Jokerbug

Ever since the night Joker had gone to The Forgotten Knight, Raument had made it a habit to lock her in her room at night. She was free to roam around the house during the day, but stuck to the confines of her room once Raument decided he would retire to bed. As several days passed of this routine, she thought she would never be able to leave. She wanted to have more than the eight hours behind a locked door to put distance between herself and the city.

As usual, the au'ra dressed herself in one of her more formal dresses for dinner with Raument. If he were going to waste the gil on these dresses for her, she would take every opportunity to wear them out. The old elezen didn't seem to mind. It was the opposite. He enjoyed seeing his darling daughter dressed up for dinner in the dresses he picked out for her. Typically he liked to see her in lighter colors, but she seemed to take a liking for darker clothing since she had been back. While it wasn't what Raument would choose for her, he did pick up on it and get her more that were darker in coloring.

Dinner was quiet, as per usual. They ate on opposite ends of the long table and didn't say a word to each other. It wasn't until they were almost done that Raument raised his cup of tea to his lips and then parted them to speak. "After dinner, I will be putting you in your room early. I am going to be going to The Forgotten Knight tonight."

Joker didn't need more of an explanation. She knew, ever since she was younger, what that meant. He would be going to see if there was a younger traveler he could talk into bed. When she was younger and before she had left the city, she didn't think twice about it. Now, with everything that had happened, it made her blood boil. That he could do such a thing and then get upset that she 'sinned' by doing the same. Though she plastered a smile onto her face, tilting her head just slightly, and making sure to keep her eyes looking wide and innocent. "Yes father."

Dear Arman,

I'm not sure there is much else I can tell you. I am losing hope. I should at least do the right thing and correct one of the lies I have told you.

I did start out in the Brume, like I had told you. When Raument found me, that was where he did live. Though once he became attached to me, his sole purpose was to keep me safe and to protect me. Being in the Brume is what killed his wife and children and he didn't want the same to happen. So we moved.

He had always been turning a profit with the war, ever since he began blacksmithing. With the gil he had stashed away, he bought us a house that may not have been as big as one of the High Houses, but it still settled in the same area as the highborns.

I still kept my friends in the Brume and I still spent time there, but their parents saw Raument as a traitor and the high borns saw him as a fake noble. He didn't care so long as I was safe.

Do you see me differently now? Did you even think I was capable of lying to you? I'm sorry. I thought if I were to say that I spent my whole life in the Brume, it would be some badge of honor we could bond over. It's silly, isn't it?

Little One

The door closed and locked, like every other night. Joker waited until she could faintly hear the front door shut before going to her closet for her bag. She still had most of her things in it, at least the things Raument didn't make her get rid of. She pulled clothing out of their neat stacks and threw them in, along with the heavy pouch of gil she managed to get from Raument's trunk.

She stopped at she came across the contract from Chichiri's Palace. There was a slow inhale of breath from her and then she held it for a few seconds before letting it out. Slowly she went over to the candle burning brightly in her room, holding the paper over it until the corner caught fire. She held the paper in her gloved hand as her eyes stayed on the growing embers.

It wasn't until the fire threatened to lick her hand did she drop the paper on her desk, the embers diminishing when they ran out of paper to burn. She let out the breath she didn't know she had been holding, able to breathe again. One of her chains had just been broken, now all she needed was to get rid of the other.

The bag was set down next to her window, her going back to the closet to pull out the sword she took from Raument's workshop and placing it next tot he bag. She was about to change clothing when she heard the faint sound of the front door opening and Raument's voice being carried up the stairs. It was accompanied by another voice, one of a younger man.

The anger from before started to boil in her veins, but she had to be cautious, or this whole plan was never going to work. She went over to her door and started to bang on it, trying to pull it open. She kept going at it until she could faintly hear Raument's voice.

"Excuse my daughter, she has night terrors." It wasn't enough for her. She banged again.

"Poor thing. It's alright, Ser. My sympathies," the young man spoke. The voice sounded familiar, but Joker couldn't place it. Not that she had the time to. "She's been having them since she left Ul'dah. She was forced into prostitution and it seems to have corrupted her mind. A man held her captive there and now she thinks she still wants to go back to him. Hopefully soon she will be able to get back to normal." The way Raument made it sound was she was merely an inconvenience. Joker kept the growl she had forming in her throat, not wanting to make anymore sounds.

The door closed to Raument's room and there was a soft sigh from the young au'ra. Who knew what Raument was going to do to the young man behind the closed door, but she couldn't think about it now, she needed to act now she had the time.

She pulled open the window and threw the bag down into the snow. Next went the sword. She grabbed the jacket from her loveseat and shrugged it on, working her small body through the window before jumping down into the snow.

Dearest Arman,

This little one begged. This little one apologized. This little one told you stories of her past. This little one admitted her love to you. What else can this little one do to make you send one word to her? To come and see her?

I've lost hope Arman. I keep looking at my dagger and wondering if it would be easier. The people around me only use me. I suppose it is my fault, I let them. There's not much more I can give to them. No matter what I do, I don't think you will know. I don't know the people you know and you do not know the people I frequent enough. Or perhaps I will chicken out before I do it. Death has a way of scaring people at the last minute.

Either way, know this little one loves you and this little one is sorry.

Your Little One

The heeled boots sank into the snow as she landed. Her footing wasn't there and she staggered until she ended up landing in the snow. She shivered as the wet snow soaked through the jacket with ease. There was no time to think about the cold air as it chilled her to the bone. She had to get up.

The sword was strapped to her back and the heavy bag placed on her shoulder. She didn't take a single look back at the house, hearing the screams and cries from inside, as she took off in a run towards the city gates.

It was nightfall before Joker could clearly see the outline of The Holy City of Ishgard. The high walls, which once made her feel protected inside of them, gave her a sense of dread and as if she were being locked in a cage. Maybe in time it would feel like home once more. She sat up a little straighter, shivering and regretting the shorts she wore with the woven poncho. It were fine enough for the weather in Thanalan, but not the snow of Ishgard.

Raument looked over to her as he saw her sit up out of the corner of his eye. He sighed as he saw her shiver and then looked at the legs she was showing. He shrugged his coat off and handed it over to her. "Cover yourself. What would everyone think if they saw me bringing you back like that." His tone was tense and there was a soft scoff from him.

Joker took the jacket in her small hands. She pulled it on, it only weighing her down more. The heaviness only brought her further down to Hydaelyn. There was a light blush from her as she looked to her exposed legs. He was right, what would people think of her? She wrapped the jacket around her and looked away from the man, ashamed. "I'll think better next time."

The man put an arm around the darling girl and pressed his lips to the top of her head. She wrinkled her nose some, not sure why the affection she craved for from him felt wrong now. The elezen didn't take note of the subtle motion from her. "I forgive you, dear. You will relearn your manners in time."

Dear Arman,

I suppose I ended the last letter poorly. Perhaps you think me strange for saying such a thing. I should have told you the story as you told me your own. Am I worrying you yet? What thoughts are going through your head? What do you think I am going to write next?

About a year ago I should have wed. Does this surprise you? Ashioux was his name. He was an elezen only a few years older than myself. I met him in the Brume when I was merely a child. We became quick friends after I let him touch my horns and he let me touch his ears. He spent his life from that moment on to protect me and teach me to handle my own with the larger elezen. At least long enough for help to come.

As many of the young men did, he wanted to fight in the dragging war when he was of age. I couldn't fully understand it. It may be something I will never fully understand of you Ishgardians. Maybe there is something wrong with me that I cannot have the same national pride. Or perhaps it is the treatment Halone's children have given me which keeps me from ever fully belonging to the prideful nation. Sometimes I wonder if I should have tried to venture to Othard instead of wandering around Eorzea when I left Ishgard. Maybe I would find of my own national pride there, where more of mine own kind are.

The only downfall would have been I would have never met you.

Little One

The large home loomed over Joker as she kept the jacket as close to her as possible. Everything felt numb, partially from the cold air and partially from being emotionally drained. There were things she needed to sort out in her own mind, but she knew that would not be until at least the morning. That was if she could even find sleep. Raument pushed open the large wooden doors and Joker slipped through as soon as there were enough room for her. She welcomed the warmth from the fire blazing in the front room. She slipped the jacket off before the door was even closed.

Raument passed her without taking the jacket back. Joker didn't seem fazed by the older man ignoring her actions. Instead she merely kept the jacket in her arms and followed the man up the stairs and to his study as quietly as her shoes would allow. Why did she think the man would allow her to go straight to her room for bed? Of course he wouldn't. Not when they needed to discuss her behavior.

The older elezen motioned to the coat rack in the corner of the room, which Joker went over to and put the jacket on a hook. She set her bag down next to the door of the study. Her pale eyes stared at the cane in the corner as Raument approached it. "Before you can learn from the mistakes, you need to suffer from them," he murmured in a gentle and loving tone.

It was a mechanical response. The young au'ra moved to the desk without the word, too mentally exhausted to say anything to the man. There was no excuse or no begging Joker could even think of to justify her behavior since she had left the comforts of her home. Her chest tightened as her breath hitched, catching sight of the worn cane. She knew she deserved this. She was the one that ended up making the mistakes and not saying something to try to stay in Ul'dah.

Raument moved behind the young woman and the metal of the handle pressed between her shoulder blades to force her to bend over the desk. His arm swung back. "Remember, dear, this hurts me in my heart more than it would ever hurt you. You're the one who broke my heart with your actions." Then the cane hit the back of her upper thighs with a smack. Joker bit down on her bottom lip and winced, closing her eyes to keep herself from showing the pain.

"Yes ser, I know."

Dearest Arman,

I thought the way I ended the last letter would have prompted you to reply. I am childish in that aspect. I think it is time I tell you the full story of when I left Ishgard. I should have told you earlier, but thinking about Ashioux causes a pain in my chest and heart that hasn't dulled since the day I found him.

He went to fight for his city like most of the young men. I didn't want him to. His family didn't want him to. Still he went. We all prepared ourselves for the day we would get a letter than he had died in combat, but he kept coming home. I don't think I could describe the relief when I would wait at the gates of the city and catch sight of him coming home with the other soldiers. Each time gave me more hope that perhaps there was a happy ending in store for the orphaned outsider and the brave knight.

I suppose you are guessing that it was the last battle against Nidhogg and his brood which was the undoing of my fiance, but this is the part of the tale which everyone would be wrong. He came back, the smug man laughing as he saw me waiting for him. It was the greatest feeling I have ever felt to have him come over and take me into his arms, proclaiming the Dragonsong War had ended.

Then the secrets started reaching our ears. How the war had merely been a ploy by the high borns. His reaction was much like your own. There was an anger which I tried to quell. He stormed off, much like you had, needing to be alone. I let him have his night alone. The next morning I snuck into his room, through his window, which I had done before. I was met with the love of my life hanging from a noose tied up to a beam near the ceiling.

Part of me feared I would find the same thing again after you left me that night. He took his own life a few weeks before we were to wed. His family blamed me and didn't allow me to the funeral. Everywhere I went, I kept seeing his ghost. I couldn't be in Ishgard anymore. Raument saw this and gave me the supplies and the chocobo to leave and create my own adventure like the ones who frequented The Forgotten Knight.

I left Ishgard, the only home I had known, and kept going until I found myself in Gridania. I entered that city pure and innocent, never having partaken in alcohol or fend for myself. Maybe I had gotten myself in over my head when I left home.

Can my rock come back to Ul'dah? Even if tis only for one day or two. I need my rock to ground me again and help me out of this mess I've created. I don't know what I am doing anymore.

Little One

The young woman winced as the door closed heavily behind her. She dropped her bag right there next to it, not bothering to unpack. She took unsteady steps to the familiar canopy bed, her legs weak under herself. Welts and bruises were starting to form on the backs of her thighs and under the thin fabric of her shorts. There was a long dress laying there for her, just for the morning, and a long, modest nightgown for her to sleep in.

Like a machine being put back on the line, she dressed in the nightgown and went to lay down in her bed. She stopped as she lifted the covered and looked over to her bag at the door. She sniffed once and then went over to it, digging into the bag until she could find the familiar, worn jacket that was perhaps twice the size of her, probably even more. Her lips cracked into a smile for the first time since she had entered the city. It was a short lived smile as she buried her face into the worn fabrics, inhaling deeply.

The small girl settled herself on the loveseat right at her window, curling up under the jacket, it giving her a warmth no blanket or bed ever could. It gave her a comfort she didn't know she could ever find again in the city, but it also gave her an emptiness that she didn't know she could ever fill again.

"I will always be there for you," came the words from a young male elezen. His tone calm and soothing, it could put even a primal to sleep. He was sitting on the canopy bed, his back against the headboard and his legs folded under one another. The long, inky black hair that was usually in a bun had been down, the locks framing his face.

"You promise?" Joker asked, curled up in his lap and clinging to the linen shirt covering the man who was only older by a few years. Her pale purple eyes stared up into his bright blue orbs. They were searching for any hint of a lie from the man.

His arms tightened around the young woman. His lips lightly kissed the long hair that was perhaps as dark as his own that covered her own head. "I will always return to you. You are my home."

She looked down to the ring around her slim finger with a smile, the red gem in it glistening in the afternoon sun that was peeking through her window. "I pray the Fury allows you to and doesn't take you away from me."

Gentle fingers grip her chin lightly to turn her to face him. The man was full of a conviction to return to her. "Not even the Fury will keep me from coming back to you." Then he leaned down and his lips touched hers.

The same slim fingers that still wore the ring reached up to Joker's eyes as she felt the corners and blinked down at the wetness on them. When did she start crying? She sniffled and turned over on her other side, bringing the jacket tighter around herself and took a deep inhale of the smell of stale whiskey that somehow still clung to it. All it did was cause her to curl up tighter and sob quietly into the worn fabric. Her chest hurt and felt light, like something had been ripped out and was missing from her.

It wasn't until the sun was high in the sky that there was a knock on her bedroom door. "My petite daffodil? Are you awake?" asked a gentle voice, the same voice that had been rougher and full of anger merely the night before.

She tried to open her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She quickly wiped away the already dried tears, as if it would somehow unlock her voice. It didn't. There were a few moments of silence before the door opened anyways.

Raument stood at the door, his eyes narrowing at the empty before they scanned the room to land on the small form on the loveseat. He slowly approached it and put a hand on the shoulder of the form. "Dear, it is time to wake up." His eyes gave the jacket a once over before a low, dangerous sound came from him. He jerked the jacket off of her, Joker nearly falling out of the loveseat. "Is this his?" his voice bellowed.

There was no response from Joker, but her wide, frightened eyes spoke volumes to him. Joker had to scramble to her feet as Raument turned on his heel to stride out of the room. For every long stride he took, Joker needed to take two or three steps of her own to keep up to him. "Raument!" she protested.

"How dare you bring something of that heretic's into this house! Have I not taught you better?!" his voice filled the stone house as he made his way to the fireplace of the front room. There was another sound of protest from Joker as he threw it into the fire.

She dove for the fireplace to pull the jacket out of it, having to swat at the ends and the sleeve that had already caught fire. "Why would you do that?" she asked in her own meek and timid voice. She ignored the pain in her palm as she beat the flames off of the cloth.

"He told me to! That heretic said to burn it if I found it and I did," he hissed. The hard stare he gave the girl didn't even falter as he saw her diminishing the flames with a bare hand. All he did was kneel down next to her and grab her wrist to look at the soot covering her hand that looked like it might have been burned. "And now I have to take you to the healer. Couldn't you have just behaved for one day? Just given me one day to figure out how to reintroduce you to the people of the city? No, you had to go and do this. And now everyone is going to know the whore is back."

She blinked away the tears forming in her eyes, he had never called her that word before. Though she was also a good girl before she left the city. She tried to pull her hand back, using her free arm to keep the jacket close to her. "I...I'm not a whore," she whispered, but her voice broke and gave away how much she didn't even believe her own words.

Arman,

You are really worrying me. I need to hear from you. I need to see you. There is nothing more I need right now. If I knew where you were, I would go to you myself.

I took a day trip to Limsa Lominsa, thinking you would be there. I even asked around, but no one has seen you. I'm lost and I need you. You said you would be my rock. You said you would come back to me. A rock doesn't abandon someone who needs them.

Joker

She waited in the room, twisting the ring around her finger. Her grey hair was put up into a tight bun, something that she hadn't done since she left Ishgard. She smoothed out the few wrinkled on her dress, trying to steady her shaking hands. The healers in Ul'dah were not the same kind of healer as the man Raument had made her go see.

In the beginning, Joker simply went to this man as a child because Raument could bribe him into staying quiet about him having an au'ra in his care. As the years went on, it was just a convenience to keep going to the man. As much as Joker protested each and every time, Raument still made her go to the good healer, Eaulfix.

Eaulfix was an old man, to put it kindly. His hair went past the stage of greying Raument was currently in and was pure white. The beard and mustache he kept were the same shade. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth would normally give him a more welcoming feeling, but Joker knew better.

If she were an elezen, it would be no problem. He would simply look at the burns, give her some medicine, and send her on her way. It just wasn't the case. Joker shut her eyes tight when asked to remove her dress behind the curtain so he could take a look at her. The shakes were back. Every fiber in her being told her to run, but she was frozen to the spot while undoing the laces on the front of her dress and slipping it off. She folded it onto the cot that she had sat on.

Eaulfix raised a concerned eyebrow at the bandages already on the young woman, which only made her stomach turn before he even asked if he could remove them. If she had said no, she knew he would go out there and tell Raument about them. As long as she took them off and complied, there was the chance Raument would never know.

The healer was already reaching for the stitching on her collar before the bandages had a chance to settle on the ground. He made a few sounds as he inspected them and then asked her to lay down so he could inspect the stitching on the claw marks across her stomach. He gave another satisfied sound. "It seems the healers in Ul'dah know what they are doing." Joker gave no response.

He kept her laying down on the cot as he took the burned hand, prodding and poking it to see just how bad it was. The healer ended up putting an ointment on it and wrapping the hand. He rewrapped the other wounds, putting his own ointment on them to keep them from getting infected.

If Joker were an elezen, he would let her get dressed and leave, but Joker was an au'ra and not an elezen. Eaulfix ran wrinkled fingers over the scaling on Joker's calf. She shut her eyes and that sick feeling was back. If there were something in her stomach, she knew she would have thrown up.

He went into his drawers and took out a pair of tongs and a scalpel. Her stomach fluttered with her nerves. He clamped the tongs around a scale and used the scalpel to slice into the flesh and get a few of the scales loose for his collection.

Dearest Arman,

I'm sorry if I sounded angry in the last letter. Just please come back to Ul'dah. I don't care what it takes to get you here, I will pay your way. If gil isn't the issue, I will do whatever. Please come back and save me. This is me on my hands and knees, begging you.

Little One

There was a bandage on her calf where the healer had taken her scales. Eventually they would grow back, they always did. There was also a bit of bruising on the inside of her elbow, where the man had drawn blood. It had been a few days and Joker seemed to slip into a routine of fake smiles and manners to Raument. It made him happy and perhaps he wouldn't hurt her again or make her go back to the healer if he were happy.

Which is why it came as no surprise to the young au'ra when Raument suggested going to visit the aesthetician. Joker only gave her grey hair a glance. Yes, it was her natural color, but it also wasn't the hair of a lady.

She slipped into the new, black boots and slipped on her new gloves, them covering the bandaging around her hand. She gave them a wide smile. The more she smiled, one day it would be real again. That was how it worked, right? The jacket was draped over her loveseat, the cuff of one of the arms burned and the ends of it singed. She still couldn't sleep without it, but perhaps she would be able to soon enough.

"My darling daffodil," she could hear the gentle words carry up the stairs. There was a forced giggle from her as she practically floated out of her room and down the stairs to the man. He leaned down and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Father," she said, the words sounding wrong coming out of her mouth. It were the title Raument wanted her to call him and who was she to reject the old man's request after he saved her? Not only from the streets when she were a child, but now from the dangerous streets of Ul'dah.

The aesthetician was already waiting in the front room for her. Joker gave her a polite bow, which was returned to her. It didn't take long for the grey hair to be turned an inky black or for it to be tamed and straightened. Even the new bangs were done in a few quick snips of the scissors.

"Now there is my young daughter," Raument murmured when he finally got to see the work the aesthetician had done for them. "Now we can have you going around Ishgard and looking for a new fiance, hm?" Those were the words to break the spell. The words that broke Joker's smile and made her run to her room to lock herself away.

It took Raument a few days to get her to come out. The fake smiles were back, but the young woman couldn't bring herself to fool herself again that this was home. She was stuck there, but it was not home.

Dearest Arman,

Are you not coming back because you have found another little one? Is it because you know I haven't been physically hurt yet? If I were to take a knife and slide it across my throat, would that be the thing to bring you back? Would it even hurt much? I think it would be worth it, just to have you come back and let me lean on you again.

Is this your way of making me learn to get myself out of my own problems? Any other time and I wouldn't mind. This time, I can't. I can't see how I can get myself out of this mess. It has snowballed and turned into a mess where I can't even see the light anymore. I wake up every morning in darkness and go to sleep in the same darkness. Alcohol doesn't even numb it anymore.

Please, at least write me back. I just need to read one word from you and perhaps I will have the strength to continue on.

Your Little One

It took Joker a week before she found herself at The Forgotten Knight. Raument was already asleep and she managed to slip out of the house. The hardest part was finding a dress in her new wardrobe that was casual enough for the tavern.

"May I have a bottle of whiskey and a glass?" she asked in a soft voice as she leaned against the bar, fitting her small body between two men that were sitting at it. She flashed both of them an apologetic smile. They didn't seem to notice or care though. It was better that way, she didn't find either of them attractive.

When she got her bottle and the glass, she strode over to the table near the fire. She made sure to sway her hips just right in order to garner the attention of someone before she even sat down. Her slim fingers uncorked the bottle and slowly poured her first glass.

As soon as her lips touched the glass for her first sip, there was a midlander sitting down to join her. She tilted the glass back to take her first sip. It was weaker than the whiskey she drank in Ul'dah, but it would do the job of numbing her enough to not care who it was she ended up home with.

There was a smile plastered on her face as she set her glass down. "Good evening," she started, crossing her legs and resting her elbow on her knee, her chin resting in her hand. She tilted her head just a bit in order to give herself a bit more of an innocent look, most men preferred it.

"'Evening," he replied, his voice smooth. She already knew this midlander was older than herself, but he held soft features that were framed by long, dark brown locks that were held back in a ponytail. It wasn't a bad thing and she knew she wouldn't even care after she finished her bottle.

"What brings you to the great Holy See of Ishgard?" she asked and made sure to add a cute little giggle at the end of her sentence. Really, she didn't care, not this time. She just wanted to get drunk and have him make her forget herself for perhaps an hour or two.

A man came by to delivery a large mug of mead for the midlander. He took it and took a large drink from it before saying a word. "I heard there were dragons to fight."

Joker was quiet as she took a slow sip from her whiskey. She gave the midlander another once over. He had a bow with him, but he looked like he was new to adventuring. His skin was too soft to have been worn away by years of harsh weather or fighting. "You're going to end up dead," she said, trying to be as playful as possible.

He took the bait. He went on to stories of taking down large monsters to impress her. Joker gave the appropriate nods and giggles as she slowly sipped at her glass, refilling it when she needed to. Once he had finished his fourth mug and she had finally found the bottom of her bottle, only then did he suggest a walk around the city to clear their heads. If only it were just a walk.

All he needed was for her to lead him down an ally for him to show his true intentions. He had her pinned against the wall as his mouth covered hers. She let out the appropriate moan and whimper to egg him on. His body pressed against hers and a hand was already fumbling to get under the skirts of her dress to pull away her panties.

The au'ra didn't resist him. She let out a begging whine for him to continue. Her hands slipped up his shirt and gripped his smooth back. It was wrong. The smoothness of his skin, not riddled with a single scar. It felt wrong. Even as he forced his length inside of her and she let out a gasp, all she could think about was how wrong it was to be taken by a man with such smooth skin, whose body didn't tower over hers. Someone who she might even be able to beat should they get into a fight.

The one thing that kept at the front of her mind as he had sex with her against that wall was how the man didn't have the scars to show his body had been through hell and back. It was wrong.

Dearest Arman,

I went to Limsa Lominsa again to look for you. No one has seen you. I even went to Gridania. You know I hate Gridania. I went there looking for you. I went there because of you. No one there has seen you either.

Are you dead? Did your stubbornness finally kill you? No, nothing could kill you. I know you are alive. You have to be. You have to be somewhere. You have to be getting these letters. If you aren't, I don't know what I would do. Please just send me something saying you are okay. I can't continue if I know there is no chance of you being able to be my rock once more.

Your Little One

Of course Raument was waiting for the young woman when she returned home. He smelled the alcohol and the sex on her. She couldn't even give him a name of who she had been with. He smacked her across the face, it was the first time he had ever done so. All Joker could do was laugh in his face. That was when he took her to his study again. The cane was brought out and a new set of welts were given to the back of her thighs and her rear. And she laughed the whole time between her wincing.

Afterwards she found herself in her bathroom with a tub filled of hot water and bubbles. She slowly lowered her body, the stabbing on her calf stinging as it hit the water. The wounds on her collar and stomach had at least closed and started their scarring process, she could be thankful for that. Though her thighs and rear were on fire from the welts and the few places where her skin were broken.

She leaned her head back and took a glass she had brought in with her, filled with a glowing blue liquid, and drowned it quicker than she ever did with alcohol. The glass slipped from her hands and shattered against the wooden flooring. She merely giggled.

She sunk down deeper into the hot water and let out a content sigh. She lifted her leg into the air and brought her fingers over to the stab, lightly touching it as she frowned. Raument had to know the healer did that, but he didn't say or do a thing. Mostly because the healer was willing to stay quiet about her and anything he found.

The young woman slipped her body down until her head was under the water. She held her breath and shut her eyes tightly. The hurt in her chest hadn't gone away since she arrived. Ishgard didn't even feel like home anymore. It just felt like the frozen city she had entered as a child. The ghost of Ashioux still belonged to the city and so did the ghost of her former self, but she knew she had changed since then. She was no longer the woman who would be happy settling down and popping out a few kids, or at least trying her hardest to become pregnant by the man she had loved.

Had loved? No, she still loved Ashioux and didn't see herself ever giving up that part of her heart. Ashioux was not Ishgard though. Ishgard was a dead, frozen city that had rejected the man she wanted to save her. Rejected the man she still held some hope would come through the gates and save her.

Dearest Arman,

I love you. There must be a part of you which knows this by now.

Your Little One

She gasped, feeling light headed as she finally surfaced from the water.

"Little one, you have to do this on your own. I can't help you this time."