight, no wavering, unlike the rest of her. Her bare arms have sprung up with goosebumps. Establishing contact has never worked before. Not through the glass, with a drone, or Anima Squad scientists hanging just inside by the door. Nothing’s worked.
“I come in peace,” she adds, quickly, just in case.
Nothing happens. A very risky but ultimately unsuccessful plan.
Except Aatrox suddenly moves. She sees his arm twitch first, and then he is pushing himself to sit up, the sand shifting around him, and he is twisting, glaring over his shoulder at her, eyes glowing bright like yesterday. He and Briar share the same colors, but somehow hers are kind and friendly, and his are—
He reaches for her with one long arm and Seraphine stumbles backwards. “Wait!” she shouts.
Aatrox hisses through shark teeth, up in an instant, not tall as a skyscraper anymore, but still towering. He doesn’t seem to care, chasing her back to the door, and with his massive stride he catches up to her in seconds, before Seraphine can reach the hatch, and wrenches her back by her hair. She loses her grip on the flashlight and it goes skittering across the sand.
“No!” she shouts at him, but he’s still not listening, hauling her up by her hair, till her feet are dangling above the ground and she’s grabbing for his wrist, kicking, face to face with Primordian teeth and remembering just how hard that fight had been, and how stupidly hopeful she is.
“If you hurt me—” Seraphine shouts, desperately. “You’ll be trapped here forever!”
Aatrox’s grimace slackens. He stares at her and she forces herself to stare back. I’m not afraid, she thinks, defiantly, even though she doesn’t feel very brave right now. She has to be. That’s what leaders are; brave because of circumstance.
“You’ll never see the ocean again,” she adds. Her head hurts. “You’ll be trapped.”
Aatrox’s shoulders slowly dip, the low curves of a sand dune as her words sink in.
“As if you would free me,” he growls, and drops her. She lands heavily on her feet. Ow.
“I feel bad for you,” she starts.
“I don’t need your pity,” Aatrox hisses at her. He’s retreating back to his spot at the water’s edge, sitting back down in the sand. Seraphine trails after him, though with a big buffer of space between them. He sounds exactly as she remembers, a voice pulled right out of her dreams.
“I want to help you—”
“I don’t want your help,” Aatrox snarls, louder than before. “Gill-less worm!”
Seraphine frowns. She retrieves her flashlight. “I’m sorry,” she says.
Aatrox doesn’t respond. He’s laying again, a lump.
***
The next morning Sarah Fortune herself calls Seraphine to her private office. It’s near the top of Anima headquarters, since she’s the Commander. There, leaning against her big desk, Miss Fortune pulls up the security feed—Sub-level A—and lets the footage speak for itself.
“What were you thinking?” she asks.
Seraphine twists a lock of hair nervously around her finger. “Well—”
“I’d expect it from Briar, if anyone,” Fortune says. “But— you?”
Yikes. Seraphine ducks her head, feeling the weight of her disappointment like a bowling ball in her stomach. “It was stupid of me—”
“You could’ve died!”
“He didn’t hurt me—” Kind of a lie. Her head had ached for a while afterwards, but it’d been nothing compared to the sprint of her heart rate.
Miss Fortune looks at her. “Why would you even pull something like that?” She crosses her arm, adjusts her bunny ears. “You know how dangerous he is. And after hours? No one would have reached you in time.”
“He looks miserable!” Seraphine drops into the nearest chair, hands balled up against her knees. “I feel bad for him. I know I shouldn’t. You know me, I feel things.” She looks down at her feet. “I feel bad for him,” she repeats. “He just lays there. And I thought maybe if I took a risk—”
“You could’ve died.”
“It worked though,” Seraphine stands up again. “Miss Fortune, I got him to move. I got him to talk.”
Fortune purses her lips. “What did you say to him?
Seraphine thinks back to the way Aatrox had given up, his shoulders sinking like a sunset. The wild rage traded for something much more distant. “I told him if he hurt me he’d never get out.”
***
No more sneaking in, Miss Fortune says. Only daytime visits and only under observation, with a full security team on standby. She doesn’t really get it, not like Seraphine, who somehow thinks she won’t need any security at all. It’s her muse sitting on her shoulder. She takes her guitar from her closet and dusts it off, plays a few chords before she heads to the elevator, warming up her fingers on the strings.
The viewing area looks different during the day, with all the people in it. Seraphine’s got no problem with people, but they’re all crowded around the glass, boring scientists (sorry Aurora) and security guards. It reminds her of a zoo. As Seraphine is cleared for entry, one of the guards hands her a taser. It feels foreign in her grip. Everyone is looking at her, eyes wide and dramatic. Even the door hisses extra loud when it opens.
“Hey,” she says, stopping short of Aatrox. She’s facing his back again, seeing the ridges and hard carapace under new light. It’s much brighter, though the tradeoff is stark white and artificial, glaring down at them both.
Aatrox doesn’t move.
Seraphine shifts from one foot to the other, takes a very small step closer. She’s tied her hair back today. “I’m not trying to bother you,” she starts.
Nothing.
Seraphine glances around. The glass windows are all packed with scientists and guards, faces smeared with worry. Aurora is chewing on her bottom lip. Seraphine loves an audience but this feels so weird.
“Could—” she falters. “Could you guys dim the lights?” she calls out, louder.
After a long minute the ceiling lights cycle a few shades duller, so it’s not completely garish.
“Aatrox?” Seraphine tries. Another baby step closer.
Silence.
“Actually—” She turns to address the room. “This isn’t working anymore. You all should leave.”
Nobody moves.
“Just give us a couple minutes!” she calls out, waving her hand. “Trust me! It’s a big ask but there’s too many people here!” If they’re worried they can check the video feed.
It takes almost ten minutes for everyone to clear out, the last of the stragglers hanging around, maybe arguing. Aurora is the last to go, pausing at the door.
“Are you sure about this Sera?” she asks.
Seraphine glances at her. She swallows and nods, hoping she looks more confident than she feels.
Once they’re all gone Seraphine sits down in the sand, feels music flutter nervously in her chest like a bird.
“It’s just us now,” she says.
Aatrox still doesn’t move.
“I know it must be hard, but are you really gonna lay there forever?” she asks, leaning back on her hands.
Finally Aatrox turns, rolling over onto his back, then sitting up. Seraphine picks up the taser in her lap, puts it back down. He bares his teeth at her. “There is nothing else.”
“I dunno,” says Seraphine, “Briar’s found something else—”
At the sound of her name Aatrox scoffs, and he rakes his claws through the water next to him, causing a sharp splash. “Traitor.”
Seraphine swallows. She fiddles with the taser, puts it aside on the sand next to her. After a minute she pushes it further away. A risk that pays off, she thinks. Aatrox notices this, of course, his orange eyes narrowed.
“Why do you care?” He bares his teeth again. “Songbird.”
“I don’t know,” Seraphine says. “I can’t help it.” It feels impossible to lie when he looks at her.
Aatrox frowns but he doesn’t move. Maybe he just doesn’t understand it. Like how Briar hadn’t understood how washing machines worked, or that humans didn’t usually like being wet all the time. Empathy can be learned.
A couple scientists have already started to peek back inside. Seraphine sees Aatrox’s attention flit to them past her shoulder. She stands up. This whole day-time hours thing is not going to work for her.
“I’ll come back some other time,” she says, picking up the taser again. “Tomorrow. I can bring you something, if you want?”
Aatrox’s scowl deepens but he doesn’t answer, though he digs his claws into the sand beneath him, as if hates it or the whole world. As Seraphine turns to leave he speaks up. “Fish,” he mutters.
“Oh.” She looks back and nods. He must finally be hungry. “Okay we can do that!”
***
Outside the cell she’s swarmed by scientists and even a few people who’ve come up from medical. Seraphine pushes her way through them. She’s not injured or scared. (Maybe a little scared.) She returns the taser and makes a beeline back to her room, ducking questionnaires and security. Once inside she jumps around on the floor by her bed, to feel the movement up and down and the way her chest pounds. Now she’s doing something again, not just waiting for the next battle to be declared or for the next Primordian to crawl up on land. Seraphine sits on her bed, feet swinging, cheeks pink. She pictures the way Aatrox had glared at her, still not hurting her. She picks up her guitar again and for the first time in months she finds a song.