Author's notes: For dreamsincyanide for patiently putting up with my cackling glee while writing this. And for all the very under fanserved Jezebel/Cassian fangirls out there. Boo, there needs to be more for this pairing.
Cassian was unsure why he'd been born into the body he possessed. He didn't know why he was cursed to remain appearing eternally youthful and child-like.
Perhaps it was the constant starvation of his childhood, the lack of food or clean water to drink that stunted his body? Perhaps it was simply that a God he refused to believe in found it amusing to leave him trapped in the body of a teen.
He'd still been wanting and hungering for things when his parents sold him to the circus. Trying to say they'd been putting a chance for a new life before him was a lie. His small body had left him unsuited for most kinds of money-earning labor and it was hard to sell his body in that way when he was older and wiser. Not when there was a chance he'd actually tell the authorities. So they'd done what they needed to get rid of the excess baggage.
Perhaps they had been wanting for something as well.
Life in the circus was not easy, but it was a different type of hell then the one Cassian was used to. For a long time he was content with his meager lot in life. He was fed more regularly and was given the chance to bathe and even have clean, if slightly threadbare, clothes.
For Cassian who had spent his entire life in rags and hungering for something more then the smoke-choked and tiny wallow that had housed his family, this was heaven. Life had taught Cassian early on that nothing could be certain save for the miserable scrap of food in your mouth. The only certainties were the sweltering and choking heat of summer and the miserable numbing cold of winter. Well, that and that death would always come for you in the end. In the grand scheme of things, the few years of a measly human's lifespan weren't even a blink of the eye for the universe.
In the circus he learned different truths. He learned that missing your cue meant you could expect a beating later. He learned that no matter how much your body might ache, no matter how much you might think you couldn't take another blow, you could always take more.
He learned how to walk a dozen feet above the ground on a slender rope. He learned to throw knives with an accuracy that was almost unsettling. And he learned the true worthlessness of the human existence.
One day, their lion tamer had been stupid and let his guard down.
The lion had seen to the rest, and by the time they pulled the huge beast off of him, the poor man was bleeding out all over the sawdust and dirt floor of the tent.
"Look at this mess! Someone clean it up. We've got a show in less then two hours, damn it all." Cassian had been one of the first to try and help the dying man, but the ringmaster just kicked the twitching man over to reveal the gutted mess of his stomach and chest. Cassian's stomach had turned at the first whiff of bowel and he turned away green. "You stupid bastard." The ringmaster watched the dying man with the rapt fascination of a child pulling the legs from an insect.
The lion roared sullenly, but was herded back towards his cage. He was lean and kept hungry to make him more 'fearsome' and feral for the audience's sake. "Get that brute stowed away," the ringmaster snapped irritably before turning mean eyes on the dark-haired boy. "Cassian! You take care of the body." Never mind the fact that the man nearly out-weighed him by half as much. Cassian knew better then to protest and risk his master's wrath falling on his head instead.
The ruckus died down, leaving only the whimpers of the bleeding and mauled man. The various members of the circus dispersed and left Cassian to deal with the dying. "I'm sorry. It's orders." Cassian did the only thing he could do; he slit the man's throat and gave him as quick a death as possible.
He had been sixteen.
After that, the years sort of melted together. He earned more beatings; learned how capricious life was, and would kill two more times before making his desperate bid for freedom. He had fallen in love, or what he'd thought to be love. It had been an odd experience and ultimately a hollow one. A mistake he'd just as soon not repeat ever again.
Something had changed in him. Before, he'd longed wistfully for an adult's body, but now he craved it with a longing that was far too close to obsession. Before, when he had her in his life, he had thought himself capable of being content if not happy in the stunted form in which he resided.
"I need a man," she'd whispered unhappily, beautiful blue eyes he'd loved so much gleaming with regret. "I want someone who can hold me and make me his." She already had that in the ringmaster but he was cold and callous to her outside of the bedroom.
Cassian had felt his heart break, and in it's place a boiling hot rage fueled by more then thirty years of hardship, cruelty and abuse. Suddenly, Cassian had understood what made the lion lash out at his keeper that day.
Hatred.
He hated everyone who caused him pain and he lashed out with a viciousness that had shocked him. The coppery wash of his former master's blood on his hands had been the most satisfying experience of Cassian's life up until that point. It beat all the pathetic and lonely climaxes he'd gotten with his own hand, and it even beat the bittersweet moment when she had allowed him into her bed. This was satisfaction in its purest and most primal form. This was vengeance, and vengeance was sweet.
He had been so lost in his insanity and heady bloodlust that he didn't realize he'd killed her as well. And that was when it all snapped into place. You couldn't trust anyone else; you couldn't believe them when they said they loved you. Because if you loved someone, then how could you betray them and how could you kill them?
Better he had betrayed her first, right? She would have only betrayed him in the end, right? His mind had cried out against that as horror replaced the rage.
How could he have killer her?!
There had been no time for grief, no time for mourning as he fled that night with the clothes on his back. His meager belongings had been stuffed in a sack and the money from the safe hidden away in his clothing.
The months that followed were a confusing blur. He vaguely remembered a gang of lowlifes (thieves and murders all of them) that he ran with, but little more then that. Cassian had slowly come to the realization that he was now a thief and murderer as well.
At night, when he actually had time to think, he admitted that a part of him wanted to get caught, wanted to face the Queen's justice and hang. That was what was left of the old him, the part of him that had been kind and in love. The hardened criminal he was now easily ignored that part of him. And so he continued his dismal life amongst his band of thieves.
That was how he came to hear the name Delilah. At first, Cassian had written it off as being no better then that self-called medium Alistair Crowley and his cult's satanic rites. What good could magic do him? When he'd seen a demonstration of Delilah's power in the shape of a man he himself had seen killed and brought back to life, Cassian started to dare to let himself believe.
If they could animate a dead body, then surely they could find some way of making his body grow, right? So he'd sought them out. Left behind the squalor and the immoral band of ragtag criminals he'd fallen in with, and he'd courted Delilah. 'She' was fickle and choosey about who was accepted, but he managed to worm his way in there. Or rather, he put a knife in the other applicant's heart and climbed over his back to crawl up into the lowest tier.
They had promised Cassian that if he could prove himself, was useful enough to be worth their time, they could provide him with an adult's body. There would be a price, of course, but there was always a price and Cassian readily agreed to their terms.
One of his first assignments had been Jezebel. They… had not gotten off on the right foot. The good doctor had taken one look at his diminutive form and laughed. "They're sending me children now for assistants?" the doctor sneered with a musical, derisive laugh.
Cassian growled and grit his teeth in order to hold both his tongue and his blades. It would be bad form to murder your first big assignment. His small body tightened as he knelt there, fingers curling into fists as he tried to keep the submissive and supplicating ruse up.
"I'm not a kid, you snot-nosed brat." Okay, well so much for that whole 'polite' way of introducing himself. Jezebel had paused in his amusement to send Cassian a long and assessing look. His violet eyes saw too much and seemed to strip him away layer by layer until the core of him was revealed.
It was disturbing and left him feeling vulnerable. He hated it.
"Hmn… you are a curious one, aren't you." There was a sort of clinical detachment in the blond man's eyes as he strode forward. "Lift your face. I want a good look at you." He would not touch him, of course. He was a human and no doubt carried a multitude of diseases and the like. Digusting humans. Why was he cursed with their presence?
It was probably a good thing Cassian wasn't capable of reading Jezebel's thoughts or the already volatile situation would have gotten even more ugly.
Cassian obediently raised his face as Jezebel knelt, and he found himself looking into the curiously colored violet eyes. They were violet, not a dark blue like he'd thought. In that already effeminate face, they were beautiful and long-lashed. Jezebel lost the mocking look and simply had an expression of curiosity on his face as he looked at Cassian.
The man's eyes were a slate grey and tended to darken or lighten upon his mood. Right now they were pale with anger and resentment at being forced to serve this puppy. There was also fear and a hastily covered flash of uncertainty in the man-boy's eyes. Fascinating. There was no hint of innocence or naiveté, and that pleased Jezebel. "Such old eyes in such a youthful face," he murmured laconically and smiled slowly. "Such angry eyes. Do I not please you?"
"No," Cassian stated bluntly, voice rough and deeper then one would expect from such a young and delicate frame. "But I'll work for you anyway." Cassian's words seemed to please Jezebel, and he stood gracefully with a heavy sway of blond hair.
"The feeling is mutual, I assure you," the tall man murmured coolly as he turned away. "Follow me. I'll show you were your quarters are. I keep strange hours, and you'll be expected to be prepared to serve me in whatever fashion I might require." That imperious voice rankled, but Cassian ignored it in favor of attempting to get along with this man.
His other alternative assignment had been to be attached to Lord Cassandra Gladstone. Cassian, and thankfully Delilah, seemed aware of the pervert's… tastes and had decided against putting such a scrumptious morsel in front of the lion. It would have been a waste of Cassian's unique skills and moral ambiguity to have him paraded around in chains and a dress to suit Milord's needs, a stroke of luck that Cassian blessed with all his heart. It almost had him thankful towards a God he didn't believe in.
Because if there was one thing life had taught him, it was that no matter how unbearable your situation was, there were always worse alternatives.
Jezebel did not make the advances Cassandra would have. Aside from his odd behavior at times and the unhealthy obsession he had with Cain, Cassian didn't have many issues with serving Jezebel. The doctor could at turns be unfailingly polite or shockingly brusque.
Cassian learned soon enough that Jezebel became a different man in the presence of his 'father' and Cassian decided he didn't like that side of the doctor. Jezebel was far too vulnerable and fragile after each harrowing interview with the Cardmaster. As time wore on, Cassian did his best to keep his younger 'charge' out of trouble and out from under his father's eyes.
The fiasco with Meredianna had been just the beginning and perhaps a turning point in his relationship with the doctor. Cassian was no saint, and he would not claim to have saved Jezebel out of the goodness of his heart. He had not been lying when he'd said he wanted Jezebel alive so he could give him an adult body. It just hadn't been the whole truth. He was getting used to the man's insanity and curious ways. Better the evil you knew then the one you didn't.
There were times when he feared and even hated the man for his callous and brutal treatment of his fellow man. Of course, when you spent a fair portion of your time and energy wondering if one wrong word would end your life or if one action would lead to you being on the wrong end of that mad doctor's scalpel, it was sort of understandable. Delilah wasn't exactly known for its kindness or its mercy, but it was the devil he had signed his life and fate over to.
If they could provide him with an adult's body, then he didn't care how many bodies he had to step over in order to attain his goals.
There were moments when he pondered slipping a knife between Jezebel's ribs and putting him out of both their miseries. If his almost suicidal passivity when it came to personal danger was any indication, he wouldn't fight all that much.
Of course, Cassian grudgingly admitted, if he had a father like that and an upbringing like Jezebel had no doubt had, was it any wonder Jezebel was as insane as he was? And despite his shock and disgust at the blond's habits, Cassian pitied him at turns. And as time wore on, he began to care for him. The first time he led the shaking and bleeding man away after the Cardmaster's whipping, Cassian admitted a grim sort of kinship with Jezebel.
That was when he began to see the similarities between Jezebel's life and his past. Had he not stayed at the circus and endured the whip if the ringmaster for years? Was he any better then this confused young man who knew only twisted love and skewed morals?
"I don't need your assistance, Cassian," Jezebel murmured, too proud to admit to needing help tending the wounds on his back. To some, they would have been marks of punishment, of cruelty, but to Jezebel, they were marks of love. It was his father's touch on his back, and it was more precious then even the touch of God. That made them very personal and private, intimate even.
"Right, and how do you expect to clean these and bandage them when you can barely raise your arms?" Cassian demanded bitingly as he picked up Jezebel's medical bag and pulled it out of reach. "You'd have to practically be a contortionist to get them even if you were healthy."
Jezebel narrowed his eyes menacingly and granted his assistant a frosty look. "I think you forget your place, Third Tier-"
"I'm not forgetting anything. I'm being logical, here," Cassian butted in rudely and began to dig out the needed implements. His time with Jezebel had not been wasted and he'd picked up a bit of medical knowledge. Some was useful and some too horrifying to consider for too long. "They put me here to see to your needs. And if that means bandaging you up, so be it."
Jezebel continued to watch him narrowly for a chilly and long moment before looking away with a derisive tone. "You're arrogant. I ought to report your insolence."
"And you're being a brat. What's your point? Now lay down on the bed. I'm not crawling all over that chair like a monkey." Somewhere along the way, the lines between them had blurred a bit, and Cassian was freer around the younger man. His rough upbringing was displayed in his disrespectful manner of speech, but Jezebel either didn't care or didn't notice as he obediently laid out on the bed.
Long strands of ash blond hair rippled across the covers and pooled silkily along his bared flesh. It gleamed in pale flashes of gold against the white linens and turned down duvet. Laying there with his cheek nestled into the crook of an elbow, he looked like a large feline, a feline with mysterious amethyst eyes and the face of an angel. An angel with scars crisscrossing the pale line of his back.
"I don't know why you let him do this to you," Cassian murmured, throat constricting a bit with a sudden upwelling of emotion too tangled and confusing to name. Small and delicate hands calmly wielded the cotton balls soaked in antiseptic. He was gentle as he set about cleaning some of the worst welts with a steadiness that was at war with the emotions roiling through him.
"It's none of your concern," Jezebel murmured stiffly as he tensed at the sting of the medicine in his wounds. Some of the welts had split-open and bled sluggishly as Cassian dislodged the half-formed beginnings of scabs.
"Bullshit. There's punishment and then there's just outright cruelty. He's sadistic and enjoys whipping you."
"How else am I supposed to be forgiven?"
"Don't you dare parrot that load of bullshit to me. I know you don't buy into it." Cassian grew more agitated as their conversation continued.
"You understand nothing," Jezebel growled sullenly. "How could an uneducated, boorish child like you understand someone as sophisticated as fath- as the Cardmaster?" Jezebel demanded, fingers closing tightly around the cross that lay by his cheek.
"Oh, so we're going to fall back onto the whole 'I don't have book learning so I must be stupid' evasion tactic tonight, are we?" Cassian's scathing reply filled the air as he pulled his hands away from Jezebel's back. "Why can't you pull the fuckin' blinders off and realize he's just toying with you like a marionette on a string?"
"It's none of your concern! You're getting dangerously close to insolence, Cassian. You would do well to watch your tongue," Jezebel hissed as he pushed away from the bed, ignoring the screaming of his back as he did so.
"He enjoys whipping you, dammit. And you let him. Hell, you like it!"
"You don't understand." In the face of Cassian's hot temper, Jezebel's reply was decidedly weak and pathetic. He looked away from his supposed servant and refused to meet his eyes. His hair tumbled over one shoulder and curled across his chest in soft waves and curls most women would have killed for. "You don't understand what kind of person he is."
"Hmph. I think I've got his measure better than you." Jezebel did not deign to reply as he started to stiffly pull up his shirt once more. Cassian grabbed his hands with a curse and forced them back down. "I haven't bandaged those yet, idiot! You want your shirt to stick to your back when you wake up?"
Jezebel signed and hung his head before murmuring, "He's such a great man, so much more than all of us."
"Yeah, well considering your opinion of humans and how low it is, that's not saying much," Cassian grumbled as his hands went to work winding bandages around Jezebel's chest.
The doctor was oddly silent.