I wonder, what possessed me to answer that boy's question?

'Why the hell don't you fight back?'

It was a question that did not require an explanation, as it was already self explanatory. How can I fight back when I have nothing to fight for? My Matesprite is long dead, I don't have any friends, I don't even have myself. I'm nothing but a husk of my former self in terms of personality. So what else can I do but move like clockwork according to the Queen's will?

But…

This isn't the first time I have been asked that question. It seems to be a strong Vantas trait to question the order of things. A light chuckle escapes me, but much of it without humor. That's something I haven't done in awhile. Just like speaking…

I didn't really like the way he had asked that question. There were different layers of accusation woven together, some more unknowing than the rest. It was like he was accusing me of purposefully giving up. If I'm being honest with myself then I pretty much did do just that, but I am choosing to go down a more stubborn route and say that I just accepted the facts of reality. And reality says that forever is a long time so I should learn to let go already.

And I have. I'm nothing like I was at the beginning of my sentence.

Yet I had broken my silence to speak once again for this boy, to him. It was the first conversation I had actually held down with someone else in many, many sweeps. I even told him goodnight before he left.

The peculiarity of trouble this boy is going to cause me knows no bounds, does it?

A deep sigh passes through my lungs slowly, my chest rising as it fills up on oxygen and then falling as I deflate. I look up to see thin rays of light twinkling down into my cell, the dust motes twirling lazily around and around. With a mind of its own my arm reaches up, pale grey hand stretching out to touch the light. I come just short of it. Normally I don't strain myself to try and reach it once I find that I can't in the first place but I feel rather oddly compelled to try today.

With a slight shove I push the tips of my fingernails into the light and disturb the peace of the motes. They dance wildly around the nails and I wiggle my fingers just a little. It's a curious thing, how such a simple force as an air current can disrupt a normal routine for things as mindless as dust. Just like how a single question asked by a strange person in a silent room can upheave the ingrained lifestyle of everyone else. If Karkat Vantas is the flow then I must be the dustmote.

But what exactly can he change?

There's no light at the end of this never-ending tunnel to show that the mote is moving anywhere. These shackles on my wrists aren't just for show. They're a reminder that I can't leave. I may be free to move anyway I can but at the end of it all I'm still bound by the Queen's words which are law.

Who says that words and laws last forever though?

Hmm….

I bring up an excellent point. This reminds me much of the appearance of the Queen. She's getting on in her sweeps now. While yes the royal Fuchsia bloods are gifted as well as cursed with longevity even that will come to an end long before forever will. The descendant, Feferi I believe, seems to be a promising enough ruler. But I do not believe she will survive challenging the hierarchy. Her fighting is Optimistic Reckless, a style that says she doesn't fully consider the moves that her enemy could take to overthrow her. It's all mostly based around her mindset as a youth though, and I'm sure that with proper training from someone who could reign her in she'll be a master.

Ah I wish I could show those wrigglers a trick or two to help them out. It's not the first time the thought has crossed my mind either. Many of them are naive enough that they need it, like the Ampora descendant. Some could use being knocked down a couple pegs, especially Serket. The Zahhak descendant needs to learn restraint, the Captor descendant needs to find equilibrium, the Nitram descendant needs to obtain decisiveness. The Pyrope descendant needs to learn the difference between a game and reality to properly define justice. And the Vantas descendant…. Karkat needs to find tactics that aren't always so aggressive.

It's rather unfortunate that I'm not allowed to fight back and merely defend myself to the barest minimum. But if I were the Queen I would never see her twelve killings of myself.

Wouldn't that be a relief….

I feel...so….tired. Living is a tiresome thing. It has been for awhile I suppose. Forever is a desolate sentence, and I am only but a third of my way through it. Maybe even less. What will I be like in the next three hundred and fifty-two sweeps? Perhaps I won't even be able to think, to ponder such as I am now. What will the generation of descendants then be like? Will they be much of anything to me by then? Will I even quit associating them with whom they hailed from? Will I be completely empty by then?

Only forever can tell, but it keeps a hold of its secrets like a jealous mistress.

I can't take much more of this train of thought at the moment, so I believe it is time to stand and stretch my muscles a little. The time draws near that I must be picked up for the slaughtering. It won't do if I'm a stiff and crotchety old troll now would it?

But as soon as I stand then the doors at the beginning of the hall open with a loud clang. What is going on? It isn't time for the Queen's summons…. Unless I have misjudged somehow?

The feet are light and quick against the stone and my head cocks in confusion. What is the Pyrope girl doing down here?

The footsteps halt in front of my cell and the keys jangle, the lock creaks, and the metal screeches angrily over the stone. The wooden door is unlocked and then thrown open. I shield my eyes slightly as more light floods my enclosure. It does not take long for my sight to adjust and my gaze hones in on the averagely heighted she-troll.

I've always found her appearance to be more on the childish side, somewhat close to the Leijon descendant if I must compare her to someone. Her face has a pleasant amount of chub to it, so that whenever she smiles- rather it's whenever she grins like a beast that toys with its meal- it makes her cheeks appear puffy. Her hair is styled to a point that it pokes out and curls generously in whatever way it pleases. Even her suit reflects her attitude; a smokey grey coat and shorts of all things lined with her Teal blood caste messily put together to show she did not care if she looked properly put together or not.

She puts her hands on her hips and looks, surprisingly as she is blind, right at me.

"What did you say to Karkat? And don't pretend that you don't speak because I know you can," she demands boldly.

I look on in shock. Why is she asking me about this? I would not have thought Karkat would have told anyone about the conversation, as speaking with each other is forbidden. Maybe he would if he's made friends, and certainly if people are curious about me… Perhaps I shall wait this out to see if she will elaborate more for me.

What must be an agonizing minute for her is but like watching a drop of rain reach the ground for me. She cracks and does as I had expected.

"You had to have said something to him, because when he came back last night he smelled funny. And not as in bodily odor funny, but emotional funny. And he's been acting weird all day thinking about something."

Of course he would. I told him the truth after all.

I sigh. Knowing the Pyrope descendant she's going to be persistent until I answer her, and in all honesty and sincerity if she waits around waiting for something forbidden she is going to get into trouble, which I do not wish for. So I give her what she wants.

"He asked me a question and I answered it truthfully," My throat feels like it is scraping together, creating a croaking sound in my words. It's painful, yet another reason it's a good idea to not speak. "The truth is a shocking thing to be aware of when all you are shrouded in is mystery."

They Pyrope descendant leaps upon my words instantaneously. "So you did say something to him. Vriska said you wouldn't because you obey like a mindless slave to the Queen."

"She did, did she? I suppose she would think that based off of the few times she's glimpsed my mind," A heavy breath escapes through my nose, something akin to what feels like a release of humor to me. "But if I really were mindless then wouldn't she have been able to bend me to her will by now?"

Pyrope tilts her head thoughtfully and nods like it makes sense to her. A light smirk spreads across her face and she chuckles just a little. "You do have a point there."

The acknowledgement is casual but notable. How strange that someone younger than myself concedes that I am right.

The mood in Pyrope shifts again back to business. "What else did you say to Karkat though? Because the thing you described isn't the feeling I smelled on him."

Now I'm intrigued as well as confused. "Well I also told him that we shouldn't be talking because it is forbidden."

A subtle reminder to her as well of course. But I wonder… Was it because I had told him goodnight? Maybe it wasn't because of anything I had said, really. Maybe it was. He had shifted moods dramatically through the whole encounter. Then again he was compelling enough to elicit things from me. The fact alone that I had said goodnight is amazing enough. Perhaps he has been doing much the same as I have been all day. Thinking, questioning, analyzing.

"Pondering," The word slips from my mouth like a silken clad devil. Pyrope perks up like I had hit the nail right on the head. It's enough to tell me what his actions have been like without having witnessed them first hand. I have been on his mind as much as he has been on mine.

Pyrope leans forward and pokes her nose through the bars. "You're strange Thirteen, I'll give you that. You've made me curious so I intend to find out all I can about you, mark my words."

"There isn't much to find though."

I'm startled, to say the least. Yet it's also disheartening to hear her say those words. I have hardly any history to myself, and what there is most certainly isn't pleasant. She should abandon the idea now while she can. And for her own sake so that she does not receive a punishment for sticking her nose where the Queen most certainly won't want it.

She reaches for her keys and unlocks the gate. "We'll see about that."

There's trouble in those words.

The Condescension stares at me thoughtfully, swirling around her soporific drink. It's interesting, her intake of the beverage has increased steadily over the past few months. I wonder why she has such a need for the foul draft. Surely her responsibilities aren't weighing her down so much that she must drown herself in it. Originally the intent is supposed to relax the user, but it seems to have hardly the same effect on Her Majesty. I suppose that she adapts to it too quickly and thus tries to take in more to achieve that relaxing effect.

It's a slight sign that she is unraveling in her old age.

The Queen sighs long and deep into the silence. "I have some important news to alert you of."

She says this while looking at me, yet it's directed to the ones it matters to off to the side. I catch sight of everyone straightening in my peripheral. What news does the Queen have to share?

She stands up and tips her glass to give herself a generous drink. One clawed hand attaches itself to her hip and she looks down in deep concentration. When she speaks her words are slightly muffled.

"I have business to attend to in the Furthest Ring and will be leaving in the morning. It should only take a week, two at the most if negotiations are prolonged to that extent," She looks up and turns to face her Zodiac. The news is surprising. The Queen hardly leaves any more, having conquered basically every thing in the known galaxy.

"In the meantime you are to carry on with your normal tasks, including," She casts me a sideways glance with a wicked grin. "The punishment entailed for Thirteen."

"Yes ma'am," they chorused as one. I simply close my eyes and bow with my hands behind my back like always. It's far too much for me to expect a day to go by without my death, even when she is not here to witness it.

The Queen returns to her seat and waves her hand. The Leijon descendant steps forward and into the circle of light. I wearily turn to face her. My heart feels heavy, oddly enough. My steps become slower and my defense barely raises in time. Why is this news depressing me? It shouldn't. I am not to expect a reprise from my sentence under any circumstances. But I'm just so done with this endless cycle, sweep after long sweep. I need a break. I want a break.

In this moment I make a mistake. I make a horrible, miscalculated, poorly judged mistake. I look away from my opponent and to the Zodiac lining the far right wall. My eyes have a mind of their own, searching out a specific descendant. Karkat stands at the end of the line on the left side tracking my movements. He looks up and we make eye contact.

Leijon breaks my guard easily and her weapon, hooked claws, slides effortlessly through my chest and out my back. I look down and see rivulets of my clear blood pour out and between her knuckles. My knees buckle and cave underneath me. The warm liquid builds up until I feel it in my mouth, trickling out when I gasp.

The light fuzzes and fades, wavering in my sight. Leijon gives a slight tug and pulls the blades out of me and I fall backwards. Death wraps around me slowly, taking its time and making this something I haven't experienced in a while- agonizing. I reach up to feel the holes and my hand becomes covered in the clear, sticky substance. I pull it away and watch my chest heave erratically, drops falling down from my coated hand and catching in the light. They shimmer and shine. Each drop appears unique though, reflecting a different color like a rainbow of the hemospectrum.

Each color disappears one by one and the light grows darker. The last convulsive breath escapes me, a cooling sensation runs through my body to relax everything. My eyes close just like if I were falling asleep, and I dream of never waking again.