She is the lord now.

It had not truly settled in till earlier in the day; the sky had been a brilliant blue with white delicately painted on, compared to the black and curtains of grey it is now, when Ser Gechutel had addressed her in the same way he had her father. Though she has been in this position for years at this point (too many already of seeing the same walls and sitting in the same spot), though she vaguely remembers being called by that title when the throne first became hers, it is different now.

Different because half of her gaju (were they really hers? or merely her father's?) have betrayed her. Have called her unworthy and weak.

Perhaps they are right. Perhaps they are merely ungrateful for all that they have. Perhaps, she does not care about it as much as everyone seems to think she does.

Only Urokai's rage and Edian's silence hurts her.

It is true that Urokai is not close to her, but she remembers her mother. The memories are barely there for she was forced into eternal sleep when Raskreia was only forty (her clearest memory is of a red-haired noble with ugly scars telling her with a loving smile and cheerful voice that she will be back soon. a lie, because all she saw after that was the grieving smile of her father. a woman with the same grey hair as hers wails and, she is afraid.) but she has enough to know that her mother was an Agvain. Enough to know how Urokai would peer into her mother's arms to see her. That his eyes would glow brightly as he looked at her and talked excitedly to a noble girl whose features were nearly identical to his. That once upon a time his hair was longer than her father's, and his skin much, much warmer than hers because he had held her with so much gentleness she had refused to let go of him for hours. She remembers other Agvains too, and so she knows her mother (though she will never know who she was for her father could not speak of her. for she never asked.) was well loved in her clan.

She misses what could have been.

When did Urokai stop caring for her? She thinks it was when the girl (she cannot remember her name but her voice was loud and happy and sometimes when she is alone she cries at how beautiful it was) by his side disappeared. And with her a part of him.

Then what of Edian? Of how nobody knew of the way they talked. She was her mentor in all that one can be. In the way of the sword (she taught her how Ragnarok can be used. other swords too, and how they will always seem more suited to her hands than one that is made from the souls of others, no matter the fact that they have the same blood as long as they do not share the same thoughts), of how the nobles lived, of how to interact with different people, and to be able to tell when someone is lying. Raskreia considers her to be a mentor in matters of the heart too, for she was her first love. One that she knew she would never pursue with the way Edian smiled in Ser Rayga's company or in how she teased Gradeus; especially since there was a time she spoke of a human woman with a face that easily told her that she considered her to be the most precious being in the world.

Yet that had only made her happy.

Why did she stop talking to Raskreia? When did Edian start leaving her, start distancing herself, start boring of her? When did the smile on her face turn into a blank mask?

It pains Raskreia to think that Edian hates her. It kills her when the thought that she may be at fault settles in her mind like a butterfly fluttering as it lands.

"My lord!"

The greeting does not surprise her. She could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin long before Karias reached the throne room. Long before he opened the doors so cheerfully.

He is someone that she does not understand. Someone she cannot ever understand. Yet, it is the same trait that attracted her to Edian.

It makes her want to talk to him the way she did with her, but, she is the lord now.

Karias kneels, offering her the flowers he has. Hesitation clouds her mind in thick swathes, but she gets up regardless, and accepts them. They are arranged so that pale pink flowers stand out from the smaller, darker clumps of acacias.

"These are," she asks, looking down at him, "acacias and?"

He smiles at her and her heart quickens. She hopes that he cannot feel the silk threads that start to fill the room, and requests, she pleads and she begs, herself not to reach out to him.

Not because she is opposed to loving him. No. It is because she does not love him. Oh how she adores the idea of him. To run her fingers through his golden hair, to have him by her side in this lonely room that does not belong to her as it should and speak to her as she listens, as she stares at how joyful and free he would look, to walk alongside him under the sky and not this ceiling.

He is freedom, and that is why she wants him.

He is not her longing, and she will not be the poison to his life. She will not be the reason for his doom and cause him to become but a shell, for that is what will happen if she does pursue him. She will take of him what she wants, take of him his love, his dreams, his life, and only give him her loneliness in return.

He will wallow in a dark empty void just as she does now, for that is how love for a notion works. Lost in isolation, lost in the knowledge that you do not matter and only your mask does, lost and never to be found. It is this very fate that he will fall upon that she sleeps on now, and the worst part of it all is not that this would happen, but that he would do it willingly. That he would give her this same smile and choose to let her leave and take her place in the cage.

He would let his light dim so others may see her for who she is rather than what they want her to be. Rather than the ideal that she tries to be.

She ends up reaching out anyway. Only to help him up, but it is still too much and she feels a shock as his hands are in hers but it is hidden.

"Azaleas," he says, and her brows furrow momentarily. She had forgotten that she had asked a question.

"I thought it would be good to cheer you up after everything that happened-" he brings his hand up but then puts it back down, as if he forgot what he meant to do- "The flowers only accentuate your beauty."

She does not miss the way his eyes glance at the pink bouquet and her hair. Likewise she doubts that he misses her blush.

"Your gift is appreciated Karias, thank you."

She bows her head for a moment, and returns to her throne (oh how she hates that it is hers. oh how she hates that she cannot leave this room. yet she will never hate being the lord.) as he turns to leave. She lifts the flowers (they smell wonderful) and a small card falls out.

It is startling, but not as much so as when she calls out to him.

"Karias-" he turns around and she stares at him as his smile trembles- "do not call me by that title again."

All he does is laugh slightly at that and wave before he is gone. And she, she has her head in her hands because now she has pushed herself into a pit. One that she seems to be determined to drag Karias down.

Slowly, she pushes the hot and cold in her head down her throat, and picks up the card. It is small, not much bigger than her palm, but it is not as strange as she assumed it would be because Karias has handwriting neater than any she has seen before. Though still cursive, and still stunning to look at, it is small. So much so that a human would have to squint to read it.

Before disaster comes,

A calm,

When the night had seven,

Three red came down,

With silver on broken heels,

Licking their paws and holding,

Unlit candles,

"Illusions–",

And when the night held,

To you and only you,

A brazier with the sea instead of flames,

Storms became hurricanes,

No calm,

Preceded.

Raskreia stares at it, and she cannot help her smile. Even hours later when Ludis comes to accompany her (for he is a Mergas and so may as well be of her blood. her heart knows intimately, this matter, for she has raised him as much as his own mother did. and knows him better.) she is smiling. He does not ask her why she acts like this, and she does not try to hide the flowers braided into her hair or the card clutched between her fingers and palm. All he does is stay silent as he sits on the side of the throne, and stays by her side.

She looks at her gaju as they report to her. How boring it is to listen to them say that, in the essence, nothing has changed or needs to be. She can almost understand why her father acted out so often.

Still, it is enjoyable to see them. A change from the scene she is subjected to for years on end, alone except for when Ludis sits by her side or one of her gaju decide to visit her.

Only Ludis keeps her from boredom (similar to how her father would call Ser Rayga and Ser Gechutel often.) and he brings with him letters that Karias writes for her. They are amusing, though certainly moreso for him as he laughs at her expressions, but they both end up in fits of giggles over them. She is the lord so she cannot show such weakness, but she is also an elder sister (a person, her father would have said instead.), so she can be excused for her behaviour.

When Karias starts his report, he addresses her differently.

"Raskreia-numin," he says, and she stops the involuntary twitch of her lips. She wants to smile, laugh, let everyone know that her joy is bubbling inside of her. Let them know how the way he makes her heart beat is in fact love for him. Is in fact an emotion that makes her skin heat up and not one that lifts her feet off of the ground.

Yet she cannot do that.

So she just watches as her gaju are indignant, and as they scold him. Watches as he pouts at something that is assuredly not his fault. Watches as he makes vehement excuses, and she finds the discomfort in her from stifling her laughter more amusing than painful.

Perhaps there are some who would consider him too much for them. Too bright. Painful. Not her though. She does not need him. He gives her more than she asks for, but she does not need it.

It is merely that she wants it.

Raskreia has one problem.

Truthfully, she has many, but this is the one she is looking at now. Not because it is the most important, or the most urgent, but since it can be solved at the current moment.

Karias stands in front of her, unmoving because she told him to stay even with the camellias and yellow tulips (bound together by honeysuckle and it reminds her of how the rays of light that filter into the throne room make her fall apart because it is like his beauty) in her lap.

'Speak!' She tells her heart. 'Speak! Why do you deceive me as such? Why must you delude me into thinking that he shines solely for me? I know he does not. He cannot! But still you wish to lead me astray? Must I have an oasis? Can you not let me be content with the gourd on my hip? I will be content with it. Let me offer it to someone who is in need of it as it is not for me. Has never been for me. And if it is me who must have it, let me hold it to my lips with my own hands. Let not a single drop go to waste. Do not let it spill because I am not made to please anyone's eyes. I live on as my own, and if it affects others, it must be known that it was not I that brought the fault. That it is necessary.'

He is anxious as he stands still, and so is she.

Does he love her? She is not privy to that knowledge. She is only aware that she has ignored how she is not the only one he gifts parts of himself too. She can excuse herself for the very presence of his being that comforts others. That is not something that can be changed for most do not even realise the golden glow that dusts their skin, but what of the roses?

How does he care as easily as he does? How does he give unto others so much love, so easily?

She hates it.

She loves him for it.

Raskreia finally speaks, her emotions rolling at the worry Karias feels.

"The lord is not a being you can simply treat like any other."

At least her attempt was better than Ludis'. He had driven Lusar to tears.

Karias' laughter surprises her. She had not been expecting this of him, but she has learnt that there is little she can, because he is hard to predict. One who strategizes his every move is, at times, more spontaneous to others than those who do not control themselves.

"I don't treat you the same way Raskreia-numin."

He says more, but when he is gone, it is what resounds in her head as she rests, leaning back on her throne. That, and the image of the way he left. Hair shining in the rays of the sun, bathing him in an ethereal light and making him seem untouchable. Unreachable. Divine. If it were not she who was the being closest to a deity from the heavens, she would have mistaken him for one.

She refuses the first time he begs to be sent to the Noblesse.

"Why?" she asks herself later in the moonlight, and gets no answer from her reflection. The water remains still.

Raskreia did not expect an answer. She did not even know what her question was, after all. Was it asking of Karias' wish to leave and see the human world? Of how he seemed so willing to leave her? Or was it asking of her refusal? Of how she was fine with locking him up in a cage as long as it made her happy?

The way his eagerness had purred against her had hurt. Not because it was painful, but due to her fear. Her baseless fear.

There is nothing between them (except letters and letters and letters. except the stacks of poems that are kept pristine and clean. except the flowers that she has framed in her room because Ludis had shown her how to when she said she wanted to keep them with a sigh.) and it reminds her of what he wrote in one of his letters.

you Move,

bells Cry your name,

Shudder, and,

tears Carve into your face.

they Laid a trap,

and your trust they Betrayed,

your mind they Mocked,

it was,

only your face they Wanted,

but now it is Scarred.

so they Free you,

and when they cannot Reach you,

you Laugh,

OVERJOYED,

for they Fell into your trap.

once more,

you Walk free.

The next time she lets him go.

"Bespoke my heart then! And none could have understood my sorrow for sparks filled it with unbidden–"

Raskreia cannot help but laugh as she reads Karias' letter out loud to Ludis who keeps his hand firm over his mouth. He has barely left and already he sends her such an amusing thing. There is also a flower attached to the envelope and she can see how he must have sat, concentrated, as he carefully arranged it in a way that would not let it be crushed.

She continues reading the letter, but with the way they laugh, it is night when they finish and Rozaria has come to discuss some matters. It takes time, enough so that when they are done the first rays of dawn are creeping in, and she feels her heart call for a song she does not know how to sing.

She holds the flower up (Karias sent one she does not know the name of but it has more petals than Ludis height, and is a brilliant red) and lets the sun give its love unto it.

"Rozaria," she asks, "do you know what this flower is called?"

Her gaju looks confused. Then she grins and her eyes flash (it must be a trick of the light).

"It's a red chrysanthemum–" Raskreia nods but then Rozaria snickers– "It means 'I love you' in a romantic sense. Though you must already know that? Karias does give you all these flowers after all."

She wishes she can crawl into a hole and die but that would be undignified. Not befitting of her status. Yet, how can she possibly be delighted when Rozaria has made it clear that everyone was aware of Karias' emotions except for her?

(Easily enough because she's smiling gleefully even as she asks Ludis why he never told her he knew of what the flowers meant.)

Later when she saves Karias she wonders if she truly thinks so idealistically about a man like him. Then he smiles and she remembers that he illuminates her life like Edian once did.

When she stabs the Noblesse, she does it fully knowing she could have been gentler and done it without harming him but, he deserves to be stabbed.

How dare he pardon the traitors without her approval? Yes she has now agreed with his decision after ensuring that they will receive their proper punishment, but how dare he? She will not help him (...she is not a good liar) if he challenges her authority like this again. So, she stabs him as a warning. Why is everyone so upset?

It is still embarrassing to have her father scold her for it though. Her joy outweighs the embarrassment because of how she has missed him and yet. She is worried about where exactly she gained her taste in men. Not her mother certainly, because though she does not know her, Ser Gechutel has mentioned she first loved her father for something (that she does not quite understand) that most definitely was not his personality or looks. It truly scares her.

Then he starts talking about how she must be careful and to be wary of men. What a tiring affair. Must he really speak of this?

So, she deliberately makes eye contact with the supposed recording of him, goes to Karias, and kisses him with all the passion she can muster (it is less than that which she stabs people with).

It truly is worth everything though, because she has staked her claim, heard her father screech (proving that he is most definitely aware of what is happening), and made everyone else speechless. Karias himself is also blushing so she has another thing she can now lord over.

Now if she can figure out why exactly the Noblesse is patting a sobbing Urokai on the shoulder. Or just why the man is crying. That would make her life just the slightest bit better.

Pink Acacias – You are elegant

Indian Azaleas – True to the end

Camellias – I admire you; You are perfect in every way

Yellow tulips – I am hopelessly in love

Honeysuckle – I am devoted to you

Red chrysanthemums – I love you