#trans deceit

“Let’s get right down to business.”

“Do, let’s.”

“Give me my friend back.”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be more specific. You have so very many friends, and I’ve captured more of them than you could possibly imagine—”

“Alright then, give me my girlfriend back.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

“Then I’ll find him myself.”

“No you won’t,” Deceit said, a confident smirk spreading across her face. “I can assure you that you won’t.”

“Deceit, where is he?”

“As if I’d tell you,” she laughed.

“Please,” Phoenix said, their bluster and heroic persona slowly falling away. “I’d do anything to keep them safe, to get them back.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Anything?”

“Anything,” they confirmed.

“As sickeningly sweet as that is, all I want is your heart.”

“My heart?”

“It’s symbolic. By taking your heart, I take the heart of this city and hold it in my very hands.”

“Oh. I just— isn’t there another choice?”

“Not if you want to save your precious Virgil.”

Phoenix narrowed their eyes, fixing Deceit with a contemplative look. “You want my heart?”

“That is what I said, yes.”

“Well… then what if I fell in love with you instead?”

Deceit blinked. “Sorry?”

“That’s another way to give someone your heart, right?”

“I suppose so,” Deceit replied, frowning. “What is it that you want me to do, then? Force you to fall in love with me?”

“You can do that, can’t you?”

Deceit blinked again, startled by the bluntness of their words. “Not exactly. My powers have similar restrictions to those of the genie from Aladdin—I can’t make people fall in love, and I can’t bring people back from the dead. The wishing for more wishes thing isn’t really relevant here, but I probably wouldn’t be able to do that either.”

“Can you do something similar then?”

“I suppose if you were to… figuratively give me your heart, I would have control over everything you said or did that’s even remotely emotionally charged. A similar result would be achieved, yes, but I feel that option is a bit more iffy, ethically speaking. So while I could do that, are you sure you’d want it? I don’t— I don’t want you to regret this.”

“Oh, so murder is alright with you—ethically speaking, of course—but that isn’t?”  Phoenix scoffed. “Yes, I’m sure I want this. I’d say sacrificing my emotions in order to save Virgil is far preferable to dying.”

“I don’t think you realize the fact that functionally, you will be dead. Since you in particular think with your heart first and foremost, my dear Phoenix, me taking that away from you would be taking away who you are. I may be cruel, but I don’t want to do that.”

“Deceit, I think you’re overlooking the fact that most importantly right now, I don’t want to die. There’s always a chance I can break your control, but there will never be a chance for me to come back from the dead.”

“Your conviction is amusing, but it’s also incredibly misguided. Unless something drastic happens, there will be no getting out of this for you.”

“We’ll just have to see then, won’t we?” Phoenix said, a bitter smile on their face. “Do it.”

Deceit took a calming breath before asking one final time, “You’re absolutely certain?”

“There’s no other way for me to save Virgil, is there?”

Deceit found herself hesitating. Technically, she could easily just lead Phoenix to the place where—

She cut off that train of thought sharply. She was so close to having everything she’d ever wanted; there was no way she was going to let Phoenix slip out of her grasp now. Deceit shook her head.

“Then yes. I want you to take my heart.”

“As you wish.” She shut her eyes and turned her focus to the sound of Phoenix’s beating heart, forcing its steady rhythm to the forefront of her mind. It grew rapidly in volume as she gathered more and more power from deep within her, drawing it into her fingertips. “I need a name. Your full name, specifically.”

“Why?”

“Names have power, and by using someone’s name, the command has a stronger hold on them.”

“I don’t want that though, do I?”

“I shouldn’t think so, but I believe you don’t want to die even more. We’re doing this my way or not at all.”

“Roman Hoàng.”

“Roman Hoàng,” she repeated, breathing in time with each beat of Phoenix’s—Roman’s—heart and feeling the way the air vibrated with the sound of them. Concentrating on pulling those vibrations together and turning them into raw power, she commanded, “Give me your heart.”

Roman’s eyes glazed over, and Deceit gasped at the surge of feeling that struck her chest. She directed that feeling to her left hand, watching as a golden string formed from it. The string twisted over itself in midair, only halting its intricate movements and floating about aimlessly once it had tied itself around her fingers.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, looking up from the string and searching Roman’s face for any trace of emotion, any indication that she’d done something wrong.

Roman continued staring at her blankly, and Deceit gave a satisfied nod before directing the golden string through the air with her other hand, moving her finger in a circular motion once it reached Roman’s chest to tie it around their heart.

“Roman Hoàng?”

Blinking for a moment as they regained their bearings, Roman’s face remained blank. Once the string appeared to have properly gripped their heart though, they smiled. “That’s me.”

Letting out a breath, Deceit plastered a smile on her face and tried to assure herself that everything was going according to plan.

_________________________

“What have you done to them?”

“I’ve merely taken their heart.”

“You took— What— what does that mean?”

“Virgil, darling, calm down. There’s no need for you to panic, Roman is perfectly safe.”

“How do you know their name?!” Virgil’s voice had started to take on a hint of hysteria, the pitch of it rising as the look in their eyes grew more frantic.

“They told me, of course. Surely you know by now that to properly take someone’s heart, I need their name.”

“Yeah, of course I know that, but would did Roman tell you theirs?”

“This was their idea, dearest.”

“It was—” Virgil frowned, pausing in confusion. “What?”

“Well, you see, I told them that for you to be freed, I wanted their heart. They then offered to figuratively give me their heart, for me to take control of each and every one of their emotions and— well. I’m sure you can figure out the rest,” she said, gesturing to Roman’s lifeless form with a smirk.

“So you control them now.”

“Very good, Virgil! How truly observant of you to notice.”

“I— Deceit, words cannot express how much I completely despise you.”

“Mm, yes, fantastic, but I’m afraid I must be going. I have a city to take over now, after all.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, actually, though it’s truly flattering that you want to.”

Virgil let out a genuine growl at that. “I’ll get them back.”

“Oh, of course you will. I believe that whole-heartedly.”

“And you should. I promise you that one day soon, you’ll regret everything you’ve done to them.”

“I’m terrified. Honestly, I’ve never feared for my life more than I do right now.”

Virgil hissed, narrowing their eyes and Deceit was hit by a familiar feeling of cold, paralyzing fear. She shook it off easily—Virgil was incredibly out of practice, and Deceit’s will was stronger than his would ever be—but a few traces of that all-encompassing cold remained. “Nice try,” she said, a simpering smile on her face.

“I will save him,” Virgil insisted once more.

“Cute,” Deceit replied, turning away from him and gesturing for Roman to trail after her. “I await your attempts with baited breath.”

Even after she’d made it a full two blocks from the abandoned park she’d met Virgil in, Deceit still clearly heard the scream of fury they let out.

_________________________

Deceit was on top of the world.

Or, at least, she should have been. She owned this city now, after all. Everything she’d ever wanted was at her fingertips.

So why did it all feel… wrong?

Deceit sighed, pulling her legs up onto the couch and turning so she was lying down on it. She turned her head to the side, glancing over at where Roman was sitting down on another couch to her right. “Do you know what’s wrong?” she asked, knowing perfectly well that she wasn’t going to get any sort of response from them.

Roman, of course, didn’t answer. Deceit sighed again. “Didn’t think so.”

She stood up and walked over to the window, suddenly feeling thoroughly restless. Gazing out at the city that—if she tilted her head just so and held her finger at the right angle—was held quite literally beneath her thumb, she pondered once more why she wasn’t happy.

Deceit stepped back from the window, turning to pace the length of the room. She had everything now: more power than any one person should reasonably possess, people that would bend to her will if she so much as raised an eyebrow at them, money, influence—she even had Roman, the city’s favorite hero, the epitome of everything she said she hated—everything she did hate. She glanced back at them, ignoring the guilt that had been gnawing at her more and more often recently. It didn’t matter, whatever the reason for it was. She had everything.

She had everything.

Deceit returned to the couch she’d gotten up from barely a minute ago, sitting down with a huff and letting her head fall against the back of it. She stared up at the ceiling for a solid minute before the silence got to her again.

“I’m missing something, aren’t I?” she asked no one. “What else do I want?”

Running through a mental list, she shook her head, still coming up empty. Well, empty save for one thing. She didn’t particularly want to acknowledge it, but if it would help stop whatever she was feeling… “Roman,” she began, breaking the silence as she lifted her head to look at them as she patted the white cushion to her left. “Come sit over here, if you please.”

Roman did so, seeing as they quite literally had no choice in the matter.

“I want you to tell me the truth, alright?” Roman nodded in response, and Deceit decided that was agreement enough. “Do you think I’m lonely?”

Roman blinked. Their eyes, still glassy under Deceit’s control, glittered dully. If she’d thought it were possible, Deceit could have sworn the spark in their eyes had been an amused one. “Yes,” they finally stated, any sign of life having faded when she searched their face again.

“Yes,” Deceit repeated, her voice almost robotic in its monotone. She sighed, looking away from Roman’s blank features in favor of glaring at the ceiling. “Well, in that case, fuck.”

As the annoyance at her situation slowly faded, she glanced over towards Roman again. “Is there—” She stopped, shaking her head and doing her very best to ignore how strange it was to be asking for advice from someone who was essentially her puppet. “Is there anything I can do to… I don’t know, stop being lonely?”

This time, Deceit was almost certain she wasn’t imagining the amusement in Roman’s eyes when they once more replied, “Yes.”

Letting out a frustrated hiss, she glared at Roman before asking, “Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

“Can you say anything else?”

“No.”

Deceit made another angry hissing noise in response to that, cursing her own powers for giving the victims of them so little control. “What the hell are you good for then?” she muttered.

Roman shrugged, and this time, Deceit was actually certain there was something strange in the look they were giving her.

She groaned, wracking her brain to come up with a way around her own powers. The silence and Roman’s brown eyes—that currently seemed to be lit from within with a golden glow, not that the fact was relevant—on her were steadily growing more uncomfortable. “You know what?” she said, deciding that anything would be better than this, “Roman Hoàng, tell me a story.”

“Gladly,” they began, the first smile of theirs Deceit had seen in a very long time spreading across their face. “Once upon a time—”

Deceit made an exaggerated gagging noise. “Not one of those stories.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Once upon a time,” they repeated, blatantly ignoring Deceit’s objection, “there lived a knight.”

Deceit sighed, resigning herself to suffering through whatever story Roman came up with. It would give her time to think without being the sole focus of those damned eyes, at least.

“This knight wanted nothing more than to protect their kingdom, and they did so as best they could. They trained day after day, relentless in their pursuit of perfection.

“One day, they met the heir to the throne. They didn’t know he was the heir though, not at first. This was the first person they’d ever felt comfortable calling a friend, and the knight had no intention of searching for ways to ruin that. So they ignored any indication that the person they’d met may have been royalty, swearing to protect them without regard for who they were.

“The knight would one day discover that their friend was the heir to the throne, of course, but that wouldn’t be for a long, long time—long enough that the knight had time to be promoted to the captain of the guard, rising in station as people finally began to take notice of their power and skill. They were moving up in the world, and the knight couldn’t have been happier about it, nor could the heir have been prouder.

“Around that time, the knight met someone else. It’s important to note, at this point in the story, that the heir to the throne wasn’t all that he may have seemed on the surface. There was a certain darkness to them, a darkness that, like their royal status, the knight willfully ignored. No matter how the heir tried to hide it, his past simply wouldn’t stop haunting him. He wanted to keep his new friend as far from it as possible, but that was not to be. For you see, a few months after the knight met the heir, they met the mage as well.

“The mage wasn’t evil. That was the first thing the knight figured out upon meeting her. Contrary to what all the stories about her may have said, she very clearly wasn’t evil. Misguided, yes, and most certainly lonely, but far from evil. And despite themself, the knight found themself rather taken by her. She was fascinating and truly, it would be more of a shock if the knight hadn’t been enamored by everything about her.

“The heir to the throne had known the mage, once upon a time—she was a part of his darkness, after all—and he constantly reminded the knight that she was more than what she appeared to be. She wanted power, she wanted to rule the kingdom, she hated the heir, she was evil. This is what the heir told the knight, and he wouldn’t listen to anything that might dispute it.

“The knight was convinced that their friend was wrong, though. The mage didn’t want to hurt anyone, the knight knew that as surely as they knew their own name. And yet— something about her still gnawed at them.

“They told their friend this one day, and that was when the heir finally admitted to who he was. ‘I’m the heir to the throne,’ he said, and the knight wished they could have said the revelation came as a shock. ‘I knew the mage, once upon a time, but she betrayed me. She’s evil, I can promise you that. I wish you would believe me.’ The knight agreed. They wished they could believe him too.

“There was still something distinctly wrong about that tale, though. The knight didn’t believe that the mage would have betrayed the heir to the throne without reason, and they made it their goal to find out why. They claimed it was to protect the kingdom—after all, it was in everyone’s best interest for the captain of the guard to know the kingdom’s enemies well—but there was another motivation hidden behind that mask of heroism and selflessness, a motivation the knight very much didn’t want to acknowledge. So they didn’t.

“The heir to the throne insisted on coming with the knight on this mission, and who was the knight to say no? The heir too claimed it was to protect the kingdom, but the knight sensed an unacknowledged motivation behind his words just the same. They weren’t going to mention it though, not when they were just as guilty of having staunchly ignored ulterior motives.

“The heir and the knight traveled for days before finding the mage. Neither could decide what to do from there. The knight wanted to talk to her, but the heir reminded them once more that she was evil and not to be reasoned with.

“Debatably, then, it was a good thing that the mage made that choice for them. She dropped from above, like an angel from heaven, and very much unlike an angel, she snatched the heir right off of his horse.

“With that, she vanished.”

Deceit blinked at Roman, momentarily stunned. That wasn’t like any sort of fairytale she’d heard before and quite frankly, she felt it was a thinly veiled retelling of Roman’s own life story. She couldn’t quite figure out where they were going with the whole thing, though the slightly heavy-handed angel analogy did point her in what she believed was the right direction. Still, the whole thing was very curious and taking an awful lot of rambling to get to whatever point Roman was trying to make. “Roman, darling, while this story is simply fascinating I absolutely adore you, I’d very much appreciate it if you could get to the point soon.”

Roman flashed her a classic smile, continuing as though she hadn’t interrupted at all. “The knight, naturally, decided that they had to find and save the heir, even if it killed them to do so.”

Raising an eyebrow, Deceit couldn’t help but remark, “The knight in this story is rather foolish, don’t you think?”

“The knight,” Roman said, a slight glare marring their features, “cared deeply about the heir, and they weren’t going to let someone, even the beautiful mage—”

“Beautiful, hm?”

At that, Roman gave Deceit a look that quite clearly told her ‘no more interruptions.’ Raising her hands in what she hoped was a placating manner, she went silent again.

“The knight wasn’t going to let anyone take away their closest friend, so they dedicated themself to searching the whole world if that was what it would take to find him. The knight searched the countryside, traveling through three separate towns and wandering aimlessly for nearly a week before they found the mage again.

“Relieved and desperate, the knight asked for the heir back without preamble, offering anything the mage would be willing to take.

“The mage, in response, requested their heart.

“‘My heart?’ the knight asked, incredulous. ‘Why would you want that?’

“‘I’m evil, darling, why else would I want it?’”

“Hey! That’s not what I—” Deceit cut herself off upon seeing Roman’s glare returned anew. She sighed. “Go on.”

Roman continued as though they hadn’t been interrupted at all. “‘I’m evil, darling, why else would I want it?’ the mage replied, smiling with false sweetness. ‘Besides,’ she said with a careless wave of her hand, ‘you did say anything, didn’t you?’

“The knight really didn’t want to die, so they thought their way around the mage’s request. ‘What if I fell in love with you instead? That’s another way for someone to give up their heart, and you can do that, can’t you?’ the knight asked, hoping their words would ring true.

“‘I wouldn’t be able to make you fall in love with me, but I suppose I could take control of the rest of your emotions,’ the mage agreed, though she warned the knight about how much control she’d have over them if they did choose this option. The knight thought it odd how much she cared all of a sudden, but they eventually opted to ignore it. They figured that when she wanted to tell them about her feelings—whatever they may have been—she would.”

Deceit frowned. She hadn’t thought her own hesitation was that strange—not strange enough to notice, at least, and besides, physically harming someone was far different than taking over their mind—but perhaps she ought to think about why that particular request had troubled her so much. Roman seemed to think it was worth noting, and they clearly knew more about this whole situation than they had originally let on. Deceit stayed silent, listening as Roman continued to tell their story.

“The knight—deciding that even losing their free will was preferable to death and feeling secure in the fact that somehow, someway, they would find a way out of this—allowed the mage to perform her spell on them.

“After that, the knight’s mind went quiet for a while. They couldn’t think clearly, not while they were under the mage’s control. They were only able to take in the barest hints of their surroundings, and the world seemed to pass them by in a sort of surreal blur. That is, it did until they heard the voice of the heir to the throne.

“Hearing their friend's voice snapped the knight back to reality, and though they still weren’t able to do anything, at least now they were aware of what was going on.

“‘I’ll get them back,’ the heir said of the knight. ‘I can promise you that.’

“In response to that, the mage laughed. ‘That would be a fool’s errand, but I wish you luck in your endeavors nonetheless.’ With that, the mage swept her cloak out to the side and dropped into an exaggerated curtsy.

“Watching as the mage turned to leave, the knight trailing after her, the heir couldn’t help himself when he spit, ‘You’re evil, you know that? I don’t know what you hope to achieve here, but I can promise you that there isn’t a single person in this entire kingdom who thinks otherwise, not even your precious knight.’

“The mage froze upon hearing the heir’s words, though she didn’t turn back around. The knight couldn’t see her face, but even standing several feet behind her, they could feel the waves of hurt rolling off her.

“But the thing was, the knight didn’t think of the mage that way at all. At the very least, the knight thought of her as a friend despite everything that she’d done. If they were feeling brave, they would have admitted that they may have harbored a few romantic feelings toward her as well. The point still stood though: the knight really, truly didn’t believe that the mage was evil. They wished they could tell her this, but they didn’t exactly have the free will to do so.” Roman looked rather pointedly towards Deceit at that, though she pretended not to notice. What they were saying, what they were implying—she didn’t know how to handle that. So she stayed silent, waiting for Roman to continue their story once more.

Seeming to realize that Deceit wasn’t going to acknowledge any of what they’d just said, Roman sighed. “No matter what the knight believed though, the heir was right. The kingdom still saw her as a villain, and knights didn’t fall for—weren’t even friends with—villains. There was nothing the knight could do to change that, not until the spell that the mage had put on them was broken.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow. “Roman, I’ve told you that’s not possible. There isn’t anything in the world that can break my hold over you.”

Roman raised their own eyebrow right back, a clear challenge in their eyes. “The knight had heard that true love’s kiss would break any curse.”

“So?”

“So the knight thought an ideal scenario would involve kissing the mage.”

Deceit scoffed. “True love’s kiss doesn’t actually work in real life. Besides, the love has to be reciprocated for it to work, and I’m so sorry to break this to you, but I don’t love you.”

“The knight thought that was absolute bullshit.”

“The knight can stop talking about themself in third person now.”

“The knight actually enjoys thinking of themself as a knight, so they won’t.”

Though she tried to hide it, Deceit let out a genuine—albeit quickly stifled—laugh at that. “Fine then. Roman Hoàng, please, please stop talking about yourself in third person.”

Roman pouted at her as though to say, ‘You’re no fun.’

She waved away their complaints with a casual flick of her hand. “I’m aware, but it’s difficult to decipher what you’re trying to communicate when you’re doing so through a fairy tale.”

Roman sat there, watching her with an air of impatience about him.

“Oh! Yes, right. Roman Hoàng, tell me whatever it was you were trying to communicate through that little story of yours, and do so clearly and concisely, if you please.”

Though their pout remained, reminding Deceit that she was, in fact, no fun, Roman began speaking once more, this time unhindered by the need to translate what they wanted to say through a fairy tale lens. “I don’t think you’re evil.”

“Well, I am, so I’m afraid your beliefs are rather naïve, if flattering.”

“I may or may not be in love with you.”

“That’s not at all clear.”

Roman rolled their eyes. “I am in love with you.”

“Mm, I was afraid of that. A terrible choice really, especially if you plan to keep trying to save the city.”

“This isn’t exactly my choice, you know. For the record though, even if it were, I wouldn’t regret it.”

Deceit pretended she hadn’t blushed even a little bit at that.

“In any case,” Roman continued, trying and failing to hide the smug look on their face, “there’s one more thing I wanted to say.”

Shoving aside the fluttery feeling in her chest, Deceit slipped on a mask of poise and calm, saying, “Do tell.”

“While I am, of course, very much aware of the fact that true love’s kiss doesn’t work in real life, I still believe that love is a powerful force. If it were strong enough, I don’t doubt that a kiss backed by that sort of love could break me out of your control completely, especially if you wanted that to happen.”

“And why would I want that?”

Roman raised an eyebrow, saying nothing.

Rolling her eyes, Deceit continued, “I’ve already told you, Roman, I’m not in love with you. I have everything, and I don’t believe giving that up would be in my best interest.”

Roman remained silent, fixing Deceit with an impatient stare again.

She sighed. “Fine. Roman Hoàng, respond to what I say if you have something of importance to contribute.”

“You’re lonely,” Roman said, pointing out what Deceit had been afraid they’d say from the start.

“And? I don’t think a little bit of companionship is worth losing everything else I have.”

“What makes you think you’d lose everything?”

Deceit laughed. “Do you expect me to believe that once you’re free from my control you wouldn’t immediately try to free the city as well?” She paused, waiting for Roman to dispute her claim.

They didn’t.

She waved a hand at their silent form as though that proved her point completely. “Exactly.”

“Deceit, there are more important things than power.”

“But few are as reliable. How would I know you wouldn’t one day betray me? Trust is a fickle thing, Roman Hoàng, and I don’t like to rely on it.”

“Power can fade at any moment too, you know.”

“Mm, but I can win it back in the blink of an eye. I’m not worried about that, not as long as I have you.”

“Why me, though? You can beat me, you’ve done it… possibly more than I’d care to admit.”

“It’s not about that. I know I can beat you. It’s the fact that you give people hope. As long as you’re free, I could control every other person in this entire city and they would still fight. Give yourself more credit.”

“Do you think so?”

“Oh, I know so. Do you see anyone fighting now?”

“No, but—”

Deceit held up her hand, halting Roman’s argument. “Before I had you, I did essentially control the entire city. You realize that, right? I had some form of control over every city official, every villain that I felt may have been a threat, and every other hero was afraid to show their face. But the city still had hope. You must have felt it yourself, surely.”

“I did, but I— I didn’t think it was because of me.”

“Well, it was. I had suspected it before, but I proved that after I took you out of the picture. No one wants to fight anymore. It’s rather boring, honestly.”

“You could always free me.”

“How many times do I have to—”

“I’m kidding. I know you can’t, and I forgive you.”

Deceit looked at them curiously. “I’m sorry, you what?” she asked, the hint of a laugh beneath her words.

“I forgive you.”

“I never apologized.”

“I know,” Roman replied, and the smile they gave her was full of such warmth that Deceit didn’t even know what to think of it. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at her with such kindness.

“Oh,” was all she managed in response. She would have asked for clarification, but judging solely from the look on Roman’s face, Deceit could tell with absolute certainty that they were forgiving her for more than just not being able to lift her control over them. “Oh,” she repeated, softer this time. Watching them for a little while longer, Deceit felt a warmth rising in her chest to match the look on Roman’s face. She couldn’t tell if she liked the feeling or not. Either way though, she took a breath. “Roman—”

Whatever Deceit had been about to say was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. She startled, turning towards the noise behind her. Peering down the dimly lit hallway, she frowned, watching carefully for any disturbance. She stood up, reaching into an inner pocket of her fur coat for a dagger. “Show yourself,” she commanded, threading as much power as she could into the words.

A figure stepped out of the shadows to the right of the hallway, just as Deceit had ordered them to.

“Walk to this end of the hall and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Seeing as they had no choice in the matter, the figure obeyed once more.

Deceit blinked, shocked recognition suddenly washing over her at the feeling of numbing cold now pulsing through the air. “Virgil?”

The figure kept walking.

“Virgil, stop.”

They stopped.

So it was Virgil, then. “Tell me why you’re here.”

Deceit knew why he was here, of course, but she was going to search in vain for a different answer before she accepted it. She gripped the dagger tighter, preparing for the worst—preparing for what she knew Virgil was going to say.

“I’m here to save Roman.”

Deceit sighed rather dramatically. “I was afraid you’d say that,” she said, lifting her right arm before hurling the dagger at Virgil’s shoulder. He dodged it easily, escaping with only a graze to his hoodie, but Deceit hadn’t really been planning on hitting them anyway. The brief distraction gave her time to vault herself over the back of the couch, pulling another dagger from behind her back as she closed the distance between them.

“I’ve been practicing, you know.”

“I’m terrified, truly.”

“I really think you should be this time.”

Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so openly flippant, but Deceit rolled her eyes at Virgil’s words anyway. Her heartbeat had sped up slightly with the instinctive onslaught of nerves at his threat, but she didn’t honestly believe he’d be able to do enough damage to incapacitate her.

Virgil seemed to realize this, a sharp-toothed grin spreading over their face. He raised his hand, fingers extended to guide the shadows emitting from them towards Deceit. It could have been her imagination, but the approaching cold felt a good deal worse than it had last time. She felt her heart begin to pound harder. Raising a hand as though to stop them, she began to say, “Virgil, stop usi—”

She was cut off with a scream as the shadows shot like the quickest flash of lighting from Virgil’s fingertips and a feeling of intense cold struck her chest.

It was far, far worse than it had been last time.

All she could feel was cold. Cold, and now an ever-growing fear that held her frozen in place. She couldn’t place what it was that she feared yet, but the feeling closed in like a vice around her heart and she couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t think, couldn’t—

“Deceit.”

She took a gasping breath, the darkness that had been clouding her vision lifting more with each passing second. “Virgil,” she finally replied, plastering on the fakest smile she’d possibly ever given, her heart still feeling like it was trying to escape her chest.

“How do I free them?”

“Oh, you can’t,” she laughed, her mask of confidence falling back into place with ease. “My control over Roman is permanent, I’m afraid.”

“Is it, now?”

“Very much so.”

“Would true love’s kiss break it?”

“You know, Roman asked the same thing,” Deceit said, amusement coloring her voice. “I told them no just as I’m going to tell you no, because as I said, there’s no way to break my control over them.”

Virgil glared at Deceit from his place in front of Roman. “I don’t believe you,” they said, promptly kissing Roman on the lips.

When he pulled back, Deceit couldn’t help but roll her eyes, saying, “See, I told you it wasn’t going to—”

“You lied.” Virgil’s voice pierced through the residual fog that still lingered in Deceit’s mind from the fear that had gripped her a few moments before. “You lied,” he repeated. “Not that I’m surprised, of course, but—”

“I didn’t lie,” she insisted, walking back around the couch so she could see Roman’s face for herself. “A kiss shouldn’t have worked, not unless…” she trailed off, unsure of what, exactly, she’d been about to say. “It shouldn’t have worked,” she echoed, trying to convince herself just as much as Virgil.

Virgil ignored her protests, placing a gentle hand on Roman’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Roman’s eyes, which had been closed just moments before, shot open. They blinked, taking in their surroundings. “Did you—  did that—”

“Can you stand?” Virgil asked, avoiding the question for the time being as he rose from where he’d been kneeling on the ground, offering a hand out to Roman.

“I— yeah.” Without any prompting from Deceit at all, Roman stood up from the couch, allowing Virgil to latch onto their arm and help them stay upright.

“That’s— that’s literally impossible,” Deceit insisted once more.

“Well,” Roman began, stretching out each finger individually, “I did say that I thought true love’s kiss combined with you genuinely wanting to free me would be enough to—”

“And if you’ll recall,” Deceit hissed out through tightly clenched teeth, “I told you that I didn’t want to free you so your point was not only irrelevant, it was also wrong because, once again, that’s not how this works.”

“Do you have a better explanation?”

Deceit paused. “Not exactly, but—”

“If I know anything about you, Deceit, it’s that you lie.” Virgil’s sharp smile was back again, and though the look he’d given Roman was as gentle, his tone was anything but. “Whether it’s to others or to yourself, even, you lie. I think you just don’t want to admit that you might actually care about someone.”

Roman frowned. “Virge, I really don’t think that was necessary.”

“No, he’s right, Roman. As sweet as it is of you to try and defend me, it’s not—I’m not—worth your time.” Deceit smiled in a way that was intended to come out far more mocking than she felt it had succeeded in doing. She feared that it—and her words as well—had come out more self-deprecating than anything else. “I think you should leave.”

“Are you— you’re just going to let us go?” Roman made to take a step forward but was stopped before they actually did, their arm suddenly held in place by the hand Virgil gripped it with.

“Well, I don’t particularly fancy feeling that—” she gestured towards Virgil, not even attempting to describe whatever it was that his magic had done to her, “—again, so yes. I’m just going to let you go. Getting you back will be easy enough anyhow, I don’t mind,” she added with a dismissive wave of her hand.

A concerned frown was growing on Roman’s face. “I don’t—”

“Ro,” Virgil interrupted. “Let’s go. Before she changes her mind.”

“For the record, I’m not going to,” Deceit assured them both, turning towards the kitchen in search of a glass of wine, “but I would still very much appreciate it if you left.”

With a final squeeze of Roman’s arm, Virgil let go of it and walked back down the hallway and towards the window they’d broken through on their way in, trusting that Roman was following him.

They did for a few steps, but stopped again almost immediately. “Deceit—”

She turned to face them with a glare, a newly poured glass of wine now in her hand. “What?”

“I just—” Roman frowned, seeming to search for the right words.

Deceit raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter and gesturing with her already half-empty glass for them to continue.

“Thank you,” they said finally.

“Thank y— what are you thanking me for?” Deceit asked, a feeling of confusion washing over her.

“Just… thank you.” Roman shot her a soft smile following their words as though either had helped her understand what was going on.

Before Deceit could say anything else, Roman turned to follow Virgil, hurrying down the hall after him.

Deceit stared at the spot where Roman had been standing moments before, an almost stunned look in her eyes. Reaching behind her for the bottle of wine she’d set down, she refilled her glass nearly to the brim. She took a sip, sighing once more. Something strange was going on, and the only thing Deceit could conclude about it all was that she was going to need far more than one bottle of wine to deal with it.

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