What the #?*!

He didn’t stop her when she went for the liquor bottle, didn’t care to. Her drinking habits were the least of his concerns then and there. He didn’t care when she reacted to the blade slicing his palm wide open. There was nothing she was going to do for it, and he didn’t need to be taken care of. She grabbed his wrist, and though the instinct was to once again rip away from her, he held fast to the small, the truly fucking minimal amount of self control that still remained at that very moment. He held fast to the seemingly fleeting clarity that the pain in his hand was giving him. He wanted to do it again, to make the cut deeper, but he knew Ashetta would have his dagger - and his head - if he tried.       Kalt felt his lip twitch when she snapped the denial of his half-formed accusation. He felt her hand tighten around his clenched fist, but it didn’t even feel like his own. He wasn’t himself, wasn’t actually in his body, but merely observing from the outside. It was surreal, and he despised it with a burning hatred. He couldn’t focus on anything but anger, blinding rage that kept him moving, always moving. He had to move. Staying still meant certain death, and he had made it this far alive. But was he? Was he actually alive? Maybe not... Maybe he had died nineteen years ago. Maybe he had died the moment he stepped foot into the Keep with Harkon.       ’You don’t do anything about this.’     The words echoed in his mind, ricocheting endlessly and overlapping each time it started over. It was a warning to him, a warning to stay away from Alistair. Well, fuck that. For him, a warning was a challenge. Stay out meant there’s good stuff inside if you want it enough. Private property only lasted while the occupants were there. No warning ever stuck for him, and if she thought the flashing of lightning veins would be enough to make him reconsider, she had forgotten who it was she was dealing with.       ”Stay away from him?”He said, almost tauntingly, a flicker of a grin on his lips almost verging on madness. ”Stay away? Or what, Ashe? You could never kill me, and you know that. The only reason I don’t leave now to rip his motherfucking heart out of his chest is because of how it would hurt you! Everything I’ve ever fucking done has been for you!”       His heart was racing, thundering in his ears as loudly as a stampede, and he couldn’t think. Can’t breathe, don’t think, don’t think, breathe. Can’t, can’t, fucking can’t!       Kalt moved out of her grasp, taking a step back. ”Do you remember it, Ashe? Hm? Or have you shoved it so far from your mind that it fell out?” Every breath drawn felt strained, like breathing through a thick bedsheet. ”Do you remember the mask, or just the face beneath it when you killed him? Do you remember the gloves? Because I do. Do you remember them touching you, taking from you? Because I fucking do.” He didn’t remove his eyes from her, and his body was on fire, as shaking fingers began to unbutton his shirt, smearing blood on the fabric. ”I remember every bit of it, know why? Because Master made sure I knew. Every. Single. Detail. Of how he took from you and had you satisfy him.”       His shirt was was shrugged off and balled in his bleeding fist, so she faced the massive X covering the entire front of his torso. ”This was one time, Ashe,” he said, pointing to the crossing scars. ”I fucking fought for you, so you didn’t have to suffer him.” His voice was starting to waver, and he hated himself for the weakness that was showing. Kalt dropped his shirt and stepped towards her, showing her the numerous burn scars over his forearms from what could have only been a hot skewer. ”You never asked me why I have so many scars, and I thanked the gods that I didn’t have to explain because I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t bring that part of your life up, but it’s time because this isn’t fucking acceptable. Not in the slightest.       ”You were a fucking...” Kalt turned away from her for a moment as his eyes began to sting and blur. ”Fourteen months...”His voice shook, and he turned back to her, his jaw feathering and lip nearly trembling with every break between words. ”For fourteen months... Fuck, you were a fucking kid. I tried, Ashe. I tried so fucking hard.” He didn’t feel the first tear escape. Didn’t feel the second. ”Fourteen months under the whip to keep him from going near you, but he had me locked up when he... I couldn’t...”       He brought his right hand up and wiped down his face, ridding himself of the stray tears as he looked at her again. ”I fucking tried, Ashe. I tried so fucking hard to keep those gloves, that mask from becoming such a dark hell to you, but I failed. My tattoo? Every spot in it was a time I fought Master in Northaven. Sometimes trying to kill him, sometimes to protect Theea, sometimes to keep him from you and the people you love, but I did it because it was a matter of survival. Fifty-three fucking times I fought him. When you finally killed him, it was such a fucking relief. Never again would we have to be faced with it, but Alistair...” Again, his voice trailed off, and he had to pause to breathe. ”Alistair has brought it to our doorstep again. We fought tooth and nail to escape that hell. I don’t care who’s wearing the mask or what his intentions are. This isn’t okay.”       Finally, Kalt stopped, to breathe or to think or to just fucking stop for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t know. His eyes searched her for some kind of answer, an indication of what was surely flooding her mind. ”How can you be so okay with the man you gave yourself to wearing the face of the man who would have raped you if you had been just a little less than his favorite weapon?” Kalt I  am flesh and I am bone, i rise up, ting ting, like glitter and gold i've got fire in my soul