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fabelyn · 4 years ago

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In Carcere Ch.38

Pairing: inahoxslaine (orangebat, inasure)

Rated: T Warnings: spoilers for series finale Chapter: 38/? (previous chapter) Word Count: 14k

Summary: At first Inaho visits out of duty and humanity. And then he finds he can’t stop going back to see Slaine Troyard.

“My Lord, they’ve arrived.”

“Good, bring them over.”

Watching his underling leave to abide by his orders, Mazuurek nearly changes his mind and follows him. It is, after all, disrespectful to not greet his guests at the landing site, or at least on the entrance to his Landing Castle.

Yet as he takes a step towards the door, he changes his mind once more and firmly seats himself on the sofa, intent on not leaving until Inaho and Rayet come to him.

It’s his own Landing Castle, and he fully trusts his own personnel.

And yet… he can’t help the fear that maybe, somehow, someone has managed to bug the room.

There is no reason for the supposition: nothing has pointed to any plans being leaked before now and he’s made a sweep of the room.

Nonetheless, Inaho Kaizuka’s visit is well known, so there is always a chance…

Mazuurek sighs and cards a hand through his hair. He knows what this is, it’s the anxiety and jumpiness of someone about to hear something life defining they won’t like. Which doesn't mean he can avoid hearing it.

He needs to finally know how Count Mikael’s L anding Castle was so brutally massacred.

The who he can at least guess at. Naturally it had to have been the UFE. Not because Mazuurek has any misconceptions about how good his fellow martian nobles are, but because they’d have done more damage by now if they could have, and the UFE would surely have been restless about what new Martian technology made such an attack possible underneath their radars. Instead all the UFE was focusing on was how martians could not be trusted to not kill each other even in times of peace.

If his supposition was correct —all he needed was Inaho to confirm it— then the UFE would need to be put in check. Mazuurek has some ideas on it.

But first, he needed the details. How had the UFE managed to reach the Landing Castle without being noticed? How did they destroy their shields and communications?

The only way he could think was a traitor. Perhaps a martian had been promised riches and power if he murdered the Count, thus removing power from the Landing Castle and leaving it susceptible to attack? If so, it would have to be a very foolish martian to trust the UFE…

A maid comes in, interrupting his musings, bringing in a pot of freshly brewed tea and three cups. Mazuurek is glad for the interruption; his thoughts had been running in circles ever since the Landing Castle was found dead, there was no point to thinking about it.

The maid leaves, and before Mazuurek can begin to spiral again, another underling opens the door, this time bringing in Rayet and Inaho.

“My friends! Welcome!” Mazuurek springs up and goes to greet them in genuine delight. He is eternally grateful to both, likes them and trusts them; a combination he craves right now.

“Long time no see,” Rayet greets back with a smile.

“It’s good that you’re well,” says Inaho, and Mazuurek focuses on him, looking him over. Rayet had told him Inaho had been in the hospital, but whatever it was left no visible marks on any body part he could see.

Inaho understands his gaze and glances at their hide, who bows and leaves the room. “I assume we can talk unperturbed here.”

“Yes, there are no bugs,” Mazuurek says, then realizes how strange that sounds. “I mean, of course there wouldn’t be, but since you have something dire to tell me, I assume you need to be reassured. But please, you’ve just arrived, sit down and relax first.”

“Thanks,” Rayet says, already making herself comfortable. Inaho follows suit.

“So, first of all, how are you two? Rayet told me you had to be hospitalized, Inaho.”

“Yes. I was stabbed and hit on the head and suffered some minor internal damage from using the analytical machine,” Inaho replies, as tonelessly as if he were repeating the weather report.

“You… what? What happened? Who attacked you? I know I said I needed to hear some things with urgency, but if you need to go get treated elsewhere first please—”

“It’s fine. I was rescued and treated in time. I need some extended treatment for the damage done by the machine, but nothing that cannot wait visiting an old friend first.”

Mazuurek glances at Rayet, and she shrugs and nods, which he takes as reassurance.

“I see, that’s good then. But, last time we spoke you had taken out that eye machine, why put it back? And why were you attacked?”

Inaho opens his mouth, but Rayet interjects quickly. “Actually, I think it’s best if we tell you the other thing you wanted to know first. This and that have something in common and I think it will be less shocking if we start from that first.”

Mazuurek raises an eyebrow. “Telling me the details on who murdered my fellow martians will be less shocking than who attacked Inaho?”

“Well, technically yes, because the tale of Inaho’s attack will raise a lot of questions so I think it’s easier to ease you in through the massacre.” Rayet stops and looks at Inaho. “And I’ll do the talking.”

Inaho shrugs.

Rayet nods, satisfied. “Okay, so, let’s not beat around the bush with this. Count Mikael and his entourage were murdered by orders from the UFE.”

Mazuurek sighs. “As I had surmised.”

Inaho looks at him. “Does it make you relieved to hear that?”

“Hm, not really. Whether it was done by other martian nobles or by the UFE, either option has it’s issues. Though I think the UFE… will be more problematic to deal with. Her Majesty, naturally, is unaware of it?”

“I have no reason to assume she knows,” Inaho answers.

“I’m sure she doesn’t. Still, to think the UFE wouldn’t be content with the status quo… honestly I understand that Count Mikael wasn’t treating terrans well and his occupied territory was being contested. And his disregard for Her Majesty’s orders were offensive… but I don’t like this subterfuge. If the UFE felt they had the right to reclaim the territory they should have been upfront about it, and taken the martians captive, not murder them all. That, and the secrecy means they’ll likely do this again with the next disobedient Count. If we don’t kill each other first, of course…”

“What do you mean by that?” Inaho asks.

“Possibly the other reason why the UFE won't own up to their deeds; there has been some… infighting between the nobility. People that have a past of being paranoid are pointing fingers at old enemies.”

“He said that would happen,” Rayet says quietly, towards Inaho, who nods in agreement.

“Who did?”

“A friend,” Rayet replies. “Look, if that’s the UFE’s agenda… we really don’t know. The upper echelons haven’t deigned to tell us anything other than orders of what to do, as usual. So if they’re planning another, we really won't know until they’re about to ship us out.”

“So you were involved in the murders.”

Rayet hesitates. “Mazuurek…” she begins, but falters, uncertain.

Inaho doesn’t have that issue. “Yes, we were involved in the operation. Had we refused, it would have still occurred, and we would be punished and likely not trusted to keep quiet about what we knew. Since the refusal would amount to nothing, it was better to participate and remain within their trust.”

“That and, like you said, it’s not as if we were killing innocent martians,” Rayet adds, certainty back.

Mazuurek raises a hand in appeasement. “My friends, I wasn’t intending to judge you for it, I’m sorry if it came across like that. I just need to understand how much you know. So, you were involved... please tell me how they did it.”

“Okay, please don’t get too angry but, first they managed to acquire a functioning skycarrier. Then they… threatened a martian to fly it.”

“They placed a collar on him that would permanently have incapacitated him according to the UFE’s will,” Inaho elaborates. “And then explained that even if he chose death, the UFE would simply risk using someone else to pilot it.”

So I was right that they have a martian working for them. Worse, he’s being threatened. If he had been offered rewards, we could try taking him in by offering more, but with this… only if we’re able to remove the collar.

“I see. Go on, Rayet.”

“So this martian flew on the skycarrier, got into the Landing Castle, requested a meeting with the Count and murdered him when they were alone. With his death the Landing Castle lost all power and we —that is, I and other UFE troops— were able to infiltrate and pick them off without warning.”

“Ah. Hold on. First of all, this martian would need to be able to fly the skycarrier. Then he would have had enough knowledge of Count Mikael to convince him to allow him to enter, and then further knowledge to receive a private meeting so quickly. Did this knowledge come from the martian himself or did the UFE acquire information from someone else?”

“The martian had the knowledge.”

“So the UFE’s plan relied solely on this one martian.”

“No,” Inaho explains, “The UFE’s plan without loss of terran life relied on the martian, but not the plan itself. Had the martian not been cooperative, or unable to pilot, or without that knowledge, they would still have risked sending someone. The difference would be that the moment the person had managed to reach the Landing Castle they would have detonated explosives hoping it would kill the Count or, at least, bring the martians into disarray, at which point the UFE would commence an attack while pretending to be martians.”

“Wait, what?!” Rayet jumps. “So if Sla—if that guy hadn’t accepted, we were going to send a suicide bomber?! Inaho, our friends were also training for the skycarrier ! Why wasn’t I told about this?”

“Because I thought it was only logical that it would become a suicide mission, with little chances of success, had he refused. And since he didn’t, there was no reason to confirm if you understood what would have happened if he hadn’t.”

“... I own him, damn.”

Mazuurek watches their exchange with increasing curiosity. “This brings me to my next question: who is this martian? He can’t be a simple soldier if he had that much knowledge. I need to know.”

“Err, before we answer that, do you have any other questions? Because once we tell you, it’s going to open so many other questions.”

“Hm, I suppose, that collar that’s threatening him, can it be deactivated?”

“I wasn’t given clearance on how it was made, so I was unable to figure out how to dismantle it. If I ever acquire that information I can try to send it to you.”

Rayet nods. “Right, that’s where we stand on the collar, for now. Any other questions?”

“I understand deciding this is not on you, but do you have any indication that the UFE will do this again?”

“Nothing concrete, but we assume they will.”

“Then I really don’t have anything else to ask. Now, please tell me who this martian is.”

Rayet and Inaho glance at each other, before Rayet turns back to Mazuurek. “Actually, he isn’t a martian.”

“What? But everything you just said—”

“It was easier to explain it like that. The UFE has Slaine Troyard.”

It is so unbelievable that it takes Mazuurek a fews seconds to react, and it feels as if the ground is yanked from underneath him.

“Troyard is… alive?!”

“Yes,” Inaho answers this time. Mazuurek turns to him.

“Did you know this?”

“I was the one who brought him to the UFE.” Maybe Mazuurek’s altered state is making him confused, but he thinks Inaho actually looked… regretful as he said it. “Obviously, I was unaware that they’d use him for this. Or use him at all.”

“You handed him over without keeping tabs on what they did to him?”

“No. I handed him over and watched over his incarceration.”

“Hm, personally overseeing that your enemy never sees the light of day.” Had Inaho and Rayet just winced in unison? He must be more shaken than he realizes if he’s now outright hallucinating. “I guess I can understand that.”

Oh. “So that small town you were reassigned to… that’s where he is at?”

“Yes, though I would caution against any attempt to rescue him without meticulous planning first, the surrounding may not look like much, but the incarceration facility itself is difficult and the UFE will be alerted immediately if he’s removed.”

Mazuurek raises an eyebrow. “And why would I even consider rescuing him after what he nearly did to the terrans and his crimes against Her Ma—”

A sudden thought comes to him, and he swallows with difficulty. “Does… Her Majesty know about this?”

“If by ‘this’ you mean, that the UFE is using Slaine to attack martians,” Inaho answers, “then I assume she doesn’t, since we’ve previously established she is likely unaware they were behind it.”

“But if you mean, does she know that Slaine was being held captive, yes she damn well does,” Rayet spits out.

Rayets anger is surprising, and even more so when Inaho does not answer her with a logical justification. Surprising enough that Mazuurek manages to focus on that and calm down.

“So Her Majesty knows her enemy is in prison. Why does this upset you, Rayet?”

“Why?! Because she’s using him as a scapegoat. He’s being used and he’s still alive to suffer the consequences. I thought she, at least, was better than that! Oh, and apparently she even thinks he’s getting out one day!”

Mazuurek decides not to think about the last two sentences for now. “What of it? He is suffering the consequences of his actions. It is, I do believe, not dissimilar to his own deeds.”

“Excuse me? She’s blaming him for everything! How is that anything like Slaine trying to protect her?!”

“I find it hard to see it as protecting when he was using her image to murder terrans as a means of solidifying martian power.”

“By doing so, he was solidifying her status and removing any threat to her that wasn’t a coup d’etat.” Inaho says matter of factly. “And even a coup would be hard to come by with the martians pleased with the outcome. So in this sense, one could see how he was attempting to protect her.”

Mazuurek is slightly taken aback by Inaho’s attempt to defend Troyard’s point of view, but remembers it is just like Inaho to see the reasoning for both sides. He focuses on defending Her Majesty. “To do that, he was using someone in a disguise to look like her. In other words, Slaine Troyard was claiming the plan to attack Earth was hers. To terrans... to you it must have seemed like she was to blame for everything.”

He pauses, but neither Inaho nor Rayet retort, so Mazuurek continues.

“He used her image while she was unable to defend herself to forward his view. Her Majesty has simply returned the favor; he was using her image, now she will use his.”

“It’s not the same,” Rayet insists feebly, “He wasn’t locking her away—”

“Maybe not initially, but if she was free to leave or counter him after she woke up, she wouldn’t have needed mine and Klancain’s aid to escape and get her message across, would she?”

“But—but it was going to be for her sake! After it was done—”

“He was going forth with a massacre she never wished for and was actively against because he thought it best for her. Is that noble to you? If so, then Her Majesty’s reasons are even more so, she’s doing it to end warfare between two worlds. As for what would have happened had he succeeded… Her Majesty would have no chance to reverse the choice done in her name, whereas, as far as Her Majesty believes , Slaine will have the chance to speak his truth when he is freed.”

“You think she’d be willing to threaten her hard won peace as well as trust between planets to allow Slaine to defend himself?” Inaho finally asks.

“... Likely she’d try to strike a bargain with him—”

“What sort of bargain? Speak not against her lies and she will ship him up to a desolate island? Put him under plastic surgery and give him a new identity? Or maybe she believes by the time he is freed he will have repented so much he will willingly accept to shoulder the blame, and also assumes if she asks for forgiveness from the planets, no martian or terran would attack Slaine after his freedom?”

“... Likely the last option, probably…”

“And you think that’s the same?” Rayet demands.

Mazuurek’s deflating shoulders square up again. “Yes, actually. He would have left her to deal with the death of a whole planet . Lives that cannot be rebuilt; she would not have had to live a lie, but she would have to live with the knowledge her name opened the doors to a planet-wide massacre. It would have been at the least, just as cruel as Slaine’s end.”

That leaves Rayet speechless.

Not so Inaho, who looks at Mazuurek for a second before taking up the debate. “For this decision to be right, you would have to assume no one but Slaine had slighted or hurt her. That no one but Slaine threatened Earth. However, others tried to assassinate her, and others were happily attacking terrans long before Slaine had any semblance of power. Yet she is willing to pretend they did nothing wrong, much less that they warranted forgiveness, as all actions were somehow mere puppet strings from Slaine’s design.”

“That’s… for the sake of peace and avoiding another martian fallout.”

“It’s not. If she wished for peace, truly, she would have blamed Count Saazbaum for most of it —as she should have— and Slaine for simply continuing his handiwork, as well as defined some light punishment so that martians understood actions against terrans would not be acceptable.

“As it is, it seems to me that it was not done in thought but in selfishness; that what pains Asseylum is not the destruction of Earth and killing of terrans, but that Slaine dared to use her name for it.”

“That's not true! You know she truly cares for terrans lives!”

“Yes, but her actions speak differently. You are correct in saying what Slaine attempted to do wasn’t good, and doing it for the sake of Asseylum is not justification to cleansing his hands of the blood he was willing to shed.”

“So—”

“Which brings me to the issues I have with Asseylum’s punishment. If Asseylum wants justice, Slaine cannot be the only one to receive the blame for every action in the war and the other martians should also be paying for their lives. If Asseylum wants to dirty her hands and pick a scapegoat to ensure peace between worlds, Count Saazbaum would be the most appropriate and ideal choice given he is already dead, and he was the mastermind behind most of it, so a simple investigation would corroborate the lie.”

“But Slaine is a terran so—”

“As far as terrans are concerned, the fact that Slaine is a terran does not alleviate martian fault in this. Slaine is terran, but he was brought up by martians, used martian technology and martian soldiers to attack Earth. Maybe martians feel less guilt by thinking of Slaine’s origin, but terrans hardly blame martians less because of it.

“Which brings me back to the point I was making. Slaine is not the best or logical scapegoat. On the contrary, any attempts to study the timeline of events should easily cast doubt in the veracity of the claim, since it requires the belief that Slaine had the power, intelligence and means to begin orchestrating everything before he was even fifteen years old. And that is hardly the only issue to be found. Another—”

“Inaho, no need,” Rayet says quickly.

“In summation, the flaws and contradictions in claiming he is the sole perpetrator of the war are a danger that could end the peace and threaten any trust terrans have in Asseylum. Afterall, it would mean she attempted to place part of the blame on terrans to protect martians.”

Mazuurek sighs, defeated. “So you have issue with her plan.”

“Not just that. Mazuurek, what Slaine did wasn’t morally correct. And also partially incorrect when it comes to logical deci—

“Not now, Inaho,” Rayets stops him again.

“Fine, focusing on morality: Slaine’s actions were not just, or upright to terrans, and it was expressly against her wishes, which he was aware of. I am not condoning his actions. However, Asseylum’s actions regarding him are equally not laudable. At best, I could accept that she is punishing him equal to the pain he attempted to cause her, by using his name to further her agenda, and locking him up forever to pay for the lives he was willing to take. However, if she refuses to acknowledge this as sheer revenge, then I cannot accept that he is locked up. Especially since I —and both of you as well— are aware that the truth is that he will never be free of that cell alive.

“If she claims it’s mercy, or that it’s for the sake of the planets, I cannot stand by her side as it’s false. She cannot call it justice when every other martian is free, either. In light of how everyone else has lived after the war, Slaine Troyard has served more than enough sentence.”

“...I can’t imagine Her Majesty going out of her way to strike at someone for something like personal revenge,” Mazuurek eventually says weakly.

Inaho shrugs. “I can’t either. So either she is more lacking in sense than I originally thought while we were together, or she’s obtusely not acknowledging her own rage.”

“It may be a tragic combination of both,” Rayet says, looking down at her own hands. “There was nothing I could have done that was more short sighted than attempting to kill her.”

“You tried to—” Mazuurek begins and nearly jumps out of his seat, but Inaho makes a motion for him to sit down again.

“She wasn’t the only one,” he says, but doesn’t explain further, and instead starts talking as if analysing to himself. “Rayet blamed Asseylum and lashed out despite blatant knowledge that she was not the one at fault for her family’s demise. And the other person also had no reason to blame Asseylum for her own misery. I suppose if even they struggled to admit their own hatred… someone who is used to blocking out all darkness and negativity, who actively strives to be good and make others just as honorable cannot possibly understand, much less accept a desire to do harm to someone else for no reason other than revenge. Even if there’s cause for it.”

“And it’s not like she has anyone near her to tell her otherwise…” Rayet muses.

Mazuurek and Rayet look at Inaho pointedly, who frowns. “I can’t read minds, what is it?”

“Well, if anyone could talk to her and point out her mistakes… it’s you.”

“In fact, I feel this is now necessary to enquire… Why did you leave her side and simply not tell her what she was doing... wrong?” Mazuurek adds. “If you wished to ease Troyard’s sentence—”

“I defected from her side long before I—” there is a strong pause in Inaho’s words, and an ensuing smile from Rayet “—began to truly consider the fairness of his sentence. From the beginning I saw flaws in his punishment but I was not initially empathetic enough towards his plight to attempt to enforce something different with her.”

He stops abruptly, looking far away and when he begins speaking again, it feels heavier. “Would I have more power to change Slaine’s fate now if I had not left her side then?”

“Even if you had stood by her and tried to advise her, you would have failed,” Rayet says with certainty.

“...That’s... not incorrect,” Mazuurek surprisingly joins in, though he looks pained to utter each word. “There are too many martians keen on maintaining this charade now. They’d riot before allowing such a convenient lie to fall.”

Inaho blinks again and frowns, and lifts a hand to massage his temple. “That… was actually my initial conclusion, when I left. I know it may sound like an excuse to claim this only after you two have pointed it out—”

“It’s fine,” Rayet assures him. “You’re smarter than this. As soon as this conversation is done we’re shipping you straight into the doctor’s arms. You really need it.”

Inaho sighs, but agrees. “Yes. It’s coming back to me now. Asseylum took a while to go back to Earth. At that point, she’d already delayed the war by decreeing a cease fire.” He halts, glancing at Mazuurek, maybe expecting an objection. But while Mazuurek had been uncomfortable at the word ‘delayed’, he makes no attempt to claim she fully stopped the war. Even he is too aware that so much resentment would not disappear simply because the nearly winning side chose to forfeit at the last minute.

“Not only that,” Inaho continues, “but she also made it so no martian was at fault. Many of my comrades died, Slaine was hardly the only one to blame. Yet that wasn’t all: during our brief time together, I told her my view on wars, and how to end them. They aligned themselves more with Slaine, I've since found out. Asseylum’s choice completely disregarded all that I said.

“And… by the time we met afterwards it was too late to take it back. Martians would revolt the moment they felt they would suffer for their actions, and Asseylum’s credibility and life would be at stake, if not forfeit. It was pointless to make her see how wrong her dreams were, and if it wouldn’t bring any better results… I saw no reason to risk her life.” He pauses. “I still don’t want her dead, or harmed. I cannot condone her actions, or see any intelligence in them or her current rule, but I don’t despise her. However, I care little for her credibility, save for the fact that it is tied to her safety for now.”

No one has anything to say after that. Mazuurek hides his face in his hands, back hunched, for a few minutes before letting out a long drawn out sigh and straightening up again.

“I see,” he finally says, looking steadily at Inaho. “First and foremost, thank you for once again trusting me. You knew my stance towards her Highness yet still trusted me enough to tell me your contrary views. I appreciate that. And, well, I guess I can’t hate you for your views. Let’s see… you put a lot of importance in the logical thinking and the results of one's actions. I get that. I understand the importance of that. However, I feel the heart is also vital. I’ve seen people ruled by greed and selfishness before, I want a leader that has a good heart, that truly wants to help others. I… concede that Her Highness may not have gone the smartest route. But you have to understand that she isn't as brilliant as you. She doesn’t have the knowledge or the oversight to see.”

“She’s always been the first one in line for the throne,” Rayet interjects harshly, “how is it that she never considered studying politics and such to prepare herself to better serve her people?”

Mazuurek’s gaze is soft as he sweeps a look at them, pitying the harsh life they must have led. “What I’m going to say isn't fair, but it’s the truth. Because she’s young . She spent two formative years in a coma. She was loved and, yes, likely coddled. You two are above average in intelligence, with one of you likely a genius, and you both suffered. Suffered differently but suffered nonetheless. You had to learn to grow, you had to learn to think to protect yourselves or others. What is natural for you to do, isn’t simple for others to consider. Her Highness is well meaning, and truly a good person, but as unfair as it was, she did not have a background to force her to grow up quickly.”

“I know,” Inaho says, “That’s why I don’t hate her for her actions. What you said explains why she fails where one of us three might not have, but it doesn’t make it tolerable for me to accept. Not when she was told and saw otherwise.”

Mazuureks nods. “I understand. I accept that you cannot forget her mistakes. And I see why these mistakes are made worse by her royal background. But just as you cannot stand her much due to her actions, I cannot condemn her for actions, which I admit were not the best, when I see the heart she puts into them. I won’t fight you for not accepting her, but I will defend her where I can.”

Inaho nods and smiles slightly. “My analytical machine was never wrong when it judged people, and it seems that that trustworthy part of you hasn't changed. I don’t have any issue with your continued loyalty to her, but I won’t disregard all the flaws in her actions when talking to you. As for what you’re planning to do…”

“Ah, I’m not sure yet what I will, or can, do. I’m not like you.” Mazuurek chuckles. “I mean, my worldview just turned upside down, I’ve had to open my eyes to issues I’ve been ignoring and found out information I had never considered possible. All I know right now is the UFE cannot continue as it has, nor can the martian counts continue to do as they will while disregarding her Highness. Her, and mine, wish for peace between both worlds isn't going to work like this, but annihilation of either side isn’t an option for me. So, I’ll think of something.”

Rayet frowns. “Be careful, the UFE and the martians are tricky, backstabbing people with eyes everywhere. Don’t act out too rashly, whatever you do. We don’t want you next on the hit list, even if we recluse ourselves.”

Mazuurek chooses to ignore the stab at martians, understanding it as Rayet trying to look out for him. “Thank you, I will do my best. I can’t promise anything however, I will do what I think must be done for my objective. If that leads the UFE to attack me… I will understand even if you choose to join the attack for the sake of your loved ones. Slaine, however, I will have to shoot down.”

That has both of his guests make terrible faces.

“You don’t want him to die… it seems you both are hoping he is set free?”

Rayet glances at Inaho, and he stares back. Mazuurek can see hesitation from Rayet and, more surprisingly, also hesitation from Inaho.

“My friends, what are you keeping from me?”

It’s Inaho that answers. “There is information that we’re beholden not to tell, but we will warn you of anything that endangers you, like what we have done with the UFE. And there’s one information we haven’t said because it changes nothing and I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Well, it’s rare for us to meet and talk freely, so even if it’s unimportant, I don’t mind hearing it.”

Inaho sighs. Rayet looks at him with pity and answers for him. “Inaho… and this is going to sound unbelievable… Inaho is in love with Slaine.”

Mazuurek blinks. He blinks again. He takes a deep breath, then grabs his cup and downs his tea in one go.

“Alright… Inaho is in love with… the boy who nearly succeeded in destroying terrans who Inaho then took down and incarcerated?”

Inaho sighs. “Yes.”

“Well… my condolences.”

There was a pause.

“That’s... it?” Rayet demands incredulously.

“I’m not sure what else you were expecting. I don’t know Slaine Troyard at all outside his actions to have an opinion. Knowing Inaho, I’m sure this declaration doesn’t come lightly. And I can empathize with having feelings for someone when your positions are complicated.”

Rayet perks up. “Oh? So you’ve been in that situation?”

That decomposes Mazuurek momentarily. “N-No! I’m sorry, I worded that incorrectly I suppose. I meant that even if I haven’t experienced such a situation, ever , I can’t imagine it’s a good one to be in. I hoped you both, and your friends, would go on to live simple and happy lives, but if you’re smitten with Troyard… you’re in for a tumultuous time, no matter how things play out. I’m truly sorry.”

Inaho nods. “Thank you.”

“Are you not going to ask me to avoid shooting him in the unlikely scenario that the UFE targets me?”

“I don’t see the point. I know you have a duty to your people first, you won’t risk all their lives to save Slaine, no matter what he means to me; and it would be self defense if you did.”

“I appreciate that. Indeed, I will take care of my own as a priority, but since you’ve told me what to expect… I’ll try to think of a way to keep myself safe without killing him. Starting with that collar… I’ll see if I can’t find out how it was made, and then how to safely remove it.”

Inaho creases his brows lightly. “If you ask around about a device that only ever surfaced on Slaine’s neck during that operation…”

“I have a person, a… friend. He might have some leeway into UFE classified information, and I know he won’t sell me to the UFE.”

“For this friend to have enough leeway to procure how the collar was made, he has to have enough knowledge to have known what the UFE did…”

“... And didn’t tell me. Yes, I’m aware. But it seems these days all my friends keep some things away from me. I don’t blame you for what you haven’t said, and I won’t blame him for his either… if he can help us now. But I won't be able to get a hold of him too quickly, maybe in a few weeks.”

“Please be very careful, don’t let your friendship cloud your judgement.”

“I won’t. And I promise to keep your feelings a secret.”

“Too many people have found it out already, but I need to keep the information very far from the UFE’s ears.”

“Of course.”

Rayet suddenly smiles and elbows Inaho. “Hey, hey, isn’t Asseylum’s maid here? Pity we can’t tell her .”

“I don’t see why,” Inaho says, then turns back to Mazuurek. “More importantly, this needs to be repeated: whatever you choose to do with the information we gave you about the UFE, make sure you don't become the next target.”

“I will take utmost caution. Besides,” Mazuurek sighs, “if the UFE strikes again, and we know it will, they likely have a target already.”

“Oh?”

“Count Percival. He was keeping a low profile before, but since the massacre at the Landing Castle, his underlings have been causing a commotion, insisting it’s all an UFE ploy. Although the Count has been smart enough to not outright agree with the accusations himself… he certainly hasn’t been seen punishing or forcing people to retract them.”

Inaho considers what he knows. “And Count Percival is stationed near France, which has a large terran settlement, meaning a larger audience for the allegations and an easier time spreading them. I saw no word of this in my base town, which means the UFE has managed to contain the spread of it, at least for now. Then again, it’s a small town of mostly UFE linked people, they’ll be one of the last to gossip about it.”

“Pretty much, the UFE has made a statement that they will demand reparations and should the defamation continue, they’ll open an inquiry in court.”

Rayet snorts. “You mean, in terran court? Like a martian count will give a damn about that.”

“Indeed. Initially I assumed the threat meant that they were hoping Her Highness would act, or that she would accept to enforce a judicial decision, if it came to that. And she has attempted to stop it, but it’s been ineffective so far—”

“As usual,” Rayet says under her breath, which Mazuurek pretends not to hear as he continues.

“But with the information you’ve given me, I see now that the UFE is just pretending to go through legal means, and are likely setting up for another round.”

“However, to attack the Count that has been denouncing them might be too suspicious,” Inaho muses, “unless they plan to make it look like an attempt to frame the UFE by martians. It might prove too complicated to pull off. And they can’t have the Deucalion as near as it was in the last attack—” He flinches, even this little effort has pain shooting through his head.

“Okay, enough thinking for now,” Rayet says, “like you said, maybe they aren’t going to do anything fast, or at all, to not make it too obvious.”

“No, I’m sure there is a way… but you’re right, I can’t strain myself right now. Mazuurek, if they do move against this Count, what will you do?”

“That is quite the dilemma. Unless I notice suspicious movements, I think I might not even know when they attack the Count, since I’m sure you two will be beyond communications by then, and even if you did manage to call me… it would just frame us all.”

“Does that mean you plan to warn him?”

“...But if I warn him, he will shoot Slaine down, and maybe even attack your friends too, that’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”

Their silence is confirmation enough.

“... I don’t know. He isn’t a good person. He would rather lay low and not fight for too much power with the other Counts so that he has more freedom to do as he will. I have heard reports he treats his people, even the martians, abysmally, and it’s why he allows them to be so aggressive towards terrans; it gives them an outlet for their anger that isn’t him. But that doesn’t mean he, and all his people, deserve to die.

“However… however if I do warn him, I will have killed Troyard, and endangered both of you and your friends. The possibility of another war breaking out will be almost certain, and I have no doubt that the fact I was the informant will leak out, which will endanger my people… and doubly endanger you both for having told me.”

Mazuurek bends over and hides his head in his hands. “I see, I will have to let him die. Knowledge without power is truly a burden.”

“We’re sorry—” Rayet begins, but he stops her.

“No, don’t be. Even if having to decide who lives or dies is painful, I’d rather make it then not know. Even if I can’t save their very next target, maybe I can do something in the long run. Or at least protect my own. I can’t imagine the burden this has been for you, to have to go along with this. Let’s share the burden, and work on it together.”

He watches them leave and when he’s finally alone, Mazuurek collapses on the nearest chair.

It was too much too fast, it was amazing what Inaho and his friends could handle it so easily, he wishes he had half their acceptance.

His worldview had been turned upside down too quickly. The UFE’s nefarious plan, Troyard’s continued existence and participations… he would never have drawn this conclusion on his own. As for the burden of knowing what might happen to his fellow martian Count in the future… he’ll have to live with it.

But he had been suspicious of the UFE, and he had always been aware that his power was not enough to save anyone away from his sight. What had hit harder was being forced to hear and acknowledge criticism of Her Majesty he could not counter.

Perhaps from the start something inside of him had known her choices were not the best, but he’d been so glad of a ruler he could trust he’d never bothered to analyse them. It had taken Inaho, someone who had gone to great lengths for Her Majesty, calling out every issue for him to be able to admit that yes, mistakes —costly, life affecting mistakes— had been made.

He’d asked Inaho why he had left her side instead trying to steer her into the right path…

Mazuurek feels guilty about it, and regretful he never had the chance to get his thoughts in order in time to apologize.

Genius he might be, Inaho was also so young, and had done so much. No one had a right to demand more of him.

Especially not Mazuurek, who is loyal to Her Majesty… and yet has been spending his time focusing on his own patch of land.

He’s visited her, though he mostly talks to Klancain. Yet he never joined in when it came to discussing the future.

Her Majesty is stuck being the image of people for two opposing planets, and Klancain is stuck trying to manage the operational side of it, and Mazuurek had never really offered much other than his continued loyalty.

Perhaps if I am so loyal to them, I should stop focusing so much on my own land and think of what I can do to steer her towards a better path for both worlds.

UFE needs to be taken out, or at least lowered in its power and reach of the terran population, so that it has no capacity to murder and get away with it.

But the martian counts also need to be brought to heel, and obey their rulers.

Lastly, in respect of Inaho, he must avoid harming Troyard at all costs. Not just because he’s promised, but because if Inaho, who has never asked for anything selfish, loves him, Mazuurek feels it’s his duty to give him that.

He thinks back to his brief conversation with Troyard, when he was at the height of his powers. He was so young, yet so certain and implacable. Strong to hold the position he did as a terran…

Mazuurek snorts. While he cannot like Troyard, the thought of that boy in a relationship with Inaho is... hilarious. And terrifying.

But that would require Troyard to even like Inaho back. Mazuurek had been under the impression he’d loved Her Majesty, or perhaps that was just unhealthy loyalty. It’s not as if he has any recourse to know more…

Oh, but he does.

Mazuurek presses a button. “Please have the maid Eddelrittuo bring me my afternoon tea. Two cups.”

This is going to be fun, Mazuurek thinks, already laughing quietly. And while he waits for her to arrive, he’ll think of what he can do to steer the world into a better path.

Eddelrittuo tries to not shake her hand too visibly as she is finally convinced to sit down opposite Count Mazuurek and accept a cup of tea.

“Is something wrong, sir?” She asks with hesitation. She’s aware of who had just come by, but cannot fathom what they may have said to have her be brought here.

“Ah, not much. Inaho and Rayet just left. I’m sorry we didn't summon you while they were here. I hope you didn't want to say something to them?”

Was that it? She relaxes. “Not at all, it’s been too long since we’ve been acquainted, there is nothing to say. We... weren’t close.” She’d despised him for part of it, in fact.

“I see. It was nice talking to them, even if the past is sad, there’s some comfort in being able to reminisce with old friends. So much happened, that Slaine Troyard…”

Eddelrittuo tries to not to flinch at the name, or the memories. She nods silently and looks down at her drink to try and focus elsewhere.

“Speaking of which... Eddelrittuo… you were by both Inaho and Slaine’s sides for a while, were you not?”

The question is not unexpected, so Eddelrittuo warily nods.

“Both Inaho and Slaine were quite magnificent during the war, weren’t they? The war would have been over much faster even either of them hadn’t been there.”

She’s not sure where he’s going now, is he about to blame her for not harming Troyard? It doesn’t seem like him, so she just nods again.

“It makes me wonder… if circumstances were different, would they have been friends? Maybe more?”

Eddelrittuo stares at him for a bemused moment, then giggles. “More? Like lovers? Right... Thank you, sir, that was funny.”

Mazuurek smiles. “Fine, maybe I was joking about the ‘maybe more’ part, but I mean it about the friendship.”

“...I think they’d just end up fighting for Her Majesty’s hand.”

Mazuurek chuckles. “You seem very clear on them both being in love with Her Majesty. I certainly cannot speak for Troyard, but I wonder about Inaho. I have no doubt he liked her; the certainty he had that it was not her speaking to the public, and the risk he took to give back her pendant speak for themselves. And that’s just one thing he did. He liked her, but was it romantic love?”

Eddelrittuo hesitates. It’s hard to say, and the period she spent with the boy was too long ago, mired in a haze of fear, distrust, institutional racism towards terrans, and a certainty that her charge was too superior to anyone to not be immediately desired by everyone. Not to mention, the boy in question acted too strangely, and had less expressions than a robot.

Had Inaho been in love with her? She couldn’t say for certain now. Perhaps he had, or perhaps it had been her twisted, fluffy interpretation of everything. It had been too long; Eddelrittuo was no longer a young child and was embarrassed to acknowledge how badly she’d acted, and how much she lost by not truly paying attention.

At that time, away from home and in territory she felt belonged to inferior beings, Asseylum had shone too brightly. In Eddelrittuo’s mind back then, how could any boy, especially an inferior terran one, not fall in love with her?

Mazuurek seems to understand she’s unable to truly answer and interrupts her train of thought. “No need to dwell on that. Do you really think they would never find enough ground to like each other?”

“I just can't believe it,” she squeaks out. “They were enemies. They personally fought each other!”

“Perhaps, but what if they were in a situation where they weren’t on different sides?”

She’s curious enough to reflect on it. Whereas Inaho’s feelings for Her Majesty is too much of a hazy area for Eddelrittuo to analyse, his personality in general and Slaine’s own are easier.

“Slaine was… strong. And protective, and loyal, and good at piloting, and strategizing and good at leading and manipulating. Inaho… was protective, and loyal, and good at piloting, and strategizing and…!” She realizes she’s been listing the same things and blushes. “BUT! He wasn’t that good at manipulating! And he was only a leader because people trusted his plans. And he’s cold and calculating while Slaine was emotional and followed his heart and... uh… Slaine… Slaine was much better looking.” She flushes with the confession. “That’s what I can remember!”

“Opposites attract.”

“...Does that mean that Count Mazuurek likes coldhearted and manipulative people?”

Mazuurek chokes, despite Eddelrittuo not having seen him eat anything. “No! I don't like anyone coldhearted— I mean! I don't like anyone at the moment! It’s just something that happens, sometimes. Sometimes people like people that are similar to them. But I wouldn't know either way! My point is… maybe Inaho would appreciate what Slaine has— had that he hasn’t. And while I can see why you view him as cold, he isn’t, he just doesn't show it as much, so perhaps Troyard was simply externating the same warmth Inaho has inside.”

Eddelrittuo is self aware enough to understand her judgement is too partial, yet she can’t help but frown at anyone calling Inaho ‘warm inside’.

“All I can think of is Inaho making an thoughtless comment and Slaine trying to choke him,” she admits.

“Trying to choke him for the comment?”

“No, for his existence.”

Mazuurek laughs. “Are you perhaps not a little biased?”

“...Maybe. I apologize, I will try harder sir.”

“No need, I’m sorry I’ve put you up to this… would-be scenario without reason. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I’m sorry.”

Yet, now that Eddelrittuo has been forced to think and, moreover, finally has been given an opening to speak about Slaine without needing to act like he was the villain, her thoughts are racing.

“...Hm.” It’s surprising, but an image comes clearly to Eddelrittuo’s mind. “Inaho is probably better at making plans, but Slaine would be better at thinking about how people would act. They would bicker, because Inaho has no filter and Slaine struggled to hide his own disagreement. But they would agree on a plan eventually. When it came to tell others what to do, Slaine would make an impressive speech to motivate them. Inaho would try to explain the plan but do so in a way that makes it more confusing, Slaine would probably scold him later. They’d make the plan a success. They could make ruling the planets a success.”

She pauses for breath, the thoughts she would never be able to vocalize anywhere else rushing in. “Slaine was emotional, but he’d been taught and forced to hide his feelings and be civil. He didn’t forget or forgive slights, even if he smiled at the person, he kept up a polite façade until he could pay them back.” Something she’d learned watching from the sidelines as he stabbed even his benefactor in the back. “If he couldn’t forgive Count Saazbaum, could he forgive Inaho if after shooting him down he had brought him aboard?”

“I’m sorry? Bring him aboard?”

“Oh, I’m sorry sir, was the exercise only in the scenario that they had both met before the war began?”

“Not at all, I’m just not aware of what you meant.”

“Slaine once took a skycarrier to come rescue Her Highness. We… were unaware he was on it and Inaho shot it down. It’s… one of my biggest regrets.”

“Don’t, how would you have known? Although, if that happened, I wonder how much Inaho regrets it now.”

“I don’t think he’s been told who he shot down at that time.”

“Hm, I wonder.”

“So you see, maybe Slaine would have wanted vengeance. Ah, but… but the Count had harmed Her Highness, Inaho had harmed Slaine himself…”

She shakes her head and tries to focus again. “Inaho says what he thinks, he’s rude and doesn’t consider the tone or interpretation of his words. I think Slaine would be vexed by that, like I was, because he was taught it was wrong, but he would probably secretly want to be able to be as carefree as Inaho. He… he didn’t really hate Inaho, I think? The few times he spoke of him in front of me, it felt more like resentment because of Her Majesty and his own plans but… I think he also admired his skills, too. Being able to logically think about everything while saying what he thinks freely… I don’t think Slaine would hate that. I think he would appreciate it, after all he had to deal with. And he’d agree with Inaho’s take on war, and revenge, and his ambition, and his loyalty…” she breathes out. “I suppose I could see them being friends…”

If only he hadn’t been killed. If only Her Highness had listened and given Slaine just one chance…

Her eyes fill with tears.

It’s pointless to even think of this, because they made mistakes, because they lost their chance to have Slaine on their side, because Slaine is dead.

Yet even for a pointless exercise she could barely answer properly. What had she done with her young life, that she’d spent so much time around these two boys and barely knew them?

And now she’s hiding away, squirreled away under Mazuurek’s guidance, with years of her life misused, having gained nothing but a sense of guilt, yet barely no memories or knowledge that wasn't traumatic warfare.

Mazuurek offers her his personal handkerchief, and Eddelrittuo forgets to refuse it.

“I’m so very sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you at all. Please forgive me for these pointless wonderings, especially since they touched on this.”

“It’s f-fine. It’s just… so sad. That he died. He wasn’t that bad! Really, he wasn’t!” She realizes too late what she’s saying to one of Her Highness’ staunchest supporters. “Forgive me, sir, I’m saying silly things.”

“It’s alright, I’ve heard similar opinions earlier. But I must apologize again, I never knew you were so endeared to Troyard. He seems to endear people to him quite a lot.”

“I’m thankful for the chance to be able to say something nice about him, so please pay my outburst no mind, sir. But even if there were people that liked him, it’s not as if it helped him any.” She gives him a watery smile and tries to go back to what her Count had wanted to focus on. “Maybe if they had been friends though…”

Mazuurek has no reply to that.

“You know,” Rayet says tentatively, when she’s certain they’re alone. “If it bothers you this much to have your feelings spread out… just stop the plan?”

Inaho doesn’t even consider it. “No, this has to be done. It’s not as if it’s bothersome; Slaine suggested I attempted to visibly react whenever it’s mentioned so it seems less forced that you are blurting it.”

“Uhuh, well, your acting skills are surprisingly good, then. Still, why are we doing this… thing to Mazuurek? Can’t we just tell him what we’re after?”

“No, while Mazuurek can be trusted, we can’t be sure about whoever he trusts. I don’t think he’s the sort to gossip, but this can still be used as proof later if someone doubts it. Not to mention, to explain what we’re after we'd have to reveal the possible uprising.”

“I guess. But damn, I hate this… 4D chess nonsense or whatever. You are telling people you are in love when you aren’t except you are.”

“Like I explained. Slaine suggested I go around saying this, because he thinks it’s not true.”

“And you agreed to it, you masochist.”

“You’ve said that a few times.”

“I’ll keep saying it so long as it’s true.”

“... I agreed to it because it was logically sound and nothing else would work as well.”

“However, if you are correct, the person behind this insurgence plot will be coming to you before I am back, at which point you will be asked for your position in all this. Which brings me to conclusion two: we need to decide on how you should act around this person even if we don’t know what we want yet. And I assume your opinion on Asseylum will be brought up.”

“So... figure out the best way to present myself so they think... what we want them to think?”

“I think you need to present yourself as still harboring hatred for terrans.”

Slaine nods. “Yes, which will be easy enough, given my actual situation.”

“Regardless of your actual feelings towards her, you will have to act as if you resent Asseylum.”

Slaine, surprisingly, doesn’t balk at that. “Yes, that is the best way; they won’t trust me to aid an uprising against her if I don’t. Don’t look at me like that; I’m not so frail that I’ll break over pretending to have feelings I don’t know if I have or not.”

Inaho would rather avoid he have to do it, nonetheless, the last thing he needs is the pretense forcing Slaine to analyse his feelings for Asseylum while he is miles away. Nonetheless, he knows nothing short of resentment will convince martian insurgents Slaine is on their side.

“Fine, as for the details…”

“Actually… Inaho…” Slaine fidgets, tugging at his pendant. Not a good sign.

“Yes?”

“I’ve been thinking lately… we need to come up with something for you.”

Inaho thinks, then nods. “I suppose. You mean this mastermind may decide I’m too much of a liability going forward otherwise.”

“Exactly. Right now you’re useful since you’re helping me and Lemrina, but as their plan moves forward, having you anywhere near us might become a danger to the execution of the plan… if, that is, they assume you will be against an uprising.”

“Yes, I need an excuse that will make them believe I wouldn’t stand by Asseylum and Earth, so that they’ll rather have me live for longer to be useful to them. I doubt anything I say will convince them to trust me, but if we can trick them into thinking I would be a tool I can guarantee mine and my friends’ lives long enough to enact my own plans, whatever those will be.”

Slaine nods.

“You have a good point, do you think the leader will come to me during our time apart?” Inaho asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe they’ll decide to do it after talking to me, maybe I can drop hints of it, or we can have Lemrina report it…”

“It? So, you already have an idea of what I should do. Go on.”

“...You should pretend to be in love with Lemrina.”

“...What?”

Slaine manages to force out a chuckle, “Well, it was either that or pretend to be in love with me . I’m sure you think Lemrina is the better choice?”

Inaho just stares at him, and Slaine wonders if the wound to his brain is even more grievous than he thought, if Inaho isn’t thinking logically of this.

“Look, set your feelings aside here and be logical like you always are. We need them to believe you have some reason to want to help martians and oppose the UFE. I know you go to great lengths for your friends, but the people in power are going to have a hard time believing you’d risk so much and would upturn a terran government for that. Especially because that will endanger all your other friends.”

“Asseylum—” Inaho begins, but interrupts himself. “I see, people may assume I was in love with her—”

“I still wonder if you really weren’t.”

Inaho ignores his interruption. “And regardless, aiding her was in the best interest of Earth.”

Slaine feels relieved Inaho isn’t too far gone yet. “Exactly. Love is considered a stronger emotion. Claim you are in love with Lemrina and even if they are distrustful of you, they’ll want to believe it as you’re more useful alive and on their side than dead.”

“...That makes sense. It’s a stretch, but there is no other reason for me to want to go against the UFE and aid martians,” Inaho concedes. But then hesitates. “However... Slaine…”

He looks troubled. Inaho never looks troubled.

“...Yes?” Slaine asks, fee ling apprehensive i n turn.

“Do you really think Lemrina is the best option?”

“...No, no I didn’t but… I was hoping you’d have some insight to change my mind.”

“Lemrina will clearly be the figurehead they use to usurp Asseylum. As such, even if for a while, they’ll give her power for a transition.”

Slaine nods dejectly. “If you claim to be in love with her, they’ll fear you might attempt to be by her side, and would become an influence for her. Not to mention marrying her if she ever reciprocated.”

“So, you understand that the best option is…?”

Slaine flinches. “I wouldn’t say best if you can’t even spit it out. But yes, it would be better for you to pretend to be in love with... me. That will mean in their eyes you won’t be trying to reach the highest power, while ensuring you are favorable to my escaping and helping martians gain more power. But Inaho, you are going to have to pull off making people believe you’re in love with me .”

Inaho closes his eyes and massages his temples.

Slaine tries to laugh but it sounds too dry to his own ears. “See? It’s too much.”

“...Bat,” Inaho says through gritted teeth, still massaging his temples. “I am sure by your constant scathing comments that you’ve noticed that I don’t… emote as openly or regularly as one is normally expected to. I’ve been told, quite often, in fact, that I look like a cold individual even to my friends. And you think I can pull off convincing people I am in love and that it is not a ruse ?” He sighs but continues, “Then again, I can’t see any other option. However, I don’t need the analytical machine to tell me the odds that this will fail regardless of who I am… pretending to love.”

Oh, so the issue isn’t me. “Actually, if you think about it,” Slaine says, feeling brighter somehow. “The fact that you are completely unreadable does help. It means you won’t have to practice acting lovesick. And if anyone questions why they never noticed you being in love before? Just use the excuse that you were just being unreadable. We can use your actions so far as proof instead.”

“... What about my actions?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not saying I think your actions were of a romantic nature. But the line between very friendly and in love can be blurred so we can use that. All the things you have done for me, improving my living situation? Love. Fighting to give me better food, better games? Love. Coming here in the midst of a storm to protect me from a guard at the risk of your own life? Love. Oh, wow, now that I think about it, it’s really easy to misconstrue your actions.”

Inaho makes a strange noise at the back of his throat and places his head down between his hands. “I’m glad my actions can be… misconstrued as such, for this situation.”

Slaine beams. “Right? It’s almost scary. If this is how you act towards me, I wonder how you will act when...or if, I suppose... you actually fall in love.”

Inaho doesn’t answer, and Slaine decides to not push him over potential future loves, especially now that he would not be able to act on it even if he did find someone to love. “Okay, what will be a challenge is if people directly ask you why you are in love, what you see in me and so on.”

“I’ll manage that.”

Slaine is surprised with the certainty coming from Inaho. “Really? Because you will have to think of things to say. And don’t purple prose, you’ll fall flat.”

“It’s fine, I can just… fixate on physical features of yours and say I’m keen on them, like your eyes—”

“What about my eyes?”

“...They’re a unique color so it’s a feature that stands out. I guess I could say they’re… captivating.”

Slaine feels heat rising to his face and with horror realizes he’s flushing. He ducks his hand and barks out a laugh to hide it. “That’s good! The combination of looking a person in the eye and using a word like captivating would be believable if I didn’t know you better! Oh, that's it! When in doubt, just do that thing you always do.”

“What thing?”

“You know, where you look someone straight in the eye unblinkingly and say something without looking fazed. It’ll give extra credence. If you can do that while saying you love me, it should do wonders,” Slaine says and, for some reason keeps going to add, “Why don’t you test it out now?”

He realizes what he has just asked Inaho to do immediately, and tries to backtrack. “Ah! Sorry, I don’t mean to tease. I mean, I guess it would be funny to hear you say something so ridiculous… but! If you can say it to me with a straight face, we know you can say it to anyone.”

There is a long pause, and Slain has the distinct impression that Inaho is hesitant; which makes little sense, since Inaho is logic first emotions second. Before the silence can stretch too long, Inaho lets out a breath.

“You have a point,” he says, and his tone sounds almost defeated. “Let’s try it then…”

Inaho sounds so serious Slaine finds himself squaring his shoulders and sitting upright.

Inaho looks him in the eye, expression more solemn than usual. “I’m in love with Slaine.”

Slaine’s vision grows dark… and he realizes it’s because he has slammed his face into his hands.

“...That… okay that was believable , good job but it’s just too…”

“Awkward,” he hears Inaho supply, and the word sounds so muffled Slaine wonders if he too is hiding his face.

“Yeah, that. We’ve determined you can do this so let’s uh… never do this again and pretend this didn’t happen?”

“We are in complete agreement. Now, for how you will be acting…”

The change of subject for something serious is very welcome, and Slaine immediately composes himself. “I don’t think this should change how I pretend to act towards you.”

Inaho nods. “I concur, that means you’ll distrust me and will be more willing to help the martians and not the terrans. But now, would you be aware of my feelings? My false feelings I mean.”

“I think if you had romantic intentions with all you’ve done, I’d have picked it up by now.”

“...”

“So I guess it’s better if I claim to know. I could add that I’ve been leading you on to get better arrangements, while secretly hating you and terrans.” Slaine pauses and feels the needs to add, “Fake, obviously. I haven’t been leading you on. With our friendship I mean.”

For the first time since they’ve started talking, Inaho cracks a small smile. “I know. Shall we practice you acting as such?”

“I don’t think it’s necessary. Unlike you, I had to spend a few years faking my emotions. Also unlike you, I did hate you for a while, so I think I can manage. Asseylum would be the harder part, but I’ll think back to Lemrina’s words about her and use that.”

“Fair enough, now let’s get through the details of what we’ll be saying, so that our versions are fully aligned.”

“Yes, let’s.”

Doctor Yagarai’s personal notes.

First Day of Treatment. Subject IK.

I’d been warned beforehand, but I hadn’t expected this extent of damage. It is akin to when the subject last used the analytical machine. I’m loath to use the words bad luck, but I can only concur that the concussion happened in such a way that the areas of his brain most damaged had been hit. The medical reports from his hospital stay were woefully lacking in too much detail over his concussion, and by now I fear requesting more information will be pointless and too late.

… Knowing my subject, it’s more likely that he did use —

Dr. Yagarai pauses and quickly deletes that last line. Even if this is his personal notes, for his eyes alone, there are some thoughts he cannot risk being found. He will take them up to the Deucalion’s Captain later, in person, however.

It seems the vestiges of the foregone damage are deeper than previously expected. Then again, it’s not as if the subject has been passing his time in a relaxed environment, as prescribed.

And that jab, he plans on writing on his official reports, too.

How much, thus, is this retrocession caused by the physical harm, and how much by the stress forced on him? I’ve previously requested clearance to follow the subject closely and was denied, I don’t see that changing now, so I can only muster baseless conclusions for now.

It’s clear the best possible option would be a steady and longer treatment this time. However, I’ve been forewarned my hands are tied; I was told to increase dosage to ‘fix him�� (such a ridiculous thing to say, yet they still did) as soon as possible. Thankfully medical knowledge was on my side and I could, at the very least, come to a compromise where the subject will be given proper treatment. It won’t be for as long as I want, but it will be for enough time that the damage will be removed. However—

He stops typing again, nervously looking over his shoulder despite this being his personal room, with not even a camera in sight. He ultimately chooses to delete the last word and stop his notes there. The rest of his observations he will only personally say out loud to the Captain.

“Mazuurek! I’m happy you called,” Klancain effuses, happy to be able to say something with genuine affection for once, even if he knows this isn’t a mere courtesy call.

“I know this is earlier than our scheduled calling time…”

“Nonsense, it’s always good to hear a friendly voice.” He would normally have replied he knows it must be urgent, but he assumes Mazuurek wants to hide why he wants to talk to Klancain.

He’s proven correct.

“Indeed, but recently I’ve felt too alone. Each day I think of the fact that martians are now killing martians and I can’t rest. Some friends have just visited, and it made me realize how important a physical meeting is between friends.”

There’s a subtle stab in there, too hidden for a third party, but too clear for Klancain himself.

Mazuurek has just told him he knows, and is vetting Klancain for the extent of his own knowledge.

“True, perhaps we should meet and talk about ways we can stop such infighting from happening again, I could do with a friendly face, too.”

And with that, he’s confirmed Mazuurek’s suspicions, no doubt.

“My dearest fiancée has too many responsibilities as it is, and she’s too much of a lady, I don’t think she’d enjoy the idle chatter of two grown men.”

“Oh, yes, I would never dream of troubling Her Majesty.”

The fact that you truly mean that statement, my friend, is why I must regretfully keep you out of the loop for as long as I can.

“Precisely. My next opening is a few weeks from now, let’s see, how about on...”

The call ends briefly after that, though Klancain believes Mazuurek has not sworn off their friendship yet, despite having been kept away from the information on the UFE’s scheme.

Should he have denied any knowledge? It might have been for the best if he had; an inquiry on what he knows would devolve into how and the extent of his information network within the UFE. He can easily feed Mazuurek information without revealing his future plans, but he had wanted to keep their relationship as it was.

It was selfish, really. Mazuurek was better served knowing at least what the UFE had done, yet Klancain had stalled, both from wanting to enjoy the companionship without that, as well as wanting to see what Kaizuka would do.

That had paid off; it’s clear now that Kaizuka’s visit had the singular goal of telling Mazuurek what had happened, which was further proof Kaizuka was willing to aid martians, if only the ones he counted for as personal friends.

His relationship with Mazuurek may or may not take a plunge at his own lack of forthcoming, but as painful as it was, Klancain knows they hardly have a future. If he cannot get Mazuurek to defect from Asseylum, he will lose him eventually. He just wishes to prolong it as much as he can.

But now, he has a more pressing concern to focus on: who should he visit first, Mazuurek, or Slaine Troyard?

Slaine had been prepared to feel the loss of his pendant immediately.

He was distraught to find the loss wasn’t as painful as he’d expected.

Maybe it’s because he gave it up willingly; it’s not something stolen from him. And it’s not as if he sees any actual chance of Inaho not coming back eventually to hand it over. In a way, he feels as if he hasn’t lost the pendant; he has simply chosen to keep it around someone else for a while. If anything, Inaho’s serious reaction to his silly gesture had been more than he could have asked for, really, and he has been left with no regrets.

That, and ultimately he has spent too much time without the pendant, so it’s not as if the lack of it is new.

Still, ironically its absence makes him think of it more than he did when it was around his neck. It was, after all, the last gift his father had given him, during their disastrous trip to Mars.

“Keep it with you always, I’ll tell you about it when you’re older.”

And then he didn’t get the chance. How many nights had Slaine stayed up, trying to open the pendant, hoping it had the picture of his parents or an heirloom? But it didn’t open, it didn’t have that function.

Actually… I wonder if the design itself had some meaning? A form of terran coat of arms maybe? Ah, but Inaho had it for so long, he’d have figured it out by now. Or maybe he did, but assumed I was also aware and didn’t see the point of bringing it up, it would be just like him. I’ll have to ask when he gets back.

… Then again, what would be the point? Anyone associated with the Troyard name has been either lynched by now, or changed names. His mother’s side… either way, no one was going to want to associate with him anyway.

However… family… something nags at him, a question at the very back of his mind trying to surface...

“I believe there’s a terran saying… penny for your thoughts?”

Slaine jolts, and realizes Harklight is in the cell with him, smiling.

“I see you’ve kept up your skills of silently appearing anywhere.”

Harklight’s smile widens. “I should hope so, but in this case I think it’s because you were miles away.”

“Ah, well, I was wondering about inconsequential things.”

“Even so, you can tell me.”

Slaine is about to deny him again, but looking at Harklight is what he had needed to finally recall the question that had been buried.

“Actually, I was wondering, what happened to the Emperor?”

“What do you mean?”

“He abdicated in favor of… his granddaughter, but I didn’t hear that he had passed.”

“I heard he’s actually doing better now that the weight of ruling is no longer on him, to the point that no one expects him to die anytime soon.”

“Hm, normally I’d assume that’s a lie but… he’s already abdicated and allowed the current ruler to do as she wishes, and no one is aware of Lemrina, so it’s not as if his status changes the power on the throne.”

The problem was that Slaine needed information on aldnoah that he did not have. Some rules were clear: if whoever used their aldnoah to power a piece of technology died… the technology would lose power.

However… what became of people granted aldnoah rights if the Emperor who gave them that power died?

The Emperor was the first and only one they ever had. He was the one to grant most of their power. When his son died, so did his closest supporters, so it was hard to say if they too had lost any power he had given them.

If he had died, and the martians maintained their aldonah… it would mean they could kill the current ruler without fear. In fact, it would be wise to kill her as nothing but their own demise would remove their power in that situation.

So maybe, the former Emperor had to be alive. Yes, it could be this is why there was so much caution surrounding her ascension, and why this insurrection sorely needed Lemrina: if the former Emperor is alive when they dethrone her, he could remove martian aldnoah rights as punishment, and they’d need Lemrina.

Perhaps, in fact, this is one of the main reasons why the insurrection is being so slow and careful, with no actions yet. They could be hoping for the Emperor’s death, to further remove any hold the current ruler had over other martians.

I need to talk to Inaho about this. How much does he know about the aldnoah power exchange? More importantly, how much does the UFE know?

Oh yes, because if the UFE thought all martians would lose power at the death of their royalty...

Maybe he should feel flustered at all the questions he can’t answer, all the possibilities he can’t seek out himself.

And yet it makes him feel somewhat alive.

“That bad, huh?” Magbaredge says somberly, then sighs. The other three people in the room, Marito, Mizusaki and Yagarai, also have grim expressions.

“Yes. I managed to stave off the higher ups and have Inaho receive treatment for the next two months, at least, to be extended if need be.”

“So why do you still look so troubled, doc?” Marito asks.

Yagarai glances around the room.

“This place is safe, possibly the safest aboard the Deucalion, as we check it for bugs regularly,” Magbaredge says, “even if I can't imagine how someone would be able to enter and bug it without our knowledge.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Marito retorts, to a glare from Mizusaki.

It’s enough reassurance to have Yagarai talking, especially as he has too much he wants to get off his chest. “A few things trouble me, actually. First, I feel that they are only paying me lip service, and if their plans require it they’ll simply cut short his treatment at will, and we know Inaho won’t —and can’t— object. But… that would mean…”

He doesn’t need to finish the sentence, as tension fills the room. Although he had been miles away when the UFE had used the Deucalion to kill off the martians, his friends had briefed him on it afterwards. If the UFE had a dire need for Inaho, it would be to do it again.

“... We knew that would never be a one time thing,” Magbaredge eventually says. “This all but confirms it. And… our hands are tied.”

Marito snorts. “We had more power when we were all alone fighting the whole of the Martian front,” he says bitterly.

“Yes, but as things stand if we go against the UFE, either we do so by admitting what they’ve done, and usher in another war, or we say nothing as to why we are disobeying them, at which point the martians will aid the UFE in putting us all down. We must survive, for the children's futures, at least.”

“You are wise as always, Captain,” Mizusaki beams, then turns to Yagarai. “You said that was your first issue?”

“Ah, yes. The other thing is Inaho Kaizuka himself. The damage is… suspicious. A concussion bad enough to result in what should have left some other lingering damage. Maybe the treatment wasn’t as effective as I imagined, but I can’t help thinking that he used his analytical machine.”

They consider it. “Kaizuka Jr. is the sort that would do that, if needs be, though that would imply there was a need. What really went down during the storm?”

“He didn’t tell me, but we were in the medical facility, which I cannot vouch for the safety of.”

“Got it, we’ll haul him up here for the usual ‘meet up with old pals’ and lock him in this room til he talks,” Marito rubs his hands with glee.

“Unless you plan on waiting more than two months for that chance, you better promise me you’ll be gentle. I will not have more stress on him if I can help it. But regardless, I will not be allowing him to leave the medical facilities for a week at least. We’ll see how he responds to treatment first and only after his condition is stable will I consider allowing him to do anything that may prove to be emotionally or mentally strenuous.”

“Yes, mum.”

He ignores the comment. “But there’s something else, too. Well, usually I’d say it’s another possibility to his having used that machine, but this being Inaho Kaizuka, I feel like it’s both. I get the impression that he wants the reports saying his mental state is fragile. I got that from our first treatment too, but I assumed it meant he wanted to bow out of further being used by the UFE.”

“The smartest move, really.”

“Yes, but that is the thing. Before, I had suggested that… given how novel the treatment is… how unique his injuries are… and how there really isn’t anyone capable of truly countering my conclusions… I suggested I could perhaps… ah… err on the side of caution and claim he could do no work at all, as any form of responsibility would harm him. He refused, he wanted to be seen as capable still, just not too capable. Since that wasn’t a lie I agreed to it.

“And now I’ve implied I can do this for him again, and I would even have more basis for this claim, but he’s refused again. He wants to keep walking this tightrope where he is well enough not to be recused but not that well. I don’t understand why.”

“We’ve had this conversation already; thanks to that massacre we know what he went on to do, who he wants to keep watch on, if you will.”

“And all thanks to Captain Magbaredge’s keen observation skills!”

Yagarai hesitates. “Yes, I recall. It’s just… I dislike coming to conclusions based on my instincts, yet… there was something in his eyes—”

“Amazing you could see anything in his expression, maybe the damage is serious.”

Marito’s comment is once again ignored. “I feel like this time it’s different, it’s not just about not being forced into work he isn’t interested in. This time it’s as if he wants to be underestimated , while remaining inside the UFE fold.”

“...If your observation is correct, it means Kaizuka Jr. is planning something. When I get a hold of him, we’ll see. Don’t worry about it, just focus on treating him and leave any possible plans of his, to me.”

“Thank you.”

In the darkness of his bunk bed, Inaho lightly touches the pendant.

He no longer needs light; he had held it for so long, and looked at it so much, he can see its pattern just by tracing it’s grooves with his fingers.

It’s a testament to sentimentality, really. He had once used his analytical machine on it, hoping for some form of communication to Asseylum hidden inside. Of course, nothing had come of that, and all his analytical machine could tell him was that the metalwork was too old for it to give him a creation account. Still Inaho had persevered, logically assuming his machine would not be able to pick up on aldnoah, and maybe keeping it close to him at all times would prove useful.

In the end the one result was a lingering attachment towards the item, aided by the meaning behind it and, ironically, it’s one use came by giving it away.

Now… if Inaho had been more attached to feelings, he might have refused to take it back.

But Slaine had seen the exchange as a gift, and how could Inaho deny any little show of friendliness Slaine was willing to give him?

He hated, however, that it would put him in a similar place to Asseylum. The pedestal Slaine had put her on, would insult Inaho to be given.

Yet that wasn’t the most discomforting reason he had almost refused. The main reason was that, while for Slaine the gift had a hopeful, positive meaning, to Inaho holding the pendant is a burden of guilt.

Failing to bring its rightful owner aboard the Deucalion after shooting him down, failing to ask more about Asseylum’s supposed friend, to the point he never even knew the pendant was his, failure to protect Asseylum from being shot and taken away, failure to do anything but watch Slaine live out his imprisonment.

His head hurts. Inaho breathes in and out deeply for a while until it subsides.

He made mistakes, he knows that. But so did everyone else. He knows that. Dwelling on that now is counterproductive. He needs recovery, and fast.

Nonetheless, the pendant is a conflicting thing. The trust and warmth he feels for being given it willingly feels as warm as the weight of the failures he cannot help but associate with it.

The faster he can return to Slaine, to hand him his pendant back personally this time, and not for any ulterior motive like with Asseylum, the faster he can be at peace with it.

Notes:

-I hope everyone has been well, safe and healthy. The lockdown actually forcefully gave me the downtime I needed to force myself to finally get through to write the part that I couldn’t no matter what. The Mazuurek scene, for example, had been partially completed since I released ch37. Eddelrituo’s scene had to be reworded for reasons, but had its draft done since last year. The rest were the difficult bits to write. My creative drive was basically all stuck doing Mazuurek’s debate, and as the rest of the chapter is mostly set up… I just seemed incapable of pinning down words.

-But difficulty doesn’t mean it’s okay to take two years for a chapter. I sincerely apologize to all of you, I read all the comments and they remind me to not stop no matter what, but I know the delay has gone beyond reasonable. For those who still read this even when they’ve been following this since the start of the publishing dates, I appreciate your patience with me, I don’t deserve it. I hope i can do better in the future.

-I’ve been made aware that apparently after the last episode “to strengthen the bond between the two planets, an Aldnoah Reactor is created to give Aldnoah activation power to everyone on the planet. And the Vers Empire would be the ones to export the Aldnoah power to the Unite Earth”. Words cannot express how idiotic this is, much less its lack of feasibility. Are they saying people don't need to suck dic- I mean exchange fluids with someone with aldnoah rights and that this reactor does the trick? Even if that’s it, giving everyone the power to use aldnoah isn’t a good idea, it’s a disaster. I can’t decide if I disregard this or attempt to fix it into something sensible, if that’s possible.

-Schrodinger’s Emperor. I am conflicted about how this thing works: I was under the assumption he had to be alive, because if he died surely everyone that sucked his dic- his saliva to gain aldnoah rights would lose it. When Asseylum nearly died, it’s shown as if only the Deucalion (directly powered by her) is affected, but then again, she never handed rights to anyone… except she did. Slaine. The ultimate question is if Slaine could power the mechas because Saazbaum gave his rights, or because he still had Asseylum’s power. I’m thinking it’s the latter, as I feel as if I’m forgetting some example of him managing to power stuff up and being surprised about it. Of course, this in turn means that we have a Schrodinger’s former Emperor here: he can be dead, he can be alive, because it means power already given to a person isn’t revoked by death of the giver, only by will. But if he’s dead, and noone lost power, why have Asseylum be so powerful? She becomes in fact the last roadblock to power, so clearly just murder her. However… if he’s still alive and no one knows he can die and they still have power (because few people know Asseylum suffered cardiac arrest), then of course no one will risk it… If anyone has enough memory of the show to give me examples that confirm or deny all this, please tell me.

-Inaho and Slaine’s plot: I checked this with my beta. I reflected as much as I could (and boy did i have time for that) and sincerely continued with this plotpoint. Ultimately there is no other excuse I could think of that would be better to give a martian insurrection to convince them Inaho is not a threat but in fact willing to work on overthrowing Asseylum. A lust for power? Nope, he can have power if he just asks Asseylum. True peace? Nope, there is no guarantee this group will bring more peace to both people than Asseylum has. He has no reason to wish revenge on the UFE either. The only slightly plausible explanation would be his being in love and needing the change of government because of that.

-Protip for any writers planning to do a long fic. For the love of god, make notes. I don't mean the obvious “write down the main plot points you're planning to have” but detailed ones such as “X and Y have deep talk in ch 00” because I sure as hell did not and every single time I find myself needing to reread my own fic to try and scrounge the details of what I might have written somewhere and which, though minor, would impact if i now had the characters saying/acting contrary to the info already given. Imagine having to search through over 200k words every time. Don’t do it, keep detailed notes.

-Special thanks to my beta, who not only is forced to fix all my mistakes, hear about and debate plot points with me, but also saved story flow by literally reminding me Eddelrittuo had expressly acted as if Slaine was dead back in chapter 15, as I was about to have Mazuurek tell her Inaho is in love with Slaine in this chapter, you can likely still see the vestiges I could save of how that would have played out in the fic.

#aldnoah.zero #aldnoah zero #orangebat #inasure #az fic: in carcere #my fic

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ronanivarsson · 5 years ago

Note

🔷️ - tracing shapes on my muse’s skin

ronan spends the day of december 28th in rome.

he kills a man at exactly the same time that mikael and lucrezia exchange vows--one of his father’s former lovers, a man who would have been hard pressed to recall the fact that magnus ivarsson had a son at all, let alone identify him when he broke the lock on an apartment door and slid the knife between the third and fourth rib. here’s to your love, he thinks to himself, while the man bleeds out onto his white shirt. may it be everlasting and eternal, or whatever trite bullshit people convince themselves they believe at weddings.

he didn’t even really have anything against that one, he’d just needed something to take his mind off of things. a distraction. needs must.

its late by the time his car finds its way back to verona, but the ivarsson villa is not the first stop it makes.

he makes his way into the falco residence with ease, grins at each security member and lingering party guest alike, pats them on the back and laughs at their joke before declaring his intention to find the bride and groom and give his congratulations. in reality he has no idea where either of them are--the room is still swarming with people, and lucrezia and mikael aren’t actually the reason that he’s here.

he makes his way to where he knows mikael’s room to be, and pushes the door open gently. empty--a more apt metaphor for this entire night ronan could not possibly find.

he pulls the bloody knife from where it’s been tucked away inside of his jacket, and begins wiping the blood against the pristine sheets, tracing shapes into the space where her body might lie, before leaving the thing resting on top of a pillow. a message, a warning that only one made from the same beastly material, as mikael’s new bride so clearly is, would recognize.

you may have won the battle, but i will win the war. the next time you see me, i will be standing above you, and it will be your blood instead of someone else’s.

he uses their bathroom sink to clean his face, to wash his hands. he walks out with a grin on his face, even gives mikael’s mother a kiss on the cheek and a platitude about how happy he is, before he walks out into the night air and to his waiting car.

may the best king win, lucrezia.

#AND SEEM A SAINT WHEN MOST I PLAY THE DEVIL | DRABBLES #LUCREZIA FALCO | LADY MACBETH #this is kind of a cheat bc its not actually her skin but I figured this is the closest ronanwould get to that!!!#murder tw #blood tw #stabbing tw

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lamrien · 5 years ago

Note

🖐 - rests their hand on my muse’s knee or hip

This event’s the same as the next, the same as the one after the next, the same as the one after that — they go on, an endless chain-link fence of posturing and saying look how much I can give without really giving anything at all. Not anything that matters, at least. The room feels stifling, a little too tight around the collar. It’s not a situation where Lucien finds himself looking to be anywhere else, but it’s close enough that he’s considering looking for the next exit. Just for a breath of fresh air, certainly. This thing’s still going to go for another three hours, maybe four, if Alexandria de Rosso decides she needs to get up and make another speech about the prosperity and generosity of the attendants currently present. And then, as if it’s a message sent down from the heavens, he catches her out of the corner of his eye. She’s heading towards the microphone. He grabs another flute of champagne from a passing tray and ducks out before anyone’s wiser to his escape.

Well, anyone except for one person. When he exits through some side doors and out into a garden that’s borderline labyrinth in style, he’s not the only one standing out on the patio. The lights are off, and it’s difficult to see in the lowering light as the sun settles, evening eclipsing into itself. It’s a clear message that they shouldn’t be out here, but Lucien enjoys the chance to be a little rebellious, every once in a while. The air’s sticky with cold, equivalent to the feeling of sticking an ice cube into your mouth right after taking it out of the freezer. He squares his shoulders and takes a drink from the glass, eyeing his newfound company. She’s got her hair up in an elegant bun, although there are a few strands escaping at the back of her neck. The gown she wears is not extravagant, but it isn’t cheap, either – she has some modicum of wealth, perhaps more than she’d like to publicly express at a charity event. Her earrings glitter in the sunset, and it is only when he comes to stand alongside her that he realizes this is Lucrezia Falco.

Something sours on his tongue. Mikael Falco had been shouldering through guests and making way for conversation just a few minutes ago, he’d been sure of it, and Lucien knows enough about the Falcos to know they are knee-deep in the enthrall of the Capulets, all their golden-blue glory. There are others associated with the mob here, certainly (is Lucien not one of them? Ronan is gallavanting about, taking photos and laughing at the top of his lungs), but none quite-so-high up the ladder as the Falcos. If Everett Craven had made an appearance, it’d be different, but the Falcos were practically made for this sort of thing. Lucien thinks they take care of their public image… which is why it doesn’t make much sense for Lucrezia to be out and about, ignoring her responsibilities. Lucien’s no one; he’s a pretty face to look at and laugh with while someone drones on about bids and donations and whatever cause they’re working towards.

Lucrezia does not.

They stand, shoulder to shoulder, for a long time, and not once – not even once does Lucrezia address him. She just watches as the sky grows progressively darker. Eventually, automatic lights flicker on. The air grows colder. He loses himself in his own trailing thoughts, planning out the week in front of him, but every once in a while, he can’t help but look at her and wonder. Does Lucrezia Falco know who she is, why she’s here, what she’s doing? The power she has – or lack of it? Maybe that’s the true fatal flaw of them all, the snake eating all their tails. They don’t have any actual control. They profess to have it, and are surprised when something doesn’t go the way they want it to. In the background, Alexandria says some sort of one-hit-wonder and the crowd inside laughs. There’s the distinct noise of a mic bumping against the stand, the squeal of feedback frequency, and Lucien thinks that’s his cue. It is only then that she looks at him, eyes unreadable in the dark, and nods.

They’re in agreement for something. He’s just not sure what that is; he turns on his heels and struts right back in to track Ronan down and wrangle him back into some semblance of decency. This whole mess is finally wrapping up, it seems, and earlier than it usually would. He finds his husband towering over a group of admirants and it is with a warm smile and gentle touch that he tugs him away. Across the room he can see Lucrezia doing the exact same thing with the other Falco, although Mikael looks distinctly less comfortable with the state he’s in than Ronan would be. Someone is making a final address to the crowd, thanking them for their patronage, telling them to enjoy the rest of the night and to think back on what they can do for Verona. It’s so funny that Lucien almost laughs aloud. These fools will do nothing for Verona. They’ll pat themselves on the back and go home, and in the morning, things will be just as terrible as the night before.

They are all gathered together for a photo. There’s not as many people here now as there were at the start. Fifty has dwindled down to twenty and Lucien finds himself grateful, but still surprised when he and Ronan are pressed in right next to the Falcos by the photographer. He knows this part well enough. Smile. Look happy. It’ll all work itself out. There will be some poorly-written article in L’Arena about this, and he’ll laugh about it tomorrow over breakfast. It seems that Lucrezia is doing the same thing he is, playing the part. Ronan is careful not to touch him. He smiles, but stands spine-straight, hand at the small of the back of the person to his left and not his right. It burns. And then, unexpected, there is a weight at his hip. Lucrezia has daintily placed her own hand at his waist, the one not held by Mikael. Her eyes never stray from the lens of the camera. Her expression never shifts. She might be better at this than he thought, or worse. Lucien’s not sure. Her hand stays.

The camera flashes. The night ends. Lucrezia and Mikael Falco are the first ones to leave, and Lucien – Lucien watches them go.

@la-bella-falco / ASK MEME

#la-bella-falco #tbt

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dukemassetti · 5 years ago

Note

🤗 - draws my muse in for a hug

They’ve only just returned from their third mission as a borgata, and it was, to put it bluntly, an abject failure. Orion’s got a split lip and blood all over his shirt, but that’s just a good time for him. The only worry he has is how hard Craven might get beaten up for their mistakes, but really, it’s still Lucrezia’s introductory period. Personally, he’d cut her a little slack, even if he was a hardass like Cosimo.

They’re both quiet as they exit the back of the car, which Orion can’t stand. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, shooting her a grin.❝ Listen, if Everett gives you the disappointed father speech, I’ll just throw snacks at him and see if I can get them to stick in his hair. I think I left some popcorn in his cupboards. ❞

Lucrezia is mutinously silent, and he groans as she enters Everett’s foyer, spinning her around to look at him.❝ Let’s have a game plan, ❞ he says, eyes raking over her but pausing at her shoulder.❝ What is that ? ❞

❝ Nothing, ❞ she bites out, but there’s still blood oozing at her shoulder.

Orion swears.❝ You didn’t tell me they actually got you one, ❞ he says in frustration, dragging her to Everett’s guest bathroom. There’s a first aid kit under the sink. No wonder she’s quiet; being Mikael’s cossetted bride didn’t really have the same rate of pain and danger as joining the Capulets. It probably seemed like a fun idea at first, but this is her real first brush with danger, and it’s clear she hasn’t taken it as well as she thought she might.

He sits her on the closed toilet seat, leaning down to get what he needs.❝ It’s just a little cut, ❞ she says with a stubborn cut to her jaw, clearly not wanting to admit to anything more.❝ Yeah, yeah, makes you look tougher, ❞ Orion points out, cleaning the wound and listening to her hiss. He moves her sleeve to bandage it before declaring himself satisfied, but when he stands, she looks so furious he can’t help it.

He laughs.

❝ C’mon, gattina, ❞ he says, holding out a hand.❝ You’ll get your claws. ❞ After a moment of protest, she takes it with the air of someone very cross, and he pulls her right forward into a hug. It takes a moment for her to settle in and decide there’s no escaping it, and then even longer to actually hug back, but he knows it’ll help her in the end. It’s about having each others’ backs, because when it comes down to it, they’ll need to protect each other in potentially a hundred missions just like that. The only way out is through.

mentions include @evcravens

#{.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ LADY MACBETH | just a taste of dark and divine.#la-bella-falco

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sunshineandfangs · 5 years ago

Text

Klarosummer - Flower Garland || Cuore Malato

Continuation of yesterday’s Klarosummer - Tent || Viaggio

Umm so, the flower garland part just barely makes it in. Oops. It’s extra long though?

@klarosummerbingo

Caroline stared wide eyed at the (unfairly attractive, were those dimples?) man/vampire/supernatural boogieman before her, skin still tingling from where he had touched her.

Well, you see I’m from the future and your name is kinda infamous. Yeah, no. She didn’t want to die, thanks! Her mind was scrambling to come up with a more reasonable explanation and as each second ticked by she could feel the weight of her silence.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Finally, she figured out how to phrase the truth - sans the more outlandish details i.e. the time travel.

“My father,” she blurted out, her planned words temporarily deserting her. “I lost my mother when I was young, and he couldn’t bear to stay. He took me with him and started telling me all these unbelievable stories. About, about beasts and creatures that walked among us. I-I thought he was crazy!”

His hand was back, this time cradling her jaw with deceptive gentleness. He tilted her head upward, closer to him, bearing her throat.

She swallowed.

“Quite the interesting tale. However,” he paused, his thumb shifting to settle over her pulse, petting little feathery strokes over the skin, feeling how it hammered away. “That does nothing to explain why it is you reacted to my name.”

Caroline licked her lips, changing little as her whole mouth felt dry.

“Just a warning. When I was still an infant a powerful monster attacked my village. Your name had been mentioned then and I was told to stay far, far away.”

The sudden lack of tension in Klaus’ body was startling. She hadn’t realized how intensely he was regarding her until it faded.

His hand retreated, more playing with her hair than menacingly petting her throat. “I see, so your village was one that I encountered? My apologies.”

It was an oddly genuine sounding remark for all that she could tell he didn’t believe himself in the wrong. But as nice as his sentiment was, that had not been what she meant.

Caroline parted her lips once more to correct him, unknowingly sealing her fate.

“You mistake me. It was not you that came to my village. It was someone named Michele.”

She didn’t even see them move. Between one blink and the next she and Klaus went from their weird embrace in the middle of the hall to her being pinned against the wall, his hand encircling her throat.

Her head wasn’t pounding so he must have had enough restraint to not slam it into the stone, but she couldn’t really be grateful for that when he was glowering in her face. Sometime in that split second his fangs had descended, black veins crawling across his face.

“Michele,” he repeated, his voice having fallen to a deadly whisper. He said it the same way she did, tinged with a Tuscan accent. “Did you just say the name Mikael?”

Part of her noted the subtle pronunciation change, the name sounding almost English. The rest of her was a bit more concerned with more important matters, like the odds of her survival. With the element of surprise, she could maybe temporarily incapacitate Klaus. He was close, and he wouldn’t be expecting the stake hidden under her skirts.

But-

Her eyes settled on his brother who had been silent until now. He stood at Klaus’ back, having moved when they did.

“She cannot speak if you strangle her, brother.” There was no concern in his voice only ruthless practicality, his eyes dark and scrutinizing as he looked at her.

But, she wouldn’t be able to take out his brother as well. And even if she could where would she go? They were hunters. They would chase her.

And she refused to be prey.

She refocused her gaze on Klaus, careful to keep his brother in her periphery. Staring him in the eye, she reached up to tug at his wrist, not really trying to fight him more pointing out that he was indeed cutting off a lot of her air flow.

It was surprising when he did indeed loosen his grip, though none of his menace faded.

She took a breath, voice raspy as she carefully spoke, “Yes, that is what my father told me. I do not know much and have no memory of the event myself.”

“And I am supposed to believe,” Klaus started to say, tone mockingly casual and light, “he just left you in peace.”

“I had the impression that he did not care for us at all, in anyway. Once he knew we could not aid him in whatever he was doing we became nonentities to him, not worth expending the effort to kill us all.”

He leaned even closer, the tip of his nose just brushing hers.

“Forgive me if I find your story a tad too convenient.” His blood black eyes shifted. “Sleep,” he commanded.

---

It was her panic that saved her.

His compulsion was powerful and enough slipped through her mental barriers to send lethargy through her. She allowed her eyelids to flutter shut, her body to go slack as she slumped against him. She even allowed her breathing and heart-rate to alter, their adrenaline boosted speed slowing.

But she kept an iron grasp on her consciousness. Floating in a pseudo-meditative state, she felt as Klaus hefted her weight with ease, slinging her over his shoulder.

There was a rush of wind and force as he blurred somewhere else in the castle. She could only discern that it was colder and darker before he was sitting her down on some type of cot, firm with somewhat scratchy linen.

"Brother, get one of the maids to change her clothes, she may have attempted to smuggle something in.” His footsteps moved away. “And Elijah? Do keep this quiet, no need to worry the others.”

There was silence for several long moments before it was broken by another set of footsteps. They sounded louder and a bit clumsier, the maid most likely.

It was really awkward allowing the maid to change her clothes, and deeply uncomfortable when Caroline was forced to allow her stake and knives to be taken.

Still, she supposed Klaus earned a point for his common decency, permitting a maid to strip her rather than doing it himself. But -1000 for the compulsion, kidnapping, imprisonment, and likely upcoming torture and interrogation. Final score: -999 points.

A solid F-.

---

Caroline was unsure how long she was left alone on the cot. But it was long enough to think up a few plans and then grow restless. But eventually, someone returned.

Klaus.

...Well, actually she couldn’t be sure, but something about the way the air in the room shifted made her think it was him.

Whoever it was seemed relaxed, fiddling with something nearby.

And then she felt it, a weird tug on the lingering echo of his compulsion. It wanted her to wake. Now.

Adrenaline surged through her and she allowed it to push her from her meditative state, jolting back to “consciousness” with a gasp and a sudden opening of her eyes. Very dramatic.

The presence shifted again, and she darted her eyes to them, as a startled human might.

It was Klaus.

Sprawled in a wooden chair and twirling her hunting knife in his hands, he made an interesting image. Somehow, he managed to pull off looking both relaxed and threatening. And on a little table beside him was her stake along with her pocket knife, several of its attachments poking out.

“You are awake,” he smiled, lips curling, “good.” He gave the knife another little twirl. “I thought about killing you while you slept, tearing through your mind for the answers I wanted.” The knife was placed down, his expression placid as if he were just discussing the weather. “But then I thought, that rather seems like a waste.” He picked up the stake next, twirling it in a supernatural display of dexterity. “Pretty girl,” he gave the stake a flip, weighing it in his hand, and looked at her as he caught it, a smirk on his face, “pretty hunter. You could be very useful to me.”

Caroline watched his little display with a blank expression and wary eyes, sitting up slowly as he peered at her expectantly.

“And why would I help you?”

Another flip and then the stake was flying at her face. She jolted, her hand shooting up on reflex and managing to catch it.

The stake and Klaus were both suddenly mere inches in front of her. His hand encircled her wrist, stroking the sensitive skin. She didn’t fight him as he pinned her hand and stake both to the bed, though her fingers clenched around the wood.

“Well, I could just compel you,” he mused, nonchalantly. “...But I admit that seems rather unsporting. I do believe I would decide to kill you before I ruined you in such a way.”

No matter that Caroline knew she couldn’t be compelled, his casual talk of erasing all that she was set a pit in her stomach. Her throat spasm around her next swallow as his eyes pierced into hers.

Funny enough she almost thought a little better of him when he admitted he’d rather kill her. -998.5 points.

Well, she certainly couldn’t stay silent after all that.

“You know, for a man that apparently wants my loyalty, you are not doing a very good job convincing me that I should give it to you.”

Rather than getting angry, he smiled, a bit mocking, but not particularly cruel. He leaned closer, his breath heating her lips.

“You would rather a lie? I thought better of you, sweetheart.”

In a blink he was gone again, his figure reappearing as he stepped through the doorway.

“Come along, love. Feel free to take your weapons if it makes you feel better.”

...

What just happened?

---

Suffice it to say, Caroline had not been stupid enough to let Klaus bait her into leaving her weapons behind. That wasn’t to say she didn’t feel a bit dazed by the surreal experience of trailing behind Klaus, the amiable host.

He walked briskly but took time to idly comment on some of the castle decor. He didn’t threaten or otherwise invade her space again nor did he bring up his apparent plans for her. Instead he simply guided her to a bedchamber, declared it was hers and left.

Departing with a polite bow and a, “I do hope you like it.”

---

Klaus fiddled with a glass of wine, contemplating his newest guest as he drank. And though he sensed Elijah slip into the room, he didn’t bother to turn. His brother would give his opinion regardless.

“Are you sure it’s wise to give the girl such free reign?”

Finishing his wine, Klaus set the glass aside, taking a moment to admire its clarity.

“Now, who said anything about ‘free,’ brother? I intend to keep a very careful eye on her.”

“And Mikael?”

“...If he’s found us, it is not the girl that we will need to worry about.” Klaus turned, clasping his hands behind his back as he stared his brother down. “But if she is a spy, then all the more reason to keep her close.”

---

It was almost disappointing that settling into the home of the Originals went about the same as settling into Rizardo’s home. She even managed to get Klaus’ agreement to tell the kind couple that she was leaving. Of course, he wouldn’t let her say where she was staying only that she found someone in a better position to help her, one that she wouldn’t be a burden to. And despite their protests to the contrary she stood firm, thanking them and bidding them farewell.

---

It was day seven of cohabitation with the Originals (or Klaus and Elijah at least, she hadn’t seen the others) and she was the last thing she expected to be. Bored.

Pretty much all of her favorite past times hadn’t been invented yet and there was only so long she could entertain herself wandering the castle grounds. It was interesting to look at. For the first couple of days. But eventually she ran out of rooms and most of them looked the same besides.

So now she was curled up on a chair (comfort certainly hadn’t seemed to have been invented yet) squinting at pages as she tried to read. It was like learning to speak the language all over again, spellings were different, pages were sprinkled with archaic words and occasionally weird syntax. Everything was written in cramped calligraphy.

Ironically, she had an easier time with Latin, since it was one of the prominent languages used by witches. And thus, one she studied. But it was still slow going.

At least it ate up time.

“You can read.”

Caroline jumped with a yelp, fumbling and nearly dropping the book. She peered upward catching sight of Klaus leaning over the back of her chair. It struck her then that literacy probably wasn’t common, especially among women. Crap.

She contemplated lying, but instead settled for a half-truth. This hadn’t been the first time Klaus popped in and she didn’t have the energy to maintain a web of lies.

“My father was...dedicated in all his pursuits and he taught me much the same.”

Thankfully, Klaus didn’t do much more than raise an eyebrow and extend his hand.

“May I?”

Shrugging, Caroline handed him the book.

“A Complete Guide to Herbs, Remedies, and Tinctures,” he recited. “A riveting read I am sure.”

“Well, there’s not exactly a slew of other activities.”

He hummed, drifting off toward another shelf and retrieving a different tome. Returning, he held it out to her.

“Perhaps. No need to torture yourself though, try this one.” He tapped the cover with his finger, deposited it in her lap and walked off before she could respond.

Caroline blinked a few times. Klaus could really give her whiplash with his odd moods. She appreciated the gesture though, and The Song of Roland sounded much more interesting than the herbology guide.

---

Smothering her jaw cracking yawn behind her hand, Caroline made her way toward to the dining room. It had taken her a few days to finish the book, especially with Klaus continuing to show up now and again, but she managed last night. Now, she was stumbling her way toward breakfast, a bit later than usual judging by the light.

Her steps stuttered to a stop as she started to process the noise coming from the room. Neither Klaus nor Elijah often ate meals with her (and thankfully she rarely saw them eat too).

Hungry and still a bit sleepy, she resumed her walk. Whatever it was, she could deal with it after she was fed. So, she blithely ignored the sudden quiet and stares when she entered the room. Taking a seat, Caroline loaded her plate with various breads, grapes and cheeses.

“Well, well I never thought either of you would get a live-in snack.”

Caroline munched on a grape, she was not getting involved. Nope.

Though she did glance over when the eldest looking brother growled something. It wasn’t Italian, maybe something Scandinavian, but it sounded quite scathing. Thankfully, it seemed aimed at Klaus and not her.

She spread some cheese on a bread slice, biting into it as Klaus retorted in the same language igniting a family squabble.

Caroline couldn’t understand a word, but she could get the gist. It was shockingly normal really. Younger siblings pestering older ones. Older siblings lecturing and scolding younger ones. Judging from the numerous glances at least part of it had to do with her too. She nibbled another slice of bread, this one covered in a creamy ricotta and fruit. Surprisingly delicious.

She jumped when Klaus slammed his hand on to the table, partially cracking the wood.

“Enough,” his glare darted over to the brother of Scandinavian insults, “she’s not my pet, Finn.” He glowered at his other brother. “Nor a snack, Kol.” She caught how his eyes flicked to her for a moment, where she sat calmly eating her breakfast. He smirked, some of his anger ebbing away, and he lifted his hand to gesture at her. “The lovely Caroline is a hunter. And now she’s mine, is that not delightful?”

Caroline choked, the sound loud in the resulting silence.

Whoa, there, buddy! She was not his! What the fuck, Klaus?!

And then Kol erupted into laughter. He rocked back in his chair, putting on a show of wiping a tear from his eye. “Good one, Nik! You really had me going there for a second.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, but returned to sipping his drink. Setting the glass down he calmly regarded his brother.

“Do you think it a jest? I assure you it is not.”

Kol spluttered. “You cannot be serious! Her?” He eyed her skeptically before returning his incredulous gaze to his brother.

Being underestimated was one of Caroline’s greatest advantages. It didn’t stop it from grating though.

“Yes, her.” Klaus’ acknowledgement was a more respectful tilt of his head, which Caroline denied being pleased by. She still had a bone to pick with him after all. She certainly was not his. Not his hunter. Not his pet. Not his anything.

“-nothing wrong with being a woman.”

Caroline realized she had spaced out a little bit, and now the only other female at the table was bickering with Kol. She had apparently taken offense to something Kol had said.

“You are not a human, Bekah. It’s different.”

The smart choice would be allowing the two to quarrel and quietly slip away now that she had finished eating. But she was still rather irritated. Not to mention bored.

“Would you like me to prove it?”

Caroline wiped her hands on a cloth napkin, unfazed by the new silence.

“What?”

She looked up to stare into Kol’s brown eyes, wide and taken aback.

“Would you like me to prove it?” She repeated, a bit more slowly.

He scowled at her slight mockery and sneered at her. “And how do you plan to do that?”

She smiled, angelic. “Why not a spar?”

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Klaus make as if he was going to interrupt. But instead he leaned back in his chair, a quick check saw that he was eyeing her speculatively.

Kol snorted, bringer her attention back to him. “It would not be much of a spar, darling.”

“Well, then you have no reason to refuse, now do you?” She leveled a challenging look in his direction.

“Fine,” he spat. He looked at Klaus. “Don’t blame me though when she gets hurt.”

Klaus swung his eyes between the two of them, Kol’s irritation and her calm resolve. “On your own heads, be it.”

---

Caroline rolled her shoulders, subtly shifting her legs to test the give of her dress. She had chosen a light one this morning with a fairly loose skirt. Doable. Not to mention her dad had taught her to fight in way worse.

Across from her, Kol stood with his arms crossed, looking bored and unimpressed. Around the grounds the rest of the Originals looked on from various vantage points, all but Klaus pretending they were uninterested in the spectacle.

“Well?” Kol grumbled, impatient.

“Well, what?” She chimed back innocently. “I’m ready.”

And she was, having just finished her stretching. Her stance was relaxed and prepared.

He scoffed, blurring toward her, clearly trying to finish it as quickly as possible.

But Caroline was ready for it, turning into the blow and redirecting Kol’s force over and behind her.

He landed with a thud and an ooff in the grass. Highly satisfying.

Caroline pivoted to watch her opponent, hearing feminine peals of laughter from somewhere behind her.

Kol launched upward with a snarled, egged on by both the laughter and unexpected throw. He charged her again. She threw him again.

“Don’t you have any other tricks?” She taunted, Kol once more in the dirt.

She saw a flash of fang as Kol flew at her again, this time faster than she could see. His hand was in her hair wrenching her head to the side.

He expected her to struggle and was thrown slightly off balance when she went limp instead. She let herself fall backward out of his grip, kicking her leg upward to deal a solid blow. Flipping upright, she lashed out again while Kol remained surprised, hitting first his solar plexus and then his throat. The blows staggered him. While more powerful than any other vampires currently alive, they weren’t their millennium old nightmare selves yet.

And following through, Caroline tackled him to the ground, grabbing he stake from the subtle pocket in her skirt. She pinned him to the ground, the wooden point digging into the spot over his heart.

She locked eyes with him, letting him see the truth of her. She wouldn’t back down.

“Dead,” she whispered to him.

A gamut of emotions flashed through his eyes: shock, anger, a minuscule tinge of fear. But finally, they settled on very begrudging respect.

“I guess you are a hunter after all.”

She waited a beat. Two. Half expecting a surprise attack. But none was forthcoming. Slowly, she relaxed and got off him.

“Good match,” she said respectfully.

His lips thinned, probably wondering if she was mocking him, but she wasn’t. Had he taken her more seriously he would have pressed her to expend much more effort. Or beaten her. She wasn’t so arrogant to think it impossible, even if these versions of the Originals were so young.

Standing quickly, he nodded back, though diminished the gesture with a slight hrmph.

“Hn, good match.”

He then turned to stalk off.

Caroline glanced around, noting that the rest of his siblings had already left. Probably once they realized Kol wasn’t going to tear her head off.

Well, all except one.

“I’m impressed, sweetheart.”

Caroline turned to face the presence that had the back of her neck tingling, her arms crossed and looking decidedly unimpressed.

Klaus just grinned at her, an oddly boyish expression.

“Don’t try to be cute with me. I’m still pissed at you!”

He actually looked a bit surprised.

“Have I offended you?”

She scoffed. “Um, yeah! Have you already forgotten what you said earlier? The whole “mine” thing.” She uncrossed her arms to make air quotes before stalking toward him. Jabbing a finger into this chest she emphasized every word. “Listen here, Niklaus. I do not care who or what you are. You do not get to go around declaring that I belong to you. Got it? Because I don’t. I don’t belong to anyone, but myself! Do you understand?”

To his credit, Klaus actually seemed to be taking her words seriously. He lifted one of his own hands, encircling hers to pull her finger away from his chest.

Stroking her knuckles he replied. “I understand your sentiment, and you are correct that I do not own you. You are not my slave. However,” he tugged her arm and, unsettled by his response, she stumbled forward a little. “You are mistaken to believe that you are not mine. I have taken you into my home. Extended my protection to you. Announced that one day I shall have either your loyalty or your death.” He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pressing them even closer. “I assure you, Caroline, in all those ways you are mine.”

He had flustered her, but his words rekindled her anger.

She shoved him away.

“The only reason I am in your home, under your protection,” she sneered, “is because you knocked me out and forced me to stay. So yes, perhaps I am yours. Your captive. And I promise you that is all I will ever be to you. So, you might as well kill me now.”

Caroline lifted her head to stare him down and then purposefully turned her back on him, walking away without another word.

---

The next few days passed in icy silence. While Caroline didn’t go out of her way to avoid Klaus, that would be weakness, she also didn’t engage him at all. If he addressed her she gave the bare minimum response.

Instead she spent time with Kol, a more interesting companion than she would have expected. Less unexpected was the joy he took in the frustration she created in Klaus. She even chatted (sniped) with his sister, Rebekah, on occasion.

Which was why she was startled when she encountered Klaus in the library, a room he rarely frequented these days. He was sitting at one of the large center tables, several sheets of paper scattered around him.

Caroline was determined to ignore him as usual, when one of the pages caught her eye. It was a sketch, some bird, a native one perhaps, mid-flight. Casually, she wandered a little closer, curious despite herself, and browsed the shelves nearby.

“Do you like them?”

It was foolish to think he wouldn’t catch on, but she still startled a little.

“They’re pretty I supposed,” she offered coolly, not looking away from the spines of books in front of her.

“Pretty? I suppose I’ll take it,” he said dryly.

She withheld her snort, a tiny bit amused, not that she would let him know. Her eyes continued to scan over the various book titles, ignoring the faint scratching sounds behind her.

She stilled, processing the noise and his comment.

“Wait a minute, you did these?” She asked as she whirled around, even as she admonished herself for engaging.

“I feel like I should be offended by your tone.” Despite his words, Klaus sounded more teasing than upset.

Caroline’s lips thinned, about to go back to ignoring him.

Suddenly, he was standing, though for once not breaching her personal space.

“Wait, Caroline...”

She quirked an eyebrow as he trailed off, waiting only because he looked so awkward.

“...I find that I have not enjoyed your scorn. How can I acquit myself?”

“You know why you earned my scorn,” was all she replied with.

This time it was Klaus’ face that pinched, evidently he hadn’t changed his mind either.

Caroline ignored her slight disappointment, feeding it to her anger instead, and turned away.

There was a sudden flurry of movement behind her and then a roll of parchment pressed against her hand. She gripped it instinctively as Klaus quickly bent down to murmur in her ear.

“Take it into consideration. If you agree, allow me to escort you tomorrow. There’s a festival in the town square.”

He vanished as soon as he finished speaking, giving her no time to process what he said or confront him.

Caroline looked down at the parchment, rubbing a gentle finger along the edge, contemplating if she was really going to indulge him.

But her curiosity was her weakness and she unfurled it, nearly dropping it as she gasped. Blindly she groped for the chair to sit in, shock and disbelief warring within her.

It was a picture of her, looking poised and fierce in the clearing she had sparred with Kol in.

Along the bottom there was a note.

You are strong, beautiful, and full of light. And I find that the idea of your death brings me no joy.

Caroline, you have grown to revile the monster. Will you allow me to show you the man?

-Klaus

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t flattered, but she couldn’t help but be suspicious as well. Was this just some ploy to make her more docile and receptive to him?

With careful fingers, Caroline brushed the lines of her face, her eyes seeming to shine even in monochrome.

Even if it was a ploy it was still a gorgeous picture.

---

The next day, Caroline found herself dressed in a simple frock, having spent half the night weighing her options. Eventually she had decided on civility at the very least.

So, when a knock sounded through the room, she smoothed down her skirt and opened the door, a neutral expression on her face.

“Hello, Caroline,” he greeted. “...Have you come to a decision?”

“I am a bit curious about this festival.”

Klaus brightened, a small smile on his face.

“Wonderful! There will be art, music, food, culture, and I would be delighted to show it to you.”

He extended his arm to her.

She eyed it, long enough that he faltered and started to lower it. Deciding to take a chance she looped her arm through his, settling her hand on his arm.

Klaus looked pleased, shifting a little to tuck her more securely by his side.

And then they set off.

---

As they exited the castle, Klaus slowed his steps.

“It will take about thirty minutes to walk there on foot.” He gestured toward the stables. “We can take a carriage though if you prefer.”

Caroline appreciated the consideration and could see it was already mostly setup if that was what she wanted. But, after giving it a moment’s thought, she shook her head.

“I think I could use the fresh air, actually.”

“As you wish.”

Though he said nothing else, Caroline could tell she had pleasantly surprised him.

To her surprise their walk didn’t end up filled with awkward or tense silence. They chatted, not about anything important, but little things that allowed Caroline to relax some. The different types of wildlife she could hear. How interesting she found the latest book she was reading. If there was anything in her chambers she would like to change. Perfectly, mundane topics.

And while she still didn’t really trust Klaus and she doubted that he trusted her, she could admit she had grown a bit fond of him, even if he simultaneously frustrated her to no end.

When they finally arrived at the center plaza she was hit with a barrage of sensations.The square was filled to the brim with people, more than she even was aware lived in the area. And every leftover suitable space was packed with stalls selling everything from crafts to food.

An explosion of color seemed to burst from everywhere as her eyes darted between the different items, people, and the decorative garland of flowers twining around all the surfaces they could.

Even the scents of the festival were an assault. Not in a bad way either. Various spices and cooking meat sent her stomach grumbling to background waves of chatter and footsteps.

Klaus leaned over. “Where would you like to head first?”

---

Author’s Note: Today’s title is “Heart Sick” in Italian. Fun fact the castle in the picture is apparently on sale. If you have the funds and inclination you too can be like Klaus and live in a Tuscan castle.

#Klaroline #KlarosummerBingo #Klaroline Fanfiction #Klaroline Drabbles #Klaroline Edits #Klaroline Photosets #Klaroline Aesthetics #My Writing #My Edits

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thetourguidebarbie · 6 years ago

Note

The artist and his muse???

@lynyrdwrites have some og!kc fluff.

“Okay, but does it spark joy?”

“Caroline...”

She shoved one of his tunics from their time in 15th century Italy into his hands and looked at him expectantly. “Does it?”

“It’s a tunic.”

“Right, and do you like it?”

“I wore it, didn’t I?”

“Yes, six hundred years ago. Do you still like it? If it doesn’t spark joy, it can go in the storage bag.”

“But what if I need it?” he asked, trying not to sound petulant. He probably failed.

“When would you need this?”

“Halloween?” he offered half-heartedly.

She snorted. “Niklaus, are you trying to tell me that you would use a plain tunic in scratchy fabric for a halloween costume?”

“I like my costumes to be authentic,” he muttered, letting her shove the tunic back into his hands.

“Joy?” she demanded. “We have been arguing about this one tunic that you will never wear again for five full minutes, and we still have like, four closets to go.”

“It does not spark joy,” he muttered finally, and she nodded, looking relieved at finally getting through the first piece of clothing in his pile.

“Good. Thank it and put it in the bag.”

“Thank you,” he said dryly before tossing it in the large bag they would send to a storage unit.

“Okay, how about this one?” she asked, handing him a nearly identical tunic from the giant pile of his clothing she’d stacked on the bed.

Neither that nor the next twenty items sparked joy, and he could see Caroline getting a touch more relaxed with every item that he deposited in the bag. He’d admit in the privacy of his own head that his hoarding tendencies may have gotten a tad out of hand in the years since Mikael had died, but he’d been justifying to himself that it was to be expected when one was used to leaving items behind on short notice. He’d never had the opportunity to build up a collection of objects on one place, but after they’d settled in New York for the foreseeable future they’d had the personal items in their other properties restored and sent over. That resulted in piles of memories with no set place to store them accumulating in every crevice of their three story house in the Upper East Side.

The novelty of being able to keep things that could at some point be useful in a very specific situation had worn off for Caroline much faster than it had for him, and not having any place to put her new dresses because of his ‘eighty bajillion tunics from dinosaur, B.C.’ when she returned from shopping the day before had apparently been the last straw.

“Okay, let’s do me now,” she said, yanking the drawstring of the bag containing his old clothes and shoving it into the hallway for a hybrid to collect.

“Gladly,” he teased, reaching to brush her waist and dodging her playful slap of his hand away from the hem of her stolen henley.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” she said exasperatedly. “Once we get through everything. We’ll call it motivation.”

“Or we could take a break,” he cajoled, grinning at the brief look of temptation on her face before she managed to stifle it. He knew full well that she wouldn’t take him up on it (yet), but it was fun to try.

“Breaks are for slackers. Can you help me get all of my clothes in a pile?”

“Why does it have to be in a pile?”

“So that you can see the amount of clutter you have. It’s part of the KonMari method,” Caroline said with forced patience. “I know you think this is stupid, but—“

“It’s not stupid if you care about it, love,” he said quickly. “I’m just curious.”

He was rewarded with a bright smile, her eyes lighting up as she started to explain the science behind mess’s effect on stress levels and the theory behind the specific strategy she’d insisted on using. Watching and listening to Caroline ramble about things that interested her had always been one of his favorite pastimes, even when it was just village gossip or strategy for dice games in their human years. Centuries together had been difficult at times, as he assumed it would be for any couple, but he knew he’d never tire of her exuberance, would never find any topic she loved to be less than fascinating just because of how happy it made her that he listened.

He’d had various acquaintances over the years who would complain about their wives or lovers wanting something that seemed ridiculous and small to them, and he’d never understood it. He didn’t particularly care if their house was cluttered, but she did, and spending an afternoon with his wife doing something important to her that required almost no effort on his part seemed to him to be an easy choice to make.

“She has a book,” Caroline continued, picking up a trunk containing neatly-folded sixteenth century dresses and dumping it out on the floor. “And a Netflix show, but the book is better.”

He nodded, having known that much. “The book is always better.”

“You’re such a snob, but you’re right,” she said, picking up the first dress in the pile. “Okay, let’s see...”

He watched her methodically pick up each piece of clothing and consider it. Some were thanked and discarded more quickly than others. After the first minute of watching her chew her lip and hum to herself, his fingers itched for a sketchbook and pen, but it wasn’t on the side table where he thought he’d put it.

“You left it in the library,” she said without looking at him before he’d even asked. “On the green chair.”

“Thank you, love.”

He was diverted from his task on the way back from the library by a spat with Kol in the hallway that made him wonder, not for the first time, whether they should get darker carpets to better conceal bloodstains, and by the time he got back, Caroline was halfway through her pile. He’d just settled on the bed and readied his pen when he realized what she was holding.

“That sparks joy for me,” he said firmly, gently tugging the blue silk gown from her hands when she began to turn towards the bag. She raised her eyebrows, her hands moving to her hips.

“For you? Do we need to get it re-sized?”

“Seeing you in it sparks joy, sweetheart.”

“Seeing me period sparks joy,” she pointed out. “I’m your wife. You think I’m delightful.”

“I do, and I think you look ravishing in this dress.”

“You think I look ravishing in all my dresses,” she teased. “And I’ll never wear it again. It’s almost four hundred years old.”

“I have fond memories of you in this dress,” he said, trying to keep his tone light, but he knew from the slight change in her posture that she could sense the change in his mood, and her expression softened when she looked up and saw his face.

“This isn’t a hoarding thing,” she observed, already grabbing a hanger to put the dress back in the closet. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.”

Caroline’s eyes narrowed as she hung the dress up in the back of the rack, smoothing it out. “Seems like something.”

“Never could get anything past you, could I,” he said dryly, feeling his chest warm slightly at her returning affectionate eye roll.

“Not even when we were as young as we look. So? All I can remember about this dress is that it was one of my go-to party staples.”

“It was. Do you remember the banquet where Rebekah murdered all of the guests?”

“You say that like there aren’t multiple parties where that happened,” she pointed out, nudging some of the pile aside so that she could sit on the bed next to him.

“Well, at one such function you were in the mood to dance a bit more than usual, and I obliged, of course.”

“You say that like I had to talk you into it,” she teased. “I think I remember what you’re talking about and I’m pretty sure you were a willing participant.”

“I was,” he agreed, absently spinning the pen between his fingers, his other hand finding hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “And there was a point late into the night...I don’t remember what I said to make you laugh, but I remember the moment vividly, how it felt, how nothing seemed to matter but you and the way you looked at me. The brightness of your smile in the candlelight as I spun you around and caught you in my arms. We’d been together for centuries, but that simple reminder of what you mean to me––what you’ve always meant to me––was special. I can’t explain it.”

“But the dress reminds you of it?”

“That, and it was just after the time canvas became a popular medium for painting. I’d bought supplies, but I hadn’t used them yet. They’d just been sitting in one of our empty rooms with the curtains drawn. But after we returned to the manor that night I was inspired. You were the first thing I ever painted. You in that dress.”

“But you didn’t start painting until we moved to London.”

“I didn’t show you my paintings,” he corrected. “They were rubbish at the beginning. Just like my sketches of you when we were human. I didn’t want anyone to see them.”

Caroline nodded, familiar enough with neurotic perfectionism to not debate the logic of that particular point. “Makes sense.”

“Yes. I’m sure we do have the painting in storage somewhere, if you’d really like to see it.”

“Now your hoarder tendencies are coming in handy,” she teased, bumping his shoulder with hers.

“I suppose so. I tried to repaint it a few decades later, but I couldn’t get the silhouette quite right, and by that time the dress was out of fashion, and it felt a bit silly to ask you to wear it for reference.”

“We can take a break and I can do it now,” she offered. “I don’t mind.”

“At the risk of ruining the moment, I thought breaks were for ‘slackers’.”

“I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #klaroline drabble #klaroline fanfiction #lynyrdwrites #honestgrins #my fanfiction #mydrabbles #ask #answer

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fiercerebekah · 6 years ago

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A VERY DESCRIPTIVE PROFILE OF YOUR MUSE. repost with the information of your muse, including headcanons, etc. if you fail to achieve some of the facts, add some others of your own !

NAME. rebekah mikaelson NICKNAME(S). bex, bekah SPECIES. original vampire AGE. 1000+ GENDER. female ORIENTATION. bisexual INTERESTS. travel, scotch, music, adventure, galas, dancing, fashion, yachting, babies (someone give her one pls) PROFESSION. has never worked a day in her life / guest professor at the salvatore boarding school BODY TYPE. athletic EYES. dark blue HAIR. blonde HEIGHT. 5′7″ COMPANIONS. marcel gerard, her brothers FAMILY. mikael (father) | deceased, esther (mother) | deceased, freya (sister) | alive, finn (brother) | deceased, elijah (brother) | deceased, klaus (half-brother) | deceased, kol (brother) | alive, henrik (brother) | deceased, hope (niece) | alive LOVE INTERESTS. marcel gerard in canon. for rp verse dependent ANTAGONISTS. verse dependent COLORS. gold, silver, crimson, green, black, pink, royal purple, deep blue, honey FRUITS. strawberries, wild berries DRINKS. blood, scotch, wine ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES? scotch, wine, bourbon, anything expensive SMOKES? no, but she will smoke weed socially DRUGS? on occasion DRIVERS LICENSE ? no

TAGGED BY: @biteytm TAGGING: @brokenbrxther, @ladamedemartel, @originallymikaelson, @originalmaneater, @closetpunished, @fallenregent, @hauntedgilbert, @kingofthecornermarcel, @kolhearted

#╳┊♔ i too am resilient ( headcanon. )#long post for ts

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anavoliselenu · 7 years ago

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After this man chapter 6

I apply my make-up and smother myself in coco butter and when I put on the cream lace underwear set that Justin bought me, I hear him whimper. I smile smugly to myself. I may as well. I don’t know how long I’m going to be holding this power. I slip my white ruffle blouse on with my black, slim fit trousers and black heels.

I’m ready. I walk over to my handcuffed man and lean down to drop a long, lingering kiss onto his parted lips. I don’t know why I’m doing this. My bravado is commendable.

He sighs and brings his knees up so the soles of his feet are flat on the bed.

I reach down and wrap my hand around his still erect cock. I’m seriously in for it when he catches me.

He jerks. ‘Selena. I love you so f**king much, but if you don’t undo these cuffs, I’m going to f**king strangle you!’ His voice is a mixture of pleasure and pain.

I smile around his mouth and give him a chaste kiss on the lips before leaning down and kissing my way from his chest to his solid cock, and then all the way to the tip, finishing off with a little swirl before taking him deep into my mouth.

‘Selena, please!’ he moans.

I release him and retrieve the key to the handcuffs from the chest of drawers. As I walk back over, he lets out a relieved breath. I don’t know why, I’m not freeing him completely. I undo his damaged hand and it falls limply to the bed. A pang of guilt assaults me as he gingerly flexes his fist to try and get some life back into it. I walk over to the chest and place the key back on top.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks on a frown.

‘Where is your phone?’

‘Why?’ The confusion in his face is clear.

‘You’ll need it. Where is it?’

‘It’s in my suit jacket. Selena, just give me the key.’ He’s losing his patience again.

I scan the room and spot his jacket on the floor where he obviously dumped it last night before he pounced on me in the bathroom. I find his phone in the inside pocket and place it on the bedside table, just out of reach. I don’t want him calling for assistance before I make my escape.

I fetch my bag and stride out of the bedroom, leaving him a massive mess of unexploded male. I am so going to cop it later, but at least I released one hand. It might be his damaged one, but he’ll be able to sort himself out… if he doesn’t grip too hard.

Chapter 11

‘Hello, flower.’ Patrick comes out of his office as I take my seat. ‘You’re bright and early this morning.’ He sits on the edge of my desk and performs his usual snort of disgust as the desk performs its usual creak of protest. ‘What have you got to tell me?’

‘Not much,’ I turn my computer on. ‘I have a meeting with Mr Van Der Haus at lunchtime to go over my designs.’

‘Oh, Good. What about Mr Ward?’ he asks innocently. ‘Have you heard from him yet?’

Yes, I’ve handcuffed him to his bed!

I feel my face flood with heat. ‘Urhhh, no, I’m not sure when he’s back from his business trip.’ I turn my flaming face away from Patrick and load my email up, mentally praying he leaves it right there.

‘It has been nearly two weeks, hasn’t it?’ he asks. I suspect he is frowning, but I can’t look at him to confirm that. ‘I wonder what’s keeping him.’

I cough. ‘I really don’t know.’

Patrick rises from my desk on a long creak. ‘He can’t be in that much of a rush.’ he grumbles. ‘Oh, by the way, our Sally is poorly. She won’t be in today.’ he says as he makes his way back into his office.

Sally is ill? That’s not like her. Oh! It was her second date last night. Either it went very well and she’s pulling a sicky to cavort in bed all day with Mr Mystery, or it went very badly and she’s pulled a sicky to mope in bed all day with a box of tissues. I guiltily suspect it’s the latter. Poor Sal.

I sag in my chair on a long exhale, and then jump when I hear Angel seeping from my bag. Oh dear Lord. He’s obviously freed himself. I’m not answering it. It rings off and immediately rings again, but it’s my normal ringtone this time. I scoop my phone from my bag and take Miss Quinn’s call.

‘Good morning, Miss Quinn.’ I greet cheerfully.

‘Hi, Selena. Please, it’s Ruth. I was just checking in. Have you managed to get the ball rolling yet?’

‘Yes, I’ve prepared a schedule of fees for my services, Ruth, and I’ve drafted a few ideas to send over.’

‘Brilliant.’ She is very enthusiastic. ‘I’ll look forward to receiving them. Where do we go from there?’

‘Well, if you are happy with my fee structure and draft ideas, then we can start putting together some firm designs.’

‘Great, I’m so excited!’ she exclaims.

I smile. That much is obvious. ‘Okay, I’ll get the fee structure and drafts over to you by the end of play today. Bye, Ruth.’

‘Thanks, Selena.’ She hangs up, and I immediately set about scanning the designs into my computer. I love working with people who are as passionate about their home as I am.

As ten o’clock hits, I’ve been in the office for three hours and I’ve got mountains of work done. I pick up my desk phone to chase Stella, my curtain maker, on Mrs Stiles’ new drapes. I have a nice chat with Stella. She’s a bit hippy and a naturist, judging by the dicey photographs scattered across the walls of her workshop, but she makes the most amazing soft furnishings. I’m more than pleased when she tells me that she is just packaging them up, ready for me to collect. It’s a week sooner than I quoted Mrs Stiles, so she will be delighted.

I hang up and swing back around in my chair, nearly having a seizure when I’m confronted with my arrogant God, who’s looking down at me with raised, cunning eyebrows. His handsome face spreads into his customary roguish grin. I’m instantly on high alert.

Oh no!

He looks bloody delicious as well, in his grey suit and pale blue shirt, open at the collar with no tie. He’s shaved his two days’ worth of stubble and fixed his hair. My eyes are delighted, but my mind is racing with uncertainties.

‘How lovely to see you, Selena.’ he says smoothly as he reaches forward and puts his hand out. His jacket sleeve rides up, revealing his gold Rolex.

Shit!

I go stone cold when I see a collection of red welts around his wrist, the gold strap of his watch doing nothing to conceal them. It’s his damaged hand too. I flick my startled eyes up to him and he nods in acknowledgment. I mentally kick my stupid self around the office. I’ve hurt him. I feel hideous. I don’t blame him for being so furious.

I place my hand in his, but I don’t grip it. I don’t want to hurt him anymore. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I whisper the words quietly, my voice full of the regret I truly feel. My unreasonable desire to know his age has marked him. I really am going to be in for it.

‘I know you are.’ he answers coldly.

‘Ah! Mr Ward.’ Patrick’s cheerful voice invades my ears as he approaches my desk from his office. I release my hold of Justin. ‘How very good to see you. I was just asking Selena if she had heard from you.’

‘Mr Peterson, how are you?’ Justin gives him his full on melt worthy smile, usually reserved for women.

‘Very good, how was your business trip?’ Patrick asks.

Justin’s eyes swing to mine briefly before returning to Patrick’s. ‘I secured my assets.’ he replies, completely composed.

Assets?

‘Did you receive the deposit I made?’ he asks.

Patrick’s face lights up. ‘Yes, absolutely. Thank you.’ he confirms. I notice he doesn’t advise Mr Ward that it is far too much for an initial upfront payment.

‘Good, as I said before, I’m eager to get things moving. My unexpected business trip has put us a bit behind.’ He accentuates unexpected.

‘Of course, I’m sure Selena will sort you out.’ Patrick places his hand on my shoulder affectionately, and Justin’s eyes fall straight onto it.

Oh no. Don’t trample my boss!

‘I’m sure she will.’ he muses quietly, his eyes still firmly fixed on Patrick’s unmoved hand.

He’s sixty years old, silver haired and about five stone overweight. He surely can’t be threatened by my big, cuddly bear of a boss?

He shoots his eyes back to Patrick. ‘I was going to ask Selena if she would like to join me for some brunch so we can go over a few things. You don’t mind.’

That last part was definitely not a question. Oh yes, he’s trampling.

‘Be my guest.’ Patrick chirps happily. I notice he doesn’t ask me.

‘Actually, I have an appointment at lunchtime.’ I pipe up. I point to the page in my new diary which is absent of the big, black, permanent marker pen lines that Justin put through every day of my last diary. I want to hold off on this altercation for as long as possible. I’m not at all comfortable with that wily look all over his face. He’s loving this, but then he catches a glimpse of my new diary and frowns, his jaw ticking slightly.

Yes, I replaced it! He better not even think about sabotaging my new one.

‘That’s not until noon.’ Justin points out, and I cringe. ‘I won’t keep you too long.’ he adds on a husky, promising voice that also harbours a bit of threat.

‘There you go!’ Patrick sings as he walks off to his office. ‘It was nice to see you, Mr Ward.’

I sit tapping my front tooth frantically with my nail while I try to think of a way out of this. There is none, and even if I had a valid reason, I would only be delaying the inevitable. I gaze up at the man who I love beyond measure, and I am literally trembling. He is playing it far too cool. It’s a million miles away from the raging beast I left handcuffed to the bed this morning.

‘Shall we?’ he asks, as he puts his hands in his pockets. I collect my phone from my desk and stuff it in my bag, along with my file for The Life Building. I’ll need to head straight to The Royal Park for my meeting with Mikael after my meeting with Justin.

He holds the door open for me, and Tom comes barreling through before I have a chance to exit. His eyes go all wide and shocked when he clocks who’s holding the door.

‘Mr Ward!’ he splutters, and then throws me a questioning look. It’s ridiculous for him to be addressing Justin so formally. He’s been out drinking and dancing with him.

‘Tom.’ Justin nods, all business like.

‘I’m just going for a breakfast meeting with Mr Ward.’ I tilt my head to the side and flash a telling look. I hear Justin laugh lightly.

‘Oh, I see. A business meeting, huh?’ Tom chuckles. I could kick him in the shins. He turns to Justin and holds his hand out. ‘It was nice to see you, Mr Ward. I hope you enjoy your business meeting.’ He winks as Justin takes his hand, and I decide there and then that when I next see Tom, I will kick him in the shins.

I exit hastily onto the street, relieved I’m away from the office and the possibility of being ratted out, but nervous that I am now pretty much at Justin’s mercy. I’m not deluded enough to think that just because we’re in public he won’t have me pinned against the nearest free wall as soon as he can.

We walk along, side by side, until we hit Piccadilly. I don’t know where we’re going, but I keep up with him. He makes no attempt to take my hand and he doesn’t speak. I’m getting more apprehensive by the second. I glance up at him and find his face is completely straight and he doesn’t return my gaze, although I know he knows that I’m looking at him.

‘Excuse me, have you got the time?’ A mature business woman asks Justin.

He takes his hand from his pocket and looks at his watch. I wince at the sight of the marks on his wrist. His hand is still bruised from the beating he gave his car, and I’ve added to it. ‘It’s ten fifteen.’ He flashes his smile, reserved only for woman, and she pools on the pavement in front of him.

I’m spiked with immense possessiveness as she gushes a thank you. She is probably more Justin’s age than me, the brazen hussy. You can’t possibly tell me that she doesn’t have a phone she could check. Everyone has a bloody phone these days, and why didn’t she ask that middle aged, overweight, balding, sweaty type in front of us? I roll my eyes as I wait for Justin to take the initiative and lead on.

After he’s spent a few moments blasting the woman with his knockout smile, ensuring she gets the full on experience, he carries on his way, me following. As I look back, I see the woman glancing over her shoulder. How desperate and unashamed can someone be? I laugh to myself. I’m that desperate when it comes to Justin, and I’m also completely unashamed.

We cross the road and approach The Ritz, and I’m stunned when the door is opened for us. Justin signals for me to enter. We’re having brunch at The Ritz?

I say nothing as he leads me to the restaurant and we’re seated in the most obscenely regal space. This isn’t Justin at all, and it certainly isn’t me.

‘We’ll have the Eggs Benedict twice, both with smoked salmon, both on granary, a cappuccino, extra shot, no chocolate and a strong black coffee. Thank you.’ Justin hands the menu to the waiter.

‘Certainly, Sir,’ He picks up my fancy, fabric napkin and lays it across my lap and repeats the same carefully executed move on Justin before backing away from the table. I gaze around at the affluent surroundings which is full of well-bred, wealthy folk. I feel uncomfortable.

‘How is your day going?’ he asks casually, with no hint of any emotion in his tone. This just increases my unease further, the question dragging me back to his dark presence across the swanky table. He removes the napkin from his lap and places it on the table, his face expressionless as he regards me.

What the hell I should say. It’s not even ten thirty and I’m already having a pretty exclusive day. So far, I’ve found out how old he is, used a vibrator, handcuffed him to the bed and left him there, and now I’m having a late breakfast in The Ritz. It’s certainly not your usual daily happenings.

‘I’m not sure.’ I answer honestly, because I have a feeling there are going to be a few more exclusives I can add to that list.

His eyes lower so his super lashes fan his cheekbones. ‘Shall I tell you how my day is going?’ he asks.

‘If you like,’ I whisper. My voice is full of all the nervousness I really feel. I’m not even confident that he wouldn’t cause a scene in the most posh hotel in London in front of the most posh people in London.

He sits back in his chair and hammers me with his potent green gaze. ‘Well, my morning run was waylaid by a challenging little temptress, who handcuffed me to our bed and tortured me for information. She then abandoned me, leaving me helpless and in desperate need of her.’ He starts fiddling with the fork at his place setting, and I wilt under his stare. He takes a deep breath. ‘I eventually got hold of my phone that she left just…out…of…reach…’ He pinches his thumb and index finger together. ‘And then waited for a member of my staff to come and free me. I ran fourteen miles in my personal best time to expel some of the pent up frustrations that she presented me with, and now I’m looking at her beautiful face and wanting to bend her over this wonderfully dressed table and f**k her into next week.’

I gasp at his crass words, spoken with no concern in the middle of the Ritz restaurant. Oh God, what must Big John think of me? I hope he laughed. He seems to find Justin’s reactions and behaviour towards me quite amusing.

The waiter places our coffees down and we both nod a thank you before he backs away again.

I pick up my fancy – probably solid – silver spoon and start slowly stirring my coffee. ‘You have had quite an action packed morning.’ I say quietly. Of all the things I could have said? I glance up nervously and find him fighting a grin from his face. It makes me feel so much better. He wants to laugh, but he wants to be angry with me too.

He sighs. ‘Selena, don’t ever do that to me again.’

I disintegrate on my yellow throne. ‘You were crazy mad.’ I breathe on a long, relieved exhale.

‘I was way, way past crazy mad, Selena.’ He reaches up and starts circling his temples, as if trying to rid himself of the memory.

‘Why?’

He pauses mid-rub. ‘Because I couldn’t get to you,’ He says it like I’m stupid. He must catch my look of confusion because he moves his fingers to his forehead and rests his elbows on the table. ‘The thought of not being able to reach you actually made me panic.’

What?

‘I was in the room!’ I blurt a bit too loudly. I take a quick glance around to make sure I’ve not drawn any attention from the posh clientele.

He scowls at me. ‘You weren’t in the room when you left!’

I lean across the table. ‘I left because you threatened me.’ This is most definitely not a conversation for the plushness of The Ritz.

‘Well, that’s because you made me crazy mad.’ He widens his eyes at me. ‘When did you get those handcuffs?’ he asks accusingly as his palms hit the table, the bang silencing the other diners surrounding us.

I sit back in my throne and wait for them to continue with their conversation. ‘When I left work yesterday. You kind of pissed all over my plan with your retribution f**k.’ I grumble moodily.

‘Watch your mouth. I pissed on your plan?’ he asks incredulously. ‘Selena, let me tell you, nowhere in my plan was it written that you would have me restrained and at your mercy. So, it is you who pissed all over my plan.’

We both cease all speaking of plans, retribution f**ks and handcuffs when the waiter approaches with our food. He places it in front of me first and then Justin, swiveling the plates around so the presentation – which looks more like art – is at its best position for us to admire before we attack it with our knife and fork. I smile my thanks.

‘Is that all, Sir?’ The waiter asks Justin.

‘Yes, thank you.’

The waiter removes himself from the table and leaves us to resume our inappropriate conversation.

I sink my knife into my dish. It looks too good to eat. ‘You should know your temptress is extremely pleased with herself.’ I say thoughtfully as I wrap my lips around the most delicious piece of granary toast, topped with smoked salmon and hollandaise sauce.

‘I bet she is.’ He raises his eyebrows. ‘Does she know how crazy in love with her I am?’

I melt on a sigh. I’m in The Ritz, eating the most incredible food and I’m looking across the table at the most devastatingly handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on – my devastatingly handsome man. All mine. I am back to basking in the sun on Central Justin Cloud Nine. ‘I think she does.’ I confirm.

He turns his attention back to his dish. ‘She had better not just think.’ he says sternly.

‘She knows.’

‘Good.’

‘What’s the problem, anyway?’ I ask. ‘Thirty seven is nothing.’

His eyes flick to mine. He looks almost embarrassed. ‘I don’t know. You’re in your mid-twenties and I’m in my mid to late-thirties.’

‘So?’ I watch him closely. He really does have a complex about his age. ‘It bothers you more than it does me.’

‘Maybe.’ He fights a smile from his lips. I can see he is relieved at my lack of concern. I shake my head, returning to my dish. My arrogant playboy has an insecurity, but I love him all the more for it.

We eat in a comfortable silence, the waiter checking if everything is to our satisfaction at regular intervals. How could it not be? When we’re done, he clears our plates swiftly and Justin asks for the bill.

‘So, when are we going dress shopping then?’ he asks before taking a sip of his coffee.

I let out an exasperated breath. I’d forgot about that. I know if I defy him on this, I’ll be promptly ejected from Central Justin Cloud Nine. I shrug. ‘You don’t have to come.’ I can shoot to House of Fraser anytime on my travels.

‘I want to come and anyway, I owe you a dress, remember?’ He smirks, and I’m swiftly reminded of the dress massacre. He only wants to come so he can make an appropriate selection, and that means I’ll probably be wearing ski pants and a roll neck jumper.

‘Friday lunch?’ I try, failing miserably to sound upbeat.

His frown line jumps into position. ‘That’s cutting it a bit fine, isn’t it?’

‘I’ll find something.’ I finish the most scrumptious coffee I’ve ever had.

‘Put me in your diary for Friday afternoon…all afternoon.’

‘What?’ I feel my brow knit.

He takes a wad of notes out of his pocket and puts five twenties in the leather bound book that the waiter has just left. One hundred pounds for breakfast? That’s my new dress!

‘Make Mr Ward a Friday afternoon appointment. Say, one-ish.’ His greens are dancing with delight. ‘We’ll go dress shopping and there will be no rush to get ready for the party.’

‘I can’t book out my whole afternoon for one appointment!’ I splutter in disbelief. Mr unreasonable is back.

‘You can and you will. I’m paying him enough.’ He stands and makes his way to my side of the table. ‘You need to tell Patrick that you’re living with me. I’m not pu**y footing around him for much longer.’

Am I living with him? I stand, taking the hand he has offered, and let him lead me out of the restaurant. No, he won’t pu**y foot around. He’ll just keep trampling him instead. ‘It will make things awkward.’ I try to reason. ‘He won’t be impressed, Justin. And I don’t want him to think that I’m slacking instead of working if I should have any business meetings with you.’

‘I couldn’t give a f**k what he thinks. If he doesn’t like it, then you’ll retire.’ he says, marching on, dragging me behind him.

Retire? I love my job, and I love Patrick too. He’s joking. ‘You’re going to trample him, aren’t you?’ I say warily. My man is like a Rhinoceros.

The valet hands him his car keys and Justin slips him a fifty. A fifty? Just for parking and returning his car? Granted, it is a very nice car, but still.

He turns into me, grazes his palm down my cheek and circles his nose on mine. ‘Are we friends?’ His minty freshness hits me like a bulldozer.

‘Yes,’ I submit, but judging by the last few minutes’ conversation, I don’t expect we will be for long. Retire? ‘Thank you for breakfast.’

He smiles. ‘Anytime. Where are you going now?’

‘The Royal Park.’

‘Near Lancaster Gate? I’ll take you.’ He presses his lips hard onto mine and pushes his h*ps gently forward.

I gasp.

He can’t thrust me outside The Ritz! I hear him laugh at my shock before he pulls me towards his car. The valet opens the door for me, and I smile sweetly before climbing in. After Justin has slid in behind the wheel and given my knee a quick squeeze, he roars off into the mid-morning, London traffic at his usual alarming speed. I wonder how many points he has on his license.

So, I’ve just had a business breakfast with Mr Ward, of which the only business we discussed is crazy stuff. ‘What am I going to tell Patrick?’ I turn and look at him. Oh, he is so handsome.

‘What, about us?’ He flicks his eyes to me. His frown line is firmly in place.

‘No, about our business breakfast. What have we discussed?’

He shrugs. ‘Tell him we’ve agreed fees and I want you at The Manor on Friday to finalise the designs.’

‘You make it sound so simple.’ I sigh, sitting back in my seat and looking across the parks.

He places his hand on my knee and squeezes. ‘Baby, you make it sound so complicated.’

Justin screeches up outside The Royal Park and waves a delighted looking valet away when he approaches to collect Justin’s car.

‘I’ll see you at home.’ He wraps his palm around the back of my neck and yanks me over to him, taking his time to say his goodbye. I let him. I could crawl all over him. Sod the valet stood close by, looking longingly at the DBS.

‘Six-ish.’ I confirm as he kisses the corner of my mouth.

He grins. ‘ish.’

I know it’s not the right time to approach the subject, but it’s going to eat away at me for the rest of the day. He can’t be serious, surely? ‘I can’t retire at twenty six.’

He sits back in his seat, the stupid, sodding cogs kicking into action. It worries me instantly. He is serious. ‘I told you, I don’t like sharing you.’

‘That’s stupid.’ I blurt, which was obviously wrong, judging by the scowl that has just flashed across his face.

‘Don’t call me stupid, Selena.’

‘I wasn’t calling you stupid. I was calling your ambitious intention stupid.’ I argue quietly. ‘I’m never going to leave you.’ I reach over and slide my hand across the back of his neck. Does he need re-assurance on this?

His lip disappears between his teeth as he stares at the steering wheel of the DBS. ‘That doesn’t stop people from trying to take you. I can’t let that happen.’ He turns tortured eyes onto me. It punches a massive hole in my stomach.

‘What people?’ I ask, alarm clear in my tone.

He shakes his head. ‘No specific people. I don’t deserve you, Selena, but by some f**king miracle, I’ve got you. I’ll protect you fiercely – eliminate any threat.’ His hands slide over the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from his harsh grip. ‘Okay, we need to stop talking about this because I’m feeling a bit violent.’

I sit and look across at my beautiful, neurotic control freak and wish I could give him the reassurance that he needs. My words won’t ever work. I absolutely realise that now. I’m also fully aware that what he actually means is he’ll eliminate any male threat to him, not me.

I undo my belt and crawl across the car to straddle his lap, with complete disregard for the valet, who is still dribbling all over the DBS. I pull his face up to mine, cupping his cheeks and lowering my lips to his. He moans and slides his hands around to clench my bum and pull me in towards his hips. I want him to take me back to Lusso right now, but I can’t brush Mikael off.

Our tongues slowly sweep together, rolling, pulling back and plunging again, time and time again. I ache with need for this man – painful, constant aching, and I know he feels exactly the same about me.

I pull back and find his eyes clenched shut. I’ve seen that look before, and the last time I saw it, it was because he had something to tell me. ‘What’s wrong?’ I ask nervously.

His eyes fly open quickly, like he’s suddenly realised that he was pulling a complete give away face. ‘Nothing is wrong.’ He brushes away a loose tendril of my hair. ‘Everything is right.’

I stiffen in his lap. He’s said that before too, and everything really wasn’t right. ‘You have something you want to tell me.’ I state it as a fact.

‘You’re right, I do.’ His head drops, and I feel sick – stomach churning sick, but then his eyes lift again and find mine. ‘I crazy love you, baby.’

I recoil slightly. ‘That’s not what you want to tell me.’ I say suspiciously.

He reduces me to a pool of steam on his lap when he blasts me with his smile, reserved only for women. ‘Yes, it is. And I’ll keep telling you until you get fed up of hearing it. It’s a novelty to me.’ He shrugs. ‘I like saying it.’

‘I won’t get fed up of hearing it, and don’t be saying it to anyone else. I don’t care how much you like saying it.’

He grins, a real boyish, cheeky grin. ‘Would that make you jealous?’

I scoff. ‘Mr Ward, let’s not talk about jealously when you’ve just vowed to eliminate any threat.’ I say dryly.

‘Okay, let’s not.’ He pulls me in and rolls his h*ps upwards, unearthing a wicked beat at my very centre. ‘Let’s get a room instead.’ he whispers, flicking those damn delectable h*ps up once more.

I frantically scramble out of his lap, eager to escape that mind melting touch before I rip his suit off here and now. ‘I’m going to be late for my meeting.’ I grab my bag and press my lips briefly on his. ‘I need you waiting in bed when I get home.’

He smiles a satisfied smile. ‘Are you making demands, Miss O’Shea?’

‘Are you going to deny me, Mr Ward?’

‘Never, but you do remember who has the power, don’t you?’ He makes a grab for me, but I bat his hands away quickly, jumping out of the car before he completely swallows me up.

I pop my head back in. ‘You do, but I need you. So could you please be n**ed and waiting?’

‘You need me?’ he asks, a triumphant look on his face.

‘Always. See you at yours.’ I shut the door, hearing him yell OURS as I walk off.

I’m suddenly aware of eyes drilling into me, and I turn to find the valet with the biggest grin on his face. I blush profusely and scuttle up the steps into the hotel. I am thoroughly contented and bronzing nicely on Central Justin Cloud Nine.

I rummage through my bag when I hear my text chime.

It’s Justin.

I miss you, I love you, I need you too Jx

I laugh. How did he do that so quickly? He only left me three seconds ago. I toss my phone in my bag and skip through the foyer of the Royal Park.

I’m shown to the same snug where Mikael and I last met, and Mikael is already waiting for me. He has the mood boards laid out on the table and is studying them. He looks more casual today, his suit jacket removed, his tie loose, but his pale blonde hair still perfectly styled.

He looks up when I walk in. ‘Selena, very good to see you again.’ His lightly accented voice is as smooth as ever.

‘And you, Mikael. You received the drafts?’ I nod at the boards as I set my bag down on one of the large, green leather couches.

‘Yes, but the problem is I love them all. You’re too good.’ He puts his hand out, and I take it.

‘I’m glad.’ I smile brightly while he shakes my hand gently.

He releases me and turns back towards the table. ‘I’m veering towards this one, though.’ He points to the cream and white scheme that I’m favouring myself.

‘That would be my choice too.’ I say cheerily. ‘I think it encapsulates your aspiration best.’

‘It does.’ he agrees, smiling warmly at me. ‘Take a seat, Selena. Would you like a drink?’

I perch on a sofa. ‘Water would be good, thank you.’

He signals to the waiter at the doorway before lowering himself onto the sofa next to me. ‘I apologise for the hold up on our meeting. Things didn’t go as swiftly as I planned back home.’

Oh. That would be his divorce then. I can’t imagine things would go smoothly when you are as rich as Mikael. His wife is probably trying to take him for every penny. Why else would it not be going smoothly? I don’t say anything, though. I suspect Ingrid shouldn’t have divulged as much as she did. I don’t want to get her sacked. I liked her.

‘It’s not a problem, really.’ I smile and return my eyes to the mood boards. ‘So, we’re swinging towards this one then?’ I place my hand on the cream and white scheme.

He shifts forward. ‘Yes, I like the simplicity and warmness. You are very clever. One would think it would come across insipid and cold, but it doesn’t at all.’

‘Thank you, It’s all about the fabrics and tones.’

He smiles, his blue eyes shimmering. ‘Yes, I guess it is.’

We spend a few hours discussing the time frames, schedules and budgets. He is really quite easy to be around, which is a huge relief after he invited me to dinner at our previous meeting. I was worried things would be awkward, but it’s not at all. He took my answer on the chin and has said no more.

‘It will all be sustainable material, yes?’ He runs his long finger over the drawings of a bespoke four-poster bed I have sketched.

‘Of course,’ I mentally thank Ingrid for the important piece of information that Mikael neglected to tell me previously. I indicate the other pieces of furniture I’ve drafted. ‘It’s all sustainable, as per you specification. I understand the forestry commission in Scandinavia is a serious business.’

‘It is,’ he laughs. ‘We all have to do our bit for the environment. We got some bad press after Lusso.’

My mind’s eye is flooded with an image of twelve superbikes and a petrol guzzling DBS. I bet Mikael drives a Hybrid Prius. ‘We do,’ I agree. He casts his eyes to mine, and I smile mildly. ‘Excuse me while I use the ladies’.’ I collect my bag and leave him.

I spend five minutes in the toilets refreshing my face and using the facilities. I’m pleased with how the meeting is progressing, and I’m eager to get back to the office to start working on the master design. I ruffle my hair, pinch my cheeks and exit the ladies’, walking across the lobby of the hotel and back to the snug.

As I enter, I nearly choke on thin air when I see Justin stood next to Mikael, bold as bloody brass, looking over my designs.

What the f**king hell is he doing here?

Chapter 12

Oh, he’s gone too far this time. He’s going to trample my business meeting. Oh God, he is going to trample Mikael, and he doesn’t even know that he’s previously asked me to dinner.

I’m at a loss. I stand and watch them chat, all business like, while I try to figure out how to handle this. As per my usual reaction to Justin’s wayward ways, I want to scream at him, but with Mikael here, that is out of the question.

As if he has sensed my presence – he always does – Justin slowly turns to face me. I flash him a you’re-pushing-it look and slowly approach them.

‘Mikael,’ I say, muscling my way between them at the table. I feel Justin tense from head to toe at my informal acknowledgment to my client. He can go and take a leap off the nearest cliff! The man deserves everything he gets. And he wants me to move in? He can forget it, and there will be no sense f**king to change my mind either.

Mikael smiles at me. I don’t miss the arched eyebrow. ‘Selena, let me introduce you. This is Justin Ward. He bought the penthouse at Lusso. I was showing Mr Ward your designs. He’s as impressed as I am.’

‘That’s nice,’ I say without even acknowledging Justin, turning my back on him to face my client instead. ‘Should we diarise our next meeting now?’ I feel ice cold air emanate from Justin.

‘Yes, that would be good,’ Mikael says. ‘Does Friday afternoon suit? We can meet at Life and get a rough idea on quantities. Maybe I could buy you lunch?’ His eyebrows rise suggestively and while I know I shouldn’t be encouraging this sort of behaviour, I just can’t help myself.

‘Friday afternoon suits me fine and lunch would be lovely.’ I smile, but then feel Justin’s warm, minty breath on the back of my neck. He’s standing pretty damn close for someone who supposedly doesn’t know me.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ Justin pipes up.

I freeze. Oh God, please don’t trample.

He grasps my shoulders, and I watch as Mikael frowns in confusion. He slowly turns me around until my stunned face is looking up at him. ‘Baby, have you forgotten that I’m taking you shopping?’

Oh f**king hell!

He really doesn’t have any regard or shame. He’s going to get me sacked. Mikael is going to be calling Patrick to complain, then Patrick is going find out about Justin and I’m going to get sacked! I can’t even muster up the strength to fire him a disgusted look.

He is looking down at my dumbstruck face, his eyes twinkling. I have no idea what to do here.

‘I didn’t realise you knew each other.’ Mikael says in utter confusion.

He’s just introduced us and neither one of us informed him that we were already acquainted. Well, much more than acquainted. We are so much more than acquainted. He just called me baby, and he’s holding my shoulders firmly, and not in a professional capacity, whatsoever.

Justin knocks Mikael out with a killer smile. ‘I was in the area and I knew the love of my life was here,’ he shrugs. ‘I thought I would slip in and get my fix. I’m not going to see her for another four hours.’ He bends down and brushes his lips over my ear. I’m totally speechless. ‘I missed you.’ he whispers.

Missed me? He left me a couple of hours ago. He’s trampling better than ever before. I want to thrust my leg forward and prompt him to piss all over it. The man is impossible, and I have just landed right on my arse after being shoved off Central Justin Cloud Nine.

He turns me around so I’m facing Mikael and pulls my back to his chest, wrapping his arm around the tops of my shoulders and kissing my temple. This is so unprofessional. I want to die on the spot. I look up at Mikael and find him observing Justin’s little trampling session thoughtfully.

‘I’m sorry, when you mentioned you were here to meet your girlfriend, I didn’t realise you were referring to Selena.’ Mikael says coolly.

‘Yes, isn’t she beautiful?’ He presses his lips to my temple again and inhales in my hair. ‘And all mine.’ he adds quietly, but loud enough for Mikael to hear.

I feel my face getting hotter by the second, my eyes darting everywhere except in Mikael’s direction. Is he trying to eliminate Mikael? He’s a client, not a threat. Not that Justin knows of, anyway. God help me if he finds out about my dinner invitation.

My eyes land briefly on Mikael. He’s watching me carefully. I feel so uncomfortable.

‘Mr Ward, if I had an Selena, I’ve no doubt I would do exactly the same.’ He flashes me a smile, and I feel my face burning up further. ‘Perhaps Monday would be more suitable?’

I find my voice. ‘Of course, Monday will be fine.’ I try to subtly wriggle free of Justin, but he has a firm hold of me, and I know that even the whole British army would struggle to prize me from his arms.

Mikael puts his hand out to me. ‘I’ll call you to arrange a time once I’ve checked my diary.’

I take his offering. I’m ending an important business meeting with a very important client and I’m completely coated in my neurotic, possessive control freak. I’m mortified. ‘I look forward to it.’ I say enthusiastically, earning myself a sharp little nudge in my back.

Is he winding me up?

Mikael exits the snug, and I notice him glancing over his shoulder as he leaves. I just about capture the thoughtful look on his pale face, and I can’t help but think that Justin has just set a challenge for him. I could collapse with exasperation. I’m glad Justin is behind me because he is the only thing holding me up.

I relax against him on a long sigh. ‘I can’t believe you just did that,’ I say quietly as I stare at nothing in particular. ‘You’ve just trampled my most important client.’

I’m swung around in his arms to find his face level with mine as he bends to accommodate the height difference between us. ‘Who is your most important client?’ he asks on a heavy furrowed brow.

I roll my eyes. ‘You’re my lover, who happens to be a client.’

‘I am more than your lover!’

Yes, okay. That was a little bit of an understatement. He is most certainly more than my lover. I look at the panicked face close to mine and curse myself for wanting to head straight to the hotel bar and down a large glass of wine. No, actually, make that a bottle.

I exhale in complete despair. ‘I need to get back to work.’ I turn away, but feel his hand clamp around my wrist, the usual heat his touch instigates ever present.

He walks around me so he is in front of me. He keeps hold of my wrist. ‘You did that on purpose.’ he says accusingly.

Yes, I did! Just like he rocked up to The Royal Park on purpose to hijack my meeting and for what purpose? I look up at him through the fog of tears glazing my eyes. ‘Why?’ I ask. It’s a simple question.

He looks down at the floor. ‘Because I love you.’ he says quietly.

‘That’s not a reason.’ My tone suggests I’m completely defeated. I am.

His head snaps up in shock, and he pins me in place with his appalled glare. ‘Yes, it is. And anyway, he’s a known womaniser.’

Okay, now he’s just making up excuses to justify his unreasonable behaviour. If he loves me, then he should support me in my work, not try to sabotage it. I know I’m being a bit dramatic, but this whole situation could have a massive impact on my flourishing career and all because he thinks Mikael is a womaniser? What grounds does he base this opinion on, anyway?

‘You can’t hijack every meeting I have with a male client.’ I say tiredly. I have absolutely no faith in my attempt to reason with him.

‘I won’t, just him. And any other man who may be a threat.’ he says candidly.

I want to throw my head back and scream at the heavens. Does that mean I should expect him at The Life Building on Monday? Justin sees every man as a threat. ‘I have to go.’ I try and regain possession of my body, but he refuses to release me.

‘I’ll take you,’ he informs me, releasing my wrist. ‘Collect your things.’ He walks over to the table and starts scooping up my mood boards. ‘These are really very good.’ he says zealously.

I can’t join him in his enthusiasm. I feel despondent and flat. I can see my dream career flushing down the pan before my very eyes and worst of all, there is the little niggling fear that I will push him to get steaming drunk if I don’t comply with his unreasonableness. I feel helpless and hopeless. How can I go from being so immensely elated to so incredibly defeated, all in such a short space of time?

Justin drops me at the corner of Berkeley Square under my request so I’m not spotted by Patrick getting out of Mr Ward’s car nearly four hours after I went for a breakfast meeting with him. I have no doubt that my days are numbered with regards to Patrick’s enlightenment on mine and Justin’s involvement. I would like to delay it for as long as possible, though. I need to think about how I’m going to break this to Patrick, and I pray on all things holy that Mikael doesn’t bombard him first. This needs to be handled with care.

I give Justin a chaste kiss on the cheek and leave him watching me, his bottom lip getting a grueling chew as I drag myself from his car. I say nothing, and neither does he.

‘You’ve been a while, flower.’ Patrick says, as I settle at my desk.

‘Mikael and I had a lot to go through. It’s looking good. ’ I offer by way of an explanation.

It seems to do the trick. He smiles instantly. ‘Ah! He is still happy?’

‘Very.’ I confirm, and that broadens Patrick’s smile by a few more inches.

‘Wonderful!’ he exclaims, retreating to his office looking delighted.

I open my email and hear the office door open. Looking up, I see a massive bunch of calla lilies floating towards me. Really? I left him five minutes ago.

They land on my desk, and the young girl sighs. ‘I don’t know why he doesn’t just buy you the shop. Sign here, please.’ She thrusts the clipboard under my nose, and I scribble my name.

‘Thanks.’ I hand her back the clipboard and find the card.

I’m sorry-ish

I fall back in my chair. What he means is…he’s sorry because he knows that he has upset me, but he is not at all sorry for trampling Mikael or my day. Maybe I should stay at Kate’s tonight. I could do with some time, a big bottle of wine, my own thoughts and no distractions.

The office door swings open and I look up to see Ruth Quinn beaming at me. Why is she here? I only spoke to her this morning. Her blonde hair is shining and bouncing as she struts to my desk, waving excitedly.

‘Selena!’ she sings.

‘Ruth,’ I frown, but she doesn’t seem to notice my confusion.

‘I was just in the area and I thought I’d drop by.’ She places her neat, slender body on a chair in front of my desk.

‘Oh?’ I say, looking at her to continue.

‘Yes,’ she smiles, but doesn’t elaborate.

I glance at the clock. It’s not even three o’clock. I’ve got another three hours to get her designs over by email. ‘Was there something that you wanted to add to the specification?’ I ask.

‘No. Not at all. I’m sure I’ll love the designs.’

I’m not sure what to say. She’s dropped by for nothing? No reason?

‘Are you okay, Selena?’ Her smile fades a little.

I shake myself up. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ I force a happy face. I’m not fine, but I want to mood over it in peace, not make pointless conversation with a client. ‘I’ve prepped everything, Ruth. I’ll get it across to you before that day’s out.’ I know I’ve already told her this on the telephone, but what else can I say. Should I offer her a coffee?

‘Lovely.’ She strokes her hair, and then flicks it over her shoulder. ‘Are you doing anything nice this weekend?’

Now I really am frowning. She’s not a clinger on, is she? ‘I’m not sure.’ I’m really not. I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m going, not in any element of my life at the moment.

‘We should have drinks!’

I inwardly groan. She wants to be friends. Never mix business with pleasure – my new rule applies to female clients too. What should I say? ‘Sure.’ The word slips past my lips and stuns me. I don’t want to have drinks with Ruth. I want to crawl into my bed and sulk.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ she presses.

‘Yes, fine.’ I try to smile. I’m struggling.

‘Man trouble?’ Her fair, precisely plucked eyebrow rises.

‘No.’ I shake my head. Oh God, she’s getting personal.

‘Selena, I know a woman in turmoil when I see one.’ She laughs. ‘Been there, done that.’

‘Honestly, Ruth. There is no man.’ I can’t believe I just said that. No man? There most certainly is a man, and he most certainly is causing me turmoil. But I need Kate for this line of conversation, not a client. Wine and Kate.

She gives me a knowing smile and stands. ‘They’re not worth the trouble.’

I return her smile, but only because I’m pleased that she appears to be leaving. ‘I’ll get your designs over soon, Ruth.’ I’m repeating again.

‘Can’t wait! We’ll talk soon…about drinks.’ She breezes out of the office, leaving me sat in the turmoil she knows I’m in.

I immediately email her. I don’t want her returning and offering more drinks. My head’s going to explode. I need Kate, and I need wine.

I don’t go to Kate’s, though. I leave the office and I’m pulled towards St Katherine Docks by the magnet that is The Lord of the Sex Manor. I said I wouldn’t leave him, and I need these mounting questions answered, like this mystery woman.

‘Evening, Selena.’

‘Hello, Clive. Can I speak to security, please?’

‘They are all off site at the moment.’ He diverts his attention to his computer, his way of halting this conversation from going any further – his way of dodging me.

‘Right.’ I sigh, leaving Clive and carrying on my way to the elevator. I board and lean back against the mirrored wall after I’ve punched in the code that Justin still hasn’t got changed.

I let myself in with my pink key and head straight for the kitchen, kicking my shoes off and looking for wine that I know won’t be there before finding a vase to put my flowers in. I remember the bunch upstairs that I hastily dumped on the chest in favour of prepping myself to deliver one truth f**k, so I take the stairs tiredly and enter the master-suite to retrieve them.

Oh…dear.

My new diamante embellished vibrator is in a million pieces all over the far end of the bedroom floor and there’s a hole in the wall opposite the bed. The bedroom is vast, so he must have lobbed it with some force. I’m suddenly thinking that leaving before he got free was a decision well made.

I look across the room to the bed and see the handcuffs still dangling from the headboard, mental images of Justin flying into a rage instantly starting to assault my brain. This man has issues – big, unreasonable, bloody issues…with control…with me.

I kneel and collect up all of the pieces, taking them to the bathroom and depositing them in the bin before I start running a bath. Picking up the calla lilies that are in desperate need of some water, I make my way back downstairs.

I get halfway down and hear the front door shut quietly, and I’m halted in my tracks as I watch Justin come into view. He stops at the bottom of the stairs and looks up at me, his handsome face expressionless and his usually bright eyes a little glazed. He removes his suit jacket and reaches up, undoing his shirt buttons slowly as he watches me. His shirt gets removed and dropped to the floor to join his jacket, as does his shoes, socks, trousers and boxers. My eyes are pulled to the red marks around his wrists when he removes his Rolex. He throws it on top of his pile of clothes. I’m never handcuffing him again.

‘You’re not laying a finger on me until you tell me who that woman was.’ This might take all of strength, especially if he starts the countdown or hits me with a Justin style f**k, but I’m not backing down here.

‘I don’t know.’ His face is completely expressionless.

‘So you’ve not asked Clive to stop me from looking at the CCTV?’

He almost smiles, but he must know because Clive would most certainly have mentioned me prying. ‘My beautiful girl is ruthless.’

‘My God is evasive.’ I retort quietly.

‘Selena, if I didn’t need you all over me right now, I’d be challenging you.’

‘But you do so you’ll tell me.’

‘I slept with her.’

I’m not looking surprised because I had already figured that much out. ‘So why was she here?’

‘Because she heard I was missing.’ He doesn’t hesitate.

‘That’s it. She was worried?’

He shrugs. ‘Yes. That’s it. Now I get you all over me.’

Oh. Okay. What do I say? I asked, he told. ‘Why didn’t you just tell me this before?’

He shrugs. ‘Because it was no big deal until you made it one.’

He starts up the stairs slowly, completely n**ed and stunningly spectacular, and scoops me up without stopping, prompting me to drop the flowers and wrap myself around his body. ‘You made it a big deal by evading my questions.’

He doesn’t reply. I also want to rip strips off him for trampling my day. I want to stamp and scream in a temper, but I can’t seem to find the strength or the inclination to do it. He talked, and now I just want him all over me. My mind is fuzzy, but my body is fizzing…for him.

He places me on my feet and starts slowly undressing me, watching his hands work over my clothes as I stand quietly and let him do his thing. Why is he so forlorn? It’s me who has endured his challenging ways all day. He’s like a lucky bag of emotions and moods. I would have put my money on a retribution f**k after my performance this morning, but instead, I’m confronted with gentle, soft Justin. I don’t mind. I need soft and loving right now.

My bra is removed and my ankles tapped in the usual fashion so he can remove my knickers. Once we’re both naked, he takes me down to the thick, cream carpet and swaths me in his body, burying his face deep in my neck and breathing me into him. I mirror him and take my own hit of minty fresh water loveliness, wrapping my arms firmly around his back to pull him closer, eradicating any space that may have been between us.

We lie on the floor in the middle of the bedroom and hold each other for the longest time. I stare up at the ceiling and stroke his hair, taking all of my comfort from his strong heartbeat thudding against my chest.

‘I’ve missed you.’ he mumbles into my neck.

I shudder when I feel his hot tongue running circles around the delicate flesh under my ear. We’ve been apart for less than five hours. I would say he was unreasonable, but I have missed him too. Even though I was mad at him, I still found myself back here instead of Kate’s.

‘I missed you too. Thank you for the flowers.’

‘You’re welcome.’ He kisses up to my lips and scatters light pecks all over me before brushing my hair from my face. He gazes down at me. ‘I want to drag you to a desert island and have you all to myself forever.’

‘Okay. With the absence of other people, there will be no need for any trampling like behaviour.’

His lips twitch at the corners and his eyes regain a bit of twinkle. He drops a kiss on my lips and rolls us over so I’m straddling his hips. I can feel the evidence of his mood wedged between our bodies and it triggers all of the usual desperate needs for him. My ni**les pucker under his watchful eye and his grin widens into his signature, melt worthy smile, reserved only for women. I want it to be reserved only for me. An unreasonable pang of possessiveness assaults me.

‘I f**king love you.’ he sighs.

‘I know you do.’ I circle my palms over his chest and pinch his nipple. ‘I love you, too.’

‘Even after today?’

Oh good. Is he acknowledging that he was a challenge today? This is progress. ‘You mean after you stalked me all day?’

He pouts playfully and shifts his arms under his head to elevate it slightly. I dribble as his muscles bunch and flex. ‘I was worried about you.’ he protests, and I raise a mocking eyebrow at him. ‘I was.’ he argues.

He wasn’t worried about me at all. He had an unreasonable and unwarranted attack of possessiveness. ‘You were over-the-top and stupidly possessive. My challenging man needs to relax.’

He scoffs. ‘I’m not challenging.’

‘You’re challenging and in denial.’

His brow furrows. ‘What am I in denial about?’

‘Being challenging and unreasonable. Your performance today was way off the scales of unreasonableness.’ I need to know he won’t hijack every business meeting I have with a male client. He said it would be only Mikael, but then followed it up with and all other male threats. His idea of a threat is a million miles away from my idea of a threat. He’s going to trample all of my male clients, I know it. My work diary is going to be padlocked and so is my mouth. I’m not telling him anything.

He looks at me with a little scowl. ‘He would have made a move on you and then I’d really have to trample him.’

I laugh lightly. Like he didn’t make a good enough job of that already? He doesn’t need to know that Mikael has already made his move. I will be keeping that snippet of information to myself. ‘Well, I think you made your point pretty clear. It was embarrassing.’ I grumble.

‘It was necessary.’ he mutters, and I roll my eyes, making a dramatic display of my exasperation.

‘You should run more.’ I say. ‘Oh, the bath!’ I jump up and run into the bathroom.

‘No, I need you more.’ he calls to my back.

‘Don’t you have me enough?’ I flip the tap off. He’s had me here all week. He calls me, texts me, sends me flowers and gets John to drive me to work. It’s all some form of contact or control. I bet he couldn’t go a whole day without some form of trample or intrusion on my working day. Would I want him to not interfere? I like the flowers and the messages; it’s the tramples I have an issue with. Would he be tempted to have a drink to try and get through the day? Could I risk it? My relaxed brain begins to ache…again.

I make my way back into the bedroom, finding him still sprawled on the floor. He is just too delicious. I walk over and settle myself back on his hips.

‘Have you enough?’ he asks. ‘No, I don’t. I need you every second of the day, just like you need me.’ He reaches up and pinches my nipple, and I jerk on top of him, catching a full on rub from his erection. He gives me his roguish grin.

‘What if you couldn’t have me all day?’ I ask. There will be times in the future when he might actually be on a real business trip. Or, perhaps, I will.

His grin disappears instantly and is replaced with a glare pointed straight at me. ‘Are you going to try and stop me?’

‘No, but there may be situations when you can’t have instant access to me. I might be unobtainable.’

A fleeting look of panic flies across his face and his bottom lip disappears between his teeth. He’s considering what I’ve suggested, and it’s now I realise that he absolutely meant it when he said he’ll have me wherever and whenever he wants. Now that really is unreasonable. I’ve seen the result of a few missed calls on my part – he was frantic.

‘Would you make a grab for the vodka?’ There, I’ve said it.

He laughs, and I frown. What’s so funny?

‘I promised you I will never have another drink. I meant it,’ he says surely. He sits up and rests his hands on my hips. I jerk, and he smiles. ‘Bath, I want your wet slippery skin all over mine.’

‘Your confidence is commendable.’ I mumble sarcastically as I ease myself up and put my hand out to him.

He looks at me with narrowed eyes and reaches up to take my hand, yanking me forward and spinning me onto my back. He rests his big body all over me and drops his lips to mine in a long, lingering kiss. ‘It is all very easy because I have you. Unravel your knickers, lady.’

Ha! Easy for him to say. I’m dealing with a neurotic madcap. ‘So, tomorrow I’ll be undisturbed all day?’ I ask. He will never be able to leave me alone all day, I know it.

He pulls his head back to look at me, the cogs starting to spin wildly as he chews his lip again. ‘Lunch?’

I knew it. He can’t do it. ‘I’m meeting Kate for lunch.’ I dismiss his request.

He pouts. ‘Can’t I come?’

No, he can’t come because I need time with Kate to talk about him and his challenging ways. ‘No.’ I state firmly.

‘I think you’re being unreasonable.’ he complains.

I throw my head back on a laugh. He really is thick skinned, but then I jerk and buck as his grabs my hipbone and squeezes. ‘Stop!’ I screech.

‘No!’

‘Please!’ Tears jump into my eyes as I try to fight him off. I can’t bear it.

‘Lunch?’ he says calmly, as he continues tickling me.

‘Absolutely not!’ I cry through my uncontrollable laughter. This isn’t fair. I’m not submitting. No way!

‘Maybe a sense f**k will do it.’ He releases my hip and I relax, trying to get my erratic breathing under control.

‘Justin, I can’t be with you every second of the day.’ I try to reason.

‘If you give up work you could be.’ He’s deadly serious.

My eyes widen in disgust. Never! I love my job. ‘Now who is being unreason… Ohhhhh!’ I lose my trail as he plunges deep into me. Oh God, here comes the sense f**k, but what is he trying to get me to submit to? Lunch or retiring? At twenty six? How ridiculous!

He wastes no time breaking me in. He powers into me like a madman. My legs fall open and he pins my wrists on either side of my head. ‘Lunch?’ he asks as he thrusts hard.

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