#He expects you not to be insulted completely unfairly. He's got no mask on - why are you attributing malice (that is there in his ow-

[nshtn]

how well do you think wesker would get along with a s/o or friend with ASPD?

writing RE5 wesker and making him way more sociopathic than I normally pen him for the bit.

with ASPD? well, he has ASPD. severely. he's a psycho-sociopath - i fear this is one of the more effective passive ways to strip him bare when it comes to existing relationships, but it also makes him almost unrecognizable as the Wesker that is often presented to the audience. i also think he would overly-strip his own persona to chameleon their own until he's acting a degree of detached he doesn't even find himself.

kinda DDDNE below i'm ngl!

i think he would literally just be like "hey, what are positive reinforcements for you?" and then literally reward/punish them like they're an algorithm and not really a person. cut out the middleman of silly things like "overly-abundant lingual placations" and "social engineering in an attempt to garner a one-sided lovebombing relationship relative to interests". he's not fretting about reciprocation or communication too deeply. he'd probably drop a lot of his persona around them because there's no point, depending on the type and severity and the level of friendship that is shared.

probably likes to talk about deeper aspects of humanity he finds confusing with them. (issue: he's a know-it-all hotheaded egomaniac who is snobby & pompous) yes, he knows why people are programmed with disgust, but isn't it annoying? why must he fret in the trenches of 'reciprocal social warmth' so that his plan - benevolent in its' leanings (absolutely not) - may progress? why can his intention, the bigger picture, never serve as enough for most of this useless, ungrateful population?

he has to stem his brutal honesty when others speak. people twine their words around common idioms and metaphors, dancing around truths that mean nothing to him just to spare their own hide. it's difficult for him not to spring into a lecture when his scientists do something wrong that he could never. he has no empathy to spare for failure to incubate limited, unstable samples. must he do everything - must he teach everyone everything every time, or will they find insult in that, too? and doesn't his little friend find it difficult to participate in this annoying "dance"? it's draining.

i think he'd express less of his anger towards them specifically because, if their ASPD is severe, they're likely not even doing things to intentionally seek it (unless they're acting directly, inescapably incompetent - but he won't pull out the big book of ad homs; why do it if it is to no effect? he almost wishes they'd respond to his prodding so he'd have something to use, so used to the mask that going without feels itself a breed of foreign.) he automatically views them without the same level of malice as long as they don't harbor thrill-seeking in destruction or passive, extreme homicidality like Marcus.

he'd likely spring into deeply philosophical or scientific topics with them with very little to buffer between it, nixing the small talk that people are used to because it isn't optimal - ever the optimizer, to the point of mania - the kind of man who rounds a corner, spots them, and immediately breaks out into whatever problem he's run into with his own research with no buffer. hello, rubber ducky! of course, he expects the same from them, but he'll mind a lot less if they drudge through small talk, safety in the knowledge they find it as useless as he does when they're both public-facing. (the truth is that wesker does not mind the small talk when it's all about him, but...)

do they not feel an irk when they must relax their tension manually? do they find it difficult to pull the proper degree of smile that a situation demands - never too much, never too little? he will flat-out ask if he can imitate if they're really that good or find it easy - while he can certainly do it, he doesn't invest as much of himself as he reasonably should as a bioweapons manufacturer and continually sits on the splitting, guillotine's edge of the necessary imitation. he'll also learn the tics that represent the sign that their irritation is peeking through when they're with others and act as their wingman, swooping in to pull them away with the expectation they'd do the same for him.

probably keeps them around for Excella's invasions of personal space like they're a beacon of safety.

they talk about how natural he was afterwards - where he can improve, what was perfect, where irritation bubbled into the periphery. they will likely have picked up on the fact that he bathes in positive reinforcement and preens to it. honestly, they could probably defang him and have him under them if they play their cards right.

he'd definitely probe on how deeply it effects them - neurology intrigues him and is a cog in the grand machine of his research, and to learn about the finer parts is useful, especially if he might want to induce it in people who carry uroboros (what grand, irredeemably unreachable goals - to invade the brain will only result in severe irreversible cannibal disease). he would definitely seek the physical representations that underpin it, and would feel great interest in the difference between someone who was born with ASPD vs someone who developed it.

blue umbrella already knew how to make weapons out of the thick dough of the humanity they're initially presented with. he needs to know how to do it at the genetic level.

willing to experiment with eachothers lack of:

"did you hear about [x]? do you want to see the raw footage?"

"at what age did you realize you felt a separation?"

"have you had an f-MRI before?" ... "what about an EEG?"

definitely puts his hands on their shoulders, waist, or grabs their wrist occasionally in interactions, examining their face for the telltale signs of flush. display it, do it. give him something to work with, please.

treats them clinically, in an almost insulting way, simply the way he treats others stripped bare. over time, as the fascination pours and froths over, it becomes playful and natural.

as he gets to befriend them more closely he'd be willing to be indebted to them to provide them with what pushes their own personal goals forward. unfortunately, i think he'd always have a degree of his own personal separation because they're an uncontrollable variable who knows enough of his depth that they could fuck him over. he will always strive to put out the ward that that goes against their finer sensibilities.

i think he'd fear that being too truthful with them, especially about his own goals, would make for another birkin. at the same time, there's a draw to someone so similar or even worse than he is, especially if he can use them as a nearly-consensual canvas without much prodding.

if he can talk with them about topics that usually evoke disgust in others, this will be the ultimate springboard into the breaking dam of friendship into a warped intimacy.

kinda nsfw:

he'd definitely enjoy getting reactions out of them to an unhealthy level that becomes near-exponential as his interest breaks the dam - if they're a sadomasochist, they're in for a fucking ride.

what closeness and ultimate equality in standings would look like to him would be different than it would be for someone who lacks ASPD - would they like to test uroboros? he could do some gene edits to produce an artificial compatibility... this is, to him, one of the most intimate questions he could ask someone in this unique setting; it is like marriage, flipped on its' head from something done without a second thought to a ritualistic, hierophiliac art form. would you join him on his pedestal and ascend? do you want to become true equals?

[dakotacrisis]

Transferred (3)

Standoffs, salt, and sappy moments.

___

The days leading up to Marinette’s goodbye party and subsequent departure from her school were...difficult. Word spread quickly that Marinette was transferring schools. It was a somber affair. No one approached Marinette about it. She wasn’t even sure they really believed that Marinette was actually leaving. Surely their comments that she should leave the school weren’t to be taken literally. It was the middle of term after all. This had to be a rumour that started spreading after the chaos of yesterday.

Marinette sat alone in the courtyard munching lazily on a muffin and flipping through a magazine. She hadn’t spoken a word to anyone all morning. Adrien was making up a photoshoot that got rained out a couple days ago leaving Marinette stranded.

“Marinette,” Alya approached her, “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” Marinette closed the magazine. A small spark of hope fluttering in her chest as Alya took the seat next to her.

“There’s no easy way to bring this up so I’m just gonna say it. There is a rumour going around school that you’re transferring schools. That is just a rumour right?”

Marinette took a deep breath and shook her head. “No. I am leaving at the end of the week. I’m transferring to College Lycee Carnot.”

“Oh…” Alya took a sudden interest in the concrete floor. “Is it because of what happened yesterday?”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at her. “What other reason would I have?”

“I know that yesterday wasn’t great but to transfer schools because of one bad day?”

“It’s not just one bad day, Alya. It’s been an entire month of bad days. The pranks, the sabotage, the manipulation, the lies--” Marinette took another calming breath, “I can’t take it anymore.”

“I know that things haven’t been great. I’ve noticed that you’ve been stressed out lately and maybe I should have done something, said something earlier, so we could have avoided this mess.” Alya peered back at Marinette, “I don’t want to believe that you stole all that stuff. You’re a bit of a spaz but you’re not a thief. I don’t believe Lila is either. It’s complicated is what I’m trying to say.”

“Whatever,” Marinette muttered under her breath. She was done trying to convince the others that Lila was the devil. It was a waste of her time to try.

“Hey, I’m trying to be reasonable here,” Alya huffed, “You’re my friend, Marinette. You’re a good person and with all the stress you’ve been under you were bound to snap eventually. It’s a human response. But taking it out on Lila and the class was too far.”

“Alya--”

“Then going ahead and storming off to switch schools is a dramatic I didn’t think you capable of. You got in a fight, it didn’t reflect well on you so now you’re running away instead of owning up to the fact that you were in the wrong this time.”

“You haven’t listened to a thing I’ve said!”

“Or maybe you aren’t listening to what I’ve been saying. You don’t like Lila, fine, you’re allowed to not like people. But what about the rest of us? We’re your friends and you got mad at us for defending someone you were unfairly blaming for your streak of bad luck. Don’t we deserve an apology? Is your personal pride worth losing all your friends? Are you actually that vain?”

Marinette smashed the remainder of her muffin on top of Alya’s head. She didn’t fully realize what she had done till it already happened. Angry tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. “My friends would believe me. Since no one does I guess that means I’m losing nothing.”

Alya kept opening and closing her mouth trying to form a coherent sentence. Marinette got up and left cursing herself for losing her muffin for such a short lived moment of satisfaction.

That spark of hope from earlier had died completely. If she was taking her frustration out on her supposed best friend then what hope left was there? No. Now only a smoking sense of absolute discontent lingered.

When class started again Marinette wasn’t surprised to see that Alya had moved to the empty seat next to Nino. Adrien took Alya’s former seat next to Marinette. He tried asking her what had happened while he was gone but she shook her head. She didn’t want to relive that conversation again. Not when Alya was right there.

Adrien walked Marinette back home after school and she explained the situation to him then. He listened and cringed when she got to the part of her smushing the muffin on Alya’s head. Just another bad decision in a long line of bad snap decisions she had been making this month. She wouldn’t apologize though. Brushing a few crumbs out of her hair was nothing compared to the sensation of Marinette having her heart ripped out and stomped on everytime she entered the school grounds.

“I don’t think she’s gonna come to the farewell party after that.” Marinette flopped down on her couch. “Are you sure you won’t just cancel it?”

“I already ordered a cake so yes it is.” He joked as he took the seat next to her, “I know this sucks but can I get a smile? A little smile?”

“I don’t wanna…” Marinette pouted.

“Fine, that’s fine,” he scooted closer, “But what if I…” he started tickling her and she squirmed away with a laugh. “There it is. There’s a happy Marinette.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She sighed. If there was anything good to take away from this horrible month it was that it had certainly brought Marinette and Adrien closer. She was still a nervous wreck when she even thought of him in a romantic way but these dumb moments were easy. He was a friend in a time when she didn’t have any.

Adrien’s phone beeped. “I gotta go, the Gorilla is waiting for me.” Adrien stood up again, “If you need someone to talk to you know how to get ahold of me. See you tomorrow, Marinette.”

“See you,” She walked him to the door. He gave her a quick hug and went down the steps leaving Marinette with a dorky smile plastered on her face. Of course only Adrien would be able to lure a genuine smile out of her after such a disastrous day.

Marinette’s last days at Dupont flew by. She hadn’t said a word to anyone other than Adrien the entire time. Finally it was the day of her farewell party. Adrien had a set up in an empty classroom for the small party. While no one from their class was willing to come he had convincingly invited Aurore and Wayhem from one of the other classes to come. He also invited Kagami which Marinette wasn’t too keen on but if they were going to attend school together they might as well try to get along.

Marinette was packing up her locker when she felt a presence behind her. She turned around and didn’t let anything show as she came face to face with Lila.

“What do you want?” she turned her back on her as she continued to empty her locker.

“I came to say goodbye. I didn’t think it would be that easy to get rid of you. You have the same annoying tenacity as another self-righteous pigtailed worm. But then again, you aren’t very super. At least Lady-barf can claim to have skills even if she owes them all to her magic toys. You don’t have anything like that though.” Lila was practically purring with satisfaction, “You’re just a sad little nobody that can’t tell when she’s outmatched. You’re doing the right thing by leaving. Without you getting in my way I’ll be running this school. I’ll probably even have Adrien wrapped around my little finger before too long.”

“Insult me all you want, Lila. Your words mean nothing to me. You’re a compulsively lying brat that needs to deceive others to fulfill some unending need for recognition and acceptance.” Marinette closed her locker and looked her enemy dead in the eye, “I’m not leaving cause I’m scared. I’m leaving because I deserve better than this. And I pity you.”

“Pity me?” Lila narrowed her eyes, “I won.”

“No. You got me to leave the school, yes. You got what you wanted but you haven’t won anything. I pity you because you are so scared that you could never be accepted for who you are that you need to make everyone else feel lesser so that you may stand a chance to be in their good graces.”

“That--that is not--you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“They don’t know the real you. So they can’t really be your friends. If they knew who you truly are they would hate you as much as they hate me. You know that’s the truth and it terrifies you. You won’t be able to keep up the facade forever and whenever that mask of yours breaks the backlash will be more gruesome than you can even imagine.” Marinette collected her things and moved past Lila, “Have a nice life, Lila Rossi.”

She walked up to the classroom and looked at her tiny farewell party. It wasn’t anything special, just some food and drinks, a handmade farewell banner, and some music. Adrien and Wayhem were talking by the windows. Aurore was sitting on a table sipping some soda and watching Kagami and Chloe argue. What was Chloe doing here?

“Marinette!” Adrien was the first to notice her, “I know it isn’t much…”

“It’s perfect.” she assured him. “Surprised to see Chloe here though.”

“She asked if she could come.” he shrugged.

“Okay then…” Strange turn of events but its not like she was expecting this to be a party for the ages.

“Hey Kagami, Chloe, Aurore,” Marinette approached the girls, “Thanks for coming.”

“Marinette!” Aurore jumped up and hugged her, “I was bummed to hear that you were transferring and when I heard Adrien was throwing this little shindig I had to come. Gonna miss having you around.”

“Thanks, Aurore, I needed to hear that.” She wasn’t sure how much Aurore actually knew about why Marinette was leaving but it was nice to have someone besides Adrien sad to see her go.

Marinette turned to Kagami next. “Hi, I guess this is more of a hello then a goodbye for us.”

“I will admit that I was shocked when Adrien told me about your transfer to my school. I’ve really only heard good things about you.” Kagami said, “Then when he explained who this Lila character was things became clear as to why you are choosing to leave.”

“Honestly, Lila is faker than Sabrina’s knock-off Jimmy Choo tote.” Chloe rolled her eyes, “I could smell the pile of crap spewing from her mouth before it made it past her lips.”

“You know Lila is a liar? I thought you were just as taken in with her lies as everyone else.” Marinette couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

“Please, I’m not that dense. The way she hangs all over my poor Adrikins is so annoying and over the top that it couldn’t possibly be genuine.” Chloe looked back at said boy who was thankfully absent from this conversation, “I think your crush on him is ridiculous too but I at least respect that you seem to genuinely like Adrien for who he is. Lila only wants to be with him because it’ll spite others and make her look good. It’s all about her image.”

Wow. An actual compliment from Chloe? As close to a compliment as Marinette was going to get anyway. At the end of the day Marinette could see put aside her own issues with Chloe to see why Adrien defended her so. The mayor’s daughter had a heart in that designer clad body of hers somewhere. Maybe she’d pull a Grinch Christmas miracle and her shriveled heart would grow three sizes one day.

The party continued on and Marinette was pleasantly surprised at how nice it was. The few people that attended were nice and the atmosphere calm. Wayhem had a plethora of bad jokes that had everyone splitting their sides with laughter. The six of them even split up into teams to play a couple games during their time before they had to start cleaning up.

When everything was packed up and everyone started to leave Marinette gave her final goodbyes. She swapped numbers with Wayhem and Aurore. She liked them and they made her promise they would hang out again soon. Kagami told Marinette she looked forward to seeing her in school Monday before heading out.

Then there was Chloe.

The two girls had been enemies since they were little kids. Marinette’s departure should have been a celebration on both ends given their history. But with a common enemy and a mutual friend in Adrien things had changed somewhat.

“Thanks for coming, Chloe.” Marinette finally said, “I know we’ve never gotten along but today wasn’t terrible.”

“And I suppose there will be a small part of me that will miss our classroom rumbles, Dupain-Cheng.” Chloe smirked, “All the others are too spineless to think of going toe to toe with me. You were my only real challenge.”

“I’m sure you’ll find plenty of others to have a good argument with,  Bourgeois.” Marinette stuck out a hand, “I’m counting on you to put Lila through the ringer while I’m gone.”

Chloe grasped Marinette’s hand firmly and shook it, “If she comes at me she’ll wish she never entered this school.”

With that Chloe left and it was just Marinette and Adrien standing at the school entrance.

“Getting along with Chloe now? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“I would call it more of mutual tolerance than getting along.” Marinette looked back at the school, “I know that this was my decision and that it’s the right decision but why does it have to hurt so much?”

“It will hurt a lot less than if you stayed under Lila’s thumb.” Adrien told her. “If it wasn’t for the fact that I think my father would pull me back to homeschooling if I asked for a transfer I’d come with you.”

“And it means the world to me that you would even consider that. But you have a place here. Lila isn’t out to destroy you and our classmates don’t hate your guts. It’d make no sense for you to leave.”

“Doesn’t mean I still can’t feel guilty about all this.” He sighed, “All this time I thought that by ignoring Lila and not picking fights that things would be fine. That the universe would double down on her or something. But while I was off living in my ignorance you were suffering. I’m a terrible friend.”

“Adrien--”

“Now you’re leaving because I can’t fix this and everyone is going to think bad things about you when they should be apologizing for ever believing Lila. You’re hurting and life sucks and I wish I could bring everything back to the way it was before Lila.”

“Adrien.” Marinette touched his cheek, “You’re more tore up about this than I am.”

“Yeah, I’ve been a crappy friend.” he murmured, “If I had just--”

“Stop. No more feeling guilty about this. It won’t help anything.” she ordered. “Just see me off with a smile.”

Adrien pulled her in for a long tight hug that helped put some of the broken parts of her morale back together. “I’m gonna miss you, Marinette.”

“I’m switching schools, I’m not dead.” she chuckled, “I’ll miss you too, Adrien.”

“If you ever need someone to talk to I’m just a phone call away.” they stepped out of the hug all too soon. The Gorilla honked the car horn. “I gotta get going.”

“See you soon, Adrien.” Marinette waved to him.

“See you soon,” he waved back and rushed to the car.

Marinette watched them pull away from the curb and drive off. She took a deep breath and turned for home leaving the school behind her once and for all.

___

(1) (2) (4)

[selenelavellan]

Off Guard

Selene’s POV of some of the events of the Four Kingdoms AU

Aelynthi and Melarue belong to @justanartsysideblog

Dirthamen and the Evanuris based on @feynites writing

TW for drug use and brief mentions of violence.

Selene has always known she was a selfish child.

Luck. It had been pure luck that had seen her saved by her Nanae, in the wreckage of the village she was born in. The village which rumors claim she burnt down herself, an infant with terrible magics, an insatiable appetite, and a burning desire for a larger life.

Selene has never known if they were right or not; but she supposes it doesn't matter now.

She is her parents child, her brothers sister, and whoever she may have been before that no longer matters.

She has never been very good at denying herself. It was this trait that found her her closest and only consort; the spirit of desire, Des. Embodied now, after seemingly endless petitions in her youth. A gift from her Nanae for her 100th year.

He has helped her get into all sorts of trouble since then. He's wonderful, and she loves her best friend very dearly.

Had thought, in fact, that he would be the only one she would ever love in such a way. Until she had met the masked man at the party, with the gentle hands and the clever conversation and the most beautiful voice she had ever heard.

It had only been after the fact that she discovered their families were going to war.

A war they each would have a hand in leading.

It should have been a deterrent.

If she were wiser, she might've channeled her lingering feelings for him into defeating his troops, into trapping and overpowering him and proving to herself that he wasn't worthy of the time he has spent occupying her stray thoughts.

But he surprised her at every turn.

Selene spent decades studying the patterns and movements of the Evanuris troops; studied the training reports sent back by her nanaes spies, kept a close ear out for the movement of supplies and weaponry being traded and dispersed, and a watchful eye on the fluctuating magics of their kingdoms.

It is an interesting back and forth between them; she discovers the pattern and achieves victory, only for him to approach their next confrontation with an entirely unpredictable strategy. It keeps her on her toes; alert, and intrigued.

Somehow more intriguing is the way he behaves in his own victories. He does not torture his prisoners, those that have returned are always unscathed save for wounds sustained on the battlefield. There is no cruelty to his designs; the deaths he deals are swift and often painless. He does not desecrate corpses or lie in his agreements.

It's honorable. Respectable.

And very, unfairly, attractive.

The surrender is a surprise to Selene. She had been poring over reports when the news arrives; she had known that her final move would be soon, that they were steadily closing in on his home, and she had expected him to pull away. To run to his parents sides and avoid his brothers fate.

Nearly a thousand years of deliberating how to capture him, and he has delivered himself willingly.

Even now, in this, he has managed to catch her off guard.

She has a brief, fleeting moment of awe for whatever sort of magic he possesses that manages to bewilder her so easily, before she steels herself back into the General she is.

This is no time for her crush.

–

...It is actually a rather apt time for her crush, it turns out.

Her parents and the other members of the council are debating what sort of conditions they should accept Dirthamen's surrender under. What could possibly, permanently, permit them his loyalty.

“A betrothal,” Selene blurts out before she can think better of it.

All eyes turn to her, and she watches as her Nanae's eyebrow slowly slides up to their hairline.

“That is...” She clears her throat. “We accepted a betrothal for Princess Andruil and Lady Ghilan'nains alliance. It seems only fair to make the same offer to Prince Dirthamen.”

“And who, dear daughter, would you propose to betroth to the prince?” Her Nanae asks slowly, purposefully, never breaking eye contact.

“Myself,” She admits, trying not to slink away from their stare. “We offered Aelynthi for Prince Arethfal; I am the next in line. I do not believe he would accept anything less without taking it as a slight against him.”

“He is surrendering,” One of the council members scoffs. “Any slights against him are well earned.”

Selene frowns, ignoring the sting in her chest of their insult to this man she has fought so well for so long. “Would you offer up one of your own children then, my Lord?”

The council members mouth shuts immediately, as Selene returns her gaze to her Nanae. “I do not mind,” She says, pushing down as hard as she might on any hint of eagerness that might be trying to claw its way to the surface. “It is the logical choice; and a sacrifice I am willing to make for the sake of peace.”

–

The evening before she leaves for Prince Dirthamens land, she is a nervous wreck.

She is not entirely sure how she even ended up here anymore; about to be betrothed to the man she has been fighting and thinking of for a millenia, peace between them nearly in her grasp.

“It could still be a trap,” She muses aloud, twisting in her silken bed sheets and failing to focus on anything else.

Des sighs as his head pokes out from the sheets, chin still shining while his tongue drags over his lips. “That seems unlikely.”

“And why do you think that is?”

He shrugs, hair sliding off of his shoulder with the movement while his lips curl into a wicked, knowing grin. “You have better taste in people than that.”

–

She does not sleep so well as she had hoped, even after Des's attempts to exhaust her.

“Here,” He finally says, handing her an old stemmed glass cylinder and lighting it quickly with his magics. “This, at least, always manages to calm you down.”

Selene stares for a moment at the smoke rising from the water and the plant packed tightly into its stem.

“This seems...unwise.”

“Your call,” Des hums, taking a small puff of his own. “If you'd rather run the risk of lighting up his drapery or leaving a trail of ash on your way over, that's completely up to you.”

Selene pouts for a moment before seizing the pipe from her consort. “All right,” She relents. “Just...one puff. To get me through the journey.”

–

She hates to admit when Des is right, because it always goes straight to his head.

But the journey is much more pleasant under the effects of his favorite plant.

The conversation with her brother is lovely, and even his too accurate teasing doesn't bother her the way it sometimes does.

She sobers up right about the time they reach Prince Dirthamen's doors.

Selene manages to keep it together fairly well, she thinks. She keeps her sparks contained when he removes his mask and reveals one of the most beautifully unique faces she's ever seen, and only somewhat stumbles over the words of betrothal that will connect them for the rest of their lives.

She'll admit, things got a little away from her when he gave her the bracelet.

She hadn't expected it; caught off guard yet again.

It's an exquisite gift, and the only thing she can think of that could even compare is her favorite hair pin; so she gives it to him in turn. Equal exchange. A good starting point for their relationship.

...betrothal. Not relationship.

...hm.

--

She's still in a bit of a youthfully giddy daze for their journey back home, staring at her new bracelet out of the corner of her eye whenever she can manage it.

The attack takes her by surprise. Steals her attention and transforms her at once from her love-struck thoughts back into the General she is.

She strikes up her sword and her flames and commands their party; sees loss and death and failure staring back at her and thinks that she can, at least, minimize the damage. Her brother will not fall from her own short comings.

There; an exit, a break in the rocky outcropping in the distance.

“We will push through their flank and regroup there!” She commands, loudly enough that she knows her brother can hear. “Aelynthi, do not wait for me!”

He will not fall, he will not die this day to Elgar'nans armies because she was selfish, because of her wants, because of her failures.

“I am not leaving!” He calls back, stubborn as always as he looses another arrow into the battle.

Selene curses beneath her breath and wishes for once in her life he would just listen to her. Of course he won't though; he is good, he is better than she is, more fit to rule and without the taste for blood and battle that she has been forced to develop over her lifetime, and he would not knowingly leave her.

“I will meet you-” She starts, unsure of where she is planning to end the sentence, knowing that the chances of meeting him again after this are slim to none, they are going to lose and she will fall to the flames of another and that grates and scrapes at her in a way that only fuels her anger further- before a raven cries out overhead, streaking across the battlefield.

The ground shakes with the weight of an army, and as her head turns to gaze upon this development, she sees it; a banner she has seen a thousand times before, has seen singed and bloodied and torn asunder under her own orders, coming up behind them.

Lead by her husband.

Defending her.

She resists the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it; this man, this past enemy, this prince come to save her.

Save them.

Like the stories Nanae used to tell her when she was little. Stories of love, and hope, and happily ever afters.

In her wildest dreams, she would never dare to dream of something like this. Her husband riding up beside her in battle, glistening and chivalrous and beautiful beside her; her token in his hair.

Her heart skips a beat and her throat dries at the sight, and for a moment she forgets the battle. Only sees this man that has stolen so many of her thoughts for so long wearing a token of hers publicly, supporting her without shame and with the full force of his legions behind him.

Behind them.

“I learned of my fathers intent and rode with haste,” he informs her. As though this were normal, as though they have always fought side by side, defending and saving one another and fighting for the same cause.

The bracelet glistens against her wrist, and she stumbles over her words.

“I appreciate your aid,” She manages. Stuck and unsure of what to do, of his ability to catch her so off balance, even now. Every aspect of him is strange and so counter to what she expected; that a man who surrendered only weeks ago would rush to her side to help like this. Would fight so surely against his own father because he has made her a promise, and fully intends to follow it through.

Selene is thankful she is on her mount, because she thinks her knees would have given out had she been standing.

–

The meeting with Elgar'nan and Mythal is...tense. At best.

Dirthamen sits beside her, back straight but mask on and his emotions reigned in as tightly as she has ever seen them.

It does not take long at all for her to see why he is behaving in such a way. Elgar'nan is raging and Mythal is seething and Elgar'nan has, for some unknowable reason decided to focus all of his rage on his son.

Well, perhaps not so unknowable. She would likely have died without his intervention, after all.

Elgar'nans fist goes up, and Dirthamen's eyes go down, and Selene has drawn her sword before she even realizes it.

Suddenly she is standing, sword ablaze with her purple flames pointed and pressing at the throat of Lord Elgar'nan. The other members of the room freeze, seemingly caught off guard by her sudden act of aggression.

Good, she thinks. It is about time they were the ones who were shocked.

“You may have thought it acceptable to speak to Prince Dirthamen this way when he was your son,” She says, not bothering to hide the venom of her words. “But he is my husband now, and I will not permit him to be spoken to with anything less than the respect that position entitles him to. Leave now, and you may return when you are ready to speak to him with the level of respect and honor he has earned.”

Lord Elgar'nan blinks uncertainly at her, hand twitching dangerously before her sword presses against his throat with just enough force to draw a small trickle of blood, the heat of her flames causing sweat to condensate on his collarbones.

Lady Mythals eyes narrow slightly before she finally speaks. “I see you have allowed emotions to complicate this arrangement, and our negotiations.”

“Whatever emotional entanglements have arisen from our engagement is no concern of yours,” Selene spits back before she can think better of it.

Damn.

Mythal calms Elgar'nan just enough for Selene to pull her sword from his throat, and Selene realizes, as they gaze back at her with hatred and betrayal, that there is no hope for these negotiations.

Her selfishness has caused her to fail, yet again.

The hand wearing the starlight bracelet grabs Dirthamen's, and pulls him out of the room with their heads held high.

It is not until they are safely in a private hall that she allows herself to panic.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

She's tipped her hand; confessed her feelings in the most improper way imaginable and in front of her betrothed's parents no less. The last people who ever needed to know of such things.

Damn.

“Thank you,” Dirthamen bows. “For lying like that in front of them. I apologize for my fathers behavior, and my own reluctance to combat it. It was very kind of you to pretend to care for me that way.”

Selene feels her heart break, just a little, at his words.

Pretend?

There is nothing false about her emotions for him; she loves him, dearly and truly and with every hidden corner of her blackened heart. Does he think she has been lying to him all this time, only acting as though she is smitten and grateful for his presence? No. No, she must make it clear. Surely, word will spread of the meetings events; he must know the truth before they can use it against him.

Selene kneels down, her armor plates clanking slightly as one knee makes contact with the cold marble beneath them. She reaches out for one of his hands, still gloved but she will not push against whatever protections make him feel safe and invulnerable in her Nanae's lands. Her lips press against the back of the smooth leather, while she recites her poem. Rough and unpolished, unfit for a public presentation, but as honest as she can manage.

“I have walked through fields of ash and embers

through valleys deep and unremembered.

flown through skies of every hue and never observed one more like you

my thoughts are seized, consumed, and swallowed

the walls of a heart that once were hollowed

are filled and warmed by eyes of blue

abundant and teeming with love; for you.”

She waits then, in the still silence of the hall. For him to respond, to answer. To pull his hand away and dismiss her affections, or to sweep her up and accept them. To ask for time, to do...anything. She would do anything to make the strain of this moment come to an end.

“Did you write that for your lover?” Dirthamen finally asks, with an unfeigned innocence.

Selene feels her heart shatter in her chest.

He does not...She has confessed, she has presented him with a gift, she has declared him her husband, she has confronted his family, she has given him a poem and still. Still, he can not even comprehend the thought that her emotions are meant for him. That these gestures, their interactions, their betrothal may have been born from a place of love.

How little must he think of her, to not even be able to conceive the possibility that she would feel genuine devotion to him, even now. With her down on one knee, his hand near her lips while she lays herself bare with a confession, a poem...and for him to think it must be meant for another?

He will never see her as anything more than the conditions of a contract, she realizes.

She has forced herself into a position more painful and more dangerous than anything she had ever considered.

He has caught her off guard, once again.

She stands, releasing his hand to pat at her knees as she stands straight and bites back tears. “Yes,” She lies. Rambling her way out of the situation, words pouring out of her and out of her control “Yes, of course. I simply thought that perhaps-perhaps you would give me your opinion on it. It still needs work, of course. It is not ready for a true performance yet. Still needs to be polished and reworked and made polite for the public-it sounded so vulnerable, didn't it? Far too raw, far too, too...” She forces out an undignified snort, rather than allowing a sob to escape her throat. “Far too vulnerable. I should-that is, I should report back to my Nanae about the meeting. Thank you for your time, I really-I appreciate it. Appreciate you. Respectfully. Cordially. I'm just going to-” She gestures off down the hall, walking quickly in the same direction before he can interrupt her. Can ask for further elaboration and she can make an even larger mess of things.

Selene has always known she was a selfish child.

She will have to work harder still, to ensure no one else suffers for her shortcomings.