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[ Hermione's expression goes tight and she watches Katsa for a moment, taking in the information. She had seen what had happened to Dorian, of course, his punishment for his crime, but to be killed for simply having friends... She was already in a precarious position.

I need you to understand that while you would be capable of sacrificing him I wouldn't be. He's my family and I love him, more than I can put into words. I don't know what I would do without him, I don't, and I don't want to think about what would happen to me if something happened to him.

Ridire knows Hermione has an Unseelie friend. Not one she's spoken to recently, but... ]

It's never going to be safe for me, Katsa. I'm a Marchioness of the Citadel, I lead people and soldiers and I'm not going to make them fight alone. I have the power to protect people and nothing is going to stop me from doing that. We can stop seeing each other but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop caring about you.

[ A bully indeed. It reminds her sharply of Voldemort - but she shrugs that off, expression hard. She could handle the Unseelie monarchs being a rather distant threat, but now? Not even Harry's claims to liking them would keep her fury away from them. ]

What else?

[ Hermione's answer Katsa understands, understands so well, and that's exactly what makes her flinch at it. She had only meant to give a warning, but with Hermione's last answer, her voice switches to something that almost sounds like a plea. ]

Whom are you leading soldiers to fight, Hermione?

Well, no one right now, I don't think.

[ She frowns, pursing her lips, considering. ]

If we're going to fight or defend we all have to agree. It's a democracy. We're just taking care of refugees right now.

[ And maybe she's being a little too forthright here - ]

What did you have to tell me?

You're a Marchioness of the military fortress, Hermione. Think what that means. You know why Reul killed one of us for being known to associate with the Seelie. What are you going to do when your democracy wants to ride against Dorchadas again?

[ It bursts out of her more fevered than she intends, something clawing inside her chest. Is that frustration? Fear? Anger? Worry? All of it, most likely. ]

Morla wants you dead. You and all the Marquis of the Citadel, while you still stand with the military she wants your shards more than anyone's, and now that she's back I'm afraid for you, for they will stop at nothing.

I'll do what I have to do. I have Unseelie friends, I know that, but there are also people that have done awful things - on both sides. I'm not just going to stand by and let my friends get in trouble or get hurt when there's something I can do about it. I'm not going to let anyone else die on my watch!

[ And she says it with ferocity; she has seen people die, she held someone in her arms, held a sword that might have killed her if she had pushed a little more, had felt Dorian's blood cover her and drown her. She can't let that happen again. She lifts her head, determined and sure. ]

Morla will want me dead no matter what happens, Katsa. Being a Marchioness doesn't change that - I have a Seelie shard inside of me. They won't be happy until we're all gone, and if being a Marchioness means I'm in danger then fine! It's a fair price to pay for being able to help the people I care about. Do you think I'd have been able to go down to the dungeons and talk to you if I wasn't a Marchioness?

Edited 2015-05-04 01:19 (UTC)

The Seelie are wrong.

[ Katsa says this before anything else, determined to get to the point of this, to make Hermione understand. Without thinking about the effect it will have, it's the truth. ]

I know how you feel. I do, and it's admirable, but this is not the battle you want to fight. If you weren't a Marchioness, Morla wouldn't have told me your death would shake the very foundation of Glaschu, even among others. You could still be talking to me now, Marchioness or not, and you'd be safer. Please. I could not bear to see you hurt, even though I have to uproot the people who currently stand at your side.

And the Unseelie are right? You just told me they killed someone for having a friend!

[ And her frustration is almost palatable, her jaw clenched as she smothers back her anger. But Katsa keeps going and something settles on Hermione, her eyes flicking a little bit, staring at her friend. ]

Morla told you? You have to uproot - [ She breathes out, her heart pounding in her chest.

Hermione is a master of putting two and two together but, oh, god, she hopes she's wrong. She desperately hopes she's wrong. ]

What are you talking about?

That's not what I mean by it—but if Reul is that kind of king, then I will kill him, too!

[ Katsa's voice rises both in pitch and in volume. She doesn't know what has happened in this conversation, and her blue and green eyes are wide almost with horror at what she's just heard slip from her own lips.

She's killed too much, this past year, it seems. It had never been herself who had been better—she'd always suspected that. It had always been Po, with all the goodness. Alone in this now, her true nature is returning. The nature of a killer.

She will not cry now. ]

After the fall of Caer Scima. I asked Morla who was responsible, for the names of people who were in charge, because I was angry and I wanted to do something. Morla didn't name you but she named your title. Of course I won't kill you just because she wants it. But to take the rest out of power for the corruption I've seen with my own eyes—that's my decision.

You can't just kill everyone.

[ Hermione's voice drops and she stares at Katsa, completely at a loss. Something awful and cold is sliding through her body and making her feel sick - not horror, exactly, but fear, and she has to blink back her emotions, swallow them, her body mirroring the urge; she takes a step back and away from Katsa, her hands shaking.

If her friend knew. Who was responsible for the fall of Caer Scima? Well, that person was standing right in front of her and she had no idea. No one had any idea, no one, and the mark on her face was a reminder of what she had done - that her giving up her sigil had done that, had cost so many lives. The candles she had lit at Samhain, the duelling, the fighting so hard to make peace with herself...

It's almost hilarious and if Hermione had less grasp on herself she might laugh. ]

Your decision is to tell me that you're going to come to my home and kill my friends. That you're going to come and kill the people that I care about because Morla told you to, because you want the person responsible to be held to account. Do you think I'm going to just let you do that? That I'm going to step to one side and give you an open invitation to the Citadel?

[ She shakes her head, the tears welling up in her eyes even as she forces them back with all her might. She stares at her friend with determination, her hands gripping at nothing as she tries to calm her own raging emotions. ]

I gave the monarchs the power that helped them take down Caer Scima. I didn't do it on purpose, I had no idea what they were going to do with it, but it was me. If you want to kill the person responsible for what happened then you're looking at her, Katsa, but I am not going to go down without a fight. Not knowing that you want to kill people I care about too. I refuse to let you.

Edited 2015-05-04 01:56 (UTC)

No. No.

[ Now she really is crying, her cheeks hot and her vision blurred, upset and furious that this is going all wrong. This isn't what she wanted, isn't what she meant. But she has no idea how to fix it. Katsa is floundering, lost in both the strangeness of this situation and the fact of her own inability to communicate, this horrible loss of words that always strikes her. Hermione's confession isn't the worst of it, terrible as it is, for Katsa believes even through all this, wholly and completely, that Hermione is the good one, and that about this she would never lie. ]

I don't want to kill. Especially not because a queen told me, not again. And for that power, when you didn't know what it would do—that's not why I'm doing this, and if you think that's the kind of person that I am who would kill you just for—

[ And she stops, horrified. Is that assumption about the kind of person she would be to do that even wrong? She likes to think she's better than she once was, not the snarling monster of her early years. But even if her Grace is not killing like she once believed—she's still a killer and has been one all along.

She wants nothing more than to turn and run. ]

That's not what I think of you! That's what you said to me!

[ Hermione's heart aches but she is afraid. She's afraid that if she gets too close that she might end up hurt, that this is a game, that the confession is just the beginning of something worse. She doesn't know what to do - and she'd never thought that there would come a time where she would be faced with something like this. She feels sick with it, the myriad of feelings inside of her like a weight on her shoulders, baring down on her and dragging her into a pit that she can't escape from. ]

You told me you would kill Reul, that you were going to take the rest out - the other Marchionesses, the Marquis. What did you want me to do - to say? That I'd stand by you and - and watch you take them down, remove them, do whatever Morla asked you to do? You know me, Katsa. I help my friends. I protect my friends. From any danger, no matter what the cost might be.

[ She breathes out, closing her eyes, her own tears burning at her now. It hurts, it hurts so much, and she doesn't know what to do. She doesn't know how to handle this, the suffocating weight of her pain and Katsa's both. ]

What am I supposed to believe, Katsa? What will Morla say if you attack everyone but me, especially with what you've told me?

[ She bows her head, hands clenched. ]

I can't let you hurt them no more than you can hurt me - no more than I can hurt you.

Edited 2015-05-04 02:10 (UTC)

I didn't say that I would kill them! I have killed, and I will kill again, but not unless there's no other way. I don't care what she says. I'll do things for myself. But I have to make things different in any way that I can.

[ Oh. She's making this worse, isn't she? Katsa's growing only angrier, her voice hotter. She knows how she sounds. She knows this feeling, and she puts out a hand to steady herself against the wall, her head spinning with tears and sick fury and disgust. ]

And you have to see what's best for everyone. For you. Hermione, please.

You have no idea what's best for me.

[ Hermione stares at Katsa for a long moment before she shakes her head. ]

So I step down. I stop being a Marchioness. Who replaces me? My second, yes, but what if she disappears or goes home or steps down - [ because Anne was pregnant and had a baby, for goodness sake, this would be madness for her ] - and someone like Tarz takes my place? Is that what you want?

[ She shakes her head, voice a little ragged. ]

I am not just a Marchioness. I am a Protectress, I am the Lioness of the Path. I'm doing everything I can to protect all the people I love and that means staying where I am. If you want to get to the Citadel then fine. You can try. But Katsa...

[ She breathes out, sharp, throat tight. ]

You'll have to get through me.

[ It's the worst choice to make. To protect her friends she has to try and use her power, to keep it, to shape herself to be a true Protectress. She doesn't agree with everything Solais and Ridire were doing, but Lancelot? Flora? Kayneth and Anne and Mako? All of the people she loves that would suffer because of this? She can't abandon them. Not even for Katsa. ]

[ She's too confused to argue, too lost for words to know how to save this. Yes. Hermione is a protectress. She protects the ones she loves. Katsa may try, but when she does it, it always ends in death.

But she doesn't believe that she is wrong, either. Only that she is worse. And maybe that's why Hermione doesn't see it. Katsa has to be willing to do this, to throw the knife, because she can fathom doing terrible things that others wouldn't—like using a knife simply to stop a man from talking, all on reflex. She can't change her mind—but she can't stay here with Hermione, either.

She'd felt like this once before, and it had felt just as terrible then, crying her heart out in the forests and wondering how two people could love each other and still have such broken hearts. This is not unlike that moment, except that Katsa is not deciding between keeping her heart or risking giving it away. The answer doesn't just require time to think about it; Katsa already knows the answer. And Katsa is afraid that if she stays here any longer that she will do something that she regrets—a knife to stop someone from talking, and she hadn't even known what she was doing.

Katsa looks at Hermione and holds her eyes for a brief instant, takes in the familiar and dear shape of her face. And then—

She turns on her heel and flees. Down the stairs out the door, it does not matter where she is going, nor who sees her with tears tracked on her red cheeks, loud choking noises in her throat. She simply needs to go. ]

Katsa!

[ As soon as she turns away Hermione tries to chase after her, but she knows the limits of what she can do now. A Seelie shardholder running around an Unseelie owned tavern, randomly, without having a reason or an excuse? There would be talk and she wouldn't have anything to say for herself other than the truth; that today she hadn't just broken her own heart but she had broken Katsa's, too.

She has information, though. She can go back and tell Lancelot that there is a specific bounty on them all, that there is more than what they thought ahead when it came to danger, but... She didn't want to. Her emotions were a sick weight on her and she didn't want to consider all of this, what it all meant, the way that her heart felt like it had been ripped out of her chest.

What had she done?

Today she had stood in front of Katsa and, in no uncertain terms, told her that she would fight her, possibly to the death, to defend the Citadel. She knew what Katsa had experienced there was horrific in the worst possible way, but... She couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let anything happen to her friends, even as the burst of pain and sadness pressed down her and made her feel sick, something hard in her throat, a lump that she couldn't swallow away. She had sworn to fight Katsa, her friend, and fighting in the Drabwurld...

Fighting back her tears, the knowledge that all their meetings, their friendship, was tinged with Katsa and her mission, the knowledge that each word she'd shared might have given her more room to explore the Citadel, that none of it was an accident, Hermione turned and disappeared with a pop. ]

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