• Closed • Burning Tantrum

[Peake]

10th Saun, 716

The mid-town guard post of the Iron Hand was a great building. Built with stone, as most of the military facilities were, it was built not only to last, but also to house a great portion of the military personnel to avoid overrunning the headquarters. With the civil war looming all around, and recruitment having reached absurd amounts, the great building was simply filled with freshly promoted individuals or squires who couldn’t even distinguish the end of the sword from its hilt. All around it was activity, movement, troops and feet going from one place to the other, willing to help or trying to slack. Whatever it was, it all represented the huge corporation that was the Iron Hand.
That’s perhaps the main reason Peake encountered so much resistence as he proceeded inside. The Iron Hand and the Ouroboro Guard were two antagonistic factions, as one worked for the people and the Lord Commander, while the other worked directly for the King. Despite the Lord Commander being sworn to the King, the Ouroboro obeyed no other but the whimsical orders of whomever held the crown in its scalp – or, in Peake’s care, obeyed him, as he was the Commander.
Furious beyond words he advanced, gripping the report in his hand as if trying to choke it.His shining ornate armor, wearing the silver color of the Royalty in his cloak, was immediately met with disgust from most of the seasoned Knights, while the ignorant and newbies merely stood aside in fear. Be it because of the Ouroboro’s ruthless reputation, because of Peake’s detestable fame, or just because of the clear anger that carried him forward, he felt most unwelcome. Each individual that didn’t bother to move away from him only kept claiming a piece of his limited patience, feeling the veins manifesting around his body as his own blood wanted to jump and drown them all. Even if he was breaking protocol, Peake had no intention of turning around.

At the end of a flight of stairs, Peake was suddenly walking barely inhabited corridors with actual windows. The second floor was reserved to officials above the rank of Steward, which meant it was often inhabited by the stacks of reports and all the paperwork the rank carried with it. Not because of that he was completely alone, though, as soon enough he found himself in a large room with various desks spread all around it, many officers working on either writing orders, signing them, or shaking their heads as they read the reports of their subordinates. All of them raised their heads at Peake’s thundering footsteps, and some even raised themselves from their chairs.
“Hey, you! You have no business here!” Said a bold woman, which immediately moved to an interception course. “Turn around, Royal Dog!”
Peake obviously did not stop, as instead he tossed the report onto a nearby table and menacingly advanced towards the female. He was unarmed, as the Ouroboro often needed no weapons, but not because of that he was defenseless.
As the female brought her arms forwards in attempts of blocking Peake, he harshly swiped her hands aside with his own, as his right fist clenched and delivered a dry hit right onto the female’s nose – exploding into a blood bath that escaped the nostrils as the woman grunted and fell right on her rear.
Everyone got up, and the few that had a weapon drew it. They advanced, the first one being a rather elderly Captain that advanced with a small dagger. A voice called out a quick ‘Don’t!’, which was ignored.
The Captain went for a direct stab towards Peake’s neck, bloodthirsty for Peake’s flesh, but Peake effortlessly leaned back to avoid it, as he gripped the arm, spun on his heels and pushed his hips against the Captain. Creating leverage, Peake jerked the arm towards him, and in consequence, the Captain vaulted over Peake’s body and landed harshly on his back against the stone below.
“Stop it, damn it!”
A group of knights approached Peake from behind, as the officials closed in from the front, which Peake ignored as he still had a grip on the captain’s arm. Placing his armored boot on the shoulder, Peake would twist the arm quickly, beyond the limits of the joint, to which the captain cried as much as the joint as his shoulder was broken.
“Damn it, Peake! I told you to fucking stop!” Said the familiar voice, Lord Crewer reaching for Peake’s back and pulling him away from the captain. “Control yourself, damn it!”

Lord Crewer, a distinguished knight that commanded almost a thousand men, quickly signaled the ever-growing crowd in the room to halt, letting go of Peake before he too suffered the Baron’s wrath.
“Anyone else tries something and I’ll have you hanged on the city gates, do you hear me!?” Peake turned to the Lord, almost ready to start foaming at the mouth. “Where is she?”
“Calm down, Peake. Take a breath – I didn’t call you here to see you wreck down the district.” Replied Lord Crewer, afterwards nodding towards the door to his office. “She’s in my office. Don’t hurt the---”

Peake growled, looking down at the aching captain as he moved past the female whose nose would never be straight and pretty again, whom obviously gave him a death stare. Taking the report from the table in which he had left it, the rabid nobleman headed towards the office without any further delay. Turning the knob to afterwards ram the wooden door with his shoulder, his entrance was as loud as an explosion.
Not looking at Syhera just yet, instead Peake focused on the interrogator, who was obviously shocked from the brutal entrance, staring back at the giant with deer-like eyes and his mouth agape. To get rid of him, Peake simply took him by the breastplate’s collar and pulled him with strength – directly pushing him outside the room as he slammed the door shut. Then, and only then, he focused his rage on the redhead.

“Mind explaining this? Huh!?” He said, tossing the pile of papers at her. The papers rained all over the room, as each part of the lengthy report flew in its own whimsical direction.

Thanks to Lazuli for this amazing template!

[Syhera Ki'hadi]

"You gonna arrest me, officer?"

• It was inventory day, meaning Hera moved around with a board, meticulously counting each item, writing it down, comparing it to the list of sales they had made. It was tedious work, but allowed her to see which items were selling and debate on if they should lower the price or discontinue the item. Every now and then, a customer would come in and she would turn, sweetly greeting them to the store. Tomorrow, she would be leaving for seasons, and she wanted the shop to be in perfect condition to take any strain away from her mother. In preperation, Gwynthera had run to the markets, claiming she needed to pick up Hera's birthday present, since they wouldn't be able to celebrate together this year.
  
  The Biqaj had nearly made it through the list, counting a number of necklaces when the bell tinkled, signalling a new arrival. Syhera turned and when she looked up from her calculations, two guards faced her with stern expressions and uniforms that signalled who they were. One took a step forward with a regretful look on his face, "Syhera Ki'hadi?"
  
  Her green eyes bounced between the two men, setting her paperwork down calmly, "Yes?" She tried to hide the worry that clutched her stomach, and remained still when they continued to advance on her, one pulling out shackles, "Can I help you?"
  
  The guards remained quiet, pulling her outside into the hot sun. Hera blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the new brightness and found herself being lead into a small box on wheels, pulled behind a horse. Bars were on the only window it had and Hera groaned as she realized who had ordered her arrest. And for a crime she actually did do. The shackles were shut around her thin wrist and she was escorted to the guard post.
  
  'Well, fuck.' The office she was mediocre in size, with a desk and a number of documents stacked neatly and out of the way. She crossed her legs and leaned back in the chair she had been offered, facing the lawman with an unreadable expression. "I've never met that girl in my life."
  
  "So," The investigator looked at his interrogation notes before him, surprising Hera with his humane treatment of her, "You've never had contact with Lily Bridgewater, before the incident?"
  
  Lily Bridgewater. An ugly name.
  
  "No, why would I?"
  
  The officer shifted in his seat, "She's reportedly had a history with your fiance, the Baron, Peake Maxos Andaris."
  
  Now, this was news. Hera did not feign the surprise that betrayed her features, and the wheels in her head began turning, tying the pieces together. So... Peake was the reason the ship was attacked? Jealousy? The young woman relaxed and returned to her position of apathy, "My fiance has a history with a lot of women. If I met all of them, or cared, I wouldn't have time for anything else." The truth.
  
  A number of questions followed, each one Hera had an answer for. Her alibi was backed up, and there had been no witnesses that had come forward. Except a blind girl, which even the investigators must know to be an absolute joke. But still, they continued their questioning until she was ready to pull out her hair. How much time passed, the redhead didn't know, but it was slowly becoming evident that they had nothing solid on her. Relief wanted to embrace her and she smoothed out the white dress she wore. The picture of innocence. She smiled.
  
  Until... he arrived.
  
  Shouting and the clattering of metal resounded in the post with pure clarity, a number of city guards shouting for someone to stop. The ring of swords being pulled free from their sheaths whispered into the office and Hera heard one of the commanders try to calm down whatever beast raged outside. She stopped mid sentence to stare at the door, and then she saw him.
  
  A shadow was cast over the room like the harbinger of death. The lanterns illuminating the room flickered ominously and the door exploded open to reveal a figure who stood in the doorway like a furious god. His anger rolled off him in palpable waves; his movements were stiff and aggressive, ready to destroy something, and when his burning eyes landed on his next victim, she knew it was not something he wanted to break - but her. Immediately she straightened and pressed into the back of the chair, casting her eyes to the ground. And she began to realize... there weren't enough sweet words in the world to save her now. Her fiance had tossed the guard out like he was nothing, especially not a person, and papers exploded into the air as he drilled his attention upon her. How was she to explain this one?
  
  Funny how she had never experienced the Baron's wrath, or that of any man truthfully, but it consumed the room so fully, it made her forget of the charges against her. Of course, Syhera's arrest had been at the worst time possible. Like it had been planned. Benji flashed in her mind before he quickly flew from her mind. Maybe, maybe not - she was guilty. At the moment, Benji Andaris was not the immediate threat to her person, but the angry, crazed beast before her.
  
  She swallowed, slowly lifting her eyes to look at the enormous male, "Well," she began, looking to buy time as she tried to think of something to say that wouldn't result in her immediate death. Flecks of red blood gleamed on the knuckles of Peake's armored gloves and she focused on it, hoping very dearly he liked her face enough to not shatter it, "They can't prove the arson, destruction of property was well deserved, and the murder..."
  
  Who did she kill? Hera's small hand reached out and her finger pulled one of the papers cautiously towards her and she peeked at its contents, "Was an accident?"
  
  Hera might of burned a house to the ground, but it was the dragon who breathed fire. She tried not to flinch at what came next.
  

[Peake]

“Are you serious!? That’s what you’re going to say!?” Peake yelled, a leg coming forward to kick a nearby chair, which smashed against the wall in the opposite wall. Immediately after, he turned his armored body towards Syhera once again. “Are you fucking stupid!?”

Although Peake’s promises – the real ones, not the ones he made when drunk – were something he’d never break, he couldn’t help himself. Having promised to Gwynthera he’d treat her daughter like she deserved was still a valid promise still, despite the insult that escaped him. In truth, however, he seriously believed it was true. Burning the house of a civilian in the middle of the city that was targeted by an army of rebels, claiming a life, and then sitting on a chair without even the slightest hint of shame was… stupid. Be it any other woman, Peake wouldn’t have even bothered to show up before he stamped a big ‘Prosecute’ stamp on the report. This woman, however, was bound to him in an invisible contract, making her a part of himself because they were engaged. Peake was tempted to amputate it right away, this infected limb that corrupted his body and mind.
“Do you even know what you’ve done, woman!?”
Peake calmed his frenzied walk whose route was limited to a few steps either left or right, and instead reached for the silver cloak that hung behind him, pulling on it and ripping it off before tossing it behind him. It was almost as if he was ready to fight. This notion was reinforced as he went by Syhera’s side, his hand reaching for the table and flipping it deeper into the room, leaving no obstacles between them. The ruckus was very loud in the closed space that was the now trashed office, Peake moving to the door and locking it in case someone tried to interrupt them.
“All I’ve done, all the work and all the shit I’ve had to swallow to get where I am, destroyed in one fucking moment. What do I do now, huh? What do I do now when I’m about to be executed like a dog!?” Yelled Peake, moving right before Syhera. A fist landed harshly against the wall behind her. “Do I just say it was an accident? Do you think that would work?”

Peake wanted to hurt her. It felt unnatural to try to hold back on his version of the truth, the reign of his fist being his doctrine, his way of advancing forward. As he looked down upon Syhera’s pretty but treacherous face, he only felt the need to wipe the beauty she took for granted and then choke her, subdue her and watch her life drain between his fingers. It wasn’t his proudest fantasy, but it was certainly a tempting one. So tempting, in fact, that Peake's hand rose on its own to deliver a harsh backhand right on Syhera's cheek. His promise, however, still stood, and for the moment he was strong enough to resist his own charge of murder. Instead of remaining so close to her, Peake pushed himself away and retreated deeper into the office, looking out the window instead of turning around to face her.

“I thought you had my back, Syhera. I thought you trusted me, as I trusted you. I thought wrong...” The roofs, the distant sea, the clouds, and the blue sky. The calm, the peace, the breeze… They always helped him relax. Peake didn’t quite focus on relaxing, though, as a moment later he looked over his shoulder. “But you thinking that you can get away with this… This I’ll never fucking forgive you, even if I get to hang beside you.”

Leaning at the window’s frame, Peake would mindlessly look outside as the silence seeped into the room, as his breathing slowly calmed down and his teeth stopped trying to shatter under his jaw’s applied pressure. It wasn’t only the looming death they’d suffer, the endless arcs of hard work tossed aside, the war that Peake would never be able to avoid, or any of his unaccomplished dreams what upset him. It was also the ruthless betrayal from Syhera, the irresponsibility and the incompetence in her Peake had just discovered. That was perhaps the worst of it all, as everything else seemed like a fantasy compared to the woman that sat on the other end of the room. It almost made him want to cry, there and then, to just wash away the pathetic ending to his story.
“Are you going to explain yourself, or should I just leave?”

Thanks to Lazuli for this amazing template!

[Syhera Ki'hadi]

"You gonna arrest me, officer?"

• His slap sent her face snapping to the side, and she exhaled harshly, opening her eyes to see him storming in the office. The room was trashed, the furniture flipped and scattered across the floor. The mighty Baron rampaged and her face stung painfully from the blow. She inhaled sharply, the anger she usually kept tucked deeply within her rising to emerge. He couldn't forgive her? She didn't do anything that need to be forgiven!
  
  "Don't bring trust into this," she hissed, glaring up at him with black eyes. She had made sacrifices for him. This had nothing to do with trust! "I have proven my loyalty! How was I to trust you then? I had met you twice," She held up two fingers, jumping from her chair, unafraid of his hand, "You weren't there when my mother sobbed and her home was ruined. When the memories that keep her together were destroyed! You didn't see her!"
  
  "Why would I come to you? Because we we're engaged?" Hera's lips released a scoff and hot tears of anger began to form, "I'm far from stupid, Peake. Which is why I know this, whatever this is," she motioned quickly between them, fury taking over, "is nothing but a convenience for you. You didn't want to get married, but I did! I had a fiance and he left me. He wouldn't even look at me when he found out and now you say you can't forgive me? You want to know what happened? Let me paint you a picture," Hera took a deep breath, her hands clenching into fists, "Some ignorant bitch and her brother came to hurt me because of you, and they thought they found me, only I wasn't there, and thank the seven mama wasn't either, or I would have burned this whole city to the ground! And now you want to blame me because your life is at risk? My life has been on the line since the moment I met you, and you know it."
  
  She had seen his reaction at Andaris manor. She knew fear when she saw it. Hera struggled to breath, her fingernails digging into her palms violently and flashes of the days Gwynthera's depression left her bedridden and dangerous played in Hera's mind, followed by the meeting with Benji. Everything hung so precariously. She could die by his father's doing, or she could die today. What was the difference of a few days? A cruel scowl twisted Hera's lips, "I slip up once. One single time, to protect my family and I still manage to have my mess cleaned up. They had nothing on me, but you want to come in her screaming and hitting me, treating me as if I'm guilty. What do you think that looks like to them?"
  
  The redhead fumed, her hands shaking. Her cheek now flaming from the strike and anger that flushed them, she could barely think straight. Peake was so impulsive. So... infuriating, "Fine, I was careless. What made me believe we would still be engaged? But don't you ever. EVER. say I don't have your back. I was right beside you the other night, when your father threatened me. And I'm not stupid. I know pretty lies when I see them, but I'm still here, surviving. And I'm going to still be here after I survive this fucking accusation."
  
  Hera wanted very much to claw his faces to shreds, every bit of frustration she had towards the man before her held back only by sheer force of will and years of practice. Tears rolled down her lovely face, and she bit the inside of her cheek, hating every minute she was in the same room as him.

[Peake]

Peake shook his head, showing his teeth as the female hissed and spit her words in attempts of shifting the blame to him. Right there and then, he wanted to hit her again, maybe force being enough to bring some sense into her, yet considering how she had reacted after his last attempt it was unlikely. Instead, his brain already began forming arguments, all of them true, in attempts of defeating her at her own game. For a moment, he recalled Celeste and her own rebellious attitude, which forced him to take drastic measures on their last meeting. Women had a way of triggering Peake’s rage like no other creature on Idalos could.

“This is how you have my back!?” Replied Peake, his tenor voice slowly turning guttural as if he was vomiting his words. “By sabotaging my career? By murdering civilians? You have a problem, you come to me!” Peake slammed his palm on his chest plate. “That was the deal I made with you. And if you were so in love, then you should’ve opened your damn mouth for something other than sucking half of the port’s cocks. You don’t get to throw this in my face, not after keeping it quiet!”

Peake turned around, eager to smash something else in rage, but nothing remained untouched in the room – except the window. As such, Peake’s fist harshly slammed against the glass, shattering it as the shards either fell around his feet or out the window. Once again, Peake was ‘the other man’, the intruder in a foreign relationship. Even his fiancé was taken, just like his sister was by his own decision. There was no way to hide just how frustrated that made him feel. Peake turned around and verbally assaulted Syhera once again.

“You want to see more of me? Then stand up for once and you seek me out. I don’t have the time to go pamper you, not when I’m trying to save this fucking Kingdom from collapsing. Do you even know what responsibility feels like?” Peake reached for her dress, pinching it with two fingers and pulling it before letting go again. “Let me wear the dress! Let me sit around being pretty and then complain about you. You wear this armor. You wear the titles. You wear the responsibilities on your shoulder, and 20 million lives on your back. You try taking a choice between two devils. You do it!” Pause. “You try sleeping once every few trials. You try looking yourself in the mirror and seeing an old man staring back. You try praying to the world for your cock to work long enough for you to piss in a bucket. Then I’ll come around, claiming I have your back, while I undo all your life in a single trial. You try feeling how I feel, damned woman!”

Peake's hand flew towards Syhera’s face, cupping her jaw with his hand for as long as she allowed it.
“What am I going to tell the King, huh? That I can’t obey his orders because my woman is a crook? That Sirothelle is not happening? I signed a contract with my blood, you dumb whore. I’m breaks away from having to gut myself before the Boy King, all because of your fucking incompetence!” Peake turned his head and spat on the ground before returning his furious stance to Syhera once more. “You think you’ve lost something? I’ve given away my life, my fucking life, for protecting ungrateful peasants like you.”

Another pause. “You're so brave for crying and throwing your stupid tantrum at me... You know what takes real courage? Keeping your mouth shut. I just gave away my sister for a marriage that could save this city. I found out my woman and her child to the bottom of the ocean, so yes, it got to me, and I cried. But don’t you dare compare your misfortunes to my daily reality – because I keep it quiet, no matter how many of you peasants spit at my feet or blame me for your puny problems.” Peake growled, his own eyes tearing up as he stared back into Syhera’s black orbs. It was his way to vent the rage. “I was wrong about you: you’re not a woman. You’re just a childish little girl, and I’m done with you.”

Peake stepped back, but what he lacked in distance towards Syhera he compensated with the volume of his voice.

“You want out of this? There’s the fucking door, so take it and use it. Go with your boy and keep spreading your legs for him, because I’m done being played like a fool. But if the Knights come knocking at your door, I won’t try to do a single for you. What you’ve done, it’s all on you, because you’re too much of a coward to even tell me the truth unless you’re cornered.” Pause. “But if you stay, you better learn to let go of your dumb pride and start acting like the Baroness you’re trying to play. You better learn to keep your mouth shut and your head high no matter how much you’re threatened, no matter how much you lose or how much you want out of this world."

"Let’s see that loyalty of yours dissolve like the lie it is.”

Thanks to Lazuli for this amazing template!

[Syhera Ki'hadi]

"You gonna arrest me, officer?"

• Hera's vision flashed red and she wanted very desperately to destroy something, and her hands ran through her hair, the fiery curls consuming her face. Now she was a whore throwing a tantrum. How fucking classic. She snatched up the nearest object - a metal globe made as a bookend and she reared back ready to chuck it at his smug beard, furious like the fire that had started this mess. A terrible sound of fury escaped her and her dark eyes searched wildly for her target. This man really knew nothing about her, and yet he thought he knew everything based on some tax reports and receipts. Why was she letting him get under her skin? When she threw the heavy metal, she spun and threw it at the opposite wall, a resounding thump as drywall caved in and surface of the room gave way.
  
  "Did I say I wanted to see more of you?" A choked laugh escaped her, and she nearly screamed. Did poverty look easy to him? Did she miss the pampered memo? She bought the clothes on her own back! Not him! She kept a roof over her head with her coin! She never asked him for a handout and he was treating her like he crafted the whole world for her sake and she was to bow in gratefulness. Peake Andaris had never once done anything good for her before her engagement to him, and as far as she was concerned, he wasn't much of anything to her now.
  
  Everything he said was hypocritical or contradictory. She was to come to him if she had a problem. Say something. Do something. Don't do anything. Keep her mouth shut. Be a baroness. He was done. Oh, wait. No he wasn't. There were options. The armored monster in front of her was an indecisive idiot. Venom collected on Hera's tongue and she opened her mouth to return his insults sevenfold, but then... her eyes trailed to the door.
  
  Realization brushed her seething mind and she hesitated to return the aggression. There was never a way for her to leave Peake Andaris. Until now. He was giving her the opportunity to walk away. To leave. To be free. Peake didn't know what side he was on apparently, and she wiped the tears from her eyes, very sure of where she stood. She looked up at him, not saying a single word. Let him rage. He was done, right? The streaks of tears being brushed away, Hera steeled herself just as she had done so many times before.
  
  Hera needed to move around, to expend her energy or she would explode. The Biqaj said nothing. He wanted her to keep her mouth shut, after all. His words replayed over and over in her mind, and her feet moved with purpose. To the desk she moved first, her hands gripping the wooden sides and yanking. It was heavy, but the adrenaline from the fight fueled her and she jerked it to its place. Open her legs to all of the docks? Says the man whose dick won't work because it's rotting thanks to every whore in Idalos! What a fucking asshole. He was entitled and wanted to play martyr. Why was it so impossible that others made sacrifices beside him?
  
  She would leave him in a heartbeat for Micah! And why shouldn't she? Because he gave her a cat and a basket of tarts? Ha! Good riddance. "You want me to make a choice?" she finally asked, her voice simmering down to a dark monotone, hinting at the anger that boiled beneath, "I'd love to. Because it's a very easy one."
  
  Hera headed towards the exit, hand grabbing the handle. He could think the world revolved around his problems, but he had needed her. Not the other way around, and it was time he remembered it. The future Baroness of Andaris calmly opened the door and shut it behind her. Fuck him.
  
  Hera buried the argument painfully, and looked up, an entire guard's post staring at her with mouths agape. Looks of horror and awe reflected back at her, the entire argument having been crystal clear, particularly on Peake's end. Most staring at her blinked as if she wasn't real, never quite expecting her to come out alive. The only hit her fiance had given her was now fading, making Syhera Ki'hadi seemingly untouched after pissing off a notorious berserker.
  
  She wasn't quite sure what to say and Peake's voice still haunted her: Let’s see that loyalty of yours dissolve like the lie it is. Heartbreak consumed her, Micah having said a similar thing when they broke up. She wanted to cry, but instead she did what she always did, what Peake so quickly believed she couldn't do - She held her head up, and smiled. Her voice soft, she addressed a station so quiet you could hear a pin drop, "Sorry about all the fuss. We just need one more moment, please."
  
  The redhead sighed with a heavy heart and into the room she vanished -- back to Peake Andaris. Again, she choose him and again, she was unsure of her choice.
  

[Peake]

As Syhera raged on, Peake could only feel disappointment. It wasn’t just she who disappointed him, but also his own judgement and misplaced trust he had laid on her. It was his own fault, for it had been his reckless decision what dragged her into the insipid world of power even Peake tried to escape from sometimes. And there she was, a great mistake shaped like a livid redhead, deaf in the ears and blind in the eyes, unaware of nothing but the existence outside her own tiny bubble. Ignorance was a sin Peake did not forgive, and it was greatly her own greed or misinterpretation she ended in a ditch she couldn’t help but fear. And so when the rain started to fall in this ditch, Syhera had not also killed an innocent, but also Peake himself, the gravedigger. To say power is a ladder was incorrect. Power was a mine, a hole in the ground one had to dig until the treasure was found, or until the earth trampled you and buried you like another corpse.

At last, Syhera showed her true colors, turning around and choosing the door rather than the truth. She had killed an innocent, but she refused to take responsibility. She had killed Peake, but refused to even care. She was immature, but perhaps believed herself above it. Perhaps Peake had more flaws than she did, although it was easier to spot the mistakes in others than in one’s reflection.
“Yeah, that’s right. Run away. Thanks for everything.”

And the door was shut, and Peake was left alone.

It was as if the world crumbled around him as he clenched his teeth and the palms of his hands wrapped in fists. Everything built was slowly corroding and falling, tainted by the rage and impotency to do anything about it. He thought about chasing after her, about taking her by the hand and yanking her back. About hitting her, chocking her, and even kissing her. The heat of the moment was too great for him to handle, very few occasions in his life feeling as defeated as Peake did now. He was in the right. Her action had costed him everything. Why was it that he had to feel guilty then? Syhera, beneath her acting and beauty, was a wild beast that lusted for blood. Peake, in the sense, had been wounded.
Peake turned around and approached the broken window, beside which he felt the ocean’s breeze bathing his face, smelling the salt from so far away. The sun was as strong as always, immediately amplifying the power of its heat once Peake’s face was directly exposed to its rays. Then, in the silence of his own doing, he felt the calm. The death of the civilian would need to be confessed to the King because of the Vow of the Ouroboro, and the King would order him to terminate his contract. Peake would then stab himself and end his own life… or would he? The window was big enough for him. He could fit through, jump into the abyss and curse the world while he fell to his death. Now was the perfect moment to do it, now that the adrenaline was high and the despair was acting as fuel.

It wasn’t just that Syhera had backed out of their deal, or that Peake was currently thinking if he should just jump out the window to end it all. It was the fact that in that moment, the idea of his lost pride and wasted life hinted towards the vague and wild notion that Benji was right all along. Although Peake had never fantasized with suicide, not even on the day he found out about his mother’s death, it truly seemed as the one exit right now. He could always drag himself to his father, beg him for help, and receive such help in exchange of his worth as a man. He could go to the King, beg forgiveness, and be forgiven in exchange for his worth as a warrior. What would remain then?

In that moment, the door opened again, and Syhera made her way into the room once more. Whatever notion of beauty, intelligence, or loyalty Peake had once seen in her was gone, and instead he saw her as the ugly, treacherous creature that she had proven herself to be. Of course, it could be the rage what made her appear as such, but Peake didn’t quite bother on trying to decipher the truth. Instead, he turned around and leaned back against the rim of the window.
“You know what I regret most?” Peake said, visibly more calm, or perhaps simply without a yell to back out his words. “That I never got to bend you over and fuck you. That’s why I announced our engagement at the gala. I compared you to that other hag and I saw a beauty I wanted to fuck. That’s all I wanted.”

Pause, in which Peake limited himself to stare at Syhera with a clear expression of disgust.

“I should’ve never trusted you. Not one bit.” Peake scoffed as he shook her head. “Does your mother even know? Is she aware of what you've done?"

Thanks to Lazuli for this amazing template!

[Syhera Ki'hadi]

"You gonna arrest me, officer?"

• Going into the room again was like walking into a dream. The aftermath surrounding her didn't feel real, but she had been here as Peake tore apart the room, as he bulldozed through furniture and shattered the window. Papers were strung across the floor and bits of wall crunched under the sole of her shoe as her anger deflated and left a exhausted Syhera in its wake. Seeing the eyes of the guards outside, and then the debris of this fight had tired her. She let out a long sigh, her hand raising to tuck auburn strands of hair behind a pointed ear. To the desk she walked, Peake standing near the window like a wounded animal and when she looked at him, she felt... guilty.
  
  What have I done?
  
  The Biqaj lowered herself to the ground and collected a few sheets of the report and headed for the chair she had been sitting it. Pulling it to the table, she sat down calmly, and Peake began his snarky comments. Only this time, it rolled off Hera who looked up at him, tempted to shrug. She resisted the urge however, her eyes lowering to the papers before her. Peake had found her pretty compared to Gojira. Perhaps he didn't realize the hidden compliment in his words, but it didn't have much emotional sway with the woman. He hadn't been the first man to find her appealing, and he likely wouldn't be the last. As for the regret... well, now they both had regrets.
  
  His snap about trust bothered her, but she refused to show it. Trust. Loyalty. These mattered a great deal to Syhera, and somehow she was always being told the opposite. It felt like she had the wrong definitions compared to the world, as if they were in on some joke and she was the punchline. Hera was willing to destroy to save. But perhaps she only destroyed, "I'm-" The apology died in her throat and she wasn't quite sure they would have mattered anyway. She had felt so sure in her actions the night she committed the crime of arson. She had been fueled by anger and hate, and the need for revenge. It had consumed her.
  
  "I was wrong," she whispered, her eyes lightening ever so slightly as she finally looked across the room at the disgusted lord, "I shouldn't... I shouldn't have said what I said to you. Nothing about this," she turned the report over in her hands, disappointment in her carelessness creeping up on her, "is your fault. I just..."
  
  I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to win. I wanted everything to be okay.
  
  Another sigh and she leaned forward, placing her cheek on the table as she stared at ahead in silence. It wasn't often Hera couldn't find the words, but no immediate resolution came to her. Peake's anger began replaying in her mind again, and she didn't know how to answer his last inquiry about her mother, "Mama knows I did something. She... doesn't know the specifics." Didn't care. Didn't pay attention to her. Not when the desperation came. Gwynthera had looked at her daughter with pleading eyes, seeing the girl who could take away the pain and make it stop, not the girl. She didn't see Syhera, only someone who could pick up the pieces.
  
  And that's what she had to do now. The red head tilted her head, seeing Peake for the first time since perhaps they met. He looked... tired. Older. Fatter. His beard, which had been black with a few greys was much more salt than it was pepper. Guilt bit at her again, and she knew what she was supposed to say, even if it was too late to say it. She had not been concerned with her fiance. Maybe she had been the selfish one, concerned with her own life. Not the lives of others. Certainly not the blind girl, whose home she had set ablaze.
  
  "I'm sorry," she mumbled, casting her eyes away and feeling like a dog with its tail between its legs. The next words did not come easily, and she physically struggled, "I messed up."
  
  And when she glanced at the baron before her, she meant it.

[Peake]

“Damn right you did, genius. At least you figured it out today.”

Peake’s cruel comment was the only thing he gave in return for Syhera’s courage, which had been tasted thoroughly the moment she dared turn towards the office’s door again. Immediately after the word left his mouth, Peake returned his face forward to gape outside the window towards the city below. He needed to think, about his future, about his actions, about Syhera’s actions and about Syhera herself. It was funny to think that his father used to say nobody got paid for thinking. Peake’s job consisted on thinking about everything – about strategy, about the King and about the Kingdom.
As he couldn’t assess every situation at the same time, Peake focused on Syhera first. On her doings, her rage, and her feelings. Although currently quite uncaring about her, he needed her most in the nearest future. The engagement couldn’t be broken now, not when Syhera has been selected as a suspect for a murder case. If Peake broke the engagement, he would look guilty, and the vultures would hold it against him for the rest of his short political career. In that sense, he was trapped into the situation more than Syhera was. After all, his own risked on the outcome of the investigation and possible sentence Syhera carried out. If she was found guilty, Peake, by vow, would have to admit it to the King, and hope he trusted him enough to grant him mercy.
“It’s supposed to be us against them - always.” Peake said, his voice soft and calm. “Otherwise, what’s the point?”

As the sun scorched Peake’s face, the nobleman finally pushed himself off the wall, spinning on his heels and facing the female for a moment. Clearing some debris from his way with an armored foot, Peake would approach a nearby wall and lean his back against it as he crossed his arms. Eyes nailed on the ground, only his displeased frown would remain as he continued pondering on the delicate situation. There were a lot of exits, but not all of them were acceptable. They could lie, get away with it, and cover it up. However, that was not Peake’s style. What Peake messed up, he cleaned up himself with his head held high. He didn’t lie, not even when he did not benefit from the situation. Syhera, by their engagement, was like part of him, thus her actions reflecting back on him.

“That girl, the blind one.” Peake said with a sigh some time later, not looking up. “I met her outside the city gates and helped her past a pond. We shared a kiss. The following days, she followed me around, stalked me. She got obsessed, and I got scared, so I played along. I told her I wanted to run away with her, and I bought passage with a local ship headed to Sirothelle. When the ship was about to leave, I excused myself and left the ship while she waited for me. I had no idea she’d find her way back, to be honest. I’m sorry it ended hurting you and your mother.”
Peake sighed, and pushed himself off the wall. Looking around the room in search for his cloak, he found it in the nearest corner. Lifting it up, he’d slap it a couple of times to dust it off.
“I can give us five trials to prepare a defense in case we need it, and if we do, we won’t lie.” Said Peake, glancing towards Syhera with a serious expression. “You did not murder that lady. A lamp fell. We’ll shift the blame to the owners for their incompetence or not adapting the building to fire-safety regulations or something. Let’s face this instead of running away.”

Tossing the silver cloak over his shoulder, as it was partially torn by its hooks, Peake would run a hand down his face.

“We have our differences, obviously. If we can’t get along, let’s at least honor our deal for the time being. Whenever we’re done with this, each of us goes their own way.” Peake approached Syhera, and tended his hand. He was still angry, still frowning, and still disgusted by the female. However, he was smart enough to keep it to himself. “Let’s get out before they start thinking I’m chocking you to death.”

Thanks to Lazuli for this amazing template!

[Syhera Ki'hadi]

"You gonna arrest me, officer?"

• Irritation sparked at Peake shoving her apology back in her face, and she straightened up, her eyes narrowing slightly. She wanted to get the last word, a childish craving she'd admit to. But Peake was hell bent on it, and she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms as she finally listened.
  
  Us against them.
  
  Their time in the room felt an awful lot like him against her, but she nodded in careful agreement. They would have to be a team again. As much as she wanted to fix this all herself, including him was now the price she had to pay. It was part of destroying the city he helped govern. Peake was put between a rock and a hard place, their styles of handling situations very different. She could bend a moment to her will with clever thinking, careful maneuvering, and a touch of manipulation. Peake... he wanted honesty and to charge in, fight it head on and get out. Melding the styles was like mixing oil and water.
  
  Her attention drifted to the hole in the wall she had helped create, mulling over the possibilities and his pointed comment about lying. Peake's apology caught her off guard and she watched him cautiously, expecting a trick. But there was none, and she was left feeling foolish as he offered to continue their deal and then they would be done.
  
  "Five trials is generous. I only need one," she said confidently, but then remembered that this wasn't about her, "...But if you think it's best, five will do. It will give you time to," There was no way around it, "Replace me."
  
  Hera finally stood, straightening her white dress. She moved around the table, readying herself to leave the room by straightening her hair when the door opened and a woman moved inside. In her arms was a hairless animal with large eyes and a black nose, resembling more of a curled demon than a pet and out of her arms it jumped to rub against Syhera's legs. The intruder was dark haired and the door shut behind her without a word.
  
  Her eyes honed in on the redhead, their color swirling and changing unnaturally. And then her hand shot out and slapped Hera square across the face for the second time that day, "What did you do?" Gwyn demanded, her voice as cold as ice. She turned to Peake, "How bad is it?" Worry crept in her voice, but she crossed her arms and waited.