Heroes and Villains

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August 2020

Villain swallowed, “Hey Hero,” they opened the door, “Where have you been?” 

“Villain. Can I come in?” They responded, ignoring the question, and walking past Villain into their apartment. “You remember our deal, don’t you?” 

Villain’s chest tightened, “Of course.”

“Remind me of it, will you?”

They went quiet for a second, “I… I can steal as long as I lose most the time.”

“And?” 

Villain kept their eyes to the floor. “And I donate what I get to charity in your name.”

“And in return?”

“I get to stay out of jail.”

“Good,” Hero took a step closer to Vilain, “So why is it that your donations were a hundred short last week?”

Villain froze. “Um, I-I didn’t… It must have fallen out, I don’t-” 

Hero glared, “Fallen out?” They grabbed Villain by the collar, shoving them against the door, “Do you really expect me to believe you? You’re a horrible liar for a thief.” 

“Hero p-please, I-I can’t afford my medications with what you’re paying me, you- you know I don’t have health insurance, I-” 

The villain lay on the sidewalk across the street, wounds littering their body. Their eyes were closed, evidently having lost the battle of consciousness. Blood splattered the pavement below them, coloring the cream sidewalk a sickening crimson. The hero swallows hard. 

“Hero.” 

The villain had never looked more alone, the hero realizes. Everyone was bustling around them- nurses treating some of the injured passerby, couples reuniting… The villain just lay there, an unsettling silence surrounding them.  “Hero!” their leader exclaims. The hero jolts, glancing at their leader in confusion. Their leader is frustrated, their eyebrows furrowed and their fists at their sides. “Stop gawking at the villain and go help the victims.” The hero just nods, trying their best to ignore the bile threatening to rise in their throat. 

Who’s the real victim, a traitorous part of their mind supplies. The hero shakes their head in an attempt to rid of the voice, but it doesn’t go away.  Who’s the real victim, it repeats as the hero guides a man with a broken arm to the ambulance. The villain’s crumpled form came forth in their mind before the hero could help it. The hero shakily walks back to the wreckage, searching for survivors. 

Who’s the real victim, the voice says. The hero isn’t sure why they consider it a voice. It reassures them, the hero thinks. Thinking of it like that, ostracizing it from them- it makes them feel less responsible. 

Who’s the real victim, the voice whispers. They look down at the child yanking on their arm, calling for their mother. The hero stands there, unable to move even a muscle. They can hardly feel the child tugging on their shoulder, or hear the pained shrieks of the wounded around them. All they can hear is the villain’s ragged breathing in their ears, and their heart beat pittering slowly. Their chest aches painfully, and the hero reaches down with their free hand to check for blood. Their hand is clean when they pull it away, and doesn’t that explain it?

The hero looks down at the child standing next to them once more, slowly coming to a decision. The child will be fine, they’re sure of it. There was someone that needed them more.

Before they know it, the hero has dropped the child’s hand and is sprinting. The hero briefly recognizes their leader screaming at them, but they just continue running. They’re not sure what direction they’re running. Away? From? Towards, the voice, their mind, the hero whispered to themselves. Towards them.

It isn’t until the hero is standing over their enemy’s crumpled body that they wake from their self-imposed trance. The magnetic pull was just too strong, the hero justified. It wasn’t like they wanted to save the villain. Wrong, the hero whispered to themselves. They kneel down and gently move the villain into their arms, ignoring the infuriated and betrayed cries of their teammates. The hero turns around to face them, raising their eyebrows as if daring their comrades to question them. Comrades, they laugh. Now that’s just too nice a word. Acquaintances, maybe. The hero is once again faced with their leader’s disappointment, but the weight of their gaze is nothing to the weight of the injured villain in their arms. The hero doesn’t say anything, instead just walking past the group. They purposefully bump shoulders with one of them, taking satisfaction in the way the person lets out an offended sputtering noise. 

“Hero,” their leader says, just as they’re about to walk out of hearing range. The hero turned around, despite the alarms going off in their head and their heart pounding out of their chest. 

“I’ve had enough,” the words fall from the hero’s mouth before they can so much as think about what to say. Their leader’s eyes widen in surprise, and the hero commits that moment to memory. It wasn’t something they had the luxury to celebrate just yet, but soon enough they would be able to. The hero takes one last look at their leader, eyebrows furrowed defiantly. The hero tries to ignore the way their entire body seems to shake, instead just turning around. 

As they walked, the villain grew heavier. As they walked, the villain grew heavier. As they walked, the villain grew heavier. As they walked, the villain grew heavier. As they walked-

The hero paused at their apartment door, fumbling around for their keys whilst trying to keep the villain in their arms. Eventually they found their keys, and shoved the door open roughly. It slammed shut behind them, enshrouding the room in darkness. The hero had forgotten to turn on a light, but they knew their way around their home well enough to not need one. 

Enough, the hero thought to themselves as they set the villain down gently on their couch. They walk over to their bathroom, grab the first aid kit, and flip one of the kitchen lights on. The hero sets the kit on the coffee table next to the villain. They open it up, and the lid makes a satisfying snapping sound. The hero’s hands shake as they reach for a bandage. They swallow hard, steeling their nerves, before hesitantly tearing off the villain’s shirt. The hero took in their severe wounds, both old and new. They recognized their hand shaking as they began to clean their enemy’s wounds, but it wasn’t from nerves. 

The trembling’s cause was something else- something the hero had buried deep within themselves. The cause was something their leader had told them to keep hidden at all times, lest they “lose themselves.” The hero bites the inside of their cheek, before acknowledging the feelings raging inside them. For the first time in many years, instead of suppressing that burning sensation, they welcome it. The hero sits in front of the villain and welcomes the warmth of the anger that they had kept hidden for far too long. Enough, the hero thinks.  The white-hot fire of their long forgotten anger burns brighter than ever inside their chest.    I’ve had enough.

it’s kinda whumpy. it’s dastardly. it’s very gay.

it’s “how would you be defeated as a villain?”

there is:

a lyric question (yes, i know, but it’s short and fairly mainstream, i guarantee you’ll know at least one if you’re on this website)

trigger warnings at the beginning

gay shit ✨

please take it. or don’t.

https://uquiz.com/J4quB0

love you all, see you all next time i crawl out of my chasm xx

ps: a tw that’s too long for the uquiz desc: for romance repulsed folks such as myself, know that one of the possible results is romantic, and some of the questions are also romantic, with one sexual implication. stay safe !

“How are you feeling, princess?”

As always, no matter how many times the villain visited her window, said the same line, she jumped.

“Oh. It’s you.” The princess replied in her most unbothered tone, despite her easily spooked disposition.

“I heard the news about that other kingdom’s prince. He died under his and her majesty’s care.”

The princess picked at the thread of her very delicately made dress. It was an engagement gift, one she planned on tearing apart piece by piece.

“Yes.” She said. “Her majesty is very distraught. The king as well. They both agreed the prince and I were getting along perfectly fine, so the transition to his kingdom, and the extension of their power, should have been flawless.”

The villain tried hard to hide her smile. She really didn’t want to feel joy at the poor young man’s fate. “And this doesn’t mean war with his kingdom?”

A very delicate eyebrow was raised. “No. We went to delegate. I cried. As it turns out, his parents are much more negotiable than mine.”

The villain adjusted her position, swinging both legs into the princess’s room. “And by negotiable you mean?”

“They have hearts.” The princess finally met the villain’s eyes, and good God, did she love those eyes.

“Ah. Of course.” The villain appreciated the chance to look back into the princess’s eyes. “I missed you.” She held out a hand.

“Don’t say such things out loud.” The princess scolded, taking hold of the villain’s hand, tracing over the rough lines. “Someone might hear you.”

“So, we are free to discuss your poor fiancé’s death, but not my heart aching for my dearest friend?” Despite the villain’s naturally hardened tone, she couldn’t help the shudder that travelled up her spine at her highness’ touch.

The princess had very soft hands, and a horrifically light feeling to them.

“Yes.” The princess answered, shifting slightly in her seat. “That is a matter of national political affair. It would be unusual not to discuss it. But we don’t have friendships here.”

“Oh?” The villain placed both feet firmly on the ground, now towering over the princess, hand traveling through royal hair. “So we’re just friends, are we?”

Now the princess felt that shudder up her spine. “You used the word first.”

The villain placed her hand on the back of the princess’s neck, leaning closer, and pulled her counterpart closer.

“My mistake.” She whispered, warm breath on the princess’s face before lips came furiously crashing down.

It would have been easy to be lost in the moment forever. But similar to the lack of friendships in the princess’s court, there was a lack of eternal bliss two people often hoped to find.

“Where were you?” The princess asked, face flushed and eyes focused anywhere but the villain. She never wanted to come across as, God forbid, needy.

“I had some duties of my own to attend.” The villain ran her thumb over the princess’s warm cheek.

“It’s been two months.”

“Two months and twelve days, if you were wondering the exact time.”

That made the princess smile, eyes finally lighting up, a joy that only lasted a moment.

“But, I really must know.” The princess said, finding the courage to look her forbidden belle in the eyes. “Where were you? The king and queen, they have constant reports of the peasants revolting, a few noble families joining the cause in exchange for support from a mysterious new landowner, rumored to be rivaling the power of the old kings and queens. They are looking everywhere for someone to punish, a- a figurehead, anyone who would fit the description.”

“Oh, princess,” the word was used both in an affectionate way, and as a formal address. “I’m not trying to usurp the power from your parents, put those fears to rest.” The villain brushed aside the princess’s hair. “And whatever I’m doing, wherever I am, I won’t ever get caught.”

“I know-” The princess took a shaky breath in, and brought one hand up to grip the arm still cupping her face. “I know fully well you can handle yourself. I only worry that if you flaunt your,” She cleared her throat. “royalties from conquests, my parents will see you as an option.”

The villain stared down at the princess, the question lingering on her tongue. There would never be a good time to ask, but it did seem like the precipice of a revolution.

“Run away with me.”

The princess’s hand dropped, standing with a swish of her skirts. “What?”

“I could provide for you just as well as you are cared for now.” The villain spoke in a rush, stepping closer to the princess. “You wouldn’t worry for a thing, you wouldn’t have the needs of a kingdom resting on your back.”

The princess turned away, back facing the villain, muttering something that couldn’t be made out.

“Princess?” 

“I-” She turned back towards the villain. “I- why would you ask me that?”

“Because you’re unhappy. You’re plain miserable. You’ve told me that yourself.”

“That’s what I’m allowed to be. I’m allowed stolen moments in the night to find peace. I’m not allowed to be anything but a princess.”

“If you came with me-” The villain’s heart suddenly felt heavy. “You wouldn’t have to be a princess.”

The princess stepped closer in such a regal way, it nearly startled the villain. A head held high, a face full of focus, and a posture that nearly made her as tall as the villain. 

Yet still remained eyes full of adoration. 

“I care for you,” She began, taking the villain’s hands in her own. “I care for you deeply. But I was born into a role in which I cannot leave. Do you know what would happen if his and her majesty died and I was not there to take the throne?”

The villain knew exactly what would happen, but didn’t let it show on her face.

“The succession line is long, and filled with people who would drive the kingdom, my home, into the ground. As cruel as my parents might be, they know how to keep a country alive.”

“They wouldn’t even let you take the throne. You would have been queen of some other kingdom if that boy was still alive.”

“But he’s not, is he?” The princess snapped. “You have freedom, so you find it easy to tell other people what to do with their life.”

“Princess, I didn’t mean-”

“I love you, but please, you should go.” The princess pressed her lips onto the villain’s once more, eyes watering. “Preferably now, before I change my mind.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Please.”

The villain wiped away the fallen tears from the princess’s eyes. “Goodbye, your highness.”

—

Sidekick was passed out, swaddled in a blanket and too many bandages for their thin form. Villain’s team was crowded into the room, looking down at them.

“What are we going to do?” Teammate asked, their arms crossed.

Medic brushed Sidekick’s sweaty hair out of their flushed face. “We have to help them.”

“Can we even help them?” Henchman wondered out loud.

“Yes!” Medic cried. Villain stepped forward, and everyone fell silent, their attention on their leader.

“Don’t worry, Medic. I’m not going to let Hero have them again.” Villain took the wet cloth from the bowl of cool water Medic had gotten and squeezed it out, using it to gently wash the blood from Sidekick’s lips and chin. “No one deserves to be treated like this.”

“The poor thing barely even talks,” Medic whispered as Sidekick started twitching in their sleep, whining minutely. “I can’t even imagine what Hero did to them.”

Sidekick's head tossed, brow furrowing as their eyes darted beneath their eyelids, flushed skin glistening from perspiration. Their mouth cracked open, strangled yells dying on their tongue before they could make their way into the open air.

“They’re having a nightmare.” Teammate’s voice was filled with empathy as they stared at the now-struggling kid.

"uh, hey Villain, before you say anything, i just wanted to let you know that Other Hero will be filling in for me for awhile."

Villain stared at Hero, "and why exactly is that happening? Are you fighting another villain? You can't do that to me Hero-"

"I'm not fighting another villain, I just won't be around for a bit, okay? You don't need to worry about it." Hero gave them a half hearted smile. Unfortunately, Villain didn't return the gesture, "I don't need to worry? What, are you running off to do some top secret mission?"

"Villain it's not like that-"

"And you're just leaving me behind?"

"Villain-"

"You're just making Other Hero babysit me like I'm some toddler-"

"Villain, I'm getting top surgery." He blurted out. Villain just stared at them in silence for a few seconds. "You.. you are?" Hero looked down, smiling, "Yeah, I've been saving up for awhile."

"I, um, i didn't know you were trans... Uh, do you want me to start referring to you as a girl?"

Hero looked back at them, their smile disappearing, "What?"

"What? I- I thought you meant you were getting top surgery because you're trans!"

"I am, why would I want you to call me a girl?"

"Because you're trans!"

They stared at each other in silence. Then, Hero started laughing, "Villain, do you think i was born a man?" Villain blushed.

Oh.

Oh.

They did. And they just asked Hero if he wanted be be called a girl. Oh god, Hero probably thought they were transphobic! "Well, i- yeah but it's just, you don't look like... i mean you don't have to look any certain way i just thought, you know i can't really see your face, so..." Villain tried to explain, but eventually Hero's laughter died down and he was able to respond, "Villain it's okay, i know you didn't mean it like that, i know you're not transphobic." Villain breathed a sign of relief, "That's- That's good, i- i hope your surgery goes well!"

“Now that you know, aren’t you supposed to be afraid of me?”

“Well, not really. It’s just...” They stepped back, looking away from the human. “I mean, no one else has been this calm about me looking like, well, a monster.”

treats can be images of candy from your country! or something nice, such as a wholesome or funny meme!! doesn’t have to be high effort! (high effort stuff is of course cool though!)

tricks could be vaguely cursed images (such as the ballpit) or cursed facts- all in good fun! nothing harmful (that’s something i’ll ask everyone to stick to- no actual harmful stuff!)

“They’re not like us.”

“I know”

“They never will be.”

“I know.”

The villain sighed at the hero’s resolve, and stared them down with a stony gaze. “I have to be older than you.”

“Oh?” The hero entertained the idea for a second, still not looking at the villain. “What makes you say that?”

“The light in your eyes hasn’t died yet.”

That did make the hero glance over briefly, catching the villain’s near glare, but they just as quickly refocused on the sunset, allowing their arms to rest on the trunk of the tree.

“They’ll turn on you.” The villain continued.

“Inevitably.”

“You’ll end up like me. Old, tired, nowhere to go, nothing to do except grab for power and demand respect.”

“I am old. I am tired.”

The villain scoffed. “Please. You still have hope. Write me when you get chased out of your first village.”

Despite the fact that the day did come where the hero was turned on, despite the fact they were chased out of their home, despite the fact that the villain was right, the hero never wrote them.

The villain kept watch, though.

“How did it feel?” They emerged from the shadows, not at all scaring the hero, still trekking to their next home.

“Can’t say it didn’t hurt.” The hero shrugged, letting the plants under their feet grow just a bit more.

The villain noticed.

“You’re angry.”

The villain was happy.

“No.” The hero disagreed, and the plants stopped responding to their call. “No, I’m just happy I got to stay as long as I did.”

“How can you be like me?” The villain asked. “We’re so different.”

“I like my calling much more over your shadows.”

“Anyone would prefer the ability to nurture life over shrouding the world in darkness.”

The hero laughed, it almost made the villain stop in their tracks.

“How often do you hear someone laugh, Villain?”

In theory, the villain heard laughter a million times over. This was different. This was a sound of joy that reached the villain’s soul the way most things couldn’t.

So, the villain didn’t answer, and just cleared their throat.

“Write me when it happens again. I mean it.”

The villain was gone.

It took a little longer the next time around, for the hero learned to better cover their tracks, but it didn’t last.

For the second time in their life as a hero, they were chased away.

For the third time in their life as a hero, the villain appeared.

“It’s troublesome, tracking you down. Writing me would save the worry.”

“I didn’t have much access to stationary.” The hero teased, and the tree branch they were sitting on creaked, another response to the hero’s touch.

The villain did have to look up at the hero, which was a bother, but they could climb.

And the hero waited.

“I see you’ve bettered your calling.” They said, looking at the cluster of trees that popped up overnight.

“It was an accident.” The hero defended. “It’s kind of new.”

“Aren’t you also old and tired?” The villain quipped. “Were you really just living for years thinking you wouldn’t die, with no inkling of a idea that you could have a calling?”

The hero blushed.

“Oh.” The villain sucked in a breath. “You need to get it under control before you try for the next miserable little village.”

“Avoid the Westlands.” The villain continued. “There are so few with callings left already. They’ve begun killing those even suspected.”

“Thank you.”

It had been a while since the villain was thanked.

They disappeared in a flourish of darkness.

It was the Westlands the hero went to. It was the Westlands the villain furiously traveled to, all the while wondering how the hero managed the faster pace between the two.

They didn’t wait for the hero to be hurt this time.

“What are you doing?” The villain hissed, dragging them to the edge of the wood on the Westland border. “I told you what they’re doing here, I warned you.”

“I want to help the others who have callings. I want to help the ones wrongly accused.”

“You fool!” The villain threw up their wall of shadows, and continued pulling the hero along with them. “You blithering ass!”

The roots of the trees grew larger under the villain’s feet.

“Stop it!” The hero shouted, pulling back, letting the villain trip over the roots. “I’m going to help them.”

“Like the hells you are.” The villain shot back, recovering from their stumble quickly. “They’ll kill you faster than any of them for daring to sympathize.”

“So instead I’ll live on knowing I could have helped my people and didn’t.”

That struck a nerve with the villain. Were they not helping one of their people right now? Were they not trying to save the hero from certain death?

“If you die-” the villain snarled, and turned slowly to face the hero. “I will never forgive you.”

The hero smiled.

The villain fled to the Eastlands to reign further terror along their path.

This time, the hero chased after them.

“You need to stop, please.” The hero said softly next to the villain, who was content in watching the flames burn brighter. “All the people are already out.”

“I noticed you sneaking around with them, my dear. I could have stopped you ten times over.”

The threat was clear: I can be worse.

“Won’t this further hurt our kind? Knowing it was one of us who did this?” The hero gently placed a hand on the villain’s shoulder, who placed their hand on top of the hero’s.

“I wasn’t caught. I never get caught outside of the west. Besides, they were starting too think too much like the Westlands.” Their grip on the hero’s hand tightened. “How many years was it? No word from you. Knowing I couldn’t do this to the Westlands without all the blame being pinned on us.”

“Did you-” the hero thought over their words. “Did you do this for me?”

“I did it because I was angry, my dear. But I was angry for you.” The villain removed their hand, and cleared their throat. “How many did you save?”

The hero’s eyes lost just a bit of shine. “I waited, for so long. There were hardly any with actual callings. Just the accused. It’s like it’s just us.”

Not such a bad thing. The villain thought.

They didn’t stop their crimes, especially the ones that caught the hero’s attention.

“When I heard of a new lordship, I didn’t think that meant-”

“That it was me and my power grab?”

“I knew you were somewhere near the north.”

The villain tsked. “They’ve given it a name since the commoners revolted, with my support, naturally.”

“Commoners?” The hero repeated, stepping back.

“That’s what they are.” It was pushed aside, quickly, quietly, like all the things the villain did. “Come along, we have plenty to do now that you’re here.”

“I’m not staying.” They stepped back again. “I came to petition the new lordship for our people’s protection.”

“Already done. Outlawed on my land. It’s become a safe haven to whoever’s left.”

“Why was the Westlander Militia symbol on your guard’s post?”

The villain’s eyes snapped up. “Deals were made. You can help now that you’re here.”

“I’m not staying. There’s more work to be done.”

“It can be done here.” The villain snarled. “I’ve waited for you for years to come to your senses.”

“Wait a few years more.”

“If you leave now,” the villain interrupted the hero’s angry walkout. “You’ll never have my power in your hands again.”

The hero never even hesitated.

It kept on, decades at a time. One chased after the other, to persuade, to stop, to comfort.

“You can’t make-” the villain sighed, and placed their arms around the sobbing hero. “You can’t make attachments, please, love, say this will be the last one.”

“It can’t only be us.” The hero hissed through their tears. “How is it only us?”

The villain had seen this before, the eventual break of the mind, wanting for a release, for companions as eternal as you, waiting for the moment death would allow you to see them again. The villain had been in the same break before meeting the hero.

For the first time in their long history, the villain gave them space.

But it took too long.

Their world melted into modernization, the age of callings over, the age of superpowers beginning.

There still weren’t enough of them, and the public opposed the young new heroes too much.

So, the villain did what they did best. They grabbed for power, and fought back in the most immoral ways they knew how. Against the government they had their hands in, and against the perception of the public they couldn’t seem to touch.

But it took too long. The villain was lonely. And the villain began searching.

They liked the modern age for that reason - it made finding people so much easier. Maybe not the people who hadn’t been born in this era, but everyone had something to follow, even if it was just one second of their face in a traffic camera.

The villain would know them anywhere.

And the villain followed. When they reached the end of the trail, they did not approve of the hero’s current living situation.

Nothing dire, but all too meek for the villain’s taste.

Miles and miles outside city limits was the hero, in some field in some farmhouse with no farm. The hero could grow one if they wanted to, meaning the lack of flora was a choice.

When the villain knocked on the door, they expected the hero to answer with a sigh of disapproval, a click of the tongue.

They didn’t expect it to slam right back in their face.

The villain had hardly glanced at the hero’s face, and that was the most infuriating part. Their counterpart should have known how lonely it was, how delightful it was to see some familiarity in a constantly evolving world.

Breaking the door down wasn’t the smartest move, maybe, but it got the job down.

“Hero!” The villain shouted, trying to sense them among the kitschy decor.

Naturally, the hero was halfway out the spare room’s window, and the villain picked up on it. They knew the hero, more than the hero would like to admit.

They covered the spare room in darkness the second they crossed the door frame. Immediately, something inched up and around the villain’s legs.

Of course the hero kept plants in their home. It didn’t matter, the villain could see through their own cloak, and the hero couldn’t, still blindly reaching for the edges of the window.

“Talk to me, damnit!” The villain shouted, pulling the crook of the hero’s arm back, pinning their back against the villain’s chest.

“Let go of me!” The hero shrieked. “I want nothing to do with you.”

The darkness dissipated.

“Since when?” The villain shot back, trying to ignore the greenery growing higher on their body. “What’s happened, my dear?”

The hero tried to push off of them, but the villain was the one doing large acts of terror with nearly no one to stop them, the hero, it seemed, hadn’t been doing much to keep up with the villain’s physique.

“You happened!” The hero shouted. “You and your damned fighting with the public.”

“You could have come and stopped me at any time.” The villain hissed into the hero’s ear.

“And you could let me go.”

The villain froze. They didn’t want to, and they especially didn’t want to admit it.

“Give-” they cleared their throat. “Give me a few minutes more, please.”

At that, the hero went silent, and obliged the villain’s request.

“Thank you.” The villain planted a light kiss to the top of the hero’s head. “Don’t run away.”

For what seemed like the millionth time in their lives, the villain let go of the hero.

For the first time in a while, the hero stayed.

With a wave of the hero’s hand, the plants creeping up the villain fell to the ground.

“What do you want?” The hero demanded, finally turning to face the villain.

The villain had to suck in a breath. It had been so long since they had been able to fully see them in all their glory.

“You’re taking too long. I was giving you time and space, but it’s been-”

“I know how long it’s been.” The hero cut off the villain. “It was intentional.”

That hurt. But they would especially never admit it out loud.

“I need more time.” The hero added as an afterthought.

“Really, my dear.” The villain scoffed. “It’s been plenty of-”

“You don’t get to decide how I grieve. I loved her.”

Oh. This was the route the hero was going.

Fine then, the villain could play this cruel game.

“Love?” They repeated, shoving their hands in their pockets. “Love is something people like us can’t afford. Love isn’t some game we get to play.”

“It’s not a game!” The hero protested. “You’re saying you’ve never been in love?”

Never with the wrong person.

“I fancy myself a patient person, my dear, but I draw the line at love.”

“You don’t draw lines at anything! You don’t get to decide anything about me!”

“I’m far too perfectly aware. If I had my way, you’d never leave my side, you wouldn’t insist on doing things the kind way.” The villain’s lip curled. “You wouldn’t fall in love with the wrong people.”

Oh. So this was about jealousy.

It was not a shocking realization to the hero. They wondered, in fact, how they didn’t see it before.

“Spare me your melodramatics.” The hero mumbled. “You’ve had just as long as me to find someone new.”

“How did that work out for you?”

The hero took a visible step away that time.

“Falling in love,” the villain stepped forward. “Is foolish. Having room for anyone but the people like you is selfish.”

“Selfish?” The hero repeated in disbelief. “You’re calling me selfish? You’ve done more to harm our image than protect it! All for the sake of some petty vengeance story.” They steadied themselves in a protective stance.

“We’re really going to do this?” The villain smiled. “We’ve had our squabbles, but this one could level the city, even with the distance.”

“I won’t let that happen.”