forged from iron

Is it intuition or is it just unfounded fear that leaves Saskia feeling suspicious even after Nadia offers an explanation? The tickle of unease stays: the feeling of the world ready to fracture under her feet, the sky ready to fall on her head. It isn’t anything new, except for that the fact that she’s feeling this way in Nadia’s presence instead of in her absence, which is where Saskia’s doubts usually besiege her.

She frowns at the phone instead of at her girlfriend, fiddles with it in the silence. Saskia hates quiet, though, always needs to fill it with pleasant chatter. Sometimes, with Nadia, she’s more comfortable being quiet, sure that Nadia’s gaze won’t slip away the second she isn’t drawing it close with her words. But now, the silence just feels recriminating. 

“It’s locked,” she says, finally, when pushing buttons has been to no avail. “If it’s someone else’s, I don’t think they’re getting it back.”

But the suspicion isn’t the only thing that sticks. Something in Nadia’s words sinks into her, and she lifts her gaze with a considering expression. “Do you think they suspect something? The press, I mean.” Nadia might be worried about that possibility, but the second that Saskia thinks it, she realizes that it must be a blessing in disguise: she wants Nadia to acknowledge her, doesn’t want to have to hide this away, wants it to be made real in the public’s gaze. She’s waiting, she’s patient, but—if something were to force Nadia’s hand, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe Nadia would even be glad of it, once she got over the initial shock.

“Do you think that—“ she starts, choosing her words carefully, paying no attention now to the phone that’s in her hands, even as they fidget with it, turning it over and then over again in her grasp. “—it might be better to just—tell everyone? Before some tabloid rag can do it for us?” She doesn’t mean to, always, but she can’t help it: she wears her heart on her sleeve. In this case, it reveals a cautious hope. It beseeches, it pleads: love me, please, make this real.

Nadia would be doing no such thing. It would be kept close to her heart, buried away, too far for her girlfriend to reach. And its discovery would remain a secret. Nadia had seen how ruthless the Coalition could be, when a problem stood in its way - and she still had failed to eliminate all of the members of being Damien’s potential murderer. If a man like that could fall, then Saskia would be swept away without a seconds notice. Nadia didn’t want to wait and see whether her girlfriend would survive that or not.

Yes. Her heart wanted to say. If this had been just a few short years ago, she would have said yes without hesitation - the reaction be damned. Her career would have been worth risking, alienation from fans - although she had heard that some would be oddly perceptive towards it - and who knew, maybe it would have done both of their careers well. But Nadia wasn’t the girl who would allow herself to be held up as a role model. She was not a poster child - her past had made that one clear enough. And the Coalition would not be nearly as kind as the world.

At least she had stopped centering on the god damn phone.

Carefully, Nadia removed it from her hands, stroking the delicate skin and pocketing it. Before Saskia could comment on its removal, she took her girlfriends hands into her own, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen loose from behind her ear and tucking it behind.

“We won’t get caught. We’re too careful for that. Besides, sneaking around is kind of hot. Don’t you think?”

Intentional manipulation - it was a step too far in the direction of darkness. And God knew, it was a boundary she had never wanted to cross. She wanted to stay in the light, to kiss her girlfriend and display her proudly for the world to see, mark her as her own. But when the contest was a toss up between head and heart, her head wold always win.

“And I don’t want all the press to be about us - when it should be about you. This is your big break - you’re the rising star. All the press should be about you and not what you’re doing with me.”

(For a girl made up of dreams, Saskia has just as many nightmares, so many fears about too-good-to-be-trues—which, surely, Nadia must be.)

She’s greedy. She wants all the pieces of Nadia’s life that she keeps carefully separate from their relationship. Meeting Evan was a start, but it wasn’t enough, and Saskia doesn’t know how to make it so, make herself want less, make herself be content with their lives not in total overlap.

Saskia knows Nadia’s phone, just like she knows Nadia’s apartment and all of Nadia’s little mannerisms. Saskia has always been a quick study of her favorite subjects, and Nadia is one she’d memorized long ago. Her phone buzzes in the couch cushions, but when she fishes it out—it isn’t Nadia’s phone. It isn’t her case. The number that flashes on the screen is unlisted.

Saskia doesn’t even know what she thinks.

She doesn’t even have time to make a decision. She hadn’t meant to snoop, but now it looks like she’s found something she wasn’t meant to find. (And doesn’t that justify it? It wouldn’t be snooping if Nadia didn’t have things she didn’t want Sas to know, didn’t have secrets.) But before she can decide to put the phone back or hold onto it, Nadia appears again. Is she angry? Is she guilty? Sometimes, with Nadia, it’s just so hard to tell.

“This isn’t your phone,” she says, holding it up higher. She bites her lip, guilty even though she doesn’t want to be, but she forges on ahead, forcing herself to meet Nadia’s eyes. “What is this, Nadia?”

As an actress, your profession is to lie. Your very career depends on your ability to do so - and how talented you are at selling the story. Unfortunately, no one understood that more than the woman before her eyes - dedicated to the same craft as she. The audience believed those lies, because they wanted to fall into that story, to come to love deception. But deception comes at a price. And that price is destruction. Of the very fabric that constructs a relationship. And sometimes, the relationship itself.

She has two choices.

She can lie. She can brush it off and pretend like it’s nothing, pull her girlfriend into her arms and kiss her so hard she’ll be forced to forget. That would be dishonest, that would be cruel. That would be easy. If she did that, she wouldn’t deserve a thing she had. If she did that, the Coalition would have molded a real weapon out of her.

She could tell the truth. She could spill the beans about the Coalition - trust that Saskia won’t say anything. But she would still be lying to her fellow members and she would be placing the one she loves in danger - and that is a sin beyond redemption or forgiveness.

And so she chooses option three.

More than anything else - she strives to be casual. “I must have picked up someone elses by mistake. Or some creepy press guy planted it on me - hoping to track me or record our conversations.”

“You’re so right, Nadia.” She shook her head in agreement. “Except with that man, he’s always been rude to me, the reason he was so scared is because he purposely spilled a drink on me last time I was here, then blamed me! Can you believe that, it was completely unprofessional. Gaston was so angry, I had to pretend it was okay so he wouldn’t fire her. I was only reminding him of the solid I did him, when people chase dreams, they lose their head in the clouds.” She smiled sweetly at the return of the waiter who brought her back the drink she asked for. “Someone has to bring them back to earth.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to.” The waiter wouldn’t get a voice in this situation, so she guessed it was down to her to impart the meaning upon Selina. At the end of the day though, did it really matter whether the words leaving her mouth were a truth or a lie? Or simply an exaggeration of the truth? Perhaps she had sorely misjudged her - not everyone did well on first impressions. Striving to keep an open mind, she directed the conversation away from accidents in the workplace.“And he probably is really glad to have kept his job.” She added on an afterthought. “So how’s business? The situation in China can’t make it too much fun.”

The pretty voice, and the equally lovely face accompanying it belonged to a name that was impossible not to have heard. Nadia Rousseau was one of the crown jewels of Hollywood, her face lit up across billboards and silver screens. But to Luciano, she would always be the frightened girl driven to the knife’s edge of desperation, clutching at her sanity in one hand and a fistful of blood in the other.  ( Luc never forgot the faces of those he’d done business with, but Nadia Rousseau was a special case all on her own. ) Tilting his head slightly to catch her eye, he shot her a playful look as he slowed to allow her to fall into step beside him. 

“Happy to be of service, Miss Rousseau.” 

Whether she was attempting to camouflage herself from the paparazzi, or a more sinister brand of irritation, they’d certainly think about crossing the head of the Venturi family. Cameras that had captured his profile in the past ended up mysteriously damaged, brutally so, and beyond repair.

“There’s too much Hollywood gossip these days for a busy man like me to stay apprised of. From what I do understand though, you seem to be doing quite well. You’re always on those magazines my girls love to read.”

He was also the sort of man who Nadia knew would fight for his family, tooth and nail, and who would set fire to anyone who dare hurt them. She knew he held a code of loyalty. Most importantly - he was not a mad man. He was intelligent, calculating, his mind turning in directions she could have scarcely dreamed of.

The girl before the fall might have been afraid of a man like him.

Now he had helped rise her to become his equal.

It was hard to be afraid of a man like that.

He had seen something within her - something that intrigued him. Some sort of potential. At times, she questioned what he had seen, questioned whether it was something to install pride in. Always, she drew the same conclusion. Luciano had been the dark angel on her shoulder - taking her into an oblivion. And even if that oblivion had been hell, she would have gone, freely.

It was hard to imagine Maia as anything but armed to the teeth, ready to pounce and rip apart - but the thought of her as a normal girl tugged a smile from her lips. As for Vienna, she hadn’t met her - only seen pictures. His pride for them both was easy to infer from the way he talked about them, his tone changing. “Glad to hear business is booming. I always thought January would be a quiet time of the month. What with everyone trying to be a new better version of themselves.” Keeping to his pace, idle conversation was easy to maintain - strictly nothing that would matter if overheard. “Can’t say I can complain. It doesn’t quite feel real.”

Most things were being shipped directly to the new apartment, but there were a few bags slung over Vienna’s arm. She was standing outside an Anthropologie store debating whether or not she wanted to go in and have a look around when she was approached by Nadia. She recognized her immediately from her various works and was surprised to be approached, but she smiled warmly. 

“Of course. Here, come to this side,” Vienna suggested, scooting around so that Nadia was closer to the building than the street. “Fan, ex, or paparazzi?” 

What sort of world was it that she lived in that kindness, without motive, surprised her? Human nature was warped, corrupt - inherently dark. Did it have to be? Or was that a habit taught? Maybe it was just the people she knew.

“You’re doing me a huge favour. Name your reward. I mean it, designer contacts, a reservation anywhere in the city - maybe even in the world if you’re headed out of the country, premiere tickets - just. Thanks.”

Heading towards her side, Nadia pulled the hood of her coat up and kept her gaze aimed low at the ground. Luckily, the one question she asked was one she wasn’t forced to lie about - or even attempt to conceal.

“Paps. I usually don’t mind - but - “ Was an explanation needed? “Just one of those days, you know?”

As the waiter rushed away in embarrassment, she flipped her hair with a sigh. “Why, in this day and age is it so hard to get good help these days?”

Don’t you remember that time when you killed someone?

Ah. There was her conscience, the voice of reality that drew her back into the present. First appearances could be more deceptive than you would imagine - and everyone had their faults. Hell, compared to most of the people around that table (Lily being the snow white exceptional and Ezra too perhaps), entitlement was hardly a sin.

Besides, Selina had already spoken, tossing her hair in the direction of the actress.

“Guess they’re all off chasing dreams.”

Nadia Rousseau seemed every bit as much of a fantasy as the wild stories that Saskia would imagine for herself when she was a child. It seems just as impossibly incredible to be Nadia’s girlfriend as it would be to find out that her parents were royalty, Saskia a long-lost princess, an Anastasia of the modern age. 

But for now, her reality is almost as good as anything she could have possibly imagined. She had Nadia, for now, and it seems too good to be true. And whenever she’s left alone her head fills itself with portents of doom: she and Nadia spend all their time together now, and the public seems to love it, two girls who became fast-friends while shooting their latest film. But what about when Nadia moves onto another project? And what about when her co-star is some hot Hollywood hunk and her publicist nudges the two of them together because think of how good it would be for your career and when it would be so much easier than sneaking around with Saskia, because that’s all that Nadia seems willing to do with her—

But then Nadia’s fingers tangle in her hair for the quickest of moments. The bubble pops, and Saskia beams. But still, she can’t help but notice the way Nadia’s eyes dart to-and-fro. Saskia may not be a household name and a household face yet, but Nadia is, and any moment between them in public has to be stolen.

Smiling still, she groans, theatrical in her mock-despair. “Don’t say that, oh my god, I’m never going to have long hair again.” Nadia’s hair flips, and Saskia’s fingers itch, wanting to return the favor and touch, but the sidewalk had filled up again in the moments since, and so her hand stays at her side. 

It’s almost impossible to believe that when she met Nadia, all she’d thought of was the light that could be gained by edging into Nadia’s spotlight. Now, she has all that and more, and yet she’s not above taking advantage of the perks of having a girlfriend far more famous than she—and one of those perks is never having to wait for a table. “Ooh, let’s go somewhere fancy,” she hums with a cajoling smile. “What do you say?”

Nadia had never thought she would be the type to give out nicknames. Then again, she had never thought she would be in a relationship like this. When the only one you have to base off is domestic violence, a certain fear of association crops up - on a permanent basis. What if I’m too broken to love? What if I’m too dark? Protecting herself and the people she loved was a permanent concern of hers - her ultimate goal. And protecting her heart had always been a part of that package. She would watch from afar, ache for that feeling of comfort and security - but confident she could never have that for herself. Too heavy she would lament. I could never burden someone with these problems.

But Saskia was different. She teased a lightness out of her that Nadia hadn’t thought possible, made her want to be something else, someone different. She dearly wanted to dedicate herself in her entirety, pour her heart and soul into this woman. And in some ways - she had. Saskia had met both her mother and brother, hugged her when she sensed something was wrong, whispered sweet words after she awoke from a nightmare. But the Coalition kept them divided. It was the one secret she refused to divulge, purely out of love rather than malicious intent. But Saskia couldn’t sense that - couldn’t know that it was her own security she sought to protect.

Because the Coalition would consume her wholly, chew her through and spit her out at the end.

And that was a fate she would not allow her girlfriend to meet.

Secret kisses could be just as fulfilling as whole ones, she forced herself to think. Sneaking out held a certain element of excitement - passion, desire. But it kept their relationship in the present, unable to progress any further, unable to find the hope of a future. And one day, Nadia knew Sas would decide that she had enough, would move onto someone more open, someone who could love her the way she deserved to be.

Was it selfish to keep her all to herself?

“Hmm. Kensington, Chelsea or Mayfair?” 

She pulled the scarf which sat against her black Burberry coat, closer to her neck as she breathed out against the cold air, her breath materializing into a cloud before her. Winter on it’s way. Still, the air was as cold as her heart. She was not easily spooked, so the figure suddenly appearing beside her did not cause a jolt of surprise, yet it invoked intrigue. 

“Come now, you don’t need an excuse to talk to me,” Maia purred, pulling her hair over her other shoulder to remove the curtain of inky locks which concealed half her face from sight. “Afterall, we know each other better than that.”

As far as the world knew, her Father was happy in Australia. She liked the poetry of Australia - it was where the Empire had once sent Criminals. As for his true location - six feet under some mystery, which only the girl in front of her knew. It was better that way - the less people who knew something, the less chance there was of a secret escaping. A secret which could destroy more than just her.

She wouldn’t say she felt uneasy around the assassin, but watchful of her tone, Nadia fell into step at her side, one eye hastily thrown over her shoulder to the advancing photographer. “Don’t suppose you can twist a few arms and get that creep to stop taking photos of me? It makes conducting business significantly more stressful.”

It was over lunch three weeks after filming wrapped that Saskia’s new agent told her she needed to cut her hair. And she had sat in that dimly lit restaurant and self-consciously pet at her hair–then a thick mess of blonde ombre—and wondered what it was he saw when he looked at her, because his assessing look made her feel a little bit like an unkempt poodle. It was a silly thing, it was just hair, but Sas had sat up nights weaving and twisting it in complicated braids, had brushed it and dyed it and loved it and—

“Just trust me,” he’d said, “this is what’s going to take you from a girl-next-door to a star.” —and, okay, magic words uttered, Saskia was on the phone with the salon he recommended within the hour.

And she’d nearly forgotten about the appointment—one she’d had to wait weeks and weeks for because, though she knew her name would one day be up in lights, it didn’t quite open doors or skip lines for her yet—until it had popped up in her calendar the beginning of this week.

She’d shut her eyes tight as the stylist worked, unable to watch beyond the first few snips as her lovely long hair felt away. When she stared at herself in the mirror after she was finished, bluntly-cut ends tickling her chin and neck, she’d felt a curious emptiness, like she was looking at a stranger, but it had been easy enough to paste on a smile and gush and slip the stylist a generous tip.

Now, she catches her reflection in shop windows and she can’t help but stop and stare at this unfamiliar girl looking back at her: is this what is means to be a star? To look so different from the girl in the mirror she remembered? To be made into someone else than she was when her agent took her on, when her director cast her? (That girl wasn’t good enough.) She meets her new movie-star-reflection’s eyes, and looks away, only to almost-guiltily find someone else’s. Caught in the throes of insecurity—only, to an outsider, it looks like narcissism.

“Oh, excuse me—” (An independent poll says that Saskia Vanderbilt’s new haircut is: a) a glamorous and edgy turn for the budding young starlet; or b) a terrible, terrible mistake.) “I just wanted to ask—what do you think of my haircut?”

With the way she was acting, that wouldn’t be long. Her girlfriend had been blessed with the patience of a saint, but even she couldn’t stop seeking for an explanation forever. The cruelest piece would be if Saskia blamed herself, as Nadia knew she was prone to doing - never believing fully, neglecting herself to a distant second. In her eyes, she was everything. But even she could admit she was the true winner here - after all, she got to love Saskia, but Saskia was stuck loving someone as broken as she.

Speaking without hesitation, her words came from her heart. “I told you that you’d look beautiful whatever you did. Even bald. Me however - “ stepping forward, she checked from side to side to see if anyone was observing. Considering the coast to be clear, she took the shortened strands of hair into her hands, tugging down on them lightly. “I had to turn that role down. Hair just takes too long to grow back.” As if in response, she stepped back and tossed hers onto one side.

One eye glancing down on her watch, ever conscious of the plans already set in motion by the Coalition of their meeting soon - she met Saskia’s eyes once again, straining to keep her tone light and casual - giving no indication she would soon have to dash off and leave her girlfriend to fend alone. “Ready to get lunch? You pick - we can go anywhere.”

Ah the perks of money and fame.

Maybe Kiran ought to stop over-analyzing everything about the event, just enjoy the sweet champagne, the music and the glowing outfits everyone wore that night – it was nothing short of a dream worthy review from they own personal perspective. Their judgement wasn’t the best, they weren’t really usual attendees of things like this. 

Whether or not that was a good thing, the jury was still out. Had they been more well versed in movie worthy events, the wonder they felt the moment they walked in wouldn’t be so present, if it would be present at all. On the other hand, if they had been to a few, they wouldn’t look like they were drooling every passing moment. 

It was a complicated situation to debate with their own mind, while excited about the event they would be having the inner debate about. 

Leaning against the bar counter, they chose that spot because a) they wouldn’t be standing in the midst of the room, looking out of place and b) they wouldn’t get in the way of anyone and, if they wanted to order, they could just scoot over, give the person a polite smile and carry on. 

Their plan proved fallible when a somewhat familiar voice addressed them; and as soon as they turned to face whoever had spoken, they realized it wasn’t familiar for the reasons they thought it had been. 

Nadia Rousseau. 

“Oh, hm – No, I’m not going to order anything. Sorry, I’m probably standing somewhere I shouldn’t be.” Kiran spoke, a nervous smile, followed by a chuckle, escaping their lips. How does one act when they meet an actress they both like and find to be out of this world?

It went without saying that all the major news outlets were here - somewhere, whether it be in the form of informants or reporters themselves. It was sure to be featured in the reel of evening news, around Christmas they attempted to be a little sunnier - all whilst floods were devastating the North of the country. It was the newspapers where they would truly be revealed, photos snapped, appearances analysed - she had made sure there were no bags under her eyes when she left - so much as the way she looked at someone would be commented upon, with the media’s hungry search to find her a boyfriend. She could only pray the coalition wouldn’t pick up on it - although submit to their demands she could only do. 

The look on their face was not out of place - on the streets. In the middle of an elite event, not so much. Most people here had walked in the same circles as her before and kept any wide eyed admiration under lock and key, reserving it for polite compliments and the small talk they were all experts at by now. It was a requirement for mixing with the royals, knowing the right things to say - and when to say them. Secretly praying that they were a plus one and not a security threat, she leaned over and ordered herself a drink.

“White wine. Something from before 1990.”

“Absolutely not. You know I detest these things. You go first so I can spend more time hiding in the corner.” Her words were laced with just enough sarcasm that it could be taken as a joke, but Nadia knew Lilliana far too well and far too long to not note the sincerity behind her words. Balls were a wonderful way to celebrate all that had been accomplished, but this ball in particular marked a hardship for Lilliana. One of the two candidates would take Damian’s place in the Coalition. She had no idea what would happen to the other, but she certainly hoped that Damian’s death was not an indication of how to keep those who knew too much quiet. She would love for both candidates to have a spot, but the rules stated that there would only be room for thirteen. One would have to be cut out. She hated the idea that someone would not get what they desired and there was nothing she could do to stifle the disappointment.

Holidays were something of a break for her - the only one she was able to grasp. With no immediate movie release, the premieres and interviews were put on hold, she was able to remain at home with family rather than fling herself across the world, vaulting from country to country with a new bejeweled gown in her custody. Not that her attire tonight was any different - sparkling silver gown with matching heels and matching jewelry draping from her ears, neck and wrist. When you had a million pounds to spend, you had to look like you dressed that way too - and besides, you were in the presence of royalty. To look any less was to slight or insult.

“Come on, what are we drinking?”

With an open bar, nothing was off limits - and from the corner of her eye, she could observe some who wouldn’t demonstrate the same tolerance she would tonight. It had been too long until she had allowed herself to fall under the toxic influence, ever since rising to the public eye - too afraid of what might fall from her lips, or how she might embarrass herself. Everything was at stake now, a constant. It was a fair match between exhausting and rewarding.