anthea opens her mouth, but no words of protest fall from her tongue. they’re there, they exist, she knows what she wants to say— the idea of disobedience she’s turned over in her head time and time again, never quite brave or strong enough to give a voice to...
she knows what she wants to say. so why can’t she bring herself to say it?
ghetsis towers over her figure, as hopelessly large and imposing as the skyscrapers of castelia city. she had only visited the metropolis once since she’d been freed from team plasma’s dominion, and she’d hated every moment of it. leaving the castle had always been forbidden, ghetsis himself warning of the cruelty and perils to be found beyond the life she knew, mercy reserved for anthea and her sister that would not be found in the wider world. and yet, when she first begun her travels and arrived in the city, all she could think was that castelia city perfectly embodied the feeling that stirred within her whenever she stood in the presence of ghetsis or the sages.
cold. it was so cold, even in the blazing heat of summer. the buildings, the concrete, the cars, the people... it was an icy chill, uncaring— entirely indifferent to her existence, save for the moments that she could be used for something.
it suited him. a naive part of her can’t help but wonder, did ghetsis only say that to dissuade the two sisters from fleeing, or did he truly share anthea’s distaste for the world?
she understood his ambition well, but perhaps some small, hidden part of the man thought he was doing the children a service in keeping them under lock and key. it would explain why he feels so entitled to her compassion even now, pathetic and powerless as he is.
or maybe anthea had always been nothing more than a means to an end, a tool— and wouldn’t you expect a tool to serve its purpose regardless of your standing?
it’s stupid of her to even entertain the idea, but there’s some meager comfort to be found in it. anthea is free, and yet she still doesn’t know what she want to do.
maybe this was all she was meant for.
there exists no defiance in her heart. anthea has always been this: a sacrificial lamb, a sweet, meek thing that understood it had been born to die.
she meets his gaze, watches the curve of his chagrined smile. an unnecessary performance. she doesn’t know why he insists on keeping up the pretense. she doesn’t know why she bothers, either.
“ i will hear you out, lord ghetsis, but that is all i can promise. what do you ask of me? ”