
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12465500.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M, Multi
  Fandom:
      World_of_Darkness_(Games), Jessica_Jones_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Annwyl_Llewellyn/Devlin_Alistair
  Character:
      Annwyl_Llewellyn, Devlin_Alistair, Cadoc_Llewellyn, Original_Characters
  Additional Tags:
      Original_Character(s), Rape/Non-con_Elements, Murder-Suicide, Child
      Murder, Implied/Referenced_Child_Abuse, Mind_Control, Supernatural
      Elements, Self-Hatred
  Series:
      Part 1 of Rise_from_the_Ashes
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-10-23 Words: 2675
****** Breathe: A Compilation ******
by SoftLullaby
Summary
     Annwyl Llewellyn, a compassionate and kind mage, a paragon healer.
     The sort of girl who wants to help any and everyone around her, only
     to be betrayed by that very nature. Enter Devlin Alistair, a man
     capable of getting anything he wants from everyone around him. With
     the power to make his desires reality, how can Annwyl hope to emerge
     unscathed?
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
      Look into this mirror tell me
     What do you see?
     Beautiful can't begin to describe you
     Or what you mean to me
     Come a little closer to me
     Let me see you spin
     Want to get inside of your mind
     I'll make you let me in

     Open up your eyes
     To the possibilities
     Take it there love the fear
     You'd be surprised
     How good it feels
     To just let go

      And breathe, breathe with me
      Breathe, breathe with me…
 
His control was gone.
She could feel it, as though the crushing vice grip in her head had gone away.
She could breathe again, and there was a relieving sense of giddiness spreading
through her limbs. Part of her wanted to laugh but she feared the moment she
did so, he would hear. And he would wonder why. It terrified her to draw his
attention to her; the moment was far too exhilarating for her to simply let it
go now.
Standing upon a rooftop, her pale pink skirt tugging across her calves in the
wind, she simply took a moment to stare. She had seen this view many times, but
never through eyes that  she  owned. Skyscrapers rose upward toward a painted
sky, the city that never slept.  I hate the city. The constant noise deafens me
to the world.
She longed for nothing more than the feel of dirt and grass between her bare
toes, to run free, to feel the absolute vibrance that life had to offer. She
longed for the natural world again, the heartbeat of life thrumming in every
wind rustling past the treetop spires. The pulsebeat of the world was a
beautiful, magical thing, and she longed to hear it. The steel had no
character, no life, no love. She could not feel its spirit, and the life which
hummed just beneath the surface was drowned in a macabre cacophony of
dissonance and death.
But with the control broken, she found herself finally and truly free.
It was only then that she stumbled upon the realization that in order to
escape… she would have to walk right past him. That sudden, sharp realization
chilled her to the bone, fueling a new frenzy of hopelessness. If he saw her
attempting to escape, it would be over. That hopelessness pressed in upon her
so acutely that tears sprang into her eyes, the lump in her throat causing her
breath to freeze in her lungs.
Everything seemed suddenly more hopeless than it had when he owned her mind,
but that was only because of the choice which lay before her. On one hand, she
could wait for him to return and draw her back into the tangled web of
wrongness. And when he did, she would be turned into a killing machine, all
over again. But her other option… the only real way out… was to fall.
She stepped toward the edge of the rooftop, her feet shakily carrying her the
short distance. She could fall to her death, and she would be free. He would no
longer be able to use her as a weapon against his enemies.
Closing her eyes, she relived those moments. The moment when he told her to
kill. It was a single word, a command that sparked so much wrongness. Magic was
not meant to be used as she had. It was not meant to warp and transform her
body into that of a ferocious beast. She was not meant to have claws or fangs,
and yet his command always incited the most overt display of magic. She hated
that the most, the perversion of the arcana she had once employed to heal. It
was unnatural, the way he forced her to manipulate it, and she could not scrub
the taint of it from her skin.
It was then that she realized the horrible, deafening truth - she would rather
die than let him use her like this. She had been made a monster, and it was
slowly killing her on the inside. As her hands reached out to lift her up onto
the overhang, she felt peace wash over her. This was it. This was the right
path. She had to fling herself into oblivion. It would save not only the
countless scores he meant to use her to kill, but herself as well.
"Annie!"
His voice permeated her mind and she froze, feeling the tendrils of his control
creeping up on her again. She balked at it, fighting it as hard as she could.
"Annie, get down from there! Get down from there  this instant !"
Although she tried to fight his command, she felt herself stepping down,
turning to face him once more, safe with no threat of falling. She felt her
heart sink as he crossed the remaining distance to her, lifting a hand to hit
her hard across the face. "You ungrateful bitch!" he snarled at her. "I gave
you the world, freed that pesky inner demon of yours, and this is the thanks I
get?! You try to off yourself at the first chance you get?"
A moment later, his gaze softened as he reached out to stroke the side of her
face. "Don't do that to me, ever again. You scared me shitless, Annie."
Somewhere in the back of her mind, where it still belonged to her, she felt
revulsion at his use of her pet name. She wanted to scream at him that he
simply had not earned the right to use it. "Why did you do that? Why did you
try to kill yourself?"
Since he had not commanded her to answer, she still had the wherewithal to
refuse a response. So she stood there, silently, praying he would not demand
the truth. But she knew he would. He always did.
"Tell me," he said softly, commanding her at last. "Tell me this instant."
"I wanted to be free of you." The words tumbled out quickly, without her
consent. But that was the way it always was. At the forefront of her mind was
that desire to do anything, just to make him happy. It made the other parts of
her brain, the ones that wanted for her to do the same for herself, so much
more fuzzy. It no longer mattered. All that mattered was Devlin Alistair, the
man she would do anything for, no matter how much that tiny part of her
despised it. "I don't want to kill anymore. I thought dying would be better for
everyone."
Her words brought a sudden flash of anger into his eyes, and he stepped back.
Without even thinking about it, he withdrew the small knife from his boot and
tossed it on the cement between them. "Pick it up," he demanded softly. Quiet
though his tone might have been, there was no gentleness.
She found herself compelled to pick it up, even as a voice within her railed
against it.  Annwyl, no! Don't listen to him!  And yet she did. She curled her
fingers around the hilt and stood, her eyes on him, waiting with baited breath
to see what he would demand of her now. Eager to do as he pleased.
"Slice your arm. Deeply."
The part of her mind that was lucid suddenly drove her to weep, and yet the
tears that fell down her face seemed alien, not matching her expression in the
slightest. Without hesitation, she lifted the knife and pressed it to the
vulnerable part of her wrist, making a swift, deep strike against the flesh.
The sting of pain elicited a soft cry from her, yet she swiped again and again,
feeling the warm rush of blood upon her skin and hand. Soon, it stained the
pale pink of her dress.
The cuts were deep furrows by the time he finally stepped toward her, placing a
hand over hers and whispering, "Stop…" She did not move her hand away, it
merely froze in place to accommodate his command. His fingers curled around
hers. "I'm sorry to cause you pain. I just… I don't want to lose you, Annie.
Please don't ever hurt me like that again…"
He drew the knife from her hands before pulling her in close. She wept
silently, with only the small portion of her brain capable of understanding why
the tears fell.
 
      Shadows fall onto our bodies
     From a winter sun
     Lace on lace in strawberry shades
     As we both come undone

     Open up your world
     Show me the deepest secrets
     I would I'd understand
     Watching us burn
     Into a million pieces
     One touch of your hand

      Breathe, breathe with me
      Breathe, breathe with me
 
Annwyl had defied him. She had defied Devlin Alistair, and all because there
was still a small part of her that did not want to do his bidding. And so when
he had commanded her to lie down, naked, and embrace him lovingly, she had been
unable to do so. That part of her mind did not love him, and so when she had
embraced him, the love had been flat, hollow.
He had used her body, but it had been a moment devoid of response. She was
capable of passion, but not for Devlin. The lucid part of her brain would deny
him, knowing that there was still a man out there who would not use
supernatural abilities to get what he wanted from her.
No, that man would coax her, and he would recognize that although her body
responded to Devlin's, this was still rape. This was still against her will.
This was not her consenting, and there would be a man who would recognize that.
She felt Devlin stiffen and suddenly he withdrew from her, rising to his feet.
She did not move, although she turned her head to watch him, knowing her gaze
would be hollow and empty. The part of her that he commanded no longer felt
anything, and it was mirrored in her gaze.
"Is there truly no love for me, Annie, dearest?" he murmured as he stared down
at her, his gaze hard and cruel. "Cannot muster that feeling? Well… Perhaps you
can be persuaded."
He went to the door and wrenched it open. "Cale!" he barked to the boy sitting
outside. "Bring me two of my girls. I do not care which ones. Just bring them
to me, now." Though she did not see it, Annwyl knew that Cale had sprung to his
feet, eager to do his master's bidding. That was the poison in Devlin Alistair.
The poison which flooded others and turned them into mindless zombies, eager
for his approval. Perhaps not even that. Perhaps they were eager for his
happiness. It was the single most important thing to them once he sank his
claws in.
And yet… Annwyl was devoid of that desire now.
Two young girls, no older than sixteen, slipped into the room. They appeared
fresh faced, calm, and certainly not afraid. Both peered up at Devlin with
absolute trust and devotion. He reached out, one hand on each girl's cheek.
"Get up, Annie."
His command lanced through her and she did as he bade, slipping from the bed
merely to stand beside it. She looked across at him and the girls, knowing her
face was a dispassionate display of nothingness.
He spoke softly to the girls, and they began to disrobe before they moved to
the bed themselves, laying their naked bodies on it. "Watch them, Annie. Do not
take your eyes from them, no matter what. And do not touch them." There was
something in his words that chilled that small part of her, a knowledge that
this was going to go poorly. And as her eyes fell upon the young girls, she
understood that the worst would not be for her - it would be for them. He was
going to do something, rip something, from these poor girls.
And she was helpless to do anything.
She could never have imagined the nightmare which ensued. It began innocently
enough, with Devlin instructing the girls to start touching one another,
exploring their bodies sexually. It was a tender thing; even if it was still
perverse and wrong, at least there was no pain. But each instruction from
Devlin drove the girls deeper into the well of debauchery. Annwyl felt tears
forming in her eyes as she watched, listening to the cries of pleasure the
girls inspired in one another. At least he had not compelled them to please
him. At least the girls would not be forever scarred by his cruelty.
With a smile, Devlin looked across at her, bidding her meet his gaze. She did
so, and his smile soon faded. "So incapable of a loving expression?" he said,
his tone hardening. "I suppose this seems innocent enough, doesn't it? As if
there is nothing I can do to make this worse. But you shall see just how wrong
you are… Watch them again, Annie, dearest. Watch them, and hear their screams."
The nightmare manifested, breaking through the fog. He commanded the girls to
kill one another, but not in so few words. Instead, he instructed them to tear
each other apart. Ripping the skin from the other's body, reaching in and
tearing at muscle and sinew. Neither of them cried, because this was beautiful
for them. They gazed at each other lovingly, even as they died in that bed.
Even as their little fingers did such terrible, awful things, deconstructing
each other's bodies.
Devlin did not allow them to stop, not once. He let them kill one another,
although in the end, his words were for Annwyl. "Pretend you love me," he said
softly. "Gaze upon me with it. Let your body writhe beneath mine with it. If
you fail again, I will do this. Over and over again. And next time, I will use
toddlers."
He turned and left Annwyl beside the bed, then, and part of her brain wept.
Part of her brain wished he would have bid her step away, or at least look
away.
Instead, she watched. Watched the two bodies laying there on a blood-soaked
mattress, still in death, their faces painted with utter devotion.
In that moment, she hated him.
 
      You can have me
     Touch me slowly
     Kiss me softly
     Take me under
     Whisper loudly
     Push into me
     Mark my body
     Lose control now
     Take me over

     Breathe
     Take me over
     Breathe with me
     Take me over
     Breathe
      Take me over
      Breathe with me
 
"Kill him, Annie."
Part of her mind railed against it.  No , she screamed inwardly.  I can't kill
him. Anyone but him. Don't make me kill my little brother…  Tears spilled down
her face, and for the first time, she truly hesitated. Devlin inspired complete
devotion, but Annwyl loved her brother. Cadoc was her flesh and blood, and the
thought of killing him destroyed part of her inside.
"Don't make me do this," she finally whispered, finding the will to say aloud
what her heart had been screaming. "I'll kill anyone else for you, whenever,
and I'll even make love to you, for the rest of our lives. Just… don't make me
kill my brother. Please…"
Anger danced along every line and contour of Devlin's face. She had defied him,
spoken out against him, and yet he could see the will was costing her. Beads of
sweat lined her brow, and she fought against his compulsion. He smiled
dangerously at her as he stepped forward, leaning in until his lips nearly
brushed her earlobe.
"Kill him, Annie. Because if you don't… I will… and I'll make him suffer."
Left with no other choice, Annwyl did as he said. In a single, swift motion,
she fueled her life magic in order to kill Cadoc. The boy instantly fell to the
ground, not having felt any pain as her magic had channeled his life force out
of his body. She wept inwardly as she slowly lowered her hand to her side.
I'm sorry, Cadoc…
It was then that she recognized true hopelessness.
End Notes
     Although not technically set in the same universe as Marvel's Jessica
     Jones, elements of her story have given rise to my own tale. Devlin
     Alistair is not Kilgrave; he is a vampire who's abilities have
     surpassed those of most. His commands can be as simple or as complex
     as he desires them to be. And Annwyl Llewellyn is not Jessica Jones.
     True, she shares the same idealism and desire to help people, but her
     personality is a gentler, less abrasive one. I hope you enjoy the
     tale as it spirals out of control.
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