Half a Man

It was getting frustrating. Dealing with Elgar'nan, being away from her children—she even missed the ones Magnus had insisted on adopting to use as decoys. Fuck, she regretted offering her skills to the Crown. How had she fallen back into that fucking trap, anyway? She'd just given up the throne. But every time she thought she was finally free of the responsibilities of the Crown, something came up. A mad man attacking citizens, taking half of the outskirts, ruining villages. 

So when she received an unsigned letter in familiar handwriting, she'd slipped out of the Eth headquarters. He knew these streets just as well as she. Fuck, she'd messed everything up. He'd just regained his memory a few days before she'd left for the Eth. She hadn't been sure what to expect from him; what he remembered of his time as that bard. His letter had instructed her to go somewhere just outside of Antiva City. Far enough from Eth headquarters to be... safe-ish. So she didn't think twice about going. 

Eularia would be a liar if she said she wasn't excited to see her husband. Even if that meant potentially facing his anger. She'd take his temper over cold silence any day. Her face was covered by a mask, cloak hood pulled over her head. She'd dressed down. Nobody would suspect a peasant protecting herself from inhaling the shit in the air these days. Antiva was rotting from the inside out, and she hated every second of it. Fucking Elves and their goddamn deities. She cursed as she stepped wrong, slipping across wet cobblestone. 

But she didn't hit the ground. Fingers curled around her wrist and righted her. Her lips pulled into a grin underneath her mask, and she slid the bandana down her face. A moment to glance around, sussing out whether the man she currently served was anywhere. It didn't seem like he'd followed her. So, without a second thought, she straightened and beamed at her husband. One hand reached for his face, the other pressed against his chest to back him back into the alley he'd stepped from. 

You can't be seen with me, Frankie. Her words were murmured. I'm supposed to hate every aspect of the Antivan monarchy, and fuck if that's not hard. Both men she loved were part of the goddamn Crown. So intertwined with it that she'd never escape; even to the little cottage that Magnus had purchased for them to raise their girls at. A lovely view. She wondered if the view was still so lovely, given everything she's heard about the undead spreading across Thedas.

No-one can catch a break. 

But it really feels like she can't catch her breath sometimes. 

Not at this moment, though. Because he doesn't look too upset, and she's smiling, and she's certain she sees a hint of a smile across his mouth too. I've missed you. How are the children? My boy's doing okay on the throne? She has enough respect for him not to ask about her girls with Magnus. She has enough respect not to bring Magnus up while she's with Francesco. That's the least she can do right now, given that she's not been able to see Magnus or her babies in weeks. 

---

tldr;; Eularia has slipped out of Eth HQ after receiving a letter from Frankie detailing a meeting spot just outside of Antiva City. It's far enough away from HQ that she feels safe going.

She's pushed Frankie against the wall of an alley, after he caught her from tripping.

It's been a few weeks since Frankie's memory's returned. She's not seen her family (either family) in weeks, and hasn't felt safe enough to even receive progress updates from Magnus or Aethra either. She has no idea what's been going on in Antiva City as they prepare for an invasion that's going too quickly.

She asks Frankie about their children only; she does not expect him to keep tabs on her daughters with Rhysand, and she won't bring Magnus up while she's with Francesco.

There was a state of confusion that one had hidden under the surface at all times. Showing anyone else the core of oneself was riddled with exposing one’s darkest fears to be used against them. Frankie had only begun to piece together the extent of the past year’s deception and deplorable plot against him and his family. He had strived so hard to maintain a balance all for it to be set ablaze in his forced absence. The Antiva he had loved and cherished had diminished in such a way he barely recognised it as something he held so dearly, changed as it was.

Along with a great deal more.

He had never entertained the thought of finding comfort in another other than his wife, but that is what had unfolded when devoid of the majority of his facilities. He did not, however, regret the difficulty he’d ensued unknowingly. Alfred was slipping in his old age. Disappointing. Still, he couldn’t avoid the overwhelming truth that much of what he clung to in stabilising a rational response had all but dissolved. Frankie merely couldn’t tell which end of the scale his emotional state resided, utter devastation, or understanding? Neither? Both? The only person who could help answer that was his wife.

Arranging a letter was easy, he had his own ways and connections to easily get the note to her. In the shadows of the old ruined chapel he’d waited out of sight and scent, watching her hurried approach. Slipping behind her in the darkness he’d catch her hand just as she’d trip, turning her with ease to right her up and into his firm embrace.

Eyes narrowed,[color=#c14700] “You are not my master. I will go and see who I damn well please.”[/color] His grip over her eased but they remained around her loosely. [color=#c14700]“So you have always claimed.”[/color] There was hurt laced in his voice but the line across his face did not curl.

The passage of time was cruel. To fall asleep knowing and believing so much to then wake up in a new reality would strain any sane mind. With Eularia gone, those behind had informed him of the various developments in his absence. The urge to flee had been so profound that only some stern words from Alfred and Aethra’s hand, somehow that small comforting gesture gave him strength to weather these new revelations.

[color=#c14700]“Our boys are fine. Adaria wished to send you a knife, but I dismissed that train of thought. It is a poor idea of a gift.”[/color] Out of them all, he was most concerned with their youngest. The rage in her eyes. [color=#c14700]“She’s… certainly inherited more of me, than you, my dear.” [/color]

Eularia scoffed, You're not dead yet, Francesco. And no matter what I've done while you were gone, I'd still rather you alive. If not for her, then for their children, for Aethra. She wasn't certain she had any claim to the man's heart. Just be careful. This... king doesn't like to share his toys. She murmured the words softly, dipping her head. The irony of the phrase did not escape her.

His next words were laced with hurt, insult to injury, no doubt. Though she does not address it. Addressing something she could not fix would do neither of them good. This meeting was to be brief, to end before Elgar'nan realized his gilded bird had escaped her cage without permission. Are you certain she didn't mean to place a hit on me? She inquired, raising her eyebrows. She's quite upset with me. I'm not sure that I blame her. The woman sighed, reaching to brush her fingers along her husband's cheek.

She's too young, I think, to understand. Though, the twins didn't seem to understand either. Her lips pursed. And as she fell silent, dark eyes wandered along his face. Taking in the familiar features. She's seen him angry, she's heard him yell, she's seen him manic and off the rails. But she's not quite certain what she's seeing in front of her at this moment. There's pain, because well, there'd always be pain. There's something else, though. Understanding? She's uncertain. They had no time to talk, before she'd disappeared at Enzo's request. To piece together what she could, earn trust where she might. 

You have a place in my heart, Frankie. You know that, right? Eularia vaguely found herself wondering how much Aethra had told Francesco; did he know that she had allowed guilt to riddle the majority of her relationship with Magnus? He must know about the Rhysand girls; Magnus and the children were close at hand, advising Enzino as needed, especially in Eularia's absence. And Magnus never let the girls too far out of sight. 

She wanted to figure out what her husband knew, what he didn't know. Shaking her head, she glanced around, searching their surroundings for just a moment.

But he had been. Perhaps not mortally, but in the majority of people's minds, he had ceased to be. The question of what may happen should the worse occur was now no longer uncertain, there was tangible proof now. What a fucking mess. In the whirlpool of emotion, he still could not help but lift her chin with an index finger. He had longed told her to never hang her head when she had done her best in the throes of grief and crisis. Even if it stung to listen to the foreignness of her tone. [color=#c14700]“Then he foolishly underestimates you.” [/color]

He watched her steel herself against his pain, a mere glimpse into the cavernous depths. Truly he felt adrift, detached and even with most of the pieces explained and given to him, Francesco could only see irrelevance. His efforts to steady himself lay linked in comforting who he could, namely his children. Though even that sparked difficulty. [color=#c14700]“I think her intention was for me to use it on you,”[/color] he awkwardly let out a chuckle, a hesitant shrug of his shoulders following. [color=#c14700]“... I’m afraid I’m a great disappointment to her. I find it difficult to understand why she reveres such a failure of a King.”[/color] His head dipping, Frankie offered his wife a small smile, eyes fluttering closed for a moment at the gentle caress of her fingertips.

[color=#c14700]“Emotionally, yes, she is young, but you underestimate how skilled she has become. You leave the boys to handle everything and give her nothing to do. Of course she is restless.”[/color] An idle mind was a dangerous thing. Influenced easily by more cunning minds. [color=#c14700]“The boys are older, more pragmatic and… do not suffer the same affliction, Addy and I do.”[/color] A harder line formed across his lips, adding, [color=#c14700]“You are right to worry.” [/color]

The storm waging in both his head and heart stilled as she spoke, proclaiming and yet asking him if he understood. Had she understood the man she had married? A place.[color=#c14700] “But never its entirety though, yes?” [/color]It wasn’t really a question. He knew it all. While Adaria was good on the details, she was a biased source. He had listened to every source that would gladly wag their tongue. Pulling her hand away from his cheek, his gaze found the wall behind her. [color=#c14700]“I often wondered what it would be like, being replaced that is. Not just as King, but as a husband and as a father.”[/color] To not only take his wife, but then begin advising his own son?

[color=#c14700]“It’s clear I underestimated Magnus’s ambition entirely.” [/color]

Eularia exhaled softly, as he lifted her chin, forced her to stand proud. Her breath trembled, and she murmured, I think... we may be underestimating him. I've seen things, and even the Crows would not do these things— Her voice trailed off, just a touch of fear that he would recognize. To anyone overhearing her, though, she sounded confident. The slight tremble to her voice was just that, slight enough that only those who had known her the longest would catch them.

And Francesco was one of two people that knew her best, maybe three people maximum. Just as he caught the way she steeled herself against his pain, he'd catch the anxiety that made her on edge. Dark eyes constantly searched the background of their location. They were a bit too near to the palace for her comfort, but perhaps this location was the safest, too... Far enough from the land Elgar'nan had claimed.

Eularia's lips pulled into a momentary smile, albeit weak-lived, the chuckle that left her was brief as well. Frankie, you don't need a knife to hurt me. He smiled softly, as he let himself get lost in a familiar caress, and she brushed her fingers across his mouth, tracing the smile.

Our little girl adores you, and just like her namesake, she believes you can do no wrong. She murmured the words, sighing quietly as he talked about Addy and how restless she was. I know. There was always a chance at least one of them would have it. She paused, studying the man in front of her.

There was so much on his mind; more than he was saying. You'll teach our girl how to handle the highs and lows, Frankie. She's trying to sound reassuring.

And as she tells him that he has a place in her heart, his response broke her heart. Her face fell, crumpling under the realization that her husband is pulling her hand away from his face. Rejecting her touch.

After a long moment of silence, waging with the guilt of the truth and the impossibility of a lie, Eularia spoke, her voice slightly hoarse: I... thought you were enough. For a really long time, I was too busy to want more. She cleared her throat.

Magnus only has a place in my heart, too, Frankie. It wasn't a case of loving one man more than the other, but rather, she felt as if she could not live without either of them since reconnecting with her old love. Since getting to experience life as a 'nobody', a simpler life that she had always yearned for.

You've not been replaced, you're still my husband. And she was still his wife. Dark eyes trail over his features, as she blinked back tears. Magnus advises Enzo because I asked him to keep him safe, while I'm not able to be there. You're home now, so there's no need for him to stay in the palace anymore. There's a frantic need for validation, for her husband to understand and acknowledge that he understands.

There were only two Crows fit to get on this man's good side, Frankie. It was me, or it was Aethra—she's more use to them, than I am. I've got the better lie. She heard what she was saying; but would he?

Oh what a tangled web she was weaving. 

He was disappointed to say the very least. He expected more from his little Antivan asp of a queen. Instead he was left insulted and underwhelmed. This was nothing new however, for the human condition lent quite nicely to failure. Even queens were replaceable as were the kings that stood beside them. Even so, he was still able to find some enjoyment in her betrayal by watching the physical embodiment of her lies live and breath. 

His instrument in this chaos was an unsuspecting mage with the answer to the Campana woes. She would restore his memory for the good of Antiva. After she played in her part of a Maker-sent miracle, she would join the legion of undead now roaming Thedas unchecked and unchallenged with a hivemind will hellbent on purging this land of the sickness that inhabited it. The sickness of humanity, it's petulance soon to cleanse by flame. 

So yes, he followed his gilded Crow when she thought to slip away unnoticed. He kept a distance large enough to avoid detection, his senses now attuned to her presence. All the while he attempted to quell the excitement buzzing the  nerves throughout the mortal shell he wore. Elgar'nan listened, a stoic calm consuming his features as he bided his time. The contention brewing between them was enough to satisfy his need for immediate gratification. Like an aperitif to whet his palate before the main event. 

Yes but it wasn't the lie you thought it was He crooned as he appeared around the corner before them, hands folded behind his back as he walked with a relaxed gait. Long live the King. May he remember only the best parts of his marriage. He didn't need to openly accuse her of anything because standing here now proved all she needed to know. Besides, I've already made use of your other Crow, she sang like a bird toward the end.A lie to be sure, but he was armed with information, intimate details he shouldn't know. 

When he stopped walking, he stood beside her, a hand reaching up to stroke her cheek. What a waste you were.

The cadence of her voice faltering, had his eyes narrow fractionally. The slight waver in her confidence was something he recognised clearly, causing his eyes to idly search the area around them.[color=#c14700] “You know very well my darkness, but to have you voice this…”[/color] he dare not finish, it would make little difference now.

There was a bittersweet taste to this reunion. He couldn’t quite understand his own feelings in these moments, allowing them to play out as the lovers conversed. There was a familiarity to the meaning behind her words. [color=#c14700]“Of that, I am perfectly aware,”[/color] blades were not the only weapons of destruction. Magic and action had driven them apart, stolen and locked away his very self.

[color=#c14700]“Adaria is more a Campana, than I ever will be.”[/color] He’d sigh, the slightest curl of a smile flickered into life.[color=#c14700] “My Mother thought there was plenty wrong with me, Eularia. It comes from a place of love.” [/color]

Ah love. Nothing had harmed his very soul more. If he reflected back it was something that had consumed and restrained him from some possible higher purpose. Attempting to rationalise it, remove emotion from the equation of events, had been difficult. Unusually he had been rather sullen and quiet, retreating to think, process and analyse the various threads and paths that had landed them here. This was why the two needed to meet. In the throes of confusion, experience had taught him that a rash response was never always conductive, especially when it had ever come to his wife.

Francesco would listen, though her words only had his gut twisting, churning with her response. With mention of Magnus, his muscles tensed, jaw clenched tight to avoid saying words he would, perhaps, regret later. It had taken nearly everything in him to not end the Crow when they’d finally come face to face.

[color=#c14700]“My wife? Really?”[/color] the bitterness he couldn’t hide, barely able to keep out the scoff in his laugh. [color=#c14700]“Truthfully I feel like a fool and though it’s a role I’ve played many times, this instance feels… bitterly cruel.”[/color] Every day of his life had been spent honing that skill to see through the acts of deception, the attempts to flatter and draw him in. Their courtship had been a difficult one, but he had believed it behind them, the vulnerable honesty and trust they shared unblemished.

[color=#c14700]“You seek to direct me into a role of adviser when my own sails are torn and shredded and my compass thrown into the depths of the sea!”[/color] His grip over her hand tightened some, though not enough to cause any harm. His emotions were not out of the realms of the King’s control. [color=#c14700]“I am adrift, Eularia.”[/color] He’d snap.[color=#c14700] “Without a horizon, without stars or maps to guide me. Even whole, as I am now, I have awoken to find I’m without an anchor. Do you honestly think I would do Enzo any good in this state?”[/color] He wasn’t in his right mind. No-one would be, but there wasn’t any respite from the endless piles of shit and vitriol that was being tossed left, right and centre. [color=#c14700]“You cut my anchor.” [/color]

A voice rang out, the body projecting it turning the corner was met with Frankie’s furiously dead eyed stare. Lips thinned into a hard line, but the dethroned King had little to say to the whippet’s retort and taunting jabs. Ignoring his words for bullshittery, Frankie instead snatched the man’s wrist, just shy of her face. [color=#c14700]“You’re interrupting something, and I don’t care who you are,”[/color] tugging him a distance away by the wrist, Frankie would discard the caught wrist with a flick. [color=#c14700]“She’s not a waste. You obviously don’t have the eyes to recognise exactly what she has.” [/color]

Eularia shook her head slowly, his outburst about being unable to guide their son when he could not even guide himself, was met by an outburst of her own. She didn't think, she did not tamp the words in her throat. Francesco! Have you ever thought, that maybe, it was too much to ask of one person? I have other things that guide me, but you, my love, you always looked to me. He's tightened his grip on her wrist, but it means nothing, he's never raised a hand to her.

You look at me like I am the moon, like I created the skies! Frankie, I'm just a woman. I'm, I'm not even an honest one. Did you ever, in all of our years chasing one another, stop to think that perhaps this pedestal you've created for me, is not something I deserve? You worship me, and I've never been certain that I deserve that reverence! The words fell from her lips like a river of poison, and yet she meant every word she spoke.

I'm just a wom— Her voice cut off, as fingers outstretched towards her face, and a voice hissed harsh words at her. Francesco grabbed the stranger's hand before she could stop him, and she curled her arms around herself, hugging herself. She felt like a small girl, ducking behind of her father's legs after she'd failed a training session—

Except there was no-one to hide behind now.

Fr... Frankie— Her voice felt as thought it was stuck, lodged, like she could not, dare not, speak the words she needed to say. Dark eyes are wide, fear fighting with the reality of the crumbling relationship in front of her.

And fear is winning.

For a minute, she is frozen in place, staring at the man. His glamour is up, but only one person would call her a waste; would talk about Aethra like that. Her teeth dig into her lower lip.

My Liege, he does not know who he speaks to. He's of no consequence—you're not here for him. She's quick to compose herself, as she moved to get between the two men. You shouldn't be bothered with those who are unimportant in the grand scheme of what you hope to accomplish, she's weaving words, desperately.

Biding his time certainly hadn't been for not for it allowed him insight into a relationship he was very much keen to unravel. He found a particular joy in observing humans in this way, organically and without pretense. When he was behind his glamour, few paid him mind. Whereas his true form often elicited terrific awe. Humans were not designed to see the truth, they were only capable of seeing the small arch around them, essentially what their unconscious mind wanted them to see, protecting them from an incomprehensible reality. 

It was only those he cherry picked, that he allowed to see past the glamour enough to do his bidding. He was rarely in his true form and for the simple fact that he actually needed his subjects coherent and not comatose with fear. What Eularia noticed was the very thing he put forth, a god in disguise. Seeing the realization consume her features was offered no small amount of entertainment. 

His movements were slow and precise, his body pliant and easily moved by Francesco. Too easily he allowed the former king to handle him harshly, all the while staring unblinkingly at the man. He didn't try and wrench free, he simply let his arm drop like dead weight when discarded. Their eyes caught for the briefest of moments and slowly, in the silence that followed, a smile stretched across his lips. Still he stood, his eyes preternaturally focused on the only one that mattered. 

Bold of you to assume my purpose, your highness. Because she wanted him to focus on her and forget what he'd seen. She was no doubt desperate. Focus still on Francesco unwaveringly, hands shoved into the folds of his quaint robes, he spoke again only this time with a darker cadence to his words. You lied to me Crow, after all I've given you. still his eyes locked on as if to see directly through the king to the other side. So now I think you will finally understand what a lifetime of lies will exact upon the liar.

 With a flash of his eyes, fire consumed him, engulfing his form, flames licking his skin and tossing his hair like an old friend. Quickly the fire blossomed, wild and real radiating around them and contained in a glamour. He stepped once towards Frankie and the man was trapped within a ring of gargantuan flame burning in unnatural colors. Occasionally flares would jump inward just shy of touching Francesco, as if the fire itself was an entity of independent volition, curious to know what it was about feast upon. 

Time to make an honest woman out of you yet. He smiled, a glint of morbid mischief in his eyes.

Anger licked behind his eyes. There was an untapped fury there, barely tethered and kept in check. [color=#c14700]“I looked to you, to gain an understanding. You were my wife, my Queen. I woke up, to find not only my life scattered to the wind but my own people suffering and you sent everyone else but yourself to tell me.” [/color]

[color=#c14700]“I set you up there so you may understand what you are more than capable of doing. You always sell yourself short in every way, doubt yourself too much when I know and have seen differently. Of course I’m going to worship you. I fucking love you.”[/color] As if such a thing was ridiculous when such affections were openly expressed.

[color=#c14700]“And I am just a man. What of it? Our sexes do not limit us. Our fear does, and I refuse to be afraid of loving you like I always have,”[/color] but things had gone askew, outwith anyone's control or foresight. [color=#c14700]“Though…”[/color] his voice trailed off, gaze drifting to look into the space between them. He wouldn’t finish, the interruption of their audience left whatever he wished to express at the wayside, exchanged for irritation by the new arrival.

Eularia’s reaction, her sudden change in demeanour though, had his already growing suspicions mounting. Arrogantly, Frankie’s brow arched at the man, the smile mirrored. This was someone, again, he was unaware of. The lack of information available to him was infuriating. He despised being ignorant but as the identity of this man, only revealed by his wife’s address became clearer, the former King remained unmoved, his expression masked with irritated neutrality. Observance and listening were his only means of gaining any insight, but he knew they were certainly in danger.

Fire ignited into life, enveloping the creature before them and then eventually all around. Frankie’s eyes narrowed, head pulling back from their scorching flexes. With a fleeting glance over to Eularia, Frankie couldn’t help the scoff of a laugh, quietly muttering. [color=#c14700]“You certainly don’t know her at all.”[/color] The small grin soon vanished as he met the being’s gaze, his back straightening proudly. [color=#c14700]“If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s this.”[/color] Hands drew behind his back, there was no fear, foolishly or not, in the Royal’s eyes. [color=#c14700]“You might try to, but she will never be yours. Not entirely. It is not who she is.”[/color]

[color=#c14700]“She is Mia Mariposa and butterflies never settle. And I, will love her, regardless of any usurper's meddling.”  [/color]

A paradoxical calm consumed him. Where his nerves constricted, his breathing evened, his visage unwrinkled with any emotions he might be expected to express. After all he'd had his entire immortal existence to master his emotions and to the desired effect. Gods did not break under pedestrian emotion, they were not ruled by whims as the rest might. Instead he harnessed those emotions, molding them to his will, forming them into something he could use to his advantage whatever that might be. It was a skill not easily own but one that was accessible to all should they suspend their conventional understanding of the world around them. To do so required a blank slate, full erasure of everything they'd ever become just to know the power of emotional mastery, both of themselves and others. 

The roar of the flame was sonorous, and might've drawn a crowd had his magic not prevented just that. The glamour that allowed him to appear unremarkable to everything was the same he extended upon the fire projection. That in partner with the enchantment in play to mute any errant sound from their conversation would keep them just another trio having a spirited conversation. For all anyone knew, this was a lover's quarrel. In a way, that was true, only Elgar'nan was not swayed by such mortal misgivings like love and heartache. No, instead he was swayed by a voracious need for power. He craved a power so great, so complete that it made him vulnerable in a way. Often he was blinded in his forward momentum towards his grand plan. 

Case in point: his little Witch Queen. 

He could feel her scratching at his walls, testing for weaknesses, chinks in the armor. It was all he could do not to smile when he felt her ever persistent curiosity. 

....Little Crow, Little Crow, come a little closer, see what I see.... 

He allowed her past his mental defenses, seemingly under the duress of her efforts. In reality, he'd given in voluntarily and far too easily. Whether or not she recognized that remained to be seen. Without ceremony or much in the way of notice, his defense shut behind her invasive presence. He locked down hard, the wall of adamant sealing seamlessly. There were no second chances. Not when he had a lesson to teach. 

But the rouse continued, he permitted her to wiggle throughout his consciousness, seeing what he wanted her to see, showing her the way towards undermining the glamour. Temptation wrapped in prominent opportunity. Gasps and shrieks from the crowd moments later told him that she took the bait, his hook now imbedded quite soundly in her mind as a result. 

You mistake me Majesty. He started, eyes on him, but mind on her. He circled, manipulating the flame around them as the crowd gathered. I do not want your Crow. She has served her purpose, however disappointingly. 

All the while he spoke to her. 

Take the blade at my side.....you know which one......let it balance in your palm....memorize it's hilt.....

But she really is quite the asset, isn't she? The moment he'd planned now for months in the wake of his resurrection. I see now why you hold her in such esteem. He rounded behind her, eyes continued to stay on Frankie as his hands smoothed over her shoulders. He saw her fingers doing as encouraged, contemplating the jeweled dirk in her hands. 

....bring me his heart....

A command not to be ignored, not to be resisted. The final act of a Fallen Queen. 

But I'm sorry to say, she clipped her wings in service of me. His lips lifted in the corners, stretching across his face in a deranged leer as he looked on and waited.

Eularia felt Elgar'nan slipping through her thoughts, tendrils gentle and slow across her mind. And by the time she realized what he was doing, it was too late. He'd sealed the connection. He'd tricked her.

....Little Crow, Little Crow, come a little closer, see what I see....

His voice was gentle. Soft. And yet there was a firmness, a commanding tone to everything he said. And she neared him, she claimed the dirk. Eularia stood there, contemplating whether she might be strong enough to turn around and stab the god-king through the heart.

Images of how she might flay the god-king's skin from his body, leaving sinew and bone visible to the open air. Her breathing quivered, as she stared straight at Frankie.

[color=#c14700]“She is Mia Mariposa and butterflies never settle. And I, will love her, regardless of any usurper's meddling.” [/color]

Her lower lip trembled, and she exhaled slowly. Elgar'nan hissed in her mind, that she was to bring her husband's heart to him. And she moved, without thinking.

She moved.

To obey.

She stood in front of her husband, mouthing silently, I love you—I love you—I love you... the words were meaningless and she could not find her voice. The blade in her hand felt like it belonged there, and she inhaled sharply. One hand raised to his chest, pressed over his heart. The blade hummed with magic, it was just as hungry for blood as she was. Sobbing quietly, she dug the blade into flesh. And she numbed his pain with her magic.

Not the emotional pain, no. But the physical. He would feel nothing, as she worked. Some part of her was begging him silently to struggle, to try to get away, to hurt her in return... But he did not. He had always known his death would be at her hands. Had always known he would die first. She knew every carefully planned detail of his funeral. Because she knew this man like she knew nobody else.

Eventually, when Francesco fell to the ground from blood loss, Eularia loomed over him. Tears mixed with his blood, and when she had cut just right, to display a heart that still beat only because of her magic preserving it... She leaned for one last kiss. Lifeless and gone, still warm thanks to the spells she was holding. And carefully she freed his heart from the corpse, still beating in her hand.

She was numb, as she stared at the organ. It shouldn't still beat, and yet she couldn't forego the magic that would cause it to still. If it stopped beating, then it was real. Eularia heard people, screams for the guards. She heard the clamor of townsfolk trying to see what was going on. And she turned to stare at Elgar'nan, still holding the knife in one hand. When she realized this, she dropped it, like it burned her.

And both hands cupped the heart. Her legs felt like they belonged to someone else, as she approached the man, her arms as she offered the heart to him.

All the while, crying silently.