☆ lixAxil ☆

"Master, Master, you've gotten better at this!"

"Thank you, Gogh! I've been practicing a lot using the tips you and Oui gave me. Even Jeanne Alter praised my background, hehe!"

"Hey, I said it was passable. Pas-sa-ble!"

Ritsuka Fujimaru has been drawing something in the cafeteria, surrounded by many servants that come and go. No one asks what she is doing, they all seem to know or if they don’t, they don’t bother to ask.

It is so bothersome. Annoying.

So many people surrounding her, like an ultraviolet lamp that attracts all the bugs. Never mind that they end up getting zapped the moment they ever dare to touch it.

The people, the sound, the merriment, it all annoys Oberon, who only watches in silence as he eats some ice cream with melon.

To be able to smile like that, even after discarding all of those stories...Oberon doesn't hide a crooked smile. In the end, the lostbelts are no more than faint dreams doomed to end, forgotten by the winners, the panhuman history citizens. Ritsuka Fujimaru isn't different. For her, it's like reading the doujin the swimsuit berserker is making. Once the pages are closed, the story ends and it ceases to exist. She can choose to forget.

Truly detestable.

-

Oberon stares and then walks away, just as Ritsuka lifts her face. She looks around, the feeling of being watched faintly breaking her concentration.

But in the end he doesn't say a word as he leaves.

-

“Hey, you keep looking at Master!” Jeanne Alter slams her hands on the table where Oberon is sitting. Said Master is working again, too enthralled talking with Gogh to notice Jeanne Alter slipping away to talk to him.

“Does it bother if I do?” He gives her a crooked smile as she huffs and scowls. Though of course her face turns slightly pink.

“Tch, of course not! It's just your stare is getting on my nerves! Wouldn't you get distracted if someone is looking at you intensely?”

“I am a creation, not a creator. I wouldn't understand what you're saying. Besides, I wasn’t looking at her or you anyway,” he says mockingly.

“Hmph, whatever you say. Leave when Master is drawing, what she is doing is very important and I won't let you make it messy.”

“Hah, a page of your little comic? As if you need a lot of care. But fret not, I am certain that with your keen insight and guidance it will be something so memorable, up to the level of the famous writers here in Chaldea.”

“You bug...Bring it, I will burn you to a crisp! Moths do like fire, don't they? Surely you will feel at home then!” Jeanne Alter laughs. “I'll let you know that it is something so impressive that it would make you cry, if you're capable of that anyway.”

Though her Saint Graph right now is one of a Berserker, it seems the insight of the Avenger still exists deep within. After all, only those who are similar can recognize each other. Fake recognizes fake. Emptiness recognizes emptiness. Hate can only recognize hate.

Though come to think about it, Ritsuka has always been writing, he noticed she kept a small book on her, during quiet times. Perhaps a diary of sorts. It wouldn’t be surprising, to record everything she has experienced, as the writer of the winning history.

-

When we die, we'll become like those stories. Our lives are stories that might be discussed and forgotten, so it's not that different from your midsummer night dream.

A dream you forget once you wake up from your slumber.

“You're a tsundere,” Ritsuka says flatly as she rests her chin on her hand. She even dares to give Oberon a shrug and a smile, as if she can tell the truth between the lies.

“Ah, you're annoying.”

“That's exactly what I'm talking about, hehe!”

An obnoxious smile continues to be on her face, and he simply looks at her with unveiled disgust and apathy.

“Why am I even here?”

“Well, you answered the call, so you can only blame yourself for that.”

“What.”

“The rayshift system call can be refused. That's an inescapable truth. You lie a lot but there are some truths in your words. Or actions in this case. You wanted to be in Chaldea, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

“Ah there it is, your virtuous nature shining through. One day you'll be fooled by someone who is pretending to be your ally...ah, my bad, that has already happened, isn't that right? Maybe you should learn your lesson.”

“Ah, yes. But it doesn't change that you are here. And because you lie often, that means I can just take it whatever way I like. You'll just deny it even if I'm right. But you can't deny we get along pretty well!”

“We do not!”

“See, that's a lie!”

“Ah, I'm going to the cafeteria! Don't follow me!”

Yet we thrive on dreams, don’t we?

“How long do you think I've been in this business? Have you interacted already with some of the servants here? I can tell you don’t mind my company.”

“I quit, I'll break the contract!”

“So, one cube or two?” Ritsuka dares to offer him the sugar cube container, even holding some tongs, just to put the amount he requests in his cup.

“You really want a poisoned tea, right, wonderful Master?~”

Even if they are something that doesn’t exist, we yearn for them, even to make them a reality. No matter how impossible. No matter how painful.

That is why we can never get rid of them.

Even if we forget once the veil of dawn has ended, something of it remains.

-

“There's so much that is subjective. For example, you were Artoria's Merlin, weren't you? For a moment you were Merlin, that was her truth. There's different Merlins, I mean we have different Artorias here from different eras and classes. You were a different Merlin than the one I know.”

Ritsuka is busy trying different colors. Oui and Gogh got into a discussion on how to best get the tones she was aiming for, and they even went to do some research on their own. The reds of a forest seem familiar yet not quite right, not that Oberon was looking at the notebook.

It has to have a dreamlike feeling, that’s what she wanted, but that’s not easy to pour into a painting.

“What we see as a lie or as truth, it changes with our perception. Your lies and my truths might be different, but it's ok. In the end we have only one perspective. That's why lies and truths can mix, that's why contradictions exist. I mean, that is why you are here.”

“Here's some advice from the bottom of my heart, don't quit your day job, Master. Stick to the world saving and leave the philosophical dissertation to virtually anyone else.”

In the end, does the truth really matter?

Something that can change when you close your eyes. Something that is as fleeting as a moth's life.

Would anything change in the grand scheme of things?

To protect Ritsuka, Chaldea forged a story, one where Romani Archaman was at fault for everything that happened.

To the world that is on the verge of disappearing, that became the truth.

To everyone in Chaldea, the truth is that this girl worked harder than anyone to protect this world.

That was what Sherlock Holmes said once they met. Oberon didn’t like him, but in a way he seems familiar. Holmes is a great detective, but since he keeps everything to himself, he might be wrong the entire time until the last minute.

So it’s not like Oberon can take him that seriously.

Even so, he told him the story of the great journey before Panhuman History was at risk by the Alien God. A story of which he was somehow aware, but it seems different when it is told by someone else.

To Oberon, it was a story of selfish survival. A fitting story of those who fight in the mud to continue existing.

To Holmes, it was a story of humanity bravely fighting to avoid destruction. An unlikely event that might have inspired others. Or rather, that is how the Leonardo Da Vinci from that time would have framed it, since Holmes isn’t an author and the current Da Vinci is someone different now.

The events are there, what changes is our perception of them. Perhaps this is where truths and lies take root, the lie of today becomes the truth of tomorrow.

The lie allows the fake existence to continue even when the dream has already ended.

But in the end, everything will fade, so nothing really matters.

-

"Well, I don't know if it has a meaning, but doesn't that mean you can give it your own? Just like how I can take your lies the way I want."

"Aren't you a simplistic one? No, perhaps it is that kind of thinking that has let you get this far. What a naive Master Chaldea has. Though it helps you accomplish your goals. "

He is not sure why they are taking tea while chatting, but here he is. Perhaps it is to hide his annoyance, the Master won’t stop until she gets what she wants anyway, so he is just avoiding a pointless squabble.

"You can think whatever you want~ and in any case, even if the feelings of today will be nothing in the future, that doesn't mean they are worthless. Because they affect the you of today and that is the moment when you are alive.”

The joy of living, that is something Oberon can’t understand nor tolerate. It angers him.

Of course, he is an entity of the abyss so how could he comprehend that?

The will of self-destruction, the cessation of existence. That something is so fundamentally wrong that it must wiped out, for there is no way to fix something that crooked.

Faerie Britain wished for him because it had to be wiped away from all records, because it had no way of being salvaged.

Therefore, he can only listen to those words.

(Perhaps it is the envy of not having something? Perhaps it is the bitterness of no longer having something to do, to dream for? Or simple ennui that no matter what, in the end it doesn’t matter?)

Ritsuka ignores his silence, as she continues.

“I don't know but for someone who likes stories you don't seem like you're actually enjoying them.”

“Would you enjoy a story where you fade away like everyone in the lostbelts you have erased? Ah, my bad. Surely, as the winner you can afford to disregard those stories. Silly me, of course you would be able to believe that as the victor you can claim to be the true history. Panhuman history is in the end mankind's right path, after all, and everything else can fade into the abyss.”

Her smile is complex, almost a facade. From one angle it looks like a forlorn frown, from the other a faint smile. She plays with the spoon on her table.

"Hmmm, I wonder..."

 Dr. Roman, we finally beat the British Lostbelt. It was unlike any other places we were, and I keep thinking of Percival's words...

   I wish you were still here.

The sacrifice of someone can mean the whole world for a single person. The sacrifices of millions can become a mere statistic, a simple cold number to show how bad an event was. In the end, it doesn't matter.

What was once lost will never come back.

The void left in one's soul will never heal, it only becomes more bearable with time.

But even so, that lingering pain is the proof that someone was alive, that they left a mark on the others they met as one looks at the twinkling stars and reminisces of the never-happening-again past.

“Did you know the true opposite of love isn't hate but indifference?”

“Haaah? Perhaps you didn't think so but I was being honest about my suggestion. Thinking too much will only hurt your head. You should only focus on what's in front of you.”

“Whether you love or hate, you end up putting a lot of attention to the object of your affections, but if you're indifferent to it, it ceases to exist. Perhaps your hatred of everything is because there's something you cannot afford to lose.”

Titania was the wife of Oberon in Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream. She was the only one who could accept the king's eccentric personality.

But in reality, she was just a creation for the story, a being who was never real.

Of course, there isn't a person like that in the world.

Someone who accepts a hollow entity like me.

“I don’t know, if Arjuna Alter was able to come to terms with his own humanity, well...nevermind. I was just thinking aloud.”

(Ideals are just that.

A concept not belonging to this world.

It is when you reconcile with the flawed reality that you can grasp your happiness, the one you have.)

“Heh-Hahahaha, that's rich, Master!”

This is so sickening.

Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) such an unpleasant existence. Only Titania could have loved(tolerated) a being born of hate, a destructive force whose only purpose is to rend everything to ashes.

But the fact is, Titania doesn't exist. This means no one could accept someone like him.

That is the unpleasant truth.

That is why people are entranced(poisoned) by falsehoods, lies to sweeten the body and protect the soul. It's a sweet elixir to hide from the harsh reality, the ultimate end of the journey of everyone, a pointless, worthless life. Because at the end of the dream, no matter what one has accomplished, it doesn't change the finale of this story and it is doomed to be forgotten. 

Just as the one princess from before, who also fell in love with the Fairy King. The one who tried to give fire to his cold body. But he didn't notice this, not even when her snow body had ceased to move, a protection of love.

So in the end, if it's not acknowledged, it is the same as it never had happened.

“Tell me, does it matter to you? Are you going to tell me you know how I feel? That you understand what I'm going through? Come on, tell me your important story, that everything is going to be alright as long as I'm not alone-”

“I can't. I don't know how you feel. Even if we had suffered the same, I wouldn't know how you feel.”

Her words or her smile, the same as before. He doesn’t know which but it cuts him short.

“All I know is the pain of losing someone important to me, but that's not what you're feeling, right?”

The Titania I wish for doesn't exist in this world. The Faerie Britain that gave birth to me no longer exists, even if I have accomplished my goal. 

I am merely a dream whose purpose has been fulfilled and thus, the curtain shall be down as I exit the stage.

The things I yearn for are merely dreams. Even so, I hope, because I saw it existed for someone else. For another Oberon, not the one I am.

The illusion of happiness, the hope of a love.

I don't know how it is to not be Oberon, the lying king. The king without any other purpose. The villain that has exited the stage having won, but now even that victory is pointless.

Then, why am I still here? 

“For what it's worth, I like you. You're nice company, lies and all.”

“You’re an odd one.”

“I've been told that often.”

“It's not a compliment, you have no taste.”

“You know, for Panhuman history I am the hero, ensuring our world survives. But to everyone else from every lostbelt erased...I am the worst of the worst, the villain that destroys their world.”

Ritsuka traces the notebook on her hands. The contents of the rest could be disclosed but Oberon doesn’t open any of the other pile of notebooks, so they all lie on her bed.

“Patxi cursed me for showing him a world that he thought was happier than his.”

Tears fell from her eyes as she smiled weakly. “I wonder if that was ever the right choice.”

“Panhuman history isn't the perfect utopia you can imagine. Humans seek hatred and war, there's suffering and agony. While some can lead happy lives, there's so many who can't even enjoy a warm meal or think of a future. Kirshtaria saw that, he wanted to make a better world because ours was so imperfect.”

“Why are we still going?”

“Why was ours the correct one?”

“Even now, I don't know. And I'm not sure if I'll ever know. Any justification might seem a rationalization, something to feel less guilty for killing all those people.”

“That is why I cannot forget, I cannot let the history of those lostbelts be erased. Even if I'm the only one who remembers,” her grip on the notebook tightened, “I can never forget them.”

Like a dream, one time Oberon caught sight of what she was drawing, finally reaching the dreamy red hue she long sought, depicting the autumn forest Oberon knew and hated.

The words depicting what happened in Faerie Britain, the stories of Artoria, Morgan, of Barghest, Baobhan Sith and Melusine, of Aurora, of Mike, of Ector, of Knocknarea, of him.

“Even if the rest of the world forgets, I cannot. That's why I want to record as much as I can. I caused them to disappear, remembering all of them is the least I can do.”

“That's guilt for you.”

“...Yes, I can't deny that. I've caused many people to suffer, that is why I cannot stop.”

“You're an idiot. Pursuing a fleeting dream that will only cause you to hurt, as your heart tears itself apart with these thorns you surround yourself with.”

“I guess. But someone has to do it right? But even so…

“I enjoy the moments with everyone here in Chaldea and I can say I'm happy.

But I also feel deep sadness for everything that I have done and continue to do.”

There are many contradicting truths, woven into each other.

Like overlapping threads in a beautiful(horrible) story.

“I could think Panhuman history is the correct one because it was there. There was a reason why it was chosen.”

“And if there isn't? If there is truly no meaning to your journey? That the reason your world was chosen was a mere whim of fate, a sudden lucky roll of the dice? That there is nothing special to your world that makes you worthy of the title of proper human history?”

“Then I guess I will have to make it so that there is one.”

“And if you can't?”

“Just because I can't doesn't mean I shouldn't try.”

“Trying doesn't mean you will succeed. Morgan tried her hardest, but in the end, she still failed, crumbling in despair as her Faerie kingdom burnt to ashes.”

“Well, that will come bite me when the time comes, but for now, that’s all I can do, right?”

In the end, as long as it entertains, does it matter?

What is the purpose of a story? To bring joy(tears)? To break one from that moment of boredom, of despair, and heal the soul even if just a little?

And in the end, does it even matter?

-

“I like this Saint Graph more.”

It’s been a long time since he has donned the clothes as King Oberon. Once the façade was over, once he could ascend, he has never worn anything but the colors of the depths of the abyss. Anyone else would think they are unsightly, hateful, depressing.

After all, the warmth of King Oberon’s butterfly wings makes children smile, makes people trust him. His monstruous limbs right now are not enchanting.

“I thought you were a butterfly girl. And I have been wearing these ever since, why are you even saying this up until now?”

“I just wanted to say that. I like the fluffy cape and the butterfly wings, but you sound less pained right now. And this outfit is cool too.”

In the end, perhaps Titania isn't meant to be someone who brings the sun to your eyes, with laughter so contagious that she makes the bitterness of a day go away. She's not a neverending warmth on a cold winter, nor a guiding bright star up in the dark sky. She's not the simple to your complicated, the light to your dark, the smile to your frown, the opposite of your miserable existence that brings joy to your life. An illogical being that accepts you in spite of your incompatibility. 

Was I wrong all along? 

A companion when watching a wonderful(decadent) play.

Someone who walks by your side in a crumbling world.

Someone whose company makes the poison more bearable and hell, tolerable.

Someone who simply loves me for who I am. Who gazed at the abyss, saw the void yet didn't run away.

Ah, this is so laughable, an amateur terrible tragicomedy, a hideous play with no sickeningly sweet ending.

(Perhaps it is because Titania is a wretched creature herself. Or perhaps because Titania's wings have been torn off that she understands a small fragment of you. Even if true understanding is a lie, a pipe dream. Titania has seen her own hell and can sympathize with yours, with the emptiness and resentment you hold. Not fearing it, not judging it. Just accepting you as the flawed existence you are.

If that is the case, then there is nothing beautiful about Titania.)

But even so...

"...You are..."

"Did you say something?"

"No, nevermind."

Ritsuka smiles as Oberon looks away. He grumbles about the cramped space as he hoards the bed, swatting a mosquito away while she writes in her diary. The boring stories she writes that he doesn't care about even if his fingers have traced those letters.

But even so, he stays.

Ah, love is a bothersome thing.

-

Thank you for reading!

Now, OH BOY WHERE TO BEGIN. Title comes from Debussy's Rêverie. I wanted to play with it, seeing that Oberon's Bond CE is called Pavane for a Dead Princess, which is the title of a melody by Ravel. I am sure it is no coincidence. Both Ravel and Debussy were considered the cornerstones of Impressionism in music, however, they both HATED being labeled like that.

Pavane for a Dead Princess is one of Ravel's solo compositions for the piano. However, unlike what the title implies, Ravel specifically said that it wasn't meant to be a melody of a funeral, but he wanted to evoke the idea of a princess dancing to the pavane. However, some people didn't really listen to him. So in this case, I think that rather than to see Oberon's CE as a funeral to Blanca, it is a way to celebrate her story, even if it didn't end on the happier note we would have wished. You can listen to it here

Now Rêverie is by Debussy and it's meant to feel like a dream, hence the name. The melody became a massive hit, though Debussy later hated this piece because he felt that he had written better pieces but this one was the one that made him famous. Since it was written when he was young, he felt he was still lacking a lot, but the melody became one of his most popular compositions nonetheless. I think that story ties nicely with what we perceive vs what others perceive. You can listen to it here

Now onto the actual fic, I had this vague idea when part 3 was released, especially after all the spoilers about Oberon's true identity. I really wanted to get him, and I was super lucky. In between getting him, his profile and bond lines being translated, I just got possessed to write this as a way to honor and thank him for coming home AND to give him a sort of happy ending after Avalon.

Oberon in that bed is thanks to that comic on Twitter where he is eating chips without any care and the kind reminder of his voice lines that in spite of him constantly complaining, he spends an awful lot of time on our room. Hehehe.

Rook nodded to everything he said. "Oui, she is exactly as you say. When you demand her to move, she asks you 'Why?', instead of 'Is this far enough?'. Instead of being mesmerized by your beauty, she waves you hello. You expect her to fear and respect you, admiring you from afar, but she invades your private space to tell you she doesn't like how you treat others. Didn't she tell you, 'I'm on a raid, don't interrupt me or I'll kill you' without batting an eye, when you were filming in the courtyard she was sitting in?"

"You are proving my point, Rook."

"Unyielding against your charms and uncaring at your status as the Queen. To call this a crush would be a mistake. No, your feelings run deeper than this, ahhhh~ the scorching and relentless feeling of love!"

If looks could kill, the hunter would have been buried thirteen times already, for saying something so ridiculous. Vil Schoenheit in love with her, of all people?

"The Trickster also seems interested in you."

The words aimed directly at his heart, why did he choose Rook as vice leader when he was not careful of his place? And why was everyone telling him things he didn't want to admit?

"Of course, isn't that obvious? I am Vil Schoenheit," he uttered, attempting to assert his dominance, to defend his wounded pride.

"You know that's not what I mean."

He turned his eyes away, she had seen through him, the ugliness he wanted to hide. She saw it and yet...

"Stop spouting nonsense, Rook. I'm in a foul mood. I will be in my room."

He entered his room and closed his doors, fist slamming on them. His heart ached, frowning deeply as how easily he could recall her face and her cheeky smile.

And how he desperately wanted her to look at him.

When she was nice to everyone...

How could he tell if she is looking at him...?

He slammed his fist against the door, once more hiding his blushing face on his sleeve, as he was only accompanied by the sound of his racing heart.

-

Her feelings were like an open box, the best way to hide something was to be upfront about everything. It was how she had managed to fool herself. Never had she tried anything to reach him, to try to get him to love her.

It was fine if her love was one-sided, as hurtful as it was.

She was okay with being just his ‘professional headache’, the girl who sometimes got scolded by him, the possible friend that sometimes hangs out with him. She enjoyed their talks, their accidental meetings, their bickering.

As long as that line was never crossed, she was fine.

There was a silly contradiction to that trail of thought. She was fully aware of her love, and always acted on it, whenever she greeted him or talked to him. Her reassurance came from the bottom of her heart. However, she had no intention of it being known, she wouldn’t go and confess to him or anyone. She was no idiot and she knew how to avoid the usual talks of romance and love between her friends. It helped that Ace and Deuce hardly talked about the matter, focusing on the day-to-day happenings, and less on whatever she was feeling.

So long she could see him, from an invisible wall she had erected to protect him, she would be fine with whatever they never were.

-

He was surprised to acknowledge she had similar traits to him, even if they looked like immediate opposites at first glance. She didn’t look much like it, but she favored hard work, that was his first surprise. All of her potato friends had been duped by Azul’s scheme, but she was the one who bailed them out. She had also a hidden passion as well, given her devotion to that game of hers she played, and the art she seemed fond of making. While she was young and inexperienced, given how she often lost track of time, it was precisely this trait that showed her ambition and determination. The fortitude to throw herself into a task she had to accomplish no matter what. It honestly annoyed him, she somehow thought it adequate to go to bed at unholy hours as long as she did what she wanted, her skin care be damned, but it somehow made her shine when he scolded her the next morning.

“Sorry, Vil-senpai, I was at a good part of my game and I couldn’t stop.”

With his cosmetics, he could somehow make up for a tired look on her skin, but at times, it was as if she was glowing instead. He wouldn’t have imagined she had pulled an all-nighter, even if she was supposed to be the potato and him, the beauty expert.

She did possess something he lacked. It was that kindness of hers, one not restricted to her friends. His world didn’t forgive the easily duped, the ones who did something for others, expecting nothing in return. The school they studied at held this principle deep in its roots, where being kind and soft would only leave you as prey to be used. He was far from the likes of Azul and Leona, but he wasn’t the kind to help others for no reason. To give out his secrets for free, it was a way to coddle laziness and neglect. In the industry, it was a sure way to get you killed. But it seemed this concept didn’t apply to her, as her webcomic was a way to help her study (one of the potatoes had come to read it often) and her Magicam was full of advice, the accumulated experience of a high-ranked player in her home world. Everything for free, nothing expected in return.

He himself had been on the receiving end, with her annoying encouragement and unwanted advice. With his own life being saved from overblotting, like she had saved the others. Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil. Some of them people who had attacked her or her friends. Yet she still helped them, she helped him, not asking for anything, not even a thank you. They had argued, he had been cold to her, but she still extended her hand to save him.

-

There was something Vil Schoenheit possessed that no one else had, a brilliance that lay deeper than his obvious beauty.

Ann knew he was beautiful, but it was the elegance he carried himself with, the strictness he had for himself and the diligence to reach his goals that made him who he was.

Vil never excused himself, taking responsibility for his faults, like his own admission of his failings for his Overblot and making amends for it. He never asked for help, he worked on his own. She had learned his father was a famous actor, and Vil, while loving him dearly, had never resorted to latching on his father’s fame as an easy way into the business industry.

Instead, he had worked hard, went to auditions and prepared himself. The few times she helped him carry props for his Film Appreciation Club, she had seen the worn out scripts, the hundreds of notes and stickers. He took care of everything with meticulous care, she might have found him rehearsing nonstop even on his busy schedule.

Vil worked out and prided himself on being perfect always, even though he was close to wearing himself thin, and it wasn’t out of simple vanity. He was complex, far from perfect, with his secret failings that didn’t make him less beautiful in her eyes. Someone who wanted to better himself, to reach perfection even if such a state was impossible from the start, how could she not love him for giving his all to a goal?

Even if he denied it, he was kind, secretly helping others being their best person they could be. As harsh and strict as he seemed, he looked out for everyone, not only those close to him or in his dorm. He wouldn’t even mind being painted as something he loathed, as long as that person got the drive to improve themselves. It was why for her, he was a true selfless hero, with shortcomings that he struggled with. And it was why she wanted him to achieve his dream, and had tried to help him in the only way she could, through words, written or spoken, and through art so that others might see him in a different light, the things Vil never mentioned about himself that were easily missed by others just looking at him at glance.

-

He wanted her to look at him. To praise him. To tell him he was the most beautiful.

"I don't care about your opinion. "

It was a bold lie, one to hide his own deepest feelings, the actual fear of her opinion of him. He was aware that he was in the eye of everyone, but...

He wanted to be in her eyes but feared hearing her thoughts. Because she saw right through his efforts. Through everything he did. Would she praise him?

He felt bare, exposed. And, he was unsure if he could handle her rejection. That was why he shut out her opinion fast, fearing the words he didn't want to hear.

Why wasn't she telling him he was beautiful, like everyone else? Why did she approach him easily? She didn't know her place, he kept repeating that to himself, but there was a lingering fear it was because he was nothing to her, hence why she acted so nonchalantly.

He wanted to be her very first thought in the morning and the last one at night, just as she invaded his dreams and haunted him everywhere with her presence or absence. But he couldn't easily go and tell her, "I saw you in my dreams again. We were together, you by my side, the place I yearn for you to be."

He sighed. There was no use getting upset over this.  But these words didn't reach his heart, its pace increasing as he thought of her again.

(He knew that it was because she didn't say those words, that she looked deeper, focusing on his sweat, blood and tears, that he looked for her everywhere now.)

"You've worked so hard to get where you're standing on and that's really amazing."

He was in deep.

"I think your beauty doesn't only lie in how you look, you are beautiful, but it's your determination and hard work that makes you shine."

He stopped breathing when she said that, heart aching so much because she wasn't aware that her words pierced his heart, permanently latching on it like the sword in his crown. Whenever he repeated them in his mind, like a broken record, he clenched his chest, losing all strength, a sweet tasting poison that bewitched his soul. It hurts him but, he couldn't stop himself from yearning it.

"Please, look at me."

"...Please love me..."

He whispered quietly in the darkness of his empty room.

There was an irony of the Pomefiore Queen falling victim to her sweet tender poison.

(Was it really poison? Her words were sweet and gentle, beautiful and without any ill intentions. But they killed him slowly, so they might as well be the most dangerous venom in the world. And he wouldn't stop wishing for it, taking them all until there was nothing left.)

-

"Vil-senpai, good morning!"

She would smile brightly at him and he would avoid her eyes, feigning indifference because he couldn't hold her gaze back. He preferred to nitpick, to tell her that her lips were dry, that she should pay attention to her appearance, harshly scolding her as his hands carefully arranged her tie.

"I won't be always fixing you. You should be always presentable, what am I going to do with you?"

He fussed over her, giving her even some lipstick he had, after applying it to her lips that surely her potato friends would comment on later.

What was he going to do? Wasn't it obvious? He'd look for her next and fuss again over her appearance, because that was as close as he could allow himself to be, safely hidden by the pretense of her untidy appearance.

-

"Tell me, Trickster Ann-kun," Rook's piercing voice shot through the silence like the arrow from his bow. "Do you have feelings for the beautiful Vil?"

He had suddenly approached her, as she had taken a night stroll in the surroundings of Ramshackle Dorm to clear her head, even though she knew the chaos would remain.

She closed her eyes, she knew that looking away or up front would show the answer, a fawn in front of the perceptive hunter. Vil had already confronted her, her eyes telling a different story than what she wanted to say. Rook would surely suspect, no, she had a feeling he was asking to confirm his suspicions.

"What do you mean?"

"Your eyes shine the most when you are next to him, even if you then look away moments after. You approach him often, during the free times he has or even when your paths cross, in between classes and your personal activities. There's a tension, a soft lingering warmth when you talk to him. I look at Vil the most, so naturally I would notice first anything that happens around him."

She looked up at the sky, her lips drawn in a thin line. There were no stars to reflect on her eyes.

"Would it bother you?"

"Non, naturally there are many who have feelings for him. In fact, I would be most bothered if people didn't realize his beauty."

"You did mention it before, you wanted us to see his beauty back during our VDC training."

"Oui, Vil has a beauty no one else possesses. It would be foolish to ignore it when close to it. But we are not talking about me, we are talking about you, Trickster Ann-kun."

"..."

"Befitting of your name, you try to fool your opponents and the people who surround you. But you should already know I am a hunter and it's my pride to say I do not let my prey get away.”

"I had a feeling you would say that, though whatever. Whatever I feel, it doesn't really matter."

She could feel his sharp eyes on her, carefully examining her every movement, conscious or unconscious. For a moment, she thought he was concerned, but she wouldn't engage in eye contact for her sake. She knew better than engaging in a fight she would lose.

"If I like him or not, it doesn't matter. Someone like him shouldn't be with someone like me."

"Do you think of yourself as inferior to him, Trickster Ann-kun? Vil is the kind of person who can appreciate beauty, no matter how unconventional."

"I don't really know where I fall in that category, and I don't think too much about it anyway," she said with a casual shrug, but it didn't shake off Rook's inquisitive gaze.

"You should be aware that you're already someone important to him. What happened in the VDC put you in another place in his eyes."

What would it be? Vil’s overblot and her desperate tries to save him? Their talk alone after they lost the VDC? She was sure Vil couldn’t know her punching Rook was largely due to her own anger at him for doing this to Vil.

But no matter the reason, it changed nothing.

"...It's because of that...Things are fine the way they are now. I'm fine with that. "

"Perhaps you are, but what about Vil?"

She unconsciously turned to him, his green eyes revealing a strong protectiveness and concern. She winced and looked away, though perhaps she had already shown too much.

"...He is better this way. I...I don't deserve him, that's all."

"Is this why you don't grasp for him? The yearning in your eyes, you cannot hide it from me, but you don't wish to claim him."

Ann couldn’t reply, and the look in the hunter’s eyes told him he knew more, her silence a confirmation for him. He pressed for no more answers, not that she would give them. Her love was doomed from the start and she was fine with that.

“But what about Vil?”

That was the only problem, though she prayed it never happened.

-

 The truth is, I want him to love me. I want him to hold me.

 But I can’t have him.

 I have to look at him from afar, no matter how much my heart aches for him.

This was a waltz for two solo dancers, each gliding at their own tune, so close yet so far. Wanting to get close, but not enough to touch each other. Yearning gazes being the only betrayal of those hidden thoughts.

-

His lips touched hers and a bolt of electricity passed through his body, heart aching so much, as his tight chest reminded him to breathe. Her lips were so soft and tender, and when he pulled back in shock at what he had done, her warmth lingering on his lips almost made him wish to continue. Locking mouths, their skin needing to be one, to be this close always, it was a feeling he had been blessed to have just experienced and cursed, because it would never be enough.

Especially when her eyes reflected a pain he would have never expected to see.

The one time he had let himself be overcome with emotion, his relentless feelings deciding something so bold, it had to be the time where he quietly poured them all in one action only to feel a quiet unmoving slap in the form of her gaze.

She didn't have to say anything, too shocked to move but the rejection in her eyes was more than clear, and her lingering lips on his skin added insult to the injury.

It was the pain he felt as he left the room that let him know how hard he had fallen for her, how much he yearned for her love and adoration, and it was crushing him.

-

"Potato."

"Huh..."

The next thing she realized was his perfume so close filling her nostrils, his soft lips on hers.

And she felt her world crumbling, the small bubble she had crafted for her delusions rupturing and bringing her to the terrible reality she had to confront.

Something took over her, a violent mix of terror and guilt, of her realizing the thing she had done and how far her silly nonsense had reached.

She wanted his love, she yearned for it deeply, but she couldn’t accept it.

Vil was in love with someone else, right? Not her, someone like Rook or someone else who deserved him.

But his lips were on hers, a delicate blessing she wasn’t worthy of receiving. Hence she could only stand in horror, unable to move or react, because what was she supposed to do?

He pulled back abruptly, his cheeks light pink and brilliant violet eyes avoiding hers. He shook his head before vanishing through the door.

She pressed her fingers on her lips, they were warm, so tempting to keep bringing back the ghost of his skin over hers, the thing she had wished deep down for so long.

But the hurt in his eyes kept haunting her, and she felt like dying.

-

"Grim," Ann said as she arched an eyebrow. "You should probably wait until we reach the dorm."  Grim was happily unwrapping one of the cupcakes they had baked with Trey not long ago, barely paying attention to his surroundings. They had just left the Hall of Mirrors, on their way home. Ann was holding a box of cupcakes meant for them except that the impatient monster had sneaked one out from who knew where.

"I'm hungry! And you're too slow!" Grim said as he was licking his lips, but before he could take a bite, a nearby crow dove straight and stole the pastry.

"Funaaaaa! My cupcake!” he yelled, chasing the bird fruitlessly as it rested on the a top branch of a nearby tree.

"Give it back, dumb bird!" Grim yelled, staring as the bird cocked its head.

"Give up, Grim," Ann replied with a sigh, having caught up as she didn't want to ruin the ones in the box.  "We still have 6 and you stole that one anyway."

"Give it ba-Eek!"

Grim could only watch in horror as the crow chomped the cupcake and swallowed it all, uncaring of the critter's cries and jumps.

"Let's go, Grim. Look, it already ate it. You don't want crow barf or poo so give it a rest," Ann replied dryly.

However, Grim's eyes narrowed dangerously. "My cupcake!" he yelled, throwing a flame at the crow, which narrowly missed, slightly burning its feathers.

"Grim, bad idea!" Ann said as the crow dove down to peck on Grim's head. The bird flew high and cawed loudly, summoning in an instant a cloud of 10 or more birds.

Without a second thought, Ann grabbed Grim by the waist and ran in the direction of Ramshackle dorm, a trail of crows following close. Their croaks were similar to the sounds of hell, reaching closer and closer.

Ann didn't dare to look back, eyes locked on the  familiar gate, coming closer and closer into view. She opened it with a shove, accidentally hitting Grim on the head with one of the metal bars. Her arm would hurt the next day, but it was better than being murdered by crows in her book. The squawks were so loud now and she felt some of the hellish fiends flying closer to her sides. The building was so close, even if her lungs were beginning to ache and her legs were giving out...

Suddenly, 11 flashes of black from the opposite direction flew towards the pressing crows, the noise becoming unbearable, as black feathers scattered everywhere like rain. Ann wouldn't look at the scene, focusing on opening the door and hiding inside with Grim.

Only after they were inside, she peeked through the window and found more a massive war of crows, their cries filling the air. She recognized some of them, the crows of Ramshackle dorm were attacking their pursuers. The cries didn't stop for several minutes until the invaders flew away as the defenders cawed in what could only be a warning message.

Seeing that the cupcakes on her box were a total mess, not surviving the pursuit, Ann took the remnants and left them on the stone. She figured they deserved a reward, as their unexpected saviors.

-

The next time Ann and Grim came back from the Hall of Mirrors, Ann was carrying a couple of boxes. Ignoring the warning caws of the defeated crows, all eyes on her and Grim, Ann walked by the tree where the fight had started. At the top the crow with the burnt feathers was sitting, squawking dangerously at them.

Ann cleared her throat, "Grim."

"Huh, I don't have to."

Ann shot a dangerous look at him, and the cat groaned. "I'm sorry," he grumbled. "But you-"

"Fine now," she quickly interjected before Grim could get a fired up again and start a fight. "We brought these as an offer of peace," Ann said and opened one of the boxes, showing a dozen cupcakes. "They are safe to eat," she added as she took a small part of one and ate it in front of the dozens of eyes staring at her.

Carefully, she put the box on the ground and slowly rose up, walking away, never showing her back. Only when she felt she was far away, she turned her back and the crows flocked at the baked offering.

The crows at Ramshackle dorm also received another tasty reward as Ann warned Grim that next time, she would leave him there if he attacked the crows.

-

"Hey Ann, when did you get so good at Animal Languages?" Jack asked the young girl as she was leaving the table to get some dessert.

"What?" Ann arched an eyebrow.

"Ah, Trickster Ann-kun," Rook said, suddenly appearing behind her, causing her to jump and hide behind Jack. "Rumor has it that you commanded an army of crows to save Monsieur Fuzzball the other day."

"I what?"

"Ruggie-senpai saw you two being attacked by crows, then another group saved you. When he walked by Ramshackle dorm, they chased him away. Said it was your turf."

"Crows are fickle creatures, even those most skilled at Animal Language have difficulty agreeing with them," Rook said, looking at her intensely. "What trick did you use to bewitch them?"

Ann frowned as she said flatly, "Contrary to what you all believe, kindness, gratitude and selflessness come a long way. Also, I don't have a gang of crows."

"You do. That's what they said, " both replied in unison.

Quickly realizing she wouldn’t change their minds, she gave up and went to her dorm. As she looked outside on the window of her room, a small sparkling glimpse caught her eye. On the stool of the window, there laid a small beautiful star-shaped crystal. She lifted it up, looked at the crows on the tree and smiled.

-

Crows are incredibly smart, they can remember people's faces and are capable of holding grudges. In fact, crows can tell other crows about people who hurt them. They also remember people being nice to them as well. I think there's a reason why crows are mean to the students in NRC lol

Some crows even bring gifts to the people who are nice to them. It ranges from rocks to even uhhh dead animals, anything that is small enough to fit in their beaks.