Chapter 65 - Beach House, Again.
He turned to face me fully, his gaze direct but not accusatory. "Raphael," he began, his voice low and steady, "I know I hurt you. Deeply. Seeing your reaction in the council room... it was like a physical blow."
He paused, as if searching for the right words. "In my focus, in my determination to change things, I... I didn't fully consider the impact it would have on you. What I did... it was necessary, Raphael. I still believe that with every fiber of my being."
"Look at me, Levi," I began, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "It's not just the methods you employed, the cold efficiency of your revolution, or the council room – though those things haunt me still."
"It's you, Levi. The core of who you have become. It's not about the secrets you kept, the weight of your family history, the stain of your noble blood, or even the breathtaking ease with which you seized power. It's not about the external circumstances." I leaned forward slightly, my gaze unwavering. "It's about the man who stood there, detached and absolute, convinced of his own righteousness even as he inflicted such pain. That man... that is who I struggle to reconcile with the person I once loved."
Levi remained silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the sand at his feet. The raw honesty in my voice seemed to have struck a chord. The usual intensity in his eyes was replaced by a flicker of something akin to... confusion? Or perhaps a dawning, painful understanding.
When he finally looked up, his expression was stripped bare. "So," he said, his voice low and almost a whisper, "it's not about what I did, but who I am."
He paused, as if grappling with the weight of my words. "And who... who do you think I am, Raphael?"
There was a vulnerability in his question, that surprised me. It was as if, for the first time, he was truly seeing himself through my eyes.
A soft sigh escaped me, the words I spoke laced with a profound weariness. "You are someone perpetually out of reach, Levi," I said, my gaze steady despite the ache in my chest. "Distant. It's as if you reside on a different plane of existence, where the concerns and vulnerabilities of ordinary people are abstractions."
I gestured softly, encompassing the quiet beauty of the twilight. "It's impossible to truly see you as human, Levi, because you don't see anyone else that way. People are pieces on your board, obstacles to be overcome, or instruments to achieve your grand design. Even your affection feels… calculated, a strategic move rather than a genuine connection."
A muscle twitched in Levi's jaw, the only outward sign of the impact of my words. His gaze, however, remained fixed on me, unwavering. There was no immediate denial, no flash of anger. Instead, a dawning that looked painful.
"Perhaps," he conceded, his voice low and rough, "perhaps you are right. "
He looked out at the darkening sea, his expression troubled. "But I always saw you..."
“Levi. You always called me ‘Pulla’. Which meant, skittish. And you purposely took me inside that room. Where you unleashed a raw, cold, fury and a second later you chuckled like a child? What did you expect from me there? That I hug you and stroke your ego, what was the endgame in that?”
He finally broke eye contact, his gaze drifting back out to the turbulent sea as the last vestiges of daylight faded.
"Pulla," he murmured, the nickname sounding foreign and heavy on his tongue. He paused, a long silence stretching between us before he spoke again, his voice low and strained. "The council room... that was a mistake. A miscalculation. I wanted you to understand the necessity, the weight of what I was doing. I wanted you to see the ugliness I was fighting against, so you would understand why such drastic measures were needed."
He finally turned back to me, his eyes filled with a raw, almost desperate intensity. "I expected... I don't know what I expected. Not a hug, certainly. But perhaps... understanding. Or at least... acceptance that it had to be done."
“No… No. Do not go that path of persuasion. Do you remember, after your mother ordered my assassination, you burnt down a mansion for retribution. Then you told me that you evacuated everybody to their safety. I am sure you remember my reaction to seeing the inferno from the window. Was it not clear to you, that I would not… find it okay to see you, making ten powerful men beg to you with a snap of fingers?”
Levi’s gaze flickered, a spark of defensiveness momentarily igniting before being quickly suppressed. He ran a hand through his hair, a rare display of agitation.
“That was different, Raphael,” he said, his voice tight. “That was about protecting you. Retribution for what they tried to do. They were a direct threat.”
He paused, struggling to find the right words. “The council… they weren’t innocent, Raphael. They were entrenched in a system that was bleeding this country dry. What I did… it was a necessary surgery, however brutal it may have seemed. I ensured their families would be provided for, that there wouldn’t be unnecessary suffering.”
He looked at me, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Don’t you see? It wasn’t about the power, the spectacle of them begging. It was about dismantling their authority, showing everyone that the old order was gone. It had to be decisive, swift, so there wouldn’t be a prolonged period of chaos and instability.”
His justifications, however logical they might sound in his own mind, felt hollow. The burning mansion, the begging councilmen – different scenarios, perhaps, but both painted with the same brushstroke of absolute authority wielded without empathy for the human cost.
“I never said you were wrong. I understand the abuse you suffered, with your family. I understand why you did what you did. But… It does not change the fact that I was traumatized. I still have nightmares sometimes.”
A visible wave of something – perhaps understanding, perhaps frustration – washed over Levi's face. He ran a hand through his hair again.
"I know, Raphael," he said, his voice softer now, the defensive edge gone. "Finn told me about the nightmares. And I... I apologize for that. I never wanted to cause you that kind of pain."
He looked down at his hands, his expression troubled. "The abuse... it shaped me, yes. It fueled a need for change, a burning desire to dismantle the systems that allowed such cruelty to flourish. But you're right. Understanding the root of my actions doesn't excuse the impact those actions had on you. And for that... for the fear and the nightmares... I apologize."
His apology felt more genuine this time, stripped of justification.
"Well... Please tell me about your three months. How were you?" I asked, my voice softer than I intended.
Levi hesitated for a long moment, his gaze drifting out to the darkening sea before returning to me. The shift in topic seemed to catch him off guard.
"The last three months..." he began, his voice a little rough, as if unused to talking about himself in such a personal way. "They've been... a whirlwind. The initial transition was more volatile than I anticipated. There was resistance, pockets of loyalists who refused to accept the new order. It required... decisive action."
He quickly softened his tone, seeming to catch himself. "But things have begun to stabilize. The cabinet is functioning, albeit with it's own internal power struggles. We've begun implementing some of the reforms I spoke about – land redistribution, education initiatives..." He recounted these developments in a factual, almost detached manner, the visionary leader outlining his progress.
Then, his gaze softened again, a hint of something else entering his voice. "Personally... it's been isolating. There are few people I can truly trust." He paused, his eyes meeting mine. "I missed you, Raphael. More than I expected."
He knows my weaknesses, knows how much I crave genuine connection. Is this a moment of vulnerability, or just another manipulation? My gut clenched.
A long silence stretched between us, the sound of the waves a constant, mournful undertone to my words. Levi finally broke the stillness, his voice low and heavy. "Are you saying... it has to be one of us?" He looked at me, his gaze searching, as if trying to decipher the unsaid implications.
Stolen story; please report.
He stood up slowly, his silhouette stark against the darkening sky. "Raphael," he said, his voice gaining a dangerous edge, "after everything we've been through... after everything I've done... do you truly believe I would ever let you stand at the edge of any cliff?"
“Levi. Either I yield to you, and enter your life or you leave everything behind and come live with in this quiet, humid, beach house. Yeah. There are no bridges,” I stated, my voice holding a quiet certainty, my gaze sweeping around the simple, peaceful space.
He finally spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. "Leave everything behind?" He gestured vaguely towards the unseen capital. "The revolution... the future I'm building..." He turned back to me, his gaze intense. "And come here? To this... quiet life?" There was a note of disbelief in his voice, as if the very notion was incomprehensible. He took a step closer, his presence once again imposing. "Raphael, you know that's impossible. Everything I've done, everything I'm striving for... it's for a purpose." He paused, his eyes searching mine. "Can't you see that? Can't you be a part of that? We could build this future together. You by my side, your..." He hesitated, searching for the right word.
His attempt to frame my choice as a rejection of something larger than ourselves, a refusal to join his noble cause, was a familiar tactic.
"Levi," I said, my voice firm despite the tremor in my chest, my eyes locked on his, "my peace, my sanity... those are my 'greater good' now. And they cannot coexist with the man you have become in that world."
The choice was his.
Levi stood motionless, his gaze locked on mine, his expression unreadable in the fading light. I could see the internal struggle playing out on his face – the conflict between his ambition, his vision for Ascaria, and my ultimatum. Finally, he took a slow step back, a subtle gesture of retreat. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost to himself. "So... that's it then?" It wasn't a question directed at me, but a statement of reluctant acceptance. He turned back to me, his eyes holding a profound sadness. "I can't leave it all behind, Raphael. Not now. Not after everything."
My voice, though soft, held a note of weary finality. "Yes, Levi. I see it now, with a clarity I wish I had possessed sooner. You chose your vision, your revolution, your 'greater good' – and in doing so, you chose a path that I cannot follow. You chose ambition over us."
The question of the cliff's edge had been answered.
Levi's unwavering gaze held mine. "No, Raphael," he stated, his voice firm, brooking no argument. He took a step closer, the distance we had carefully maintained shrinking once more. "I understand what I've done. I understand the pain I've caused. But you are wrong if you think I will simply accept this. I will find a way to bridge this gap, to build a bridge between my world and yours.”
“My world is here now, Levi. Quiet. Peaceful. What are you willing to leave behind in your world to meet me here?” I asked, my gaze sweeping from his face to the tranquil surroundings, a quiet challenge in my tone.
Levi's unwavering gaze held mine, the intensity softening slightly as he considered my words. He looked around at the simple beach house, then out at the tranquil expanse of the sea. "Leave behind..." he murmured, the words almost a question to himself. "The revolution is still young, Raphael. The foundations are laid, but the structure is still being built." He turned back to me, his eyes searching mine.
“Levi. You can do anything you want, can’t you? But, you simply can not leave power behind. That is your resolve. Stop with the noble cause thing. No. Ponder the truth of your own being,” I stated, my voice flat, stripping away any pretense as I met his gaze squarely.
A sharp intake of breath was Levi's only outward reaction, but his eyes, those intense, calculating eyes, flickered with a sudden, raw emotion I couldn't quite place. Hurt? Anger? It vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a controlled stillness. "Is that what you truly believe, Raphael?" His voice was dangerously soft, each word measured. "That I am so consumed by power that I am incapable of choosing anything else?" He took a step back, creating a small but significant distance between us, as if physically recoiling from my words. "My resolve," he repeated, the word laced with a hint of bitterness. "You see it as a hunger for control, a refusal to relinquish authority. But what if it is something else, Raphael? What if it is a sense of duty, a responsibility I cannot simply abandon? Do you truly believe I can walk away from the chance to build something better, something that will last?" He paused, his gaze piercing. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps the lines have blurred. Perhaps the pursuit of that 'noble cause,' as you call it, has become inextricably linked to my own sense of self. But to say I am incapable of choosing you... to say I value power above all else..."
“It seems that I struck a nerve. Think, Levi. You are infuriatingly good at it,” I observed, a hint of wryness in my tone, watching his composure crack.
A wry, humorless smile touched Levi's lips. "Indeed, Raphael," he conceded, his voice regaining a measure of its usual control, though the undercurrent of something raw remained. "You always had a knack for cutting straight to the bone. It was one of the many things that... intrigued me about you." He took another slow step back, creating a more comfortable distance between us once more. The intensity in his gaze softened slightly, replaced by a thoughtful, almost introspective quality. "Infuriatingly good at it," he repeated softly, as if the words held a certain weight. "Perhaps because you see me with a clarity that others... cannot, or will not." He looked out at the darkening horizon, the last sliver of light disappearing beneath the waves. "The truth of my own being," he murmured, echoing my words. "It is a question I have been grappling with more than you might imagine these past months."
“Great. Then Levi… Instead of me being Raphael Blake. Maybe you can be Levi Everett. Isn’t it everything you wanted? To be freed from the noble blood you despised. Well, here is your chance. An actor, with little money and a beach house,” I said, a faint, challenging smile forming on my lips.
A long silence stretched between us. Levi's gaze remained fixed on mine, his expression a complex tapestry of surprise, consideration, and something akin to longing. "Levi Everett," he repeated, the name carrying a newfound resonance now. He looked around at the simple beach house, then back at me, a genuine, unguarded smile touching his lips. "An actor," he mused, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards. "With little money... and a beach house."
He took a slow step closer, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that felt different now – less about control, more about genuine inquiry. "And you, Raphael Everett," he said softly, the use of my maiden name sending an unexpected warmth through me.
“Raphael and Levi Everett…” I murmured, a small, hopeful smile touching my lips, the warmth spreading through me at the sound of both our names intertwined. "Yeah," I echoed softly, my gaze meeting his. "Raphael and Levi Everett. No kings, no revolutionaries. Just... two people."
A slow smile spread across Levi's face, a genuine, unguarded smile that reached his eyes and softened the sharp angles of his features. It was a smile I hadn't seen in a long time. "Raphael and Levi Everett," he repeated, the names rolling off his tongue with a newfound lightness. He took another step closer, closing the physical distance between us until only a breath separated us. "It sounds... like a dream," he murmured, his voice husky. He reached out, his hand hovering near my cheek, then gently, tentatively, his fingers brushed against my skin. This touch was different – no burning, no possessiveness, just a soft, hesitant exploration.
A small, hopeful smile flickered across my lips, a fragile echo of the lightness in his voice. The scars of the past three months were still there, a dull ache beneath the surface, but the possibility he offered, the image of a life stripped bare of power and ambition, held a powerful allure.
"No," I said softly, my gaze meeting his, my voice a quiet promise. "I'm not naive enough to think it will be easy. There will be ghosts, Levi. Memories that will resurface. Doubts that will creep in." I reached out, mirroring his tentative touch, my fingers brushing against his hand. "But... yes. If we both truly want it. If you are willing to leave behind not just the power, but the need for power... then maybe. Maybe we can build something new, something real, just Raphael and Levi Everett."