I saw blood, and a bit of it was mine; vaermina

[Caius]

when is a monster not a monster? oh, when you love it He’s lost his wings. Where they once were are now gaping wounds. Beqanna had taken them back, the magic rescinded, had torn them from the joints. It had hurt to become, and it had hurt to give them back, too. But he is used to pain, the boy who grew on a diet of soured milk and bruises, whose mother was a corpse, dead woman walking, who spoke in tongues. The woman who left his skin tender with bruises, who kissed each one after, who said this, darling, this is love. He’d believed her then and he still does, on some level, the fundamental parts of him constructed in that queer childhood, an unshakeable foundation. Though he would never hurt Else, never even think it, his mind buzzes with crossed wires and memories of his mother, how she’d been, how they’d been. He does not miss the wings (he could never fly well with them; he had none of his father’s grace). The wounds haven’t healed yet and he wonders if they will. They will leave giant scars when they do, but his body is no stranger to scars. (It befits a warrior, but he is a solider in rank only; no, these scars are from his mother, from love.) He’s lost his wings; and somewhere along the line he’s lost his purpose, too. Somewhere along the line the Deserts changed hands, to leaders he barely knows, who know him as the black boy, the bygone prince, the failed solider. Somewhere along the line Else went and Elanor with her and he does not know what’s become of them. Loss, loss, loss – it all aches heavy in his bones as he moves along (gingerly, the wounds still bleed readily, a hair-trigger). Loss, loss, loss, and he finds himself in the meadow, blood where there once were wings. c a i u s vanquish x chantale

so my chantale muse is officially dead and im letting her rot in the closet awhile BUT i thought caius meeting his half sister would be fun.
(caius was basically a spite baby, yael rejected chantale so she seduced yael's king/crush and had him)