nichole

“Get the door.” He shifted his arm slightly, trying to make it easier for her to breathe as he cradled her against his chest.

“I’m trying!” The back door to the veterinarian office did not appear to grasp the urgency of their situation. He gritted his teeth as he felt more blood soaking into his sleeve.

“Get the fucking door, Caroline!” Finally, the door opened. Caroline held it back so that he could carry her inside.

“Set her on the table.” Caroline advised as she sealed the door behind them. He ignored her, already in the process of searching for a more suitable cot for her to rest on.

He laid her down as gently as he possibly could, overly cautious of her injuries. She lay limp on the cot, motionless in her expressionless mask.

Caroline reached across the cot, fingers ghosting over the wound in her side as she tried to examine it. He tensed as she started to tug at the malfunctioning suit material surrounding the bloody rip.

“Careful.” She gave him a look. He ignored the look in favor of wheeling over a cart of medical supplies.

“Did you call Amos?” She was eyeing the cart skeptically.

“He’ll be here as soon as he can be. We have to start without him.” He answered dismissively. He laid out the materials that he’d deemed fit for basic cleaning and debridement.

He didn’t want to fuss with her side too much. Parts of it looked incredibly deep and painful.

She began to stir before he’d made it very far, twitching on the table as a soft groan came through her mask rather garbled.

“Hey, shhhh. You’re alright.” He leaned closer so that she could see well enough to recognize him. She stilled on the cot, her body slack once more as he reached for her mask.

He activated the mechanism, then very carefully lifted it away from her face. None of it appeared to have melded with her skin, though there was a nasty gash bleeding steadily across her jawline.

He brushed a bit of blonde hair back from her bloody face. Her eyes were unfocused, half-lidded as she peered up at him. Her brow was furrowed in pain and discomfort.

Or perhaps that was just her working on her next plan.

“It’s alright, Minnie Mouse.” He whispered.

It was never easy to see her hurt. It was especially difficult to sit back uselessly and watch Amos pull jagged bits of metal out of her. 

Caroline held her hand. He just sat with his head in his hands. The longer he watched, the more the bubbling rage was starting to take over. Stitches holding her chin together, blood staining the cot the longer it took to fix the damage left in one of the heroes’ wake.

Amos started stitching her side. She let out a quiet cry, just barely conscious as she squeezed Caroline’s hand.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Where are you going?” Caroline called as he rose from his chair and started towards the hallway.

“Which one?” He asked rather simply.

“What?” He turned to face her as he pulled his gloves back on.

“Which one of them did this?” He watched her realize what he meant in real time. Watched the understanding and then the anger and the fear.

“You are not going after any of them.” She stated. He stared at her for a moment that could have stretched for an age. The tension too thick to be cut.

“Green Guardian. Right? She’s the only one that could.” He turned away again. He was almost to the door.

“Stephen.” He didn’t stop.

“I want updates on her progress while I’m out.” She had abandoned her post at Minerva’s side to hurry after him.

“You can’t-” Stephen tensed as she caught his shoulder.

“But they can do this?” He swept an arm wide as he whirled around to face her. He stared at Minerva gasping in pain on the cot. He looked at Caroline and dared her to do the same.

“You know damn well what got her here. No one gets that close to killing Mend and just walks.” Caroline bit back. Stephen shook his head.

“It wasn’t enough to kill someone who heals so quickly. She knew that. She ran the calculations and that was her only choice.” 

She finally looked as angry as he was. Just for all the wrong reasons.

“She blew him up to get you out of a situation you shouldn’t have fucking been in in the first place. So Green tracked her down. That’s how things fucking work.” She poked him in the chest for emphasis, then again for good measure.

Stephen’s jaw tightened. His fists clenched at his sides.

“That’s how things fucking work. So I’m gonna go out there and-”

“And pluck out another eye? Where does it end? With you dead? With her?” She gestured back at Minerva, wide-eyed as she shouted at him. As if the volume could permeate his thick skull and sway him to her side.

Her side, he thought.

Because she wasn’t on his. Was she? Standing before him defending the heroes that had nearly killed someone she claimed to care about time and time again.

He stared at her. And he barely recognized the little girl that he would have once called family without a moment’s hesitation.

“Which side are you on?” The question burned him as it escaped his throat. And it burned her as she heard it and its implications. 

“I’m on the side of keeping you fucking assholes from killing each other.” Her voice was quieter now, as loud as she could be without breaking. Her eyes were shining with tears.

Stephen raised his hands. And he let out a cold, humorless laugh. More of a scoff. Maybe a sneer.

“Bang-up job you’ve done so far.” 

She held his gaze just long enough for him to watch the first tear roll over her orange eye mask. She shook her head. And she stepped around him to reach the exit before he could.

“You’re just going to leave?” Stephen scowled as he watched her go. She swiped a sleeve across her cheek. She didn’t turn back.

“You took out a member of my team. So yeah, they need me right now.” She retorted bitterly. She didn’t look at him again until she’d composed herself.

“You keep me updated on her condition. Because you’re staying here.” She pointed an accusing finger. And she dared him to argue.

She didn’t have to worry about it. One last glance at Minerva sapped the resolve right out of him.

Caroline left and he didn’t stop her. He sank back into his chair and ignored the look Amos was giving him.

“She doesn’t understand.” Stephen muttered, his head in his hands again.

“Some of us aren’t super.” He felt so heavy. So very far out of his depth as he watched Minerva struggle through every breath.

“One two three, one two three, one two three, one-” Elise gritted her teeth as she made a misstep and knocked her shoe into Marcus’s.

“Wrong foot.” Inez called as she stopped the count.

“I noticed.” Elise muttered. She ignored the reassuring smile the king was trying to offer her as he stopped mid-waltz and let his arm drop from her back.

“Starting positions again, please.” Elise positioned her feet together on the floor before his, even more determined than before.

She had learned countless combinations of fighting techniques. And it was a ridiculous but simple dance that had her perplexed. She refused. She was going to figure it out.

It wasn’t any different than learning a new fighting style, not really. It was all about balance and foot placement. The only major difference was that she had to worry about more than just her own movement.

“You’re doing great.” Marcus whispered to her. Elise’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t patronize me.” She was still studying their feet, missing the expression that crossed his face at that.

“I wasn’t-” Inez started the count again before he could say anything further.

“One two three, one two three, one two three, one two three,” Her expression pinched in distaste as they started back up.

“The king should be leading.” She noted. Elise was already gritting her teeth again.

High society etiquette was so stupid.

“Then maybe the king should lead.” She growled, because he hadn’t exactly done so when given the opportunity. She stopped waltzing and dropped her arms from his.

“I don’t mind if she leads.” Marcus spoke softly.

“It’s improper.” Inez tsked. Marcus frowned, though he didn’t speak up again.

“Starting positions.” Elise tensed as he brought his hand to rest over her shoulder blade again. She reluctantly raised her own arms.

And this time, she didn’t move until he did.

“One two three, one two three, one two three,”

“Try to relax.” Marcus murmured. Elise only tensed more.

“I am relaxed.”

“It’s okay if you don’t get it tonight.” He tried again.

“We’ve mere days until the ball.” Inez interrupted her count just to correct him. Marcus flashed her a sheepish smile.

“No pressure.” He whispered.

“Stop talking.” Elise grumbled.

“One two three, one two three, one two-” Maybe she would have had it already, if they’d stop distracting her. If they’d stop putting so much constant pressure on her.

Which fork went where and which fork should be used for each course and the proper hand placement for utensils and tea cups and glasses and the form for a proper curtsy and what to say to whom and-

Elise misstepped. And the rest of her body followed. This included her head, the top of which promptly smacked right into the king’s nose.

“Careful!” Inez gasped, as if Elise had just sliced at him with a broadsword. Elise took a few steps back, an apology on the tip of her tongue.

“Ow.” Marcus had raised both hands to cover his nose.

“Your Majesty?” Inez rushed towards him with far more urgency than the situation seemed to require. She drew one of the king’s hands back just enough to glimpse the blood already sliding down his face.

“I’ll call for the royal physician.” Elise was still frozen in place when Inez glanced over at her.

She hadn’t meant to harm him. Of course she would never harm him. And she wished for him to be well. Even so, it was a bit jarring to see such an extreme reaction to something so mundane.

Elise had taken countless hits to the nose. She’d won plenty of battles with blood gushing down her face. She’d hardly even acknowledge the throbbing and the heat and the discomfort.

She had teased the king about his fragility before. It was part of the reason she had insisted on training him personally, though they had yet to start lessons.

The gibes felt less comical now that she found herself watching him crumble after just one accidental hit. Not even enough force to knock the crown from his head.

“That’s quite enough for tonight.” Inez said rather sharply. Elise pursed her lips.

“His Majesty requires a physician for a nosebleed?” She raised an eyebrow. Inez’s expression hardened.

She had a hand on Marcus’s shoulder, the other offering him a handkerchief that was already starting to absorb the outpour of red.

“I said that’s enough for tonight.” She reiterated, no room for question in her tone. Elise glanced between the two of them.

She understood what was really being said, then. Dance lessons were over and the king’s common-born betrothed was dismissed. The situation no longer required her lesser presence. Leave, interloper, she might as well have said.

Elise’s hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“Fine.” She turned to push through the ballroom doors and storm back to her quarters.

Marcus stretched a bloody hand out, as if to reach for her.

“Elise-” She did not glance back.

Marcus cleared his throat.

“Quite a pleasant evening.”

“Quite.” Elise pursed her lips. Marcus nodded to himself, hands tucked behind his back as he kept pace with her.

“The chrysanthemums are blooming beautifully.” He noted. Elise hummed in acknowledgement.

Marcus folded.

“Alright,” He raised a hand to massage his forehead. Elise finally glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.

“I apologize for making such a brash suggestion. I understand that it was far from proper of me to place something so life changing on you so suddenly.” Her expression was unreadable. Perhaps his apology was not sufficient.

“Please do not feel obligated to answer the question.” He added.

She was silent still. He grew a bit more flustered.

“And if we could return to the way things were-” 

“I would have conditions.” She spoke at last, her voice quiet. Marcus blinked.

“You would have conditions?” He repeated, not quite sure he understood.

She would have conditions in regards to returning to the way things were? Surely that was what she meant. But what could she possibly ask that-

“You would expect me to adhere to the expectations of high society. To learn all of your asinine rules. Would you not?” She spoke again. Marcus nearly tripped over a stone in the path.

Conditions for marrying him.

“I imagine so, yes.” He answered honestly. Elise nodded, as if she’d suspected as much.

“If I am to learn your ways, then you are to learn mine.” She said.

“How do you mean?” Marcus frowned.

“You learn to defend yourself. I would train you personally.” Elise’s grip on the hilt of her sword tightened a fraction.

Marcus tried not to react. He tried not to outwardly display what an awful idea it was. He was easily the last person in the kingdom that should be consigned to such physical tasks. It could be dangerous, deadly.

There wasn’t time to dwell on it.

“Once I am Queen, the new Captain of the Guard will be ill-suited to protect you. No one is as skilled as I am.” Marcus tried not to react in an off-putting manner. But he felt more than a little giddy hearing her say the word with such certainty.

It quickly drowned out the logic that had resided over his thoughts previously.

“Alright. What else?” He murmured.

“You said you wanted an equal.” Elise reminded him. Marcus nodded once.

“I do.” He concurred.

“In everything?” She clarified. He nodded once more, brow slightly furrowed.

“I would have an equal say in how the kingdom is run? In how our relations with other nations are handled?”

“Yes.” If anything, he’d like her to have more of a say than him. She had better strategies, brighter ideas. He would hand over the reins to everything if she happened to ask.

“I would have an equal say in how the household is run? And you would have an equal share in caring for children?” It caught him a bit more off-guard than he’d care to admit.

The idea of children. Children with her. Their children.

“Yes.” His face felt a bit warm.

“My word carries the same weight as yours?” She continued. And he took a moment, took a slightly deeper breath.

“Yes.” Elise stopped walking.

“You hesitated.” She noted. Marcus stopped next to her, forcing himself to meet her gaze.

He had never had a true equal before. He had never seen a relationship such as the one that she was describing. A new queen with the same power as the reigning king. It was a bit troubling, to think that soon enough his response would no longer be the only final say.

But then she must have been even more troubled, to leave the position she had worked all her life for and take this risk. To enter into this partnership knowing very well that she could lose all of her independence, all of herself.

This was the very least that he could grant her.

“Your word carries the same weight as mine.” He said, holding her gaze. Her eyes bore into his, searching for so much as a flicker of dishonesty.

“I agree to all of your terms. And I would adapt each ordinance to confer unto your position all power that you have asked.” He doubled down. And he made the mental note to consult with whoever he had to to see it done immediately.

Elise tilted her head a bit, studying him for the longest moment of his life.

He thought about what Inez had said. He thought about saying more, about spilling everything. Honesty, full truths. She should know it all before she agreed or disagreed. He should-

“Alright.” Elise said. Marcus blinked.

“Alright?” He reached to straighten his un-crooked crown.

“I accept.” She wouldn’t look him in the eye as she said it. Marcus couldn’t breathe for a moment, barely processing the fact that she had truly just accepted.

He reached for the pocket of his cloak. He brought out the ornate box very carefully, watching her reaction closely as he did so.

“May I?” He murmured as he pried it open. Elise gave a curt nod, her lips pressed into a thin line.

She held out her left hand. She watched him pluck the ring out of the box. She watched him slide the band over her finger.

Scars marring her skin, dirt under her nails. It was not the hand of a queen.

She stared at the ring as he drew back, almost as if its weight was much greater than a simple band of gold and a glittering jewel.

The weight of a shackle, perhaps.

“I’ll inform the cook at once. We’ll have a proper celebration at dinner.” She only looked away as he raised her hand to his lips, kissing the ring over her finger.

“Elise?” She cleared her throat, drawing back her hand when he finally let it go. She closed her hand into a fist and squeezed it as she tucked it behind her back.

“You asked to see me, Your Majesty?” The royal advisor stood at attention in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. Marcus slumped further in his chair.

“Spare me.” He muttered.

Inez closed the door.

“What’s the matter? It went as poorly as I told you it would?” She assumed the position she usually did at the opposite end of the table, her expression as pinched with distaste as it had been prior.

“She doesn’t understand.” He murmured. He couldn’t look her in the eye, instead focused on the little box before him on the table.

“Yes, I imagine she does not understand, given the fact that you have not been entirely honest with her.” She had her hands folded behind her back, her words as biting as ever.

“You don’t know that I haven’t been honest.” Marcus protested.

Inez was unconvinced.

“So you told her everything, then?” He didn’t respond. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and twisted the box between his fingers.

“As I suspected.” 

Marcus frowned.

“I can’t tell her everything. Then everything would change.” He said, his voice much quieter. Inez sighed.

“Oh, Marcus.” She murmured. And she moved around the side of the table to be closer.

“Everything is already changing. You can’t stop that now.” She stopped at his side and reached for his crown, adjusting it where it had slid a fraction too far to the left.

Marcus glanced up at her slowly, his eyes glistening.

“She believes that I would use her. That I would strip her of her title for my own selfish needs.” She hadn’t seen him so miserable in quite some time.

That did not make her feel particularly inclined to go easy on him.

“Would you not?” He furrowed his brow as he peered at her, unable to understand.

“You can not enter into a partnership of this sort with such secrets and expect it to flourish. Lies of omission are not truths.” Inez drew her hands behind her back once more.

“It’s selfish to share partial truths with her and suggest a union under those terms.” She was particularly displeased to watch as he absorbed her words and they only seemed to harden his expression.

“Then maybe I just need to be a little selfish.” Inez’s eyes narrowed.

There was a knock at the door before she could give him hell for such a comment.

“Yes?” Marcus peered at the door as it opened. A guard poked his head into the room.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Your Majesty.” Marcus waved the apology off.

“The Captain is inquiring as to whether or not His Majesty will be taking his usual stroll around the garden at this time.” The guard delivered his message.

Marcus sat up in his chair, eyes wide.

“She’s waiting for me?” The guard gave a curt nod.

“As always.” Marcus scrambled out of his seat.

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be right there.” He hurried around the table, hesitating at the door to straighten his crown.

“Marcus.” He reluctantly glanced back at her.

“Inez.”

“Tell her everything.” He studied her for a moment. And he wished that he possessed the strength that she seemed to believe him capable of.

But as he wordlessly left the room, there was only one thought ricocheting around in his head.

It was hard not to feel the slightest bit satisfied at the sound of something cracking as the villain’s back hit the wall. The material of her suit flickered a wide array of colors, the most damaged fabric cells reduced to a pale gray as the camouflage failed.

She wasn’t going anywhere unnoticed-- not anymore.

“I have Echo.” Elise swiped one sleeve beneath her bloody nose. She brought her other hand around, gathering jagged pieces of debris to hurl at the villain. Some abandoned scaffolding further down the alleyway became her primary weapon of choice.

Echo slid the rest of the way to the ground and rolled to avoid the first onslaught. Elise whirled around as the villain came to a stop behind her.

Echo rose partially from a crouch, gloved hands raised. Elise managed to shut her eyes just before the blinding light blast went off. Even so, she was still blinking away spots when she felt Echo’s boot driven into the back of her knee to force her down.

One arm hooked around her neck, the other hand pressing over her forehead as she hit the ground. Elise could feel the hair on the back of her neck rising as the charge again built in the palm of the villain’s hand.

She didn’t panic. She had far too many years of experience in the field to panic. Green Guardian did not succumb to villains in back alleyways.

She gathered herself. She gathered the pieces of scaffolding she had previously wielded. And she brought them crashing into Echo.

Echo didn’t let go until she had to, until a broken piece of scaffolding slammed into her mask and tore into the material. Elise drove an elbow back into the villain’s diaphragm and slipped free.

She remained crouched on the ground as she faced the villain, arms spread at her sides as she brought the scaffolding back for another bout. Another broken piece grazed Echo’s leg, ripping into the material of her suit and sending a ripple of bright colors through the rest of the fabric cells.

She drove Echo back into the wall, pinning her in place with the larger bars of scaffolding.

“You’re not going anywhere.” The villain stopped struggling as one of the broken bars pierced through her suit and into her side, a strangled sort of sound garbled by her voice modulator.

Elise rose from the ground. She took a step closer, her fist clenched to maintain her hold on the villain. Echo’s injured leg gave out and she started to slide down the wall, suspended only by the debris and the flare of Green Guardian’s power.

“And to think,” Spoke Elise’s own voice, reverberated strangely by the villain’s modulator.

Blood was soaking through the pale gray of her suit. Fabric cells flickered with bright colors.

“They’ve lauded you as a hero.” Elise surged forward.

The strike slammed Echo’s head into the brick wall and shattered something in her mask. Elise caught her breath a moment, watching a fresh rivulet of blood trickle down into the material covering the villain’s neck.

“And they still will,” Something sparked in Echo’s mask. The voice modulator, Elise had to assume, as the villain remained quiet.

“Long after you’re dead.” Elise finished. She pressed Echo against the wall with more force for a moment, ensuring that there were no last tricks up the villain’s sleeves.

She was just about to pull it all back and drag Echo to the tower when her pager started buzzing rather frantically. Elise kept Echo pinned with one clenched fist and slipped the communicator off of her belt with the other.

Distress signal. The Captain. Not too far.

Elise clenched her fist tighter, shaping the bars as she wanted them before letting the glow fade entirely. Echo slid the rest of the way to the ground. Elise stood there a moment, ensuring that the villain remained.

Echo was utterly motionless, lying in a heap as her voice modulator glitched over every ragged breath.

“You stay right there.” Elise growled. She took off with that, following the signal to Cara’s communicator in order to assist.

Cara rounded the opposite corner less than a minute later, skidding to a halt before the mass of twisted scaffolding. She crouched low to the ground and started prying away the larger metal bars as best she could with her bare hands.

She reached for Echo’s shoulder and shook lightly, testing her awareness. The villain flinched as a distorted sound echoed from beyond her mask. She squirmed for a moment, then stilled rather suddenly.

“Just me!” Cara finally managed to pry away the largest bar compressing the villain’s abdomen.

“Cara.” She added as Echo remained tense. Her breath caught in her throat as she moved the larger bar and uncovered the one beneath it that was jutting out of the villain’s side.

“Oh god,” She pressed her hands over her mouth and tried to compose herself.

She could lose it later. There was no time now.

Moving the larger bar had freed one of Echo’s arms. She brought a trembling hand to her bloody side as another ragged breath was distorted by her broken modulator. Cara gave up on removing the bars and instead shifted her focus to moving her.

She pulled Echo into her arms and tried to sit her upright without jostling her too much.

“Come on. We need to get you out of here.” There was blood spilling down her neck, stemming from what must have been a nasty wound under her mask. The stain on the side of her suit was growing by the moment, the one on her leg spreading a bit slower.

“Cara?” 

Her voice modulator was broken, the truth painfully clear as she shuddered in Cara’s arms. Cara positioned her legs to push up off of the ground and prayed that someone was manning the auto body shop. It was closest, just down the street.

She just had to make it there.

“Don’t you turn against me!” Tears rolled down her cheeks as he shouted at her. Harsh winds whipped a few wispy curls across her face.

“I don’t know you anymore!” She cried, “-Vincent, you’re breaking my heart! You’re going down a path I can’t follow!” The shadowy figure loomed over her.

“Because of the Guardians?” He tilted his head slightly, eyes empty. She shook her head.

“Because of what you’ve done-- what you plan to do.” She took his arm, “-Stop! Stop now, come back! I love you!” He pushed her away as he saw the figure lurking just behind her.

The gold of his suit reflected the fiery lighting.

“Liar!” She glanced back just as the other hero stepped forward.

“No!” She cried. The villain before her took a few terrifying steps closer, forcing her to stumble back.

“You’re with him! You’ve brought him here to kill me!” He raised a hand, and she started to choke. All the while pleading and protesting.

Her face was so clear in that moment. Familiar stormy blue eyes wide with fear. Blonde hair twisted back in some sort of intricate braid that fell down her back. She raised her hands to her neck as she gasped for air.

The other hero charged forward.

“Let her go, Muse!”

Tommy sat bolt upright in bed, gasping for air as he raised his hands to his own neck.

No force-choking to report. Just another nightmare.

“Tommy?” Tommy was a little closer to hypereventilating than he would have liked. He glanced up as his uncle appeared at his bedside, watery eyes open wide.

“It’s okay, buddy. Just a nightmare. You’re okay.” Marcus murmured as he sank onto the bed and reached for Tommy.

Tommy practically threw himself forward, burying his face in the material of Marcus’s t-shirt. He squeezed his eyes shut tight as he let his uncle envelop him in his arms.

“Hey, shhhhh. I gotcha.” Marcus patted Tommy’s back lightly as he held him.

“Mom again.” Tommy just barely managed to choke the words out. He felt his uncle’s arms tense a bit.

“I’m so sorry.” He kissed Tommy’s temple, “-It’s my fault. We should have waited to tell you the truth, I just thought-” Tommy started to shake his head, pulling away just far enough to speak more clearly.

“No, it’s not- I wanted to know. I’m old enough.” He insisted. And he felt like he was. He’d like to think he’d taken the news well.

It didn’t really change much about his life. He still lived with his aunt and uncle and cousins. Still looked after his little sisters. And his mother had still died when he was a toddler.

He just knew now not to hold out any hope that his father would appear someday and decide to be an active participant in their lives. And he knew that if the man did show up, then there was probably a jailbreak and a much larger issue involved.

Tommy had known the truth for a few months now. It didn’t usually bother him so much. It was just…when Uncle Phil had let him spend the night…

“It was Star Wars.” Tommy muttered sheepishly. His uncle raised an eyebrow, awaiting a better explanation.

“Uncle Phil showed me the prequels. And I thought-- I thought of them.” Marcus’s expression soured a bit, illuminated by the dim glow of Tommy’s little nightlight that he “just kept forgetting” to unplug and remove.

“I told Phil no Star Wars.” 

“I’m thirteen.” Tommy protested. Marcus reached to ruffle his hair.

“That doesn’t mean you were ready.” Tommy tried to come up with an argument.

He had nothing.

“I’m okay.” He said instead. Marcus threaded his fingers through Tommy’s curls loosely.

“Do you want any water or anything?” Tommy frowned.

His eyelids were still heavy. The digital clock on his nightstand informed him that it was very much still the middle of the night.

“I don’t think so.” He sighed as he considered it a bit more, “-I think I’m good. I can sleep.” He scrubbed at his eyes with his fists.

“Are you sure?” Tommy yawned.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t need anything at all?” Uncle Marcus fussed. Tommy’s frown returned.

He pressed close for another quick hug. Marcus hugged him back in half a heartbeat, strong arms making him feel as secure as they always did.

“Now I’m good.” Tommy decided as he let go. Marcus pulled the blankets up to Tommy’s chin as he laid back down.

“Get some rest, kiddo. School in the morning.” He patted Tommy’s shoulder lightly. Tommy groaned dramatically.

“Don’t remind me.” Marcus pulled the door mostly closed until it was only partially ajar.

“I love you.” He murmured. And Tommy almost smiled as he closed his eyes.

Pommel strike. Hilt punch. Wide slash.

Something must have changed.

Somewhere in her years spent at his side, something must have changed. She must have given him the wrong impression. Or he must have misunderstood something.

There was something.

Chop. Draw cut. And one last slash for good measure.

The dummy’s head came clean off.

“Captain?” Elise slashed again, then brought her sword back to her side.

“Set another.” Her order was quickly fulfilled, another straw dummy set up on the training stand before the soldier scrambled back.

Elise cried out as she struck the new target with more fervor.

Lady Ira’s ball, she realized as all of the air fled her lungs. The night that she had nearly failed in her duties and cost the kingdom dearly.

She studied her hand where it gripped the hilt of her sword, remembering how numb she had felt. She was forever grateful that Maxine had had the foresight to force her into building a tolerance to the most common toxins found in neighboring kingdoms.

“Is a king not entitled to a moment of privacy?!”

Her grip tightened as she remembered that dreadful woman and her shrill voice. The sound of the hilt of her sword hitting Lady Ira’s skull was not as satisfying as she would have liked. She was far too consumed with ensuring the king’s safety.

“Elise?” 

“Here, Your Majesty.” 

“Elise,” His eyes, so lost. The dark of his eyes nearly drowned out the golden brown entirely. She sheathed her sword, reached to fix his crown where it had been knocked askew.

He raised his hand to reach for hers, his fingers trembling. She let him take it, something squeezing in her chest as she saw him in such a state.

“Marcus,” She murmured, though she knew better. Even with the poison dulling her senses, she knew better.

But she remembered the first time she had ever ingested a toxin of this sort. Or rather, she remembered that she hadn’t remembered much afterward. There was no harm in providing a sliver of comfort that he so clearly needed.

“What’s happening?” 

He must have had some idea, splayed on the chaise with his ironed shirt partially untucked. Maybe that was why he was shaking.

“The Lady has poisoned us both.” He gripped her hand, squeezing as if she was all that was tethering him to the world.

“You’re safe now.” She was not gentle, but she tried.

Was that why he had made this choice? Because he remembered? Because he misunderstood?

Or perhaps it was simply the fact that he no longer felt safe seeking a queen in an outsider. There was no more mingling at a ball without fearing that every refreshment might be tainted. No more benefit of the doubt for potential suitors. Any one of them might attempt to force their way onto the throne as she had.

Elise slashed at the dummy again.

“Stay with me.” Her hand slipped away, her duties pulling her elsewhere. They must secure safe travels back to the palace.

“You will never be unguarded again.” An honest assurance.

But he caught her hand. And he squeezed desperately.

Like they were children crossing the brook in search of frogs. Like the prince oh so frightened by garden snakes and jagged stones.

“You. Just you.” 

Not an order. A quiet plea.

Elise slashed harder than before and slammed the hilt of her sword into the dummy’s battered chest. She cried out as she was faced with another realization that she was so desperately trying to bury.

She didn’t want to go through it again, either. They had not left the palace since the incident. She dreaded each invitation that came through the gate, certain that she would be forced to save him from ill-meaning suitors until he finally settled on someone.

And even then, the question would remain. What if he chose wrong? What if she was as conniving as the rest? What if she brought war to their borders, chaos to their kingdom?

What if she hurt him?

Elise decapitated the new dummy with one last powerful slash.

It was her duty to protect the king. Her sole purpose. She had been raised, shaped in such a way in order to keep him safe. And this was not something that she could ever protect him from.

“Captain? Another?” Elise didn’t respond, staring off into space as it processed slowly.

She could not wholly protect him from potential suitors or a future queen.

Marcus’s breath caught in his throat as the call was answered at the last possible second. He waited for a few painstakingly long seconds, listening for a greeting of any sort.

There was nothing.

“Minerva?” He tried. Maybe she’d said hello before it had properly connected. Maybe she was waiting for him to respond.

Nothing.

“It’s Marcus,” He spoke softly, his eyes burning, “-You probably knew that.” He waited a beat. Nothing.

“I just- I wanted to say-” He took a shaky breath. Pressed his left hand over his forehead as he forged onward.

“I wanted to invite you to Easter. We’re still doing the hunt for the kids and everything. And Tommy’s birthday party, I thought- I thought maybe we could talk about it.” He didn’t really care if she could hear how much he was choking on the words.

And still, nothing more than a resounding silence. Maybe an exhale.

“The twins are walking. I think they’re working on their first words.” He could hear them out in the kitchen with the nanny.

Stella babbled senselessly while Daisy made more ambitious attempts at communicating with the few syllables that she knew. 

He couldn’t help but think that they could have been further along with Minerva’s guidance. They could have flourished under her care, as Tommy had for so many years.

But there was no going back now. And there was no making it up to her if she wouldn’t speak to them.

“Tommy’s been asking for you. He asked if you’d be there on Sunday.” Marcus continued. He dragged his hand down his face slowly as there was no response.

“Minerva?” He practically whispered. The first of his tears slipped free.

“He really misses you. Everyone does.” He sniffled quietly, giving it a minute or so more before he would have to force himself to hang up.

But this time was different. He heard her take a breath and he was almost excited for a moment, his heart pounding against his ribcage as she finally spoke.

“And whose fault is that?” 

Elise didn’t react. She didn’t let a single thing about herself change. Not her expression, not her posture, not the tension in her hands where they were folded behind her back. She watched him watch her for a moment, waiting for something. Anything.

Her gaze drifted back down to the ring in its box on the table between them, the jewel at its center glittering and casting rays of light across the room as it captured the morning sun.

“May I speak freely?” She said at last, her voice steady.

The king spread his arms slightly, expression as kind and passive as ever. It only served to set her further on edge.

“Please,” He was almost smiling, the warmth in his eyes gleaming more than the ring in its box. It set something rather dreadful churning in her stomach.

“I thought that you of all people respected me.” She forced all sense of emotion out of her voice. She was irritated to find it more difficult than usual.

His expression fell.

“I have the utmost respect for you.” He replied. Quiet. Soft. Sincere.

“No.” His brow furrowed slightly. She didn’t want to notice the tiny new wrinkles. But she did.

“No?” He frowned. Elise’s shoulders lifted ever so slightly.

“If you held any sort of respect for me, you would not ask this of me.” Calm, collected. Always a soldier.

“I don’t understand.” He stretched one hand across the table, reaching towards the box. He studied her strangely, as if he wanted to piece together exactly what she was thinking one micro expression at a time.

Elise’s jaw clenched.

“You would have me sacrifice my position, my title, my freedom so that you might have a wife and the means to an heir?” It was the first time she let any emotion escape. It wasn’t quite intentional, but she figured it would serve to get her point across.

Marcus’s gaze was glued to the box as he pulled it closer to himself. His face flushed ever so slightly.

“That’s not really what I had in mind.” He murmured. Elise raised an eyebrow, her armor creaking as she leaned forward a bit.

“You had none of those things in mind?” She didn’t believe it. The king shook his head slightly, still studying the box. He ran his fingers over the edges, deep in thought for a moment.

“I mean I guess- I guess you couldn’t be Captain of the Guard anymore.” He conceded, “-But we could change things, you could still-”

“And why would anything need to change? Why do you need it to be me?” She pressed rather harshly. Anyone else might have received a proper punishment. She knew better than to speak over the king.

But she had thought that he knew better than to demean her in such a way.

He was quiet again. Contemplative. He slowly drew his gaze up from the ring to study her once more.

“I thought you might understand.” He said, quiet once more.

“You would be my wife. But you would also be my partner. You would be our queen.” The warmth was almost worse. She would rather he shout back.

Hearing him speak of such a mortifying fantasy with such reverence made her feel indescribably ill.

He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t ask this of her. Why was he doing this to her? 

“I need you at my side, not beneath me. I need an equal. I need someone wise with the will to make the calls that we both know I am troubled to make.” He slid the box back into place between them and peered at her expectantly.

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She understood. She knew that she was incredibly capable of all that being a queen as described might require of her. She knew that she was an obvious choice, someone that he knew he could trust. With his safety and with his kingdom.

But it couldn’t be her. They were not children playing in the garden anymore. She was a soldier, Captain of the Guard. He was the king. He was her king.

Why was he doing this to her?

“Please don’t do this.” She nearly choked on the words. And worse still was the expression on his face after she had gritted them out.

Crestfallen, maybe. He was disappointed. He wanted it to be her. He needed it to be her.

Why?

He could have his pick of any nobles in the kingdom, and he wanted to punish the highest ranking soldier. He wanted to sentence her to a lifetime of ball gowns and royal socials and child rearing because she dared to be a loyal confidant.

It made her blood boil in the strangest of ways. She never wanted to feel that way again.

But he was still looking at her. Still pushing that cursed jewelry box towards her.

“Of course it’s your choice.” He said. And she didn’t really believe him, though she had never known him to be dishonest.

Purpled opened up his messages. Just in case. Maybe she’d responded since the last time he’d asked when she’d be around to pick him up.

No new messages.

He stared at the last thing she’d said, something sinking within him as he read it over and over again and imagined the tone she would have said it with.

‘Patience, Aldrich.’ 

He figured the name in and of itself was telling enough. He couldn’t imagine hating an infant so much that he’d consider saddling them with a name like that.

Aldrich Whitlock.

He belonged on a headstone in a cemetery. Not outside a high school sitting at a fake lemonade stand.

“Your friends already head home for the night, Purpled?” Purpled glanced up from his phone, eyes widening for a fraction of a second as he was caught off guard.

He relaxed as he found Principal Summers standing a few feet away on the sidewalk. She had her bag over her shoulder and her coat over one arm, car keys in-hand as she prepared to leave for the evening.

“Told them I’d stay for a while.” Purpled answered with a noncommittal shrug. She frowned at him.

“I don’t think anyone’s going to be stopping by for lemonade.” She suggested delicately, “-Maybe it’s time to close up shop.” Purple stared down at the table, arms folded.

“I’m fine here.” He insisted. He waited, listening to see if she’d continue walking to her car.

She didn’t.

Purpled sighed, knowing full well that she would wait him out. That she wasn’t the kind of person that would just leave him there.

“My mother was supposed to be here after her office hours ended.” He admitted very quietly, his eyes never leaving the table.

“I guess she’s busy.” He sniffed. He didn’t glance up.

There was a brief moment of silence. Principal Summers adjusted how she held the items she was carrying.

“You know what? I think Theno’s right.” She announced, seemingly out of the blue. Purpled furrowed his brow.

“What?” He finally glanced up as she approached.

“This stand. We can’t have it up without a permit.” She declared, gesturing at the stand in question with her car keys.

“I’m going to have to help you get this cleaned up. Immediately.” Purpled finally met her gaze, recognizing the slight gleam in her blue eyes.

“Should probably remove you from the premises, too. So you don’t try to set up another one after I leave.” She continued with a slight nod.

Purpled’s eyes started to water as he fully recognized what she was doing.

She was going to help him clean up. And she was going to take him home. And she was going to do it in a way that didn’t implicate or humiliate him in the slightest.

“Alright.” He managed, to which she smiled.

They were able to disassemble the stand without any troubles. Principal Summers declined to take any leftover lemonade home with her. Purpled almost laughed.

He was getting into her car within ten minutes, buckling himself into the passenger seat as she apologized for any dog hair that might still be stuck to the upholstery. 

“Thank you.” He said after it had been quiet for a moment. She glanced sideways at him, her smile as warm as ever.