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But you've your own power. Whether it's the same as theirs or not, it doesn't matter.

[ Names. Katsa hesitates, braces herself. ]

Nasrin. [ It's strange to see the name, written, for the first time in years but no less familiar. She takes a breath and lets the memories come. ] Arno. [ Yet Élise—she can't mention that name, not how she left him, not knowing what she does. ] Elizabeth. Porthos. Zuko. Cullen. Clarke. So many, Hermione, I'd not even be able to mention them all.

How do you know if you'll ever go back? How do you know you'd ever see them? Even if I wished it, I wouldn't even know how.

Maybe you're right. It never seemed to matter to Diarmuid or Gilgamesh.

[ But, jeez... ]

I'll make sure everyone that knew you knows you miss them.

Where else would I go? I was brought here straight from the Drabwurld and when I go back I'm going to lose my shard eventually. There's nowhere else for me to go.

Whatever do you mean, you'll lose your shard eventually? And what about your own world?

And Hermione, did he ever try to hurt you? Gilgamesh.

I can't go back there, Katsa. I don't belong there anymore, and I don't think they'd be able to understand who I was.

[ Maybe that was unfair, but - it already hurt so much. ]

Why do you ask?

What are you talking about? Isn't it your world, with all its odd magic already, and people who care for you? And did he hurt you?

[ This conversation has turned bewildering. Katsa only grows more insistent about it, for the number of conflicting things she's feeling—the most prominent being urgency. ]

Look at my face next time you see me, Katsa. They're not going to be able to understand it all.

Nothing I didn't forgive him for.

I know you've scars, Hermione. I know you've fought. You've experienced things few people have. If they can't understand that, then they're capable of understanding nothing.

Tell me what he did.

[ She's insistent on this, more than she perhaps should be. It's personal—more so than even Katsa may realize—and she's not about to let go until she's told. Hurting her is one thing. Hurting loved ones is another, and as far as Katsa sees it wholly unforgivable. ]

Maybe that's what I'm afraid of.

Katsa, why is it important to know?

[ She could tell so many awful stories about Gilgamesh, but she had moved on and forward from them; she's afraid to hear what her friend might say if she heard them. ]

Because I couldn't forgive anyone who tried to hurt you. Especially not someone so close to you and your power. I couldn't forgive him. I'd hurt him for hurting you.

[ She sends the message, and for all she means it, it's the fact of Gilgamesh that terrifies her so much about anything anyone might have done to Hermione. And that's what it is, isn't it? Terror—a cold feeling, unfamiliar and paralyzing, as strange to her as floating among the stars. She hasn't felt it in nearly a decade, and recognition of it trickles slowly and makes her shiver. ]

I knew him in the Drabwurld.

[ She remembers fighting him at Samhain, racing him, laughing, not having to hold back her Grace like she had to with so many. He'd seen the monstrous part of her, too, when they'd tracked convicts together and accepted her. She'd liked him, though she hates to admit it, but what's left with her is the bright red of his eyes as he slowly, smilingly crushed her throat in his hands.

Powerless. That's what he'd made her, for all the strength of her Grace. ]

You can't fight battles that don't exist for me, Katsa. If I've forgiven him then there's nothing for you do to - forgive or not. That's my prerogative, isn't it? To deicide if I want him to be forgiven or not, if I've chosen to let it be. I don't want anyone fighting because of me, no matter what happens.

[ But she can understand Katsa's concern. She can understand because Gilgamesh wasn't a good person, not really. For all that Hermione cared for him and supported him she knew that he could be terrible at times, awful, cruel and downright disgusting. She had kept searching for the best in him, though, because someone had to. It was the same with Dorian; he never saw his own goodness, so she saw it for him. ]

He asked me to marry him, once, so that he could use my power to fight Saber. He kept asking me to marry him after that, too, even though I said no, and never really gave up. He always called me his 'Queen'. A lot of the time he was just a massive prat because he thought he had the right to be, but I tried to stop him from being so utterly ridiculous. I mean, he told me he loved me but I don't think he really understands what love is, honestly, not in the way it was between us. It just wasn't like that.

He used to tell me that he hated that he thought I was beautiful. It's mental, isn't it?

There was training together, and once he sent an attack at me that could have killed me, but it didn't. He killed Aslan, but Aslan would have killed him. He never lied, but sometimes the truth hurt far, far more. He used to say that in lieu of Dorian I would have been something like his Master, I don't know. I'm not sure I would've been able to survive being his Master, not really.

[ He could kill me, but he wouldn't. She believed that.

Hermione remembers fear, terror, curled up into a ball, feeling his power race around her and being completely sure she was going to die. She had been broken-hearted, in that moment, thinking that Gilgamesh was going to be the one to kill her; after all the faith she had given him, she had thought he would take her life from her. He hadn't, but in that moment...

'Never forget the fear you felt, Hermione. Never forget that it is the strongest opponent you will ever face, and that doing so is what it takes to win. Well, scold me like you always do. I daresay I earned it this time.' ]

He hurt me, Katsa, it's true. It hurt, sometimes, being his friend, knowing who he was and what he was capable of. But he made me stronger as well. He reminded me of who I was, what I was, and helped me grow. I would never have been half the leader or Marchioness that I was back there if it hadn't been for him.

Edited 2016-09-09 17:34 (UTC)

Hermione. [ She says this aloud upon reading Hermione's message, as though the other woman were to hear her. ] Oh, Hermione.

[ Because there is too much here—too much to take in, to unpack, to process. Too much to respond. She can't stop focusing on the admission that he hurt her, that she said no and he would not let it go. Of course Hermione would forgive him. Dear Hermione. She forgave Katsa herself, after all, and this nature is one reason Katsa loves her.

But try as she might she cannot understand it. ]

Friends don't attack each other. You shouldn't grow stronger because someone was cruel to you. He should have listened to you.

[ She's pacing now, upset as she is. Likely Hermione will not appreciate her response; as soon as Katsa sends it, she assumes this. She ought not to be telling Hermione what to feel. But she can't stop, fingers shaking on her reply, as though lecturing Hermione will take away Katsa's own fear. She had never, not once either in the Drabwurld or the Seven Kingdoms, told anyone of Gilgamesh, and it is suddenly clear to her how strongly she had held to herself how knowing him had made her feel. Speaking of it is harder, infinitely harder, than refusing to think of it at all.

It's shame as much as it is fear; and perhaps that's why she turns it towards Hermione now. ]

He called me a queen, too. And almost in the same breath that I belonged to him. A barking dog in a cage, and he would kill me. And had it not been for luck, he would have killed me, for all my Grace. It doesn't matter that he didn't finish the job. He would have, and he would not have been sorry for it. And it might have been the same with you.

[ Eight years and more removed from that time, and suddenly Katsa is twenty again and lost. ]

That's why if he hurt you

[ This doesn't make any sense, does it? ]

I can't forgive him. I won't forgive him.

[ It's too much, and Hermione hates it.

She had known the evil inside of Gilgamesh, of course she had; she had been a witness to it, seen his power and his cruelty, how nasty and uncouth he could be to people, how he could push and tease and nudge simply because he thought that he was better than everyone else. For all that she saw the good in him, and celebrated it, urged it out, she knew that he had a darkness that she could never touch - he would have exploited and used her if she had ever given him the chance, and the reminder makes her feel sick.

What really, truly hits home is the knowledge that, perhaps, she hadn't known him at all. That everything that she had shared with him had been a lie, a fabrication to win her over. That each and every single time she spoke to him, every promise they made, each moment they shared, had just been a lie to trick her onto his side. She doesn't want to believe it - she doesn't want to imagine that their vows to each other, the times they'd shared, how deep and personal their connection had been was all just... Untrue. She wants to believe in Gilgamesh in the way she had always done, but in the face of this...

Katsa is one of her best and dearest friends. Katsa means more to her than - than so much. She had almost lost her and found her again, and now the knowledge of the horrors Gilgamesh had inflicted upon her... Hermione can't bear it. She can't handle it, not with everything else on top of it, not with all her haunted memories of the Drabwurld still resting thick and heavy on her shoulders.

The assassin. Caer Scima. Gilgamesh. The Sigil. Mistake after mistake after mistake, piling up on her and leaving her feeling broken and restless, her hands shaking as she stares down at her device.

Would she have even found out if Gilgamesh had killed Katsa? He would never have told her. Katsa would have been just another death, another person gone in his quest for power, his search for some meaning in his life. Hermione would never have known and she would have continued, her faith in him sound and her trust unshaken.

Tears roll down her cheeks now and Hermione has to figure out how to breathe as she stares down at the stupid text, trying to find a way to respond. There is no way; what can she do? What is she meant to say? What words will make this right? Hermione knows how strong and brave Katsa is, and for all that to be undone, for even her Grace to be useless... The fear, the terror she must have felt... There's no forgiving that.

Hermione knows it, and it breaks her heart. ]

I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Katsa. I didn't know.

Neither did I.

[ Katsa has grown more familiar with the feeling of vulnerability over the years: of her mind, of her strength, of her heart. To some extent she might even have learned to accept it and open herself to it. But this sort of vulnerability has always been something she has chosen, and there lies the struggle. Perhaps if she'd known what he was capable of she never would have laughed with him in the dirt, her face flushed and her heart light. Perhaps she'd never have entrusted him with her sense of monstrosity, or she should have seen better what he might be when they'd killed together. That should have been a warning she could not have missed, but she had missed it. Death was in her own nature, too; what reason did she have to mistrust his?

She'd become vulnerable to him when she'd never meant to be. That vulnerability, that fear, is something Katsa has never once in her life known how to handle, nor wished to learn. Her Grace is survival. The truth of that, when she had learned it, was meant to save her. It was meant to save others. And she'd been confronted in the moments of her memory with a time she could not save even herself.

If she'd needed to, she would not have been able to save Hermione, either.

Blaming that failing on Gilgamesh is easier. Turning anger towards Gilgamesh is easier. Confronting her own weaknesses in this one part of her life is something she simply refuses. She made herself vulnerable without knowing; he seized upon it; and for all the violation and betrayal, the things that she ought to have prevented had she been stronger and smarter, wanting to think of nothing but his fault, his cruelty is for Katsa now the only option. ]

I don't know if anything I might have known would have made a difference for me. But perhaps it could have for you. I didn't know. I couldn't do anything. But now I do. I won't let anyone hurt you. Not him. No Servant, not anyone.

[ She'd failed Hermione for so long—far worse than she'd failed herself. ]

[ The problem is that Hermione truly believes that she should have known. She should have been there for Katsa, should never have argued with her, should have been at her side to learn about Gilgamesh and come face to face with him for what he'd done and threatened, but she hadn't been. Instead, she'd believed him, and her own heart, and she'd loved and cherished him despite all her own failures. It hurts to think about and, now, she has to force herself to calm down.

She's weak to him, and she'd known it. She was a fool for him and all she can do now is try her best to make it better. To try and undo the damage someone she cared about had done, to try and readdress the balance of it all. She knew, quietly, in the back of her mind, that it wasn't her job, but... She felt as though it was her duty.

(She was Gilgamesh's queen, in his eyes; she had been his proxy Master, his Marchioness, his ruler. He followed her. She should repair what was broken in his name).

She has to try her best to reply and make it seem normal, easy... And that isn't as simple as it sounds. ]

Maybe. But that's in the past now, I can't undo it. All we can do is try and make sure nothing like this ever happens again.

[ It's a good thing this conversation has been through script rather than spoken word. Katsa doesn't know if she could have held herself together had she had to face Hermione throughout it, and she probably would have gotten out her words in some sort of regrettable fashion. Even better, she can't see Hermione's face, and Hermione can't see hers.

She can take time to reply. And Katsa takes it: minutes, far more than needed, to send back one word. ]

Yes.

[ And then, even longer following: ]

You've strange choices in companions, you know.

I know. My friends were the strangest assortment, weren't they?

[ Hermione can't help but huff a laugh to herself, shaking her head and staring at her device. ]

They were all wonderful, though.

I hated that place, Hermione. But not a day has gone by in eight years that I don't miss it.

I didn't enjoy the thought of never seeing anyone again. There was so much I had left to do. Even you, we hardly had the time.

[ After... well, everything. ]

I hated it too. Sometimes. But it was home as well.

We have the time now, you know.

I suppose you're right.

[ Hermione has succeeded in making Katsa smile. She likes the thought. ]

I want to hear everything. I want to know everything.

[ Really, that's all Hermione wants. If she can be there, and see Katsa smile instead of cry, see her joy instead of sadness... She would be happy. ]

Everything? You're going to have to give me somewhere to start.

Well. How about how long you've been here, and how long in the Drabwurld since I left? What have you been doing in all this time?

Okay, well.

I've been here... Almost six months, perhaps? Maybe a little longer. I wasn't in the Drabwurld for too long after you left; I was brought here. I've been making and practicing potions using the foreign ingredients here and trying to branch out and actually meet some people.

It's harder than it sounds.

The potion making, or the meeting people? I wouldn't know where to start with strange plants or herbs. And you can hardly explore here, most of the time.

Meeting people. I'm still used to being who I was before, and that's not who I am here. I'm no leader or Marchioness; I'm just Hermione.

But when we stop at planets I gather herbs and seeds and I have a greenhouse and potion workshop on the Iskaulit that I use to make everything.

Well. Just Hermione is all you need to be. That's plenty.

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brainiest - 2016-09-30 15:53 (UTC) - Expand