celestine_fics: A scene from the movie Inception with a revolving hallway and characters moving in it (Movies - Inception - Revolving Hallway)
celestine_fics ([personal profile] celestine_fics) wrote2010-09-04 11:03 am
Entry tags:

Inception fic: Leda (R)

Title Leda
Author: [personal profile] celestineangel
Fandom: Inception
Character(s)/Pairing: Arthur, Ariadne, Cobb, Yusuf, Eames (in mention), Arthur/Eames (if you squint really hard).
Rating: R, just to be safe.
Word Count: 740
Summary: Betrayal is rooted in the oldest of stories; it is framed in the human mind, it is glory as well as pain.
Warnings: Here there be vague mention of rape and torture. Also, no beta.
Disclaimer: Not my sandbox. I'm just moving sand around.
Author's Notes: The title and the line of poetry used in this fic is actually from a poem I wrote several years ago, which I posted in its entirety here. Written as a fill for this prompt at [personal profile] inception_kink.


Ariadne never knows what hits her. Her life goes out as quickly as a candle flame snuffed by an insensitive sleeper.

Arthur watches it happen, but is not so lucky.


Arthur laughs as they beat him, not because he finds being beaten with steel-toed boots and nail-riddled boards of wood to be funny. No, he laughs because it is, on some level, absolutely hilarious that the reason he's being beaten is a man named Thomas Eames. After all, how many times has he muttered under his breath, claiming that Eames will be the death of him?

He isn't certain if this is karma, or simple irony.

Leda, he thinks, and the thought has nothing whatsoever to do with Eames, or beatings, or anything Arthur can imagine other than the fact that Leda is a figure from Greek mythology, and Ariadne is dead.

"Stop," says one of the attackers, and the others leave off. From his position face down on the floor, Arthur can see the leader's knees as the man kneels. The blood soaking into the fabric will be murder to clean, later, and Arthur should know. He's had to clean blood out of too many suits to count, and it's always a terror. The man grabs him by the hair and pulls his head up. "We know you know where to find him."

"You're lucky you caught me dreaming," Arthur replies, satisfied to hear the growl in his voice, "or you'd all be dead right now."

"Not lucky, sport. We plan ahead."

And the man lets Arthur's head drop, it hits concrete, and he's unconscious even as stars explode behind his eyes.


Leda dropped an egg, he thinks. What the hell does that even mean? He has no idea.

Ariadne is not dead, but Arthur wishes she was, wishes it more than he's ever wished death on anyone, and for the purest of reasons. These men have not been kind to her, and they have taken great and sadistic glee in subjecting her to the worst unkindnesses while making Arthur watch. There is no room for error here, they do not torture her in another room where it might be a trick. Every invasion happens where he knows it is Ariadne, and he knows these men will go to any lengths to get what they want.

They are done with her for the moment, done with Arthur, who can't speak. He doesn't want to speak, what is there to say?

All Arthur can do is watch as Ariadne takes out her totem and tests it with hollow eyes that don't fill with tears until the chess piece tells her what it has to say.

He is broken before the men ever return.


Leda dropped an egg and birthed beauty and betrayal.

Arthur knows now, he understands, that in the equation of beauty and betrayal, he is the betrayer, the Benedict Arnold, the Judas Iscariot. What he doesn't understand is why his mind has chosen now to be so damned poetic.

Leda dropped an egg and birthed beauty and betrayal.

They have Cobb, as well, and Yusuf, but Ariadne is the reason Arthur becomes Clytemnestra.

"You're a good point man, Mr. Faust," says the leader, and Arthur's insulted that the man uses his real last name. It shows failure on his part, somewhere along the way. The man notices, and chuckles. "Oh, don't worry about that. If the information still exists, my point man will find it. To continue, you're a good point man, very good, but there's always someone better. Always. That's why it doesn't pay to get too cocky. Like our mutual good friend, Mr. Eames."

Here's where it comes, Arthur knows, and he isn't wrong. The leader doesn't give him a chance, though, he's also very good at what he does, and he doesn't know Arthur's already broken. Before saying anything else, he takes his gun and shoots Cobb in the thigh.

Dom does his best not to scream, but the low groan through gritted teeth is just as horrible.

Eames is beautiful, the beauty half of their equation, but Ariadne lies across the room with deadened eyes, and Dom is bleeding and needs attention. Arthur can only hope that Eames--Thomas, he never told me his first name, it's Thomas, and it fits him--will understand why he makes this choice.

"Where is Thomas Eames?" the leader asks him, voice low.

Arthur answers.