"Oh my god, I just said it wasn't your fault." Because that, obviously, must be why Ekkehardt is being such an ass about this (not that he isn't one usually). "But if she was being influenced by something else, it's not her fault either, is it? Something else is pulling the strings here! I may not be able to go back, but... but if I could just free her, then...!"
"I'm not worried about you blaming me," he says acerbically, crossing his arms. I'm worried about you.
"There's a little too much uncertainty involved in this plan for me to feel comfortable with you gallivanting off on your own," he continues. "And you'll waste all the work I've put into keeping you alive if you end up a nice little ice sculpture in a castle basement."
"So what, am I supposed to just leave her like that?" he snaps, hands balling into fists at his sides. "What if she's still conscious in there? What if she can't help herself? I can't just let her stay in that living hell!"
"And I suppose you're willing to risk life and limb to find if any of that is even true?" If it's a hell, Ekkehardt personally thinks that it's one she made herself - but, of course, he can't say that.
His voice comes out sharper than he meant it to; he doesn't quite know why that is.
Avery scoffs. "Of course! If it was someone you loved, wouldn't you do the same?"
She's not just some random guard or soldier or a stranger who turned on him without a second thought. She's not like the people he and Ekkehardt ran off and killed. He'd known her for so long, been with her, loved her, held her... There's no way she would do this of her own will.
"Well, I did, once," Ekkehardt says, and it's as if a wall has gone up between them. "And didn't that turn out well."
He crosses his arms, his eyes cold. "But if you'd like to play the hero once again, then I suppose I can't stop you." It's a harsh thing to say, he knows, but once again, he feels like he's been stabbed, and he hates it.
Avery returns that steely gaze with his own. "Of course that's what this is about," he growls. "I killed someone you cared about, so you're going to let someone I care about rot, right?"
He doesn't wait for an answer, turning on his heel to grab his sword and some supplies for travel. "Have fun wallowing in your own misery," he hisses at the wizard, and slips out the door.
Ekkehardt says nothing in return, watching him leave in silence.
Wrong, he thinks about saying, but what good would that do? The time for communication is past. If Avery wants so desperately to be a fool, then he's welcome to it.
He supposes, then, that he'll just have to get used to silence again. Not a pleasant prospect, he finds - to his discomfort - but he's not going to chase the man's trail and plead for him to come back.
He'll wait to hear from him, he supposes. For a while. If Avery doesn't show his face again, then perhaps he'll confirm where he went, and then that will be the end of it, one way or another.
By the time Avery gets to the castle he's battered and bruised, clothes stained with blood that isn't all his own. Word had spread, it seemed. Townspeople had fled the second they caught sight of him, soldiers stopping at nothing to capture their once proud hero dead or alive.
Lucky for him, he knew the streets like the back of his hand, and some of the people in the poorer sections of town seemed to remember a time not so long ago when he had actually helped their sorry hides.
And now... Now Vanessa stands before him, her guards dead by her own hand, felled the second they raised their blades against him.
"My prince..." she murmurs, and though her smile appears the same as he remembers, there's something about it that unsettles him. "You came back to me. I knew you wouldn't stay away forever."
His power is unsettled; lonely, even, and he wonders if he's merely assigning emotions to a creature that might not even have them, it's his own loneliness magnified, or if it truly is missing the piece of itself that grew into something else.
(He is lonely. The days are long, and while they're no longer grey, they're still wearying in a way they never used to be. He notices the silence far more than he used to.)
He supposes that if he doesn't go to check, he'll never hear the end of it, so he goes. At a certain point, it becomes much easier to pick up where Avery has gone; the bodies are a definite hint.
He doesn't know the lay of the land here, but his powers allow for a certain degree of stealth, if he uses them correctly. His progress is slower, but much less eyecatching (though he takes the opportunity to feed on a few hostile soldiers, just in case).
He spots Avery, and then raises his eyebrows as Vanessa cuts her own guards down. For now, he'll just watch and wait.
"You really do look different," Vanessa says after a moment, her smile fading away as she looks Avery over. "You've been doing something strange out there, haven't you? Is that why you ran away from me?"
Avery's brows knit together, mouth falling open as he shakes his head. "Ran away from... Vanessa--Ven--you don't remember? You threw me into the dungeons!"
Vanessa's face transforms into a mask of rage. "You CHEATED on me! What was I supposed to do after seeing you with that whore?!"
"What? No! I didn't even know that woman, much less ask her to do that!"
"LIAR!" A cold wind bursts from Vanessa's body, her eyes glowing a brilliant red as frost blooms across the stained glass of the throne room. The creature within blunts the harshness of the cold, but only just, and Avery fights to keep from shivering.
"And for one second I thought he might even have a chance," Ekkehardt sighs. He stands up, going from unobtrusive to eyecatching in one moment as he strides forth from his hiding spot in the throne room - no point striding into the very heart of the capital that had vexed him so without dusting off his old raiments, after all.
(He could probably have stitched up that conspicuous stab wound in the clothing, but after some deliberation he'd kept it as it was. If he had any vice, it was a weakness for theatrics.)
"It's been a while since I've laid eyes on you, your Majesty." His tone is mockingly polite. "But whatever is the matter? You don't look at all well."
The red in her eyes fades away as Ekkehardt comes into the room and she straightens, looking between her prince and the wicked wizard who stole her away.
Meanwhile, Avery can only gape at him like a fish, but soon he manages to find his voice. "What in the hell are you doing here?! Did you follow me?!" He wonders if he should be angry, but the only emotion going through his head is pure, dizzying confusion.
"I wanted to see what would happen," he explains, his tone mild, like it's pure self-interest rather than genuine worry (and it is worry) that drove him to track Avery down. "I admit, I half-thought you were going to be an ice sculpture by now. Imagine my surprise to find out that this is not the case..."
He glances around at the frost on the glass, and its source, and hmms loudly and thoughtfully.
"So you did take him away," Vanessa murmurs, frowning at Ekkehardt. "No... No, this is all wrong!" Her hands ball into fists and she stamps a heeled foot against the carpeted hardwood. "You're not supposed to be a villain!" she cries to Avery. "You're supposed to be my hero! My knight in shining armor! I can't be married to an evil king!"
"What?" Avery can only stare at her, body tense, mind gone blank.
Vanessa sighs heavily and seems to calm down, if only a little. "I understand that you want to make it up to me, my darling prince, and I'm flattered that you went this far for me. But won't you please leave the kidnapping to the wizard here? Then you can save me and we can clear up this awful, terrible misunderstanding!"
Now Ekkehardt is the one who is, if less obviously than Avery, confused about what's happening here. Really, the only one who seems to have any idea what's going on (in theory) is Vanessa.
"Well, it seemed a waste to let him freeze to death," he mutters, crossing his arms and glancing over at Avery, then back at Vanessa, in a sort of do you know what she's saying? sort of way.
Vanessa claps her hands together and smiles brightly. "See? I knew you enjoyed our game just as much as my prince as I did, Sir Wizard!"
Avery doesn't respond, doesn't avert his gaze from Vanessa, a dawning horror spreading across his features.
"If you'd like, I'm sure I can find something to help you out. What sort of power are you looking for this time? Oh! Maybe we can try and find something to help revive the Overlord!"
"I'm afraid I'm not looking for anything anymore," Ekkehardt says, letting the creature in him uncoil a little. He radiates heat, melting the ice around him. "So this arrangement you've seemingly made for all of us is at an end, at least on my part. I require nothing from you."
He tilts his head, fingers tightening on his crossed arms. "I came to see what's become of you, to see if your prince's hopes that you were simply cursed or otherwise misguided, supernaturally, were true. But, sadly, this appears not to be the case."
The creature within Avery twitches, either urging him to do something or simply reacting to Ekkehardt's own, but he barely registers the feeling. "It was all a lie," he murmurs, hands loosely at his sides. "You... I killed so many people for you. I fought for you. I wanted nothing more than to see you safe..."
His eyes sting, vision growing blurry as Vanessa faces Ekkehardt, hands on her hips in a huff. "Well then! If you're not going to, I'll just find someone else. There are plenty of would-be despots in the world who would be more than happy to help!"
She crosses the distance to Avery, her hands on his cheeks as she stares up at him with adoring eyes. "My wonderful, darling prince... Let's get rid of this man together, shall we? Then everything can go back to the way it was."
The world goes silent--a long, wretched, oppressive thing that stretches on for too long until it's broken by Avery's quiet "No."
To say Avery wasn't taking it well would be an understatement, he thinks. He can feel the pangs of sympathetic pain in an empty chest, a side-effect of the transferral (or, maybe, it's simpler than that, and he simply feels sorry for him).
He had fought hard, after all. As a hero, Avery was an opponent he had always respected. It gnaws at him that all that effort was for naught, on both their ends.
His power uncoils little by little, understanding that he needs it to be ready for whatever comes next. He can't imagine it will be any good.
"You don't want to be together anymore?" Vanessa presses Avery, verbally and physically, her nails digging lightly into his cheek.
Avery doesn't respond, can't even bring himself to look at her, and as Vanessa's features contort in fury, Avery hisses in pain as her hands turn unbearably cold.
"No," she hisses. "You're lying. I won't let you go. You're mine, my prince. MINE!"
"Well, I think that's our cue to leave," Ekkehardt says sharply, grabbing Avery's arm and bodily yanking him away from her, heat radiating from him as the beast uncoils, wary and ready. With or without Avery's permission, he's dragging the man out of the throne room as fast as he possibly can.
(Whatever power Vanessa has isn't the same as the one that lives in him, but the creature can taste it, the imminent signs of a howling blizzard, a crashing slide of snow. A disaster waiting to happen.)
"I'd thank you for the hospitality, your Majesty, but I'm sadly disinclined to thank you for anything at this point in time!"
Avery is tugged along, moving almost robotically even as the creature inside writhes, tries to push him to fight or flee or anything at all, sensing the danger building up so quickly around it.
Avery barely notices it.
(Nothing but an object to her. A trophy, a piece, a pawn. Never a hero, just a puppet dancing on the string to her tune. Does she really love him? Did she ever?
Why can't he say anything to her? Why can't he scream at her, rage and lash out, lay her low like the soldiers before?
What was it all for?
Why doesn't he hate her?)
Vanessa's hair whips around her in a non-existent wind, her teeth bared as she screams, the stained glass shattering into a thousand shards of color, wind and snow pouring through. From the open windows spreads a thick, shimmering coat of ice, and from the ground spikes shoot up from the tile, following in Ekkehardt's footsteps, careless of what or who they might impale on their way to their target.
"Move, you idiot!" Ekkehardt shoves Avery ahead of him - he doesn't have a life left to lose, so the ice that nips at his heels and catch and shred at his old robes hit mostly empty air. "Run! Do something, unless you're so intent on dying for love that you want this throne room to be your grave as well!"
He turns and lets loose another burst of heat, ice melting near-instantly into water. The creature turns and twists feverishly inside his ribcage, sensing danger near, wanting him to break free and bolt as he's done so many times before.
Avery gasps, head whipping around to look at Ekkehardt as he tries to regain his footing, the words sinking deep in his mind and rousing some semblance of self-preservation within him, even as it wars with his desire to save a woman he knows can't be saved.
In the end, the beast makes Avery's decision for him.
He shudders, practically folding in on himself as his consciousness begins to fade, taking a back seat to his companion's pure instinct and desire. Shadows pour like ink from his mouth and eyes, wrapping around his body, writhing as if alive.
Claw-tipped hands drag the mess of black out the door, the creature letting out an inhuman howl of pain as another assault of ice catches him in the side just before he escapes into the streets of the castle town.
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He doesn't know what then.
But it has to be better than this.
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"There's a little too much uncertainty involved in this plan for me to feel comfortable with you gallivanting off on your own," he continues. "And you'll waste all the work I've put into keeping you alive if you end up a nice little ice sculpture in a castle basement."
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His voice comes out sharper than he meant it to; he doesn't quite know why that is.
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She's not just some random guard or soldier or a stranger who turned on him without a second thought. She's not like the people he and Ekkehardt ran off and killed. He'd known her for so long, been with her, loved her, held her... There's no way she would do this of her own will.
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"Well, I did, once," Ekkehardt says, and it's as if a wall has gone up between them. "And didn't that turn out well."
He crosses his arms, his eyes cold. "But if you'd like to play the hero once again, then I suppose I can't stop you." It's a harsh thing to say, he knows, but once again, he feels like he's been stabbed, and he hates it.
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He doesn't wait for an answer, turning on his heel to grab his sword and some supplies for travel. "Have fun wallowing in your own misery," he hisses at the wizard, and slips out the door.
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Wrong, he thinks about saying, but what good would that do? The time for communication is past. If Avery wants so desperately to be a fool, then he's welcome to it.
He supposes, then, that he'll just have to get used to silence again. Not a pleasant prospect, he finds - to his discomfort - but he's not going to chase the man's trail and plead for him to come back.
He'll wait to hear from him, he supposes. For a while. If Avery doesn't show his face again, then perhaps he'll confirm where he went, and then that will be the end of it, one way or another.
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Lucky for him, he knew the streets like the back of his hand, and some of the people in the poorer sections of town seemed to remember a time not so long ago when he had actually helped their sorry hides.
And now... Now Vanessa stands before him, her guards dead by her own hand, felled the second they raised their blades against him.
"My prince..." she murmurs, and though her smile appears the same as he remembers, there's something about it that unsettles him. "You came back to me. I knew you wouldn't stay away forever."
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(He is lonely. The days are long, and while they're no longer grey, they're still wearying in a way they never used to be. He notices the silence far more than he used to.)
He supposes that if he doesn't go to check, he'll never hear the end of it, so he goes. At a certain point, it becomes much easier to pick up where Avery has gone; the bodies are a definite hint.
He doesn't know the lay of the land here, but his powers allow for a certain degree of stealth, if he uses them correctly. His progress is slower, but much less eyecatching (though he takes the opportunity to feed on a few hostile soldiers, just in case).
He spots Avery, and then raises his eyebrows as Vanessa cuts her own guards down. For now, he'll just watch and wait.
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Avery's brows knit together, mouth falling open as he shakes his head. "Ran away from... Vanessa--Ven--you don't remember? You threw me into the dungeons!"
Vanessa's face transforms into a mask of rage. "You CHEATED on me! What was I supposed to do after seeing you with that whore?!"
"What? No! I didn't even know that woman, much less ask her to do that!"
"LIAR!" A cold wind bursts from Vanessa's body, her eyes glowing a brilliant red as frost blooms across the stained glass of the throne room. The creature within blunts the harshness of the cold, but only just, and Avery fights to keep from shivering.
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(He could probably have stitched up that conspicuous stab wound in the clothing, but after some deliberation he'd kept it as it was. If he had any vice, it was a weakness for theatrics.)
"It's been a while since I've laid eyes on you, your Majesty." His tone is mockingly polite. "But whatever is the matter? You don't look at all well."
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Meanwhile, Avery can only gape at him like a fish, but soon he manages to find his voice. "What in the hell are you doing here?! Did you follow me?!" He wonders if he should be angry, but the only emotion going through his head is pure, dizzying confusion.
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He glances around at the frost on the glass, and its source, and hmms loudly and thoughtfully.
"Though perhaps I should say, not the case yet?"
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"What?" Avery can only stare at her, body tense, mind gone blank.
Vanessa sighs heavily and seems to calm down, if only a little. "I understand that you want to make it up to me, my darling prince, and I'm flattered that you went this far for me. But won't you please leave the kidnapping to the wizard here? Then you can save me and we can clear up this awful, terrible misunderstanding!"
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"Well, it seemed a waste to let him freeze to death," he mutters, crossing his arms and glancing over at Avery, then back at Vanessa, in a sort of do you know what she's saying? sort of way.
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Avery doesn't respond, doesn't avert his gaze from Vanessa, a dawning horror spreading across his features.
"If you'd like, I'm sure I can find something to help you out. What sort of power are you looking for this time? Oh! Maybe we can try and find something to help revive the Overlord!"
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He tilts his head, fingers tightening on his crossed arms. "I came to see what's become of you, to see if your prince's hopes that you were simply cursed or otherwise misguided, supernaturally, were true. But, sadly, this appears not to be the case."
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His eyes sting, vision growing blurry as Vanessa faces Ekkehardt, hands on her hips in a huff. "Well then! If you're not going to, I'll just find someone else. There are plenty of would-be despots in the world who would be more than happy to help!"
She crosses the distance to Avery, her hands on his cheeks as she stares up at him with adoring eyes. "My wonderful, darling prince... Let's get rid of this man together, shall we? Then everything can go back to the way it was."
The world goes silent--a long, wretched, oppressive thing that stretches on for too long until it's broken by Avery's quiet "No."
Vanessa's face goes blank. "What?"
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He had fought hard, after all. As a hero, Avery was an opponent he had always respected. It gnaws at him that all that effort was for naught, on both their ends.
His power uncoils little by little, understanding that he needs it to be ready for whatever comes next. He can't imagine it will be any good.
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Avery doesn't respond, can't even bring himself to look at her, and as Vanessa's features contort in fury, Avery hisses in pain as her hands turn unbearably cold.
"No," she hisses. "You're lying. I won't let you go. You're mine, my prince. MINE!"
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(Whatever power Vanessa has isn't the same as the one that lives in him, but the creature can taste it, the imminent signs of a howling blizzard, a crashing slide of snow. A disaster waiting to happen.)
"I'd thank you for the hospitality, your Majesty, but I'm sadly disinclined to thank you for anything at this point in time!"
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Avery barely notices it.
(Nothing but an object to her. A trophy, a piece, a pawn. Never a hero, just a puppet dancing on the string to her tune. Does she really love him? Did she ever?
Why can't he say anything to her? Why can't he scream at her, rage and lash out, lay her low like the soldiers before?
What was it all for?
Why doesn't he hate her?)
Vanessa's hair whips around her in a non-existent wind, her teeth bared as she screams, the stained glass shattering into a thousand shards of color, wind and snow pouring through. From the open windows spreads a thick, shimmering coat of ice, and from the ground spikes shoot up from the tile, following in Ekkehardt's footsteps, careless of what or who they might impale on their way to their target.
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He turns and lets loose another burst of heat, ice melting near-instantly into water. The creature turns and twists feverishly inside his ribcage, sensing danger near, wanting him to break free and bolt as he's done so many times before.
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In the end, the beast makes Avery's decision for him.
He shudders, practically folding in on himself as his consciousness begins to fade, taking a back seat to his companion's pure instinct and desire. Shadows pour like ink from his mouth and eyes, wrapping around his body, writhing as if alive.
Claw-tipped hands drag the mess of black out the door, the creature letting out an inhuman howl of pain as another assault of ice catches him in the side just before he escapes into the streets of the castle town.
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