Her World Entirely Shattered and Remade

[Stare]

Day Six.

Judging currently what was an issue in her life and how she could improve on the situation was arduous. There were certainly a great amount of unpredictable variables to consider, whether Vitruvion would, at any point, give up on his quest to keep her permanently safe, and allow her back to feeling more useful. It made her realise that she was beginning to get bored here, and especially after she had sworn off suicide as an option there was less self-orientated sympathy in her mind and far more dissatisfaction. The very issue that he was fond of her had fallen out of conversation, as he had made clear his desire from the evening of the discovery. Indeed, he had never even specifically said that it should be forgotten as a memory, and Stare was none too glad - although the memory still burned.

What had she then, to bargain with, and what did she want to gain? Certainly, she wanted more freedoms than she currently had - being ordered where to go and what she could not do was another bar to her gilded cage that she did not especially find attractive. Even knowing what plans he had for her, instead of just sending her to some far off place, and lying to her as he had done various times, would be of use. Being able to bargain with those plans also, to be an equal in the general rules that constructed her life, aside from the larger structure of her enclosure was something she had been without for all this time, and it was something that, as she thought about it, she truly, honestly wanted.

She could deal with more generalised changes. A switch to business perhaps, an alteration in circumstance, such as the household which she was controller of, and even a decision to move home - those were all simple things that she felt she could endure through. But currently there were not enough freedoms to satisfy her. There were also the underlying issues of her being his thrice-cursed-Ansaldo property, as well as being linked to his mind. Even though she could bare them, and had been baring so far, it was uncomfortable to consider them, especially, most primarily, the former.

She also knew that she would never want to lie intimately with another person again, most especially not him. Not currently, anyway. The very idea of sex was, right now, sickening to her, even though she had minorly enjoyed the temptations of the flesh with demons. Most definitely she neither wanted, nor needed it.

Arms folded across her chest she sat in the corner of what had become her sofa, still surrounded by blankets but no longer buried. Her legs were drawn up beneath her, her wings were folded perfectly neatly, and she had her beak resting on the back of the sofa, so she huffed into the air as she thought all of this. Vitruvion throughout the day had been working on what was apparently now a treatise, taking pages and rearranging and rewriting them as light and small smiles crept across his face.

Clearly he was absorbed, as a new layer of understanding or some such was coming into his mind. She knew he was highly intelligent, and had a great comprehension of the ways life and the stars worked, yet apparently had used these past few days to come to some form of new discovery. His pencils worked fluidly to build images of structures she could only describe as ‘wiggly,’ and had no idea what all those words meant. ‘Acidum,’ ‘biologia,’ and ‘duplex helix’ were not within her vocabulary.

“Sir?” came a polite knock.

“Mmm,” Vitruvion waved a hand and the door slipped open.

Zulon’s face appeared, bearing a tray filled with sumptuous steaks, what seemed like potatoes and a salad. Stare blinked at him from her view of the back of the sofa, and he smiled briefly, looking more satisfied at her appearance. Behind him there were again faces peering in, and Stare wondered what rumours were currently running rampant through the Hollow. Certainly some of interesting context for them to work with, as likely the story of what had occurred in the theatre had in some way been translated into the workings of the guards.

Shutting the door as fast as he could, Zulon came into the room and headed right over to Vitruvion. He held out a meal to him, extending an arm. The god pushed his manuscript carefully to the side before taking it, and quietly made a comment. Zulon nodded once, then turned to head over to Stare, and, surprisingly, extended the plate towards her. For the first time in several days.

Lifting her beak from the sofa back she blinked at him, tilting her head. “My lady,” Zulon said quietly. Lowering her brow she slowly unfolded her arms and began to curl fingers around the plate. It was the first time he had ever used that instead of, ‘Miss,’ and she wondered precisely what Vitruvion had said. Taking the food onto her lap she simply mumbled a reply.

“Thank you.”

[Stare]

It was late evening, and Stare had picked at her meal, leaving around a quarter of the potato cakes, fine quality chicken and roasted vegetables that were all cooked with a honey glaze. Very steadily she breathed as she supported the book upon her lap, still dressed closely in the depths of the blanket. Around mid afternoon she had washed, and come back to find laundered clothes patiently waiting on her, neatly folded on the end of the bed. She chose the plainest tunic and undergarments she saw, tugging them on slowly. Then she had returned to the book, which was entitled ‘All is in the Garden’ and told a story about a gardener and his secret affair with the local Bardsinger’s daughter.

There a tap at the door. Stare braced herself for an onslaught of possible ogling eyes as Vitruvion looked up and there was the now familiar click. After a pause, and hearing no roar from the god, Stare glanced up, and was surprised to see no one at all, aside from Zulon slipping into the room. He nodded.

“We are ready sir … if you are.”

“Indeed,” Vitruvion nodded and set his papers to the side, slipping them now into a large leather pouch. “Stare?” he said, not looking at her.

“What?” she looked surprised, hands tightening around the book, and staring up at him.

“You wanted to go outside.”

Alert suddenly, she perked up, her back straightening and inhaling once, sharply. She slammed the book shut, not caring for once where she was and nodded. “Now?”

“Now,” Vitruvion answered. “It has taken most of the day to ensure the other hosts are out of the Hollow, or at least occupied, and enough guards to be available.” He paused, looking now at her with raised eyebrows. “Or are you now saying-”

Tugging off her blanket she rose fast, smoothing down her tunic. “Is it cold outside?” she asked.

He inclined his head. “Bring your dagger also. It is in your trunk.”

Glancing briefly to Zulon Stare started straight to the bedroom. No matter how he wanted her to dress - even if he had wanted her to wear her full chainmail, Stare would have done so quite happily. This was her chance now, her opportunity no matter how late in the day to finally get out of this hellhole and stretch her legs. Despite it meaning she would need to stride pass ears that had heard wild rumours, Stare was eager to breathe the fresh air. For too many days now had she been down here, with very little to do, and making herself sick because of her own stupidity.

In the bedroom she kicked open the leather trunk that had housed her clothes for her stay here. From it she grabbed a grey woollen cloak, as well as her mythril that was neatly tucked away. Gathering up these items she swung the cloak around her body, and tied the dagger onto her belt, before rejoining Vitruvion who now seemed better to walk. The glint of the end of his new sheath for that golden secret dagger could be spotted by a keen eye akin to her own.

His eyes washed over her once, and there was a lingering smile that touched his lips, a rare, warm softness in his eyes. Stare paused, cautious of it, before he gave her a single nod. Suddenly the warmth was gone and he was back to being formal - his strong, powerful demeanor - and he stepped back to gesture for her to go before him. Eyes glancing over she saw that the door was open, and behind it the half giant Brer waited, huge hammer slung over his shoulder. There was some comfort in seeing that, in seeing her friend that she had made despite the months of incarceration here. Pulling her cloak around her front she started forwards, beak ducking slightly as she stepped from the room in the first time in an entire week.

The room before her had been changed. Gone was the old world of tables and devices with clear metal hoops for chains. Instead, a large table was shoved against the back wall, and on it a collection of assorted objects that did not seem to belong to anybody - blankets, candlesticks, a variety of horse crops and a painting of a young, brown haired dwarf. Aside from the crops there was nothing to remind Stare about this room's former purpose - where Vitruvion had taken her virginity. Now he was something of a different man, with a different attitude entirely as to how to treat her. Stare moved slowly as she took it in, then turned to see the door that led through into the next room.

More guards waited. Three at least, and amongst them Stare spied Jordain. Behind her there was noise and she turned to see Zulon and Vitruvion come out of the antechamber. Briefly the god looked at her, before gesturing for her to go.

Sucking in a short breath she squared her shoulders and began out. As soon as she did the guards who were there already pushed into a formation clearly already decided. Brer draw right to her side, blinking twice at her before looking forwards. Zulon moved his way around to take the lead, and Vitruvion unsurprisingly took up a place right behind her. Turning slightly she spied the face of Sable at the glass partition of her door, gazing out at her. The young woman looked curious, but also had a kind and encouraging look on her face. Stare breathed out and gave her a single nod, not sure of how to deal with the emotions concerning that woman who had changed hers and Vitruvion's relationship so dramatically. If Sable had not burst out with her sudden comprehension, what would have happened? Would life had just gone on, Vitruvion angrily keeping her close and forcing her to follow him everywhere he went like a dog?

It was too late to ask those questions now. Shuffling of feet was sounding and people were beginning to steadily move forwards. Her retinue, her over compensating protection.

Stare twisted back around, and began to walk, hugging the cloak around herself as silently their exodus began their way from the Hollow.

[Stare]

Most definitely the god, her god, had chosen his timing correctly. The corridor that led to the surface was more or less empty. No brothers dragging their stolen women or guards peering to see the rogue kenku who had now risen in hierarchy above all of them, yet still was somehow trapped.

They walked in silence. More guards joined them on their excursion and Stare became more rigid as they reached the end of it - to the door where the large mess hall was. She squared her shoulders, twisted her hand around the hilt of her dagger and became fully intent on marching past them without any reaction.

There were fewer guards then normal in the hall, but some nevertheless. Some of them turned their way, raising eyebrows to the large company that was entering. A couple of them gawped at Stare like idiots before Vitruvion growled.

Hurriedly they looked away and Stare knew she was going to have to add that to her list of requests. To let her fight her own battles. Treat her with respect and send her on missions as he had before, by herself. Indeed, his sister had just gone missing, and she had been lying in self pity for some long days, but that did not mean she was pathetic. The kenku walked faster, folding her arms tightly over her chest and there was a need for a general picking up of the pace.

Eventually the front door came into view. Stare perked up, excitedly for the desire to simply see the outside. Eyes darting around she began to take in the dream of the outside world, that she had partly refused to see herself, then been refused to see by others. Slowly, she stepped into the dusklight, her lungs filling with the crisp, cold air. Her entire stance relaxed, her eyes took in the buildings, the street and the world beyond and suddenly … things were good again.

She began to walk, turning around as if to head for the stables hidden behind the side of the Guard House. But a voice disagreed.

“Walking,” he said, and for the briefest moment touched her shoulder. Her body spun in surprise of it. Already he was taking steps, and gesturing ahead. “Come.”

She looked at him a moment, breathing in long and gradual. He tilted his head back to her, raising a brow.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she grunted, though was sorely disappointed in being told where she was to go.

Vitruvion watched her for a moment as she started towards him. A couple of times he blinked, but he did not answer her, rolling back his shoulders and beginning to walk.

-+-

For some long hours they walked, the sun setting around them, the world quietly becoming a still life. The guards separated from them, merging into the streets and alleyways surrounding, keeping a respectful distance away, but still there. More than once Stare caught sight of one of them, passing across the width of a perpendicular avenue, as she crossed, and sometimes shadows flickered at the tops of buildings. Her pace, however, was set to that of Vitruvion, who walked ahead at a reasonable pace, forging a path through this night time city, the two of them as ghosts confined to a plane of existence.

She kept quiet, simply enjoying the silence and stillness for what it was. Not getting tired easily, she kept going after him, although sometimes they paused as he reached a crossroad with indecision. Keeping her eyes mostly on the ground or at his back Stare felt the metaphor similar to her own situation - being at the crux of unknown futures. Indeed, she could probably try to get away now, simply stopping and falling behind, or ducking into a nearby doorway. She did not have her marbles - in fact she wasn't sure where they were at all currently, having not seen them after her return from the theatre. After she had slumped and eventually fallen asleep she had woken without any of her weapons either on her.

But the fact she had once used them already to escape from Vitruvion's obsessive 'protection’ was somewhat understandable. Justifiable was something else, but with his controlling personality it was going to take a rather extreme amount of negotiation to gain them back. To persuade him that she was better with them.

It made her decision to try to make a deal with him all the more attractive. Without the conversation, where would she be? Stuck, doing this silence for days, weeks, months on end? Practically a prisoner, although in some terms free, and nowhere near what she had been once. What could she honestly offer him though, that he would agree with for all of the benefits and changes that she desired? Her agreement to stay with him? That was already a given, surely. He had said, quite plainly in answer to her question that he would never let her go. So what else? A willingness to stay perhaps, a guarantee that she would no longer complain, no longer fight his authority. Because he was her god, she had to remind herself of that.

What else? What did he actually want from her that she was willing to give? Intimacy was definitely out of the question for her - she was going to remain adamant on that front. Perhaps, if she offered her fealty, as Raevin once had? Was that really something she wanted to do? Swear her allegiance to him? Well, wasn't she loyal to him anyway?

The problem was, there was a list twice as tall as her of things she wanted, but there was very little she could think of that she could offer him. Certainly, he could have some suggestions of his own - that she was open to. Maybe he would surprise her, and ask for some odd guarantee, like a promise or a favour, saved for later. What did he actually want? Well her, for one, and her safety. He wanted his kingdom, his power. He wanted his sister back. He wanted Raevin well, and he wanted security. Stare did not know how to find a way to give many of those things. For instance, finding him power … was that even possible?

It was, simply by her staying with him. She made him stronger, that had become clear from one of the initial months of when she had first demonstrated her magic. And now - now she had wings, had speed, had an ability to stare and cause a plethora of negative effects on people. All the world was hers, could be for the taking.

[Stare]

It got colder into the dark, as night settled around them. Still they walked, onwards through the empty streets that had never been filled, in the wake after the Corpse War. Some areas of the city of course were alive, such as the centre and the residential area, but those they seemed to try to avoid.

Or were going to. Around the early hours of the morning Vitruvion seemed to realise that she might be hungry, or thirsty. He headed into an area with a few shops, that were all closed, but also a pub, with a large area of window to give a view of the interior. As they got there, he gave it a once over, then paused and looked back to her, questioningly. Slightly, she nodded, drawing her cloak around herself.

Straightening, the god became tall and keen and sauntered into the pub, head held high. Stare was left by herself in the street, with the laughter of those who were still enjoying life into these small hours. She saw a flicker from a shadow, and a great hulking figure detached himself from it. Brer stepped into the light of the lanterns that brightened this small lively street, and then stopped beneath, lurking and downlit so his features were exaggerated to look drawn and horrifying.

It made Stare internally laugh, though, when one considered the giant's gentle nature. He was there to make her know there she knew someone was watching, a sort of attempt at comfort.

This, she took in, but she also knew it was partly so that because Vitruvion was gone presently, someone was able to directly watch her. Watch what the world was like around her. Rolling her eyes slightly she looked back to the pub, counting the frames in her head of the individual panels that were in a patchwork style. There were twenty of the small squares that made up the whole, with some of them warped with circular or bumpier patterns. Through them, however, a rough view of the interior could be seen, and the tall, white haired man who waited at the bar in a manner he never usually would do. Normally someone else, like her, would be standing for him. Slowly she took some places forwards as she took in the quite ordinary scene and wished her life were that normal.

There was a sudden shout. She saw various people twist around towards the door. Then there was a louder yell, and someone crashed through the door at the same time a sudden dark shape came towards the window The tiny wooden barriers holding the glass panels in could not stand for the sudden dwarf that was being thrown through, and suddenly -

She was shoved over by the same man who was running from the door. Cursing, Stare slammed into the ground backwards. The thrown dwarf landed near her head, rolling for a couple of moments before he stopped. Stare looked from him, and up, to see the one who had pushed her over standing and staring into the pub. Hissing darkly she began to stand, letting a string of kenku annoyances coming to her beak before -

Thwunk. The sound of a crossbow bolt being released. Now Stare was the one pushing the man to the side, aiming to knock him out of the way as she lifted her eyes to see where the bolt was darting -

A split second was all she got. A thick line heading right for her skull. Quickly, she sucked in breath, knowing it was still impossible for Brer to get to her, or for her to duck already, even with her speed. It was so few microseconds until it hit her breast and she began to twist, as the shoulder would be better, when -

Nothing happened. Stare blinked, confused, as no pain exploded in her upper arm, her collar or anywhere similar. Instead there was now a second figure looming over her, this one pale and gaunt-looking, holding the bolt in two fingers, like he had just plucked it straight from the air.

Like he of course had actually done.

She sighed, as he stared daggers at her - a meaningful 'I told you so,’ look in his eyes. There was a secondary series of small thunks, and both of them looked over to see a man reloading the crossbow. Stare didn't pause. Immediately she summoned up an image of horror - the realisation that her brother had just killed her, this time - and shoved those emotions through her eyes at the man's wrist. He let out a vivid scream, and she used her current fury to drive her to look to his eyes. Dropping the unloaded crossbow he used his good hand to begin clutching at his face, crying, “I can't see! I can't … see!”

Vitruvion paused before he extended a free hand to start pushing apart the feathers at her shoulder. Stare leant out of the way.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. An eyebrow rose at her. “Honestly,” she stared at him flatly.

Vitruvion curled his lip as he snapped the bolt into two. There was a hissing sound as it disintegrated from the bottom up, falling to dust in his hand.

There was a stunned silence. From all within and outwith the pub. Aside from a single whimper coming from beneath them - the man the crossbow had been aimed at. “I'm sorry,” he mumbled, “please don't.”

Stare huffed, then took a step back and began to stalk away, back in the direction of Brer. She did not pause or look back to see if Vitruvion exacted any vengeance on those who had enacted the violence - in all honesty she did not care. It was his personality, his way. Dutifully, she had done her part, told him she was well, and that was all there was to it, as far as she was concerned. Still fuming, she began to walk right away, the half-giant in her shadow.

It was several minutes before Vitruvion caught up with her. This time he walked beside her, though still a full person's width away. Silence fell between them, the guards merged back into the darkness and all was as it was before.

[Stare]

Early dawn came, the first light of the new day - day eight - whispering over the tops of trees and heralding life. Flowers began to open, extending their petals wide, stalks of grass drew upright, like soldiers, and the various early morning merchants - bakers, deliverers and the like - began to shuffle in the streets. Vitruvion steered them at this point towards the emptier parts of the city - the outskirts - and Stare let him, thoughts riddling her mind.

The fact he had quite literally plucked a bolt from the air that she could not stop. The fact he had made his primary concern her health. The fact he had forgotten the food.

But hunger wasn't her priority. He life was. And Stare kept running over and over in her mind over what had actually happened, why it had happened, what good it had brought her. Her life was - what? Hers? Or was it his? What did she want now? How much freedom was he willing to give her now that he owned her body and mind? She knew she had to be adamant in her thoughts of non intimacy right from the beginning.

Vitruvion was ahead by a few paces. Currently he was angling down a street where the buildings had no doors or windows. Instead empty lintels held buildings that had either never been completed, or had all their glass stolen. Through them was emptiness, and Stare thought of the cage she was in, and the bars she would begin to construct for herself.

She sighed. “I … I need to speak,” she said quietly, her voice barely steady with the thousands of emotions wrecking her body.

For a long time now they had been walking in silence, the steady breeze of the afternoon all the sound they needed, and so her voice was a riot in the peace. The god drew to a halt, back as rigid as it had been when they had begun this walk, back when the dawnlight had been darkness. Stare slowed with him, her heart thumping in her small chest like it would break free any seconds and cause havoc, ricocheting through the streets and back to the ten or so guards who outwith hearing distance, but ultimately followed them.

“Vitruvion?” she said determinedly.

He did not turn. He simply acknowledged her. “Yes.”

It was an invitation if there ever was one. The kenku swallowed, her eyes following the waves of his pure white hair and the build of his person. They studied how he was perfectly pieced together, what divine magics had made him, and the proud way that he held himself. Still held himself, after all that he had been through, all he had done.

“Vitruvion, I want you listen,” Stare kept gazing at the back of the man whom she now knew had deeper feelings for her than he would ever confess. Than he wanted to admit. That she wanted him to admit.

He did not move. Instead he remained as statuesque as he had been, upright and strong. Baring his back to whatever words were to come from her mouth.

“Vitruvion, you ruined my life,” she told him. “You stole everything from me. My freedom, my virginity, my future, all of my dreams. You had me kidnapped, you abused and raped me like I was one other worthless mortal to be despised. One other being who you had to misuse, all because you thought that was your right. Your purpose. You took me from what little home I had, changed my name and identity, enslaved me - actually made me belong to you with no preset conditions. You stole the freedom of my mind, took my mortality, made me yours in every respect.”

Her voice was hot, full of anger and burning. Her eyes blazed into the back of him, and if he was not immune to her abilities he would be screaming, huddling on the floor, worse than the man at the pub - because right now she was willing it.

Instead, though, he remained still, a frozen form that was listening but not reacting to her bitter words. Not that she would see anyway.

“I should hate you. With every fibre of my being I should despise and want you dead. Even though you're the son of the being who created my race, I should utterly be disgusted whenever I am in your presence. I should be far away by now, have run a long time ago and never looked back, I should have-”

“Stare!” he interjected, whispering in a low, haunting voice. Immediately she broke off, sucking in her breath and glaring at his back. Slowly, he began to move, his shoulders lifting up and down as he exhaled a great sigh. “Stare … I … I cannot let you go. Yes, you should have run from me, a being who did all those things to you, but I cannot let you go. The very core of my being forbids it, letting you be elsewhere that is not under my protection, letting you stray somewhere that someone else could harm you, I cannot let that happen, for …”

For he could not bare to see her go. He could see her hate him, spit at him, not want him near her but he could not see her die. To not have her was to be with death, and he was a god. Immortal, potentially invulnerable, responsible for everything he claimed protection over and she was it for him. The centre of his divine concentration.

[Stare]

“I know,” she said gently. “I know,” she breathed out, her eyes sliding to the floor.

“I told you once, and I will tell you again,” his voice rumbled, filled with agony. “If I have to I will keep you with me, no matter how reluctant you become. If you come to despise me, then there is a solution. The first home I ever owned here is a tall house, on the edge of a cliff. I would keep you there, where you would not have to see me, but I could know you were safe. But still I would know where you are. You are mine, Stare. Nobody else's.”

“So you don't regret it?” she said, now pain and sorrow coming into her voice. “Taking my life from me? Making me … this?”

His head tilted around. The white hair wavered as he twisted at the shoulder, the stern line of his jaw coupled with the smooth curve of that nose and the corner of a single ice blue eye that bore into her black ones with an intensity that told her that he was listening. That he did care about this conversation. That he did care about everything.

“I regret what you had to endure for it,” he quietly replied. “That I have hurt you. That I am … hurting you. But you have to know that I cannot - I -” he twisted back around, his expression twisting into something macabre. “Fuck this darn world,” he cursed, “These people in it. You want to never see me again? Fine. I'll make it that you do not, I'll send you to that house. But there is danger out there, Stare, a far greater danger than there ever has been before and I - cannot see you get hurt again. Not by me. Not by him. Not by anyone!”

And he threw himself all of a sudden. His ringed fist rose, glinting with power and wonder as it flew. In a split second he went from calm to a swift, his hand colliding with the wall of the empty building closest to him.

[B]Wham.[/I] There was a mist of dust. Tiny hurricanes twisted into the air, rising on unseen currents with a rain of brickwork splinters. Stare jumped as the god gouged out a heavy portion of the wall, the stone crumbling like powder as his divine strength slammed against it. But she remained quiet and as the mist cleared, slowly but easily, the brown dust falling to the ground she could see him remaining there. Arm extended, elbow high and fist still shoved into the wall. His face was a contorted mess of frustration, angry at himself, angry at his world, angry at what his father had done to him, and how he had treated her even as time had gone on and he had learnt more about what she meant to him, what she could do for his life, how she was bringing him closer and closer to the god he could honestly be …

“Fucking shit,” he whispered as he stared.

And in that moment Stare felt pity for him. Or, she had always felt pity for him, knowing what he had been through in his own life, all of it out with his control. He was her rapist, her enslaver, the one creature she truly blamed for all that was wrong in her life, yet - yet.

As he began to shake, she took a step forwards. And, as slow as a bear first emerging from its winter hide, she extended her hand forwards, her clawed fingers twisted and black, as black as he had made her or as black as perhaps she had always been, and he had merely found that side of her. Carefully she stretched and touched his shoulder, fingers shaking as their flesh met.

“Vitruvion?” she whispered.

And his eyes slid closed. He moved, head coming forwards to meet his fist and pressing his temples against the cold, broken stone. A god, but broken, hating what he had done to her, not able to forgive himself yet still unable to give her up.

“Vitruvion, “ she breathed slow as she came closer. “My lord, I'm not going to ever truly be happy, but I -” she tightened her grip around his shoulder, swallowing for what she was about to say. “I … I want to make a deal.”

Confused, and alert, his eyes sparked open. Now his sorrow and anger was quickly gone and he turned to look at her directly, brow coming low over his eyes with deep concern.
“A deal?” he asked, unsure, not hiding his disgust and distrust at the idea. “Stare, this is about you and I, not-”

“Will you please let me speak?”

[Stare]

His expression darkened and narrowed his eyes slightly. Still he hated being talked to in that manner but he was pausing, letting her talk in a way he would never have done pre-discovery of their divine connection. The god huffed, straightening slightly and looking at her with a disgruntled irritation.

Stare felt her heart hammer as she looked at the man who had stolen everything from her, and prepared to negotiate him for the remainder of her existence. She dropped her hand from his shoulder and neatened her wings beneath her cloak.

“I … I will stay with you Vitruvion,” the words slipped through her beak with deliberation, each one a century of meaning. “Willingly and without protestation. I will stop fighting, stop blaming you for every little thing. I will put my trust in you, give you my loyalty if you want it … my fealty if you're that arrogant.”

The words fell from her beak like drops of snow, gentle but able to cause an avalanche.

Vitruvion breathed in slowly, not betraying any thoughts on his face, as it became a mask of neutrality. He blinked, the azure eyes disappearing for just a single second. It was a few seconds before he answered. “And what do you want in return?” he asked quietly.

Stare swallowed. “I … know you want more from me,” she murmured, her eyes slipping from his to look at her hand on his shoulder. Letting it slide off she kept talking. “But I cannot give you it all. For reasons you have to understand I - I do not want to be intimate ever again with you, Vitruvion. I also want to ask that you - you free me for Ansaldo's sake. I will be yours in loyalty, but I ask not in property.”

He looked at her a moment, eyes narrowing. “The latter …”

“Please,” she said desperately. “Just think about it.”

There was a look of disgruntlement on his face but he nodded slightly.

She let out a sigh of relief. It was the best she had gotten in a while. “That, and I want to know the plans you have for me, I want to know if you wish to … turn me into a crow or whatever. I want to have a say in my life. But I will take into consideration what you have for me and my future, and stay with you.”

“Into consideration?” he replied, and her gaze darted up again. His eyebrow arching slightly, but in his eyes she could see intensity, as if he was delighted in what she spoke of, what she was proposing.

“Vitruvion, I don't want to be simply told what I am doing with my life. For the majority of things, such as if we moved city, if you decided to have a child,” his other brow shot up, “if you … decided to wage war on an entire civilisation - those you could tell me the minute before it occurs. But if they concern me directly, for instance you wanted me to marry, those are times I will-”

Suddenly Vitruvion leant forwards, cutting off her words with surprise. His arm that had previously been battering on the wall slipped down and wrapped around her waist, carefully curling around her wings. Stare's eyes widened as he grabbed her and then hoisted her into the air, pulling her easily up so that her head was level with his, as her back wing pressed into his side. His eyes were still dark but she saw upon his lips the faintest flicker of a smile. Easily he switched his grip so that he was embracing her but also holding under her legs. Then, quite elegantly, he twisted around, moving his eyes away from her face and continued down the way they had been headed, except now with her fully in tow.

“Vitruvion, I have not even finished,” she said, trying to shove at his arm.

“I agree to the majority,” he said simply. “You should know, however, that you will never marry.”

“That is precisely one of the situations that concern myself that I am asking that we discuss!” she stressed. As she struggled she found herself unstable and her more free wing began to flop. Quickly he adjusted his hold to take her spare wing into account, pinning it to her back as she gripped into his shirt. It was not that she was comfortable with his holding her so, but that she had more pressing matters to discuss, than his apparent dismissal of the entire negotiation.

“Fine,” he replied, dryly, coming to a halt. He lowered his arm, letting her drop to the floor, but kept a hand on her shoulder. Looking at her right in the eyes he spoke. “Do you agree, that given the circumstances, having stated what has been said, that you marrying would be entirely inappropriate?”

Stare growled. “At the moment, yes, but-”

“And romantic relationships,” he went on, “How about them?”

He had once ordered her never to have one. Now, he was doing little more than that, presenting her with information that showed just exactly how less of a possibility they were now. Not that she was entirely interested in them - there was something in her growing that she did not need romance in her life in order to continue. Even having intercourse with anyone would cause complications to a degree that neither of them were willing to discuss. Quite simply, Stare had seemingly won her side with a lack of intimacy between herself and Vitruvion, and she was currently satisfied to leave her sexual experiences entirely in the past. Her eyes dropped down. So, this was going to be one of his points of negotiation.

“I … do not need them,” she honestly said, “I did not need them even when you forbade me from them. I agree to them not being a part of my life.”

“Good,” and he tugged her to him, sweeping an arm down to take her up once more. She rolled her eyes, but this time gripped onto his shoulder as she felt a confidence come into his stride. His paces lengthened, his breathing seemed to ease, and his shoulders relaxed. Eyes dropping down she saw his fingers clutching around just behind her knees, holding her steady against himself, and she huffed a little as he murmured.

“Willingly mine, Stare,” he said, “that is what you said.”

[Stare]

“Public displays of … this does concern me,” she replied, letting the dislike coming into her voice. “And so, this should be discussed.”

“A negotiation works both ways.” he tightened his jaw, and she could feel the tension in his body, “This is one of mine.”

“They also take time,” she hissed, “this is precisely the sort of thing that I wanted to talk about before you just-”

They moved around a corner. Stare cut off as Vitruvion, possibly deliberately, turned them right into the path of Zulon. The guard’s breath rushed out of his chest, and drew to a halt, automatically pulling himself up sharper.

“Sir,” he said quickly, “This was not deliberate, I ordered the men to remain a respectful distance.”

Vitruvion shook his head slightly, the gentleness of a smile coming to his lips. Shifting his arm he lifted Stare higher onto his body, causing her already shocked and frozen form to need to lean back against his shoulder. “It is likely time we should be heading back. Would you inform the men that there is a change of direction?”

Zulon blinked a few times, his brows rising as he glanced up to Stare. As dumbfounded as she she looked first from him to Vitruvion and began to open her beak, but the god let out a light laugh. She could hear the joyous being of his heart through his skin, suddenly aware that this was exactly what he had wanted for months. To bear her, to hold her without her struggling and moaning, and though it had been forced Stare had not immediately fought against it. Rather, she had anchored herself better, and somewhat settled now into his hold as he carried her past Zulon, his acting captain of the guard …

His request, he had called it. His desire. The closest he could get to intimately touching her, bestowing her with sweet kisses, and ultimately having her body. Public displays of affection. Willingly his, to an extent. Stare had a choice in that moment, a single chance to choose how her future life would be. As Vitruvion started up the pace again, heading right past Zulon, Stare saw her existence before her, now eternally accepting that she was going to be with him. And she could spend it bitter and resented, refusing every each touch that he longed to give her or - or -

Make it easier. Act in the way that she had fought against and that she had forced behind doors, every time Vitruvion crept into her bed at night, every time he had held her close, every time he had had devotedly stroked her feathers. Devoted, not possessive. Or both? A positive possession? Caring, to the point that she had felt claustrophobic, but that was the point of this negotiation, to explain those parts of her life where she felt Vitruvion was smothering her freedom as a suffocation rag.

“Well?” he whispered to her, in his now warmer, curious voice, quiet enough for only her to hear.

Steadily she breathed, her head twisting around to watch Zulon over Vitruvion’s shoulder. The guard stood, brows raised, watching in awe as around him soft snow began to fall from the sky. Cold, but small and harmless it floated down from the heavens and came to rest on the end of his nose and her beak as Vitruvion’s paces carried her further and further away. Away from an old life that had been full of unspoken anger, now into one that she had committed herself to - only with words but it made all the difference now that she had said, that she was submitting entirely into the act of an eternity at his side. Not fighting it anymore, not resisting but rather accepting, and open and at a form of understanding better than she had had not one hour ago.

A world before her. A thousand lifetimes. Living with her god, in a better future with a confirmation that she would be aware of what was to come when she was concerned - nothing like the shock of immortality coming to her again.

Deep her breast her heart continued to throb. But Stare had already made up her mind. Perhaps she had done it long ago, but really now it came to bud, as she sighed finally, and twisted away from Zulon. Sweeping her arm over his shoulder she allowed the man who had ruined her life to carry her. And she forced herself to relax, sighing out a last breath.

“You ruined my life,” she whispered to him.

“Yes I did,” he murmured back, the smile fading from his lips but his hold around her tightening. “But hurting you again is not upon my agenda.”

“Just leave it a couple of hundred years,” she muttered, yet she settled down more, realising that trying to explain her situation now to Nosdyn, Nevin, McKinley and all other friends was going to be interesting. No, she was still not going out with Vitruvion.

They got to the edge of a main road. A rumble told of a carriage coming, and as they waited, Stare could peer over the edge of her arm to see two armed men stepping around corners, their hair sprinkled lightly with the falling snow. It was dotted over her feathers already, starkly contrasting to the dark and she blinked slowly, watching as they paused, similarly to Zulon raising brows. Stare tensed, knowing that this was just the beginning; that the next few days were going to be full of questions, glares, confusion. Blaze was going to be inconsolable, and Sable perhaps more sane. The kenku’s breathing began to accelerate as the man who bore her squared himself, twisting slightly to nod back at the guards.

[Stare]

No words. Two fine horses pulling a carriage rumbled loudly past, causing Stare to sit upright in alarm. Vitruvion steadied her easily, before raising his other arm, and pressed against her shoulder to hold her still as he picked up his feet and headed over the road.

My agreeing to stay with you willingly was not … meant to provoke this.

He quickened his pace to avoid a rider on a grey stallion charging down the road. As I said, Stare, he replied also in the mind, the privacy of it more suitable now. 'This’ is my request. You know - he broke off, and she could feel the pride that ruled him begging him not to continue.

I know, she answered. I never thought it would be so public.

As per your other term, I will not … touch you … like that. His words came out as a growling stutter.

There are others, she growled, Other things I want to say. Not at the very least to get some clarity on what he meant by 'thinking about’ freeing her.

And we will discuss them, he replied. Compromise, but for the most part, we have an agreement.

Stare blinked twice, her eyes wondering over the sliver of his face that she could see from her position. There was a sincerity that she saw in his eyes, a sternness in his jaw that she knew immediately she could trust.

She glanced back over his shoulder, watching as more guards joined their rear, stepping out from the gloom and the early morning snow that they had hidden themselves in as she and Vitruvion had begun their long, nighttime walk. Now, they were gathering, coming out of silence to gaze at what had precisely become of their employer and his favourite.

Finally she saw Brer come around the corner, and the half giant paused for a moment before throwing her a rare smile. She sucked in her breath quickly, sitting up, taller - and Vitruvion played on it. He looked back to see the collection of his employees, surveying them with a general sweep of his eyes before he smiled. Stare saw in that moment genuine pleasure and happiness, a rare sight for a man who had been through so much. And for her - an honest moment of bliss was beyond her much of the time, because of what she had been through and what she had seen. Because of what he had done, but other things also. Her whole family dying, her brother killing her. He had made her with the same hardened heart he had, and now she had decided to devote her life to giving up fighting, to working with him. Indeed, she would have remained in some close proximity to him, fighting for every chance of freedom she could - but this way … there was far more patience and kindness and hope. And the tall house he had mentioned - she doubted it would feel like she was a princess, locked away in a tower. Indeed, the fact that he had not misused Blaze and Sable for the past three months gave Stare some hope - although it could not excuse their ruined lives. With her own willingness to a fairer future with him, Stare honestly hoped that the two girls would now never need to suffer again.

Vitruvion could always use prostitutes.

[Stare]

He shifted with her thoughts. Beneath her he took in a laborious breath before focusing back before them. His grip around her, still with both hands, became more determined. Angling down a further street he quickened his pace, twisting around corners as finally the appearance of all ten guards became apparent. Stare own pulsed raced, knowing now that it was far too late to change her mind in all of this - that word of how he had carried her would spread and any rumours that had been as whispers would be confirmed. It was a life she was going to have to face, and a life he had stated as his part in the agreement.

There before them was the guard house. Old and lonely as the only used building for three blocks, yet bustling with enthusiasm as morning began. Stare mumbled as Vitruvion started towards the door, his stance rigid and full of purpose.

“Please let me down here.” Her voice was barely audible.

“You do not trust me now to carry you down stairs?” he replied, the happiness lingering in his tone.

She stiffened as she stared at the building coming towards them, and the people it bore. “It is not about that, it is -” she stopped though, as his hand carrying her released her. Loosening her hold around his shoulders she slid down to the ground as he allowed her to, never missing a pace in his step.

And then she was walking beside him, her breath fast, and her eyes blinking fast, as the world in which they now lived came to more of a realisation to her. Vitruvion's guards came into place behind them, and the god bore himself proudly. As they approached the door, polite nods came from those exiting and entering. Stare was filled with the knowledge that her decision was suddenly permanent, that this was it, this was her life. As they came to the door, Vitruvion took a pace to the side at just the right moment so that she angled in.

She paused only briefly, confusion hitting her but understanding quickly. Easily he moved in behind her as she took the lead, heading through the only route that she really knew in this place, down into the depths of the building and towards the Hollow.

Silence was between all twelve individuals as they made their way through the doors, stairs and rooms. Stare imagined that those who were with them made up a large part of the guards who lived in the Hollow anyway, under Vitruvion's command. Naturally there would be some currently holding the doors secure at both Blaze’s and Sable's rooms, but beyond that … of the little she knew of the mercenaries Vitruvion employed, the majority of them had followed them into town.
It showed something of his obsession to keep her safe.

“We're headed to the antechamber,” he murmured behind her.

Simply she blinked, and did not argue. She pushed open the various doors, ignoring as best as she could the various accoutrements. Her rear claws clicked softly on the ground as she gained to the room of soft furnishings and minimalist decoration; where she had been kept that past week. Her sofa was still chaotic, with its pile of cushions and abandoned blanket, and his pouch of papers was on a side table. She stopped close to the centre of the room, pausing by an armchair where she looked around her at the patterns in the fabric. There were sounds that followed her; the beats of feet and the mumbles of voices. They were not for her to hear, and likely did not concern her so she ignored them, instead wondering just to what extent she had allowed her life to change by saying a few simple words.

She remained as she was until a louder voice spoke up. “Zulon, if you could arrange for more mine and Stare's belongings to be brought here.”

Stare turned, her brow rising. “What?”