Melpomene screams, and the knife goes into his neck in the same spot that he’d forced the knife in Andre’s. He knows this will be quick, at least. He’s seen it. Tasted it. He dreams about it still, some nights; the blood on the sand, the blood on him, the blood splattered over Melpomene and Ares as they watched.
Death isn’t instant. He has time to think of Kaden, of Marcie. Time to cling to the hope that he was buying a chance at Kaden's freedom with his silence, that he was saving Marcie from being used again by ruthless gods - that it was worth it -
That it has to be worth it, for them-
It’s a faint hope and he’s no good at hope but it’s all he’s got left so he hopes.
Dying gives him enough time to discover he can hope, but dying gives many gifts, and it also gives him time to be so... so fucking terrified.
He doesn’t want death to be quick. He doesn’t want to die at all! There was a moment with Marcie, right at the end when they were saying goodbye, that moment where he’d believed he could be someone new and - he wanted it so much, he wanted a chance to figure out who he might be away from all the trappings of his old life -
He’d started - he’d started - ever since he’d shared the name Ronan with Marcie he’d started trying to untangle himself from the name Tragos. He’d worked so hard to leave Ronan behind because Tragos was stronger, Tragos was chosen, Tragos had the favour of gods -
He’d thought he’d needed to be more than Ronan, to make sure he and Kaden survived.
He does need to be more than Ronan, but he needs to be more than Tragos too, and kissing Marcie goodbye this morning… he’d felt he had a chance to transcend both.
Just a chance - just a chance -
His vision has gone black and red, but his heart’s still beating – still beating – his body is a machine that’s so desperate to live - and spiking through the fear is the regret, a dizzying wave of regret no - no no - there's another way – I take it back – stop – you win – stop – I yield – please – I yield – let me live-