The metal plate is too cold, the large platter held tight in December's grip as he stands at the entrance of another ornate door. Like most doors in the palace it's littered in multicolored jewels, rubies and emeralds reflecting the light from a far off window down the hall. The morning air rushes through the slightly cracked window, breeze dancing through the long stone corridor, swaying December's hair as it passes by. It carries with it an odd warmth, summer looming over them with each passing day, the scent of blooming flowers and crisp air barreling through the breeze.

His gaze traces the blocks of sunlight scattered across the stone floors as he attempts to gather even an ounce of courage. Celeste had ordered him to deliver the mystery plate to this corridor with no explanation, just shoving the silver platter into his arms and instructing him to not remove the domed lid that shielded its contents from view.

December doesn't bother to knock, rather turning to push open the wooden door with his back, the silver platter too large to allow him a free hand. With a creak the door gives way to a room drenched in wet air, the atmosphere heavy and bogged down with thick humidity. It's hard to breath, the congealed air struggling to make its way into his lungs as he shuts the door behind him, the atmosphere only condensing with the absence of the corridor's breeze.

"When the guards said a human was coming I was expecting it to be Ryder."

That too-soft voice has December spinning, arms nearly dropping the silver platter as he hastily drops his gaze to the water soaked floor. He can't help the embarrassed flush that rushes across his cheeks, head still downcast as he makes his way across the aureate bath house.

The entire room is carved from marble, his reflection staring back at him through the cream colored floor adorned with veins of gold and white. Matching pillars trace the perimeter of the room as they stretch into the domed ceiling, disappearing into sketches of white flowers and golden clouds. It's breathtaking, the room filled with the sound of trickling water escaping from the mouths of oversized sculptures.

Each one is sculpted with precision, the scales of each fish bulging from its marbled base. Sunlight reflects off their scales, light glimmering against each gold detail from the ceiling length windows placed throughout the room. If it weren't for the steam clouding the room, the sun cast in the reflection of the marble and gold would be blinding.

December can barely pull himself out of his awestruck stupor, gaze finally falling upon the large pool of water and the small fae that floats within it. Even while bathing he's cloaked in sheer robes, the wet material sticking to his bare flesh leaving nothing to the imagination. The fae doesn't seem to notice however, small hand brushing away at dripping curls before addressing December once more.

"You might as well stay since you're already here. Besides, everyone already knows I broke the Purity Law so it doesn't really apply to me anymore. There's a robe in the wardrobe you can wear." His tone hints to more of an order than a suggestion, waif finger pointing towards the golden armoire at the end of the room.

Silently, December places the silver platter at the edge of the colossal pool, arms grateful for the release of the heavy object. He doesn't object to Wren's requests, rather making his way towards the golden armoire at the far end of the room. The bathing robes are softer than they appear, though they stick to his sweat drenched skin sticky from the humidity of the room.

The water's surface glimmers with the light of the windows as December sinks within its depths, body rested against a marble step concealed around the perimeter of the pool. It's deeper than it looks, water threatening to crash  against the bottom of his chin if he doesn't stay pressed against the rim of the pool. Although the fae stands a few feet shorter he doesn't seem to be bothered by the threat, rather wading in the water across from December with the slightest of smiles pulling at his lips.

Without warning, Wren is directly before him, small frame pressed against his own as December's breath stills. Every muscle tightens in suspense as Wren's face brushes against his, the skin of his cheek dewy and warm before he pulls back with a glass in hand, eyes scanning December's features in one swift move before breaking into a soft smile.

December still can't release the breath held hostage within the depths of his naked chest. Body burning as his back presses against the cool marble rim of the pool as his body begs to draw away from the small creature ahead of him. Wren doesn't seem phased by December's reaction, twinkling glass pressed against his lips as dark eyes flash in amusement.

"You're scared of me." He plays, thick liquid sloshing as he spins his glass. It's contents stick to the sides of the glass, residue remaining long after the liquid has crawled back to the base of the chalice.

"I'm not scared of you." December states through constricting breaths, body betraying him at every turn as he wills himself to calm down. To gather each breath locked within him and settle his ever-racing heart before the small being placed before him.

Burgundy settles on blue, eyes locking if only for a brief moment as both attempt to examine the other. To understand the words neither will speak and try to drag them to the surface to no avail, the two falling into a silence filled only by the splashes of water trickling into the large pool.

Wren downs the remainder of the chalice in one go, tongue drawing against black cherry lips as he eyes the glass in his hands, brows furrowing slightly though the expression hastily fades away.

"I'm scared of me." It's barely a whisper, only audible by their bodies being pressed so close to one another in the water. Wren only draws closer, hand reaching across December's shoulder to place the now empty chalice onto the silver platter. Yet his body lingers there, the sodden fabric of his robes sticking against December's chest, breaths warm on his neck as Wren's hair grazes the other boy's jaw.

December can feel the all too familiar fear crawling it's way into his chest, body tensing slightly with each breath that draws against his neck. Though it feels as if years have passed, the sensation begins to slip away, body thawing though Wren stays pressed so closely against him. December can feel the heat radiating off the creatures body, the sensation of his thin legs brushing between his own as Wren steadies his foot on the marble banister beneath them.

He doesn't comment on Wren's statement, the remark already drowned out by his own racing thoughts, chest rising against Wren with each quickened inhale. It's a steady mix of fear and confusion, of why Wren stays so close against him even after all he's done. Why his forehead finds itself falling against December's bare shoulder without fear, without hesitation as if the events of Haven had never unfolded. As if they're somehow close to one another, as if December isn't the cause of everything wrong in this boy's life.

He's so small... so fragile and feminine as his cheek pulls away from December's shoulder and their eyes meet once more, pain flooding into confusion though it's unsure who sources which. He seems so different now, December's gaze unable to fall away from the damp curls plastered against splotchy cheeks, the curve of mulberry eyes and cherry stained lips pulled back with an absentminded bite. He smells of fresh strawberries, the scent sharp and crisp and bleeding with the fragrance of Earth.

December's breath falters in the slightest though he's unsure why, why his chest tightens slightly yet the adrenaline of before never comes. His stare can't help but fall upon the crescent scar of Wren's shoulder, the silver skin highlighted by the wet fabric clinging against it.  Guilt rushes through his throat like bile, eyes darting to Wren's pinprick arm before falling away in shame. The work of Haven still remains after all this time, the memories imprinted on his skin a constant reminder of December's actions, of his sins that he can no longer bare the thought of remembering.

Wren's hand falls upon the crescent scar, fingers wrapping around it tightly as he speaks. "It isn't your fault." He sighs, dragging the hand away with a splash. "I don't blame you for what Abrahm did."

But I do. "Wren-"

Wren shakes his head in opposition, water flinging from his curls in every which way. "As sick as it sounds I was prepared for it to happen." Somehow his too-soft voice falls softer, words barely audible against the trickle of the nearby fountains. "The Purity Laws have been around for a while, which means that the fastest and easiest way to dispose of a king is to..." he doesn't speak the words, lips parted though no words escape, rather a rub of the shoulder to substitute for the words too painful to mutter. "Sasha trains us for how to get through it, how to just pretend to be somewhere else so it doesn't hurt as much."

December can't push away the cloudy memories of lifeless eyes pressed against the floor, blank stare burrowing into his soul though he begs for it to leave.

"Either way," Wren sighs though the breath is too shaky, quivering fingers pressing harder against his shoulder to still themselves. "you didn't know about it so it wasn't your fault. I don't blame you."

There's a fire that sparks within December at his words, a flame that spreads to the tip of each finger and burns against each cheek. A fire that threatens to overflow as he grabs the boy by the shoulders, knuckles white from the force in which he grips his flesh. "You don't get to say that!" December screams, breaths panting as his grip tightens until the boy winces in pain at the touch. "You don't get to say that you don't blame me! I am to blame!"

It's the first time December has ever been angry. The first time he's ever wanted to scream into the abyss, the first time he's wanted to wildly shake the person before him to get them to understand. He's angry at himself, angry that this being doesn't hate him as much as he should. Doesn't hate him as much as December hates himself. "I did this to you!" He yells though the fae doesn't react, Wren's eyes squeezed tight against the onslaught of screams cast among him.

"You should hate me. Why don't you hate me?!" The last part is more to himself, a question that has refused to release itself since the moment they first walked into this Hell. The question that resurfaces every time he thinks of Wren sparing their lives in the woods, resurfaces when his mind falls back to the cave and the warning he was given, the warning that ultimately saved his life. "Why don't you hate me!"

"I do hate you!" The words are broken, each one spoken with immeasurable pain as Wren shrugs away December's grip though the imprint remains burned in his flesh. "I do hate you." Wren cries, teeth digging into his trembling lip as his chest heaves with each quaking breath. Yet no tears fall, just a pain locked behind each eye locked tight onto December. "Forgiving you is the only way that I can pretend that nothing ever happened to me. If I can forgive you then that means nothing changed, that I haven't changed!" He shouts, the ball of his palm coming up to wildly push away at whitened clumps of hair.

"I can pretend like I'm still Fae, like I still have my innocence and like you didn't rip that away from me!" By now his screams have fallen to cries, tears rushing across his cheeks as they fall into the pool water submerging them. His shoulders can't stop shaking, eyes shut tight against the pain that now flows out of him in steady streams.

"But everything hurts and it doesn't stop and it hasn't stopped since I've gotten here. I haven't been able to get rid of this feeling, this craving since I've gotten here. It feels like there's this tick scratching at the back of my brain and I eat and I eat and I eat and it won't go away and it hurts!" His fists have found their way to his dampened curls, fingers pulling wildly at each strand as he cries.

Eventually he manages to calms, gasping breaths shuttering with each inhale as his hands fall away, nails scratching against his pinprick arm though he shuts his eyes against the sight. "I want to kill you..." It's merely a whisper yet it echoes throughout the room, the words nearly silent as they fall upon December stood frozen against the marble. "I want to kill you. I wanted to kill those guards. I wanted to kill Abrahm." He begs. "I wanted to burn Haven. I-"

His face falls into December's chest, body heaving with tears as his nails dig into the boy's shoulders. "But if I forgive you I can pretend like those thoughts aren't there. I can pretend I'm still the pure fae that I was before you took me. That I'm not a vampire, that I don't crave death and blood and that I'm not capable of hatred."

There's nothing December can say, no response that could possibly calm the body clinging tightly to him. There's nothing he can do but wrap his arms around the trembling body, pulling it within his heated embrace though every ounce of his body advises against it.

Yet somehow he overrides instinct, overrides reason as he holds the boy tighter, the small, fragile, broken boy that clings to the enemy's embrace. The enemy who pets back each curl, who wipes away each tear without thinking as he buries his own tear stained face into curls now void of hue.

Now void of the life that he drained.

Void of the innocence that he stole.

Void of the soul that he burned away.

——-
A/N
Omg this chapter got to be waaaaay too long and I literally only put like one thing in this chapter that I planned on soooo ya sorry this scene is getting extended into a second chapter lol !!