Heyyyy. Damn, this chapter's taken me ages. But with FI finished I'm gunna concentrate on this one until I get it done, so it shouldn't be so long between updates this time. Sorry xx

Complicated

Her newest attempt stormed out of her room, shutting the door behind him with a little too much force, and Liliana cursed, halfheartedly. Well, it had been worth a shot. And it would be worth it again. She couldn't believe that every man in this hell would be so resistant to a well-practised touch. Perhaps the King had made it clear exactly what would happen to those who dared to... get to know her a little better, so to speak. If so, he'd made her job harder, but not impossible.

But she still didn't know why he'd even bothered. It wasn't exactly like he was striving to protect her 'purity'... even he couldn't be that stupid. Besides, even if the one man that happened to be susceptible to her charms happened to be the one man who could get her out of the castle, surely William knew that there was nowhere for her to go? She had no idea where she was, and they were surrounded by a damned ocean, with a damned mountain on one side!

Lily sat back down by her dresser, and began to think this through again. She'd be damned if she was going to be defeated by physical ability alone. Her mother's line had hardly been quitters, and she wasn't going to be the first to introduce failure into the family traits.

But it was so hard to think with a headache like this.

Lily leant her head against the desk. The only person inside that she'd managed to even begin to manipulate was Kenton, and that was only by subtly convincing him to bring her a few potions to counteract that damned focus site. What was more frustrating was that she was fairly sure even that move had been sanctioned by his majesty; she couldn't even pull the strings of a kid, for Avo's sake! What the hell was wrong with her?

Okay, so maybe it was more psychological. She had the drive, yes, but she knew there was only so much a person could handle, even a person as resilient as herself.

And, Avo, was she tired.

Liliana made herself get to her feet. It was difficult, and painful, but that only made her more determined, growling incoherently at herself, recalling days standing on decks in horrendous storms - and she damned sure hadn't given up then. She had to get out of here, even for a little while... She stumbled, but caught hold of the dresser to keep herself upright, and had a good look at her reflection.

"Death." She diagnosed, shaking her head, and reached a hand out to grab a pot of face powder, attacking her face viciously. She hadn't eaten in days, and, even with her usually porcelain-pale skin, she was looking particularly pallid today. No wonder that guard had fled like he was being chased by a rabid balverine...

Lily looked herself over again. She'd raided the dresser that contained copies of her old clothes, and pulled on a white shirt and black trousers, along with a leather waist cincher pulled tight with black buckles. All that along with her balverine-tooth necklace she'd found tucked away in a drawer, and she almost felt normal again. Maybe that was the point. Relaxing her into a false sense of security? But he couldn't think she was that foolish, could he?

Stop over-analysing, she scolded herself, wearily, Avo, just for once. It doesn't matter why he did it if he doesn't get what he wants.

She forced herself to straighten up, wobbling a little but keeping her footing. Lily silently blessed her own foresight - she'd put on flats the second she saw that the potion she'd taken would not last for long - and swiftly moved over to the door. She had to get out of this room before she started clawing at the walls. Liliana was not one who enjoyed enclosed spaces, not when the open deck called to her so strongly, the crash of waves and sea-salt spray rejuvenating even the most tired body, the most worn muscles.

Perhaps she could find a room with a view of the ocean.

She put her hand on the door, trying to get out before her head could object.

However, she wasn't expecting her mind would take over on the argumentative front.

She didn't want to go outside. She had no idea what was out there in terms of structure and rooms and objects, but she knew exactly who was out there in terms of people - if those Blade-loving bottom-feeders could be called such a word. It was not in her nature, but pain and disorientation had kicked her inner soul down into her stomach, and all her brain wanted to do was to stay here and hide.

A Queen doesn't hide. She thought, wryly, and she gave a small, grim smile. Then she pulled open the door and stepped outside.

Time to go exploring.

Exploring a castle, Liliana found, was not nearly as exciting as her childhood had led her to believe. It was all cold, grey stone, and mostly, to her great annoyance, locked doors. She tried the next door on her right at random, finding it again locked. Though, of course, she only assumed that they were locked. They had no key holes of any kind, didn't even have doorknobs, but when she pushed them, or dug her nails in hard and pulled, they didn't open. All except hers. Hers had a doorknob and a key hole on the outside. But not on the inside.

Lily managed to force that thought away, instead thinking through everything all she knew about castles. The keep, the smithy, the barbican, the atrium, the armoury, the barracks... the dungeons... She had no idea what was real, which parts of the tales she had read were fact and which were just fiction.

Frustration and a spark of extra pain in her temple made her swing round to the left and tap quickly up a spiral staircase, one hand brushing across the cold stone wall. The third floor was somewhere she'd never stepped foot in, as far as she could remember, and she was surprised to find, instead of the forever twining corridors full of doors, this floor seemed almost empty, with a large, spacious hall in the middle, and only a few scattered doors around the walls.

One of which had a door handle.

She veered towards it immediately. If it had a lock, that would be even better. She would put up with anything right now, so long as it had a possibility. Okay, so the possibility of her suddenly being able to pick locks was... rather slim, but it was much higher than suddenly being able to open magically sealed doors. She tried the handle out of reflex, not at all expecting it to be unlocked.

When it turned and she felt the latch easily click out of place, she stayed completely still for a moment, for a moment not realising what had just happened. Then she immediately took a step back and threw the door open.

For just a moment, Liliana's breath froze in her throat as she looked over the frankly quite beautiful sight. Panelled wood covered these walls just like hers, but the wood here was a deep, dark burgundy, painted with a gloss, and shaped around the walls in a circle, so the ceiling dipped in towards the sides, high in the centre.

Liliana took a few steps inside, having to duck slightly to avoid banging her head. The room in front of her was intoxicating, bright reds and yellows, warm oranges and golds, reminding her of a sunset, or a warm summer's evening. There was a thin, raggedy carpet covering bare floorboards, and almost-worn furniture scattered over it, a rocking chair, a bookcase covered in old, weathered books, a mattress directly on the floor. Her hand stroked over something that hung from the ceiling, feathers and other bits and pieces tied together with cotton, and she closed her eyes, slowly, taking in a long breath. She could smell wood smoke, and old, old perfume, mixed with a flower she recognised. A small, appreciative murmur purred through her throat. The scent pleased her for a reason she wasn't yet aware of.

Her fingers moved, gently, stroking across what she realised was the head of a flower. She opened her eyes, looked at it, brushing her fingertips over the delicate, velvet flute. The flowers decorated the walls, adorning them with a smooth, intricate wallpaper. Blood red honeysuckle.

Mama's favourite flowers.

The thought barely registered in her mind, but, as her hand reached for a brown, clay bowl sat on one of the counters lining the back wall, she frowned, her eyes taking in the room around her in a little more detail. Panelled wood. Flowers. Baskets of fruit and bright, dyed fabrics. She looked down at the bowl in her hands, the simple, fire-burnt clay bowl, engraved simply with 'Boy'.

This was Sparrow's caravan.

"There you are."

For the first time, he succeeded in startling her, enough that she dropped the clay plate to the floor, where it cracked into several pieces at her feet.

Lily looked down. Then back up, catching the demon's yellow eyes.

The King of Blades looked at her, seriously, "You could've caught that."

She paused for a moment, and then shrugged, casually, leaning down to pick up the pieces, "So kill me."

She placed the pieces neatly into the cracked shell, and then placed it down slowly on the counter, her hands staying on it just a moment longer than necessary.

"So you've found it." He said, slowly. She turned back to him, and he raised an eyebrow, "Thoughts?"

"The door was unlocked, you knew I would find this eventually." She replied, quietly, keeping her voice even.

He nodded, "The possibility had occurred, yes."

"The possibility had occurred?" she repeated, sceptically, "The door was unlocked. You gave me permission to go into every room in the castle, so long as the door was unlocked. You knew I'd find it, you wanted me to find it." She waved a vague hand at her surroundings, taking half a step towards him, "You wanted me to know it was simple luck that I was picked, that there would be no effect to you whatsoever if the tables happened to have been the other way round."

He nodded again, slowly, "So you're angry."

"Angry. Frustrated. Despairing." She paused, and then shook her head, "All those... remarkably futile emotions." He raised an eyebrow, and she smirked, "My apologies. I am not one for melodrama. All this room does, William, is prove to me what I already knew was fact. Flip of the coin. Daughter or mother, mother or daughter, it made no difference. And it makes absolutely no difference whatsoever to me. If you thought this would affect me, then you are sadly mistaken."

"Apart from the connection." He replied, smoothly.

It was her turn to raise an eyebrow, "Excuse me?"

"If the room caused you so much anger - or, as you claim, apathy - then you would have left it by now. But you haven't. Because this is your mother's room."

"This is my mother's cell." She corrected, coldly, "It's nothing but a copy. I'm sure Mama would find this place as soulless as I find your Seraphim."

He cocked an eyebrow, "You don't appreciate a taste of home?"

Evil or indifferent? She tilted her head slightly to one side, trying to figure it out. That violet mask of his could hardly be the cause of her confusion; it barely covered any of his face, just the top of his head, really. She should be able to read him, from his eyes, from his mouth.

But she couldn't.

"A taste is just a taste." She replied, quietly, "This... this is a copy. A mockery." She looked around her, a little guardedly, "I'm willing to bet none of this is original. Just like the Seraphim."

"Well. I'm hoping to change that."

He took a few steps towards the wall, conjuring up another of those damned unbreakable cases from thin air.

Lily watched him closely. She almost took a step forwards as his eyes moved off her, just the slightest amount of increased pressure on her left foot, but rethought the move as he glanced back at her, and stayed where she was.

But then he took a long-bladed sword from somewhere within his violet robes, and she couldn't help shifting slightly forwards. "The final piece." He said, eyes moving over to hers.

"The Daichi." Lily stated, emotionlessly, watching as he placed it inside the cabinet and shut the glass door. "My mother's blade. I thought it was lost in the shipwreck." She stepped forwards, allowing him to become accustomed to her movement, brushing over the glass with a finger, "Or is this simply another copy?"

"No, it is the original. We recovered it."

She nodded, thoughtfully, "I did wonder. And my cutlass?"

"Was retrieved too, yes."

She gave a small, dry smile, "For the person that caused that shipwreck, you seem awfully keen to reverse the effects of it. Can you bring my men back, too?"

William looked at her, "I'm afraid not."

She nodded again, paused, and then shook her head, taking a few steps back, "Ah well. Worth a try..."

"Do you miss them?" he asked, abruptly, his voice still soft and still indifferent.

She let her eyes meet his, and forced her heartbeat to calm, "I may be wrong... but I'm fairly sure that's none of your business." He raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head at his apparent lack of understanding, "Even if you weren't the one to kill them - which you were - you must surely realise that question is a little... inflammatory, shall we say?"

William nodded, slowly, "Perhaps. I still wish to know."

"Then how about this - many were good men, several were good friends, most were good sailors, and all are now dead." She calmed her voice, hearing the sharp note in it easily, "You killed them."

"Puck killed them."

She snapped her eyes to his, this flare of anger too much to ignore, "Don't make that distinction. Puck is your arm. A weapon doesn't decide who to kill, the wielder does." She looked away, and once again fought for control, "I may as well blame my gun for every person I kill."

She could feel his eyes on her face, "I've upset you."

She looked up, shaking her head, sceptically, "Oh, come, William. We both know I'm not capable of being 'upset'. I just get pissed."

"I think you are capable." He took a few steps towards her, and she tensed, "And I think you put on this hard shell to protect yourself."

"Don't romanticise me, Blade." She warned, quietly, "People have tried. I'm sorry to say I never met their expectations."

"You're sorry?"

"Not for them."

"Then for who?" he was close to her now. Very close.

Close enough. "Their widows." She replied, and immediately lashed out.

The man she had started referring to as 'the Pretender of Blades' was fast. He immediately put up a hand, and Lily found herself frozen still, an invisible hand around her throat, the sharpest splinter piece of the simple, fire-burnt clay bowl clutched tight in her hand.

"Not much of a fair player, are you?" she managed, battling with the force holding her still, trying to continue the shard's trajectory deep into his neck.

William looked at her, "Says the pirate..."

"It wouldn't even have hurt."

"Then why make an effort?"

If she had full control of her body, she would have shrugged, "There's always the challenge."

He nodded, thoughtfully. Then he shook his head, "Let's put that down, shall we?" she regained control of her hand, and, after a moment, she dropped the shard to the floor. William nodded, satisfied, and crunched the shard into splinters with one stamp of his violet boot.

He let her go completely, and she ducked down, moving back a little. Her hand went up to her throat, glancing him over, distastefully, as she felt out the damage.

William's eyes were on her hand, cut open from the tight hold she'd had on the pottery, "You're bleeding."

She glanced up at him, "And you'll let me bleed. If I can't even bleed on my own command then there's not much point living, is there?"

He nodded, as if conceding to her the point, and didn't try to heal her. He looked at her again, "You seem particularly... unstable today."

She shook her head, eyes on the floor, "Forgive me. Had a nightmare."

"Oh?"

She looked up, "I cut your head off. It grew back. It was really quite disturbing... But enjoyable, of course."

"Is that so."

Liliana just looked at him. She really hadn't expected the move to work. She'd figured out long ago that this man's Will far outstretched hers. But the attempt had been worth it, even if just to show him that she wasn't going to take this lying down. It had been worth it, despite the pain that echoed through her palm, and now her head.

She winced a little, and his eyes glued onto it, almost concerned, "You're in pain."

"For some reason, my head only seems to ache when you're around." She replied, slowly, "As someone trained in medicine, I would suggest you remedy that immediately."

He cocked an eyebrow, "You're trained in medicine?"

She shrugged, "I've screwed a doctor. He liked to talk. It's practically the same thing."

William looked at her for a long time. Then he shook his head, turning slightly away from her, "You need to take the tonic."

She shook her head, immediately, "That's not going to happen."

"If not for your own sake, then for your mother's."

"And just what is that supposed to mean." She replied, instantly, refusing to let anything this monster said throw her.

"She loves you. The one thing she asks for? You. She doesn't want you hurt."

She smirked, shaking her head, "Ah, we both pain for each other. Rather easy considering we have no idea how the other fares. And you use that against us. I bet you have Warde tell my mother the exact same. I mean, the only reason I'm suffering is so you won't hurt dear fragile Jaina, correct?"

"Why are you suffering?"

"To annoy you." The answer was quite obvious, after all.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely positive."

"She believes you're suffering to protect her pride. She believes herself to be suffering so that you do not suffer."

Liliana laughed, "I doubt the Hero of Albion would be so obtusely wrong. She knows the system, knows that it was the luck of the draw I was picked instead of her. Nothing either of us can do will effect that option." She paused, and then shook her head, "If it were as easy as that, I would have done it long ago."

"As would she, no doubt, were it the other way round. She would not leave you a choice."

"Then perhaps she should realise that I am in fact no longer a child, and am perfectly capable of making that decision myself." She replied, firmly. Then she sighed, "I am my mother's daughter, but a pirate, also. And I will not be outmatched by her."

"Do you think she'd rather be here?" he asked, softly, "In your place. Rather than... where she is at the moment?"

"Being forced to exchange pleasantries with your friend Warde?" she completed, shrewdly, sharply. She hesitated, and then shook her head, slowly, "It is... not something I wish to discuss."

The very thought of it burnt fire straight through her. But what exactly could she do? What she had said before was right. Flip of the coin, daughter or mother, mother or daughter, how the hell was she supposed to beat chance?

"You're sure?" his voice sent needles pricking under her skin, making her bristle with anger, and she tried hard to keep her face blank. "I know you're angry, Liliana. How couldn't you be." He took a step towards her, and her hands tightened reflexively into fists, "But... you're saving her. Aren't you? By doing this for her... you're keeping her alive. Right?"

"Enough of this," she snarled, suddenly, "What do you want from me. What do you want me to say. That I should have protected her? That she should have protected herself? What do you want me to say?"

William looked at her for a moment. "I've never seen you so... agitated."

"You threatened my mother." She replied, sharply. He raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head, "Oh, not in so many words, but you still threatened her." She took in a long breath, calming herself once again, "My weak point. My only weak point, I'm afraid."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true." She watched coolly as he walked towards her, looking her over, thoughtfully, "If I could only get into your head, if I could only know you..."

"You've had my mother and I watched for Avo knows how long, and you still cannot claim to understand me?" she said, sceptically, "Perhaps you are just a man after all. Men have never had that much luck understanding me."

A sudden spark of pain erupted in her head, and she doubled over slightly, drawing in a hiss of breath.

William held out a small bottle of black, swirling liquid, placing it onto the counter beside him, "Please. Take this."

She lashed out, and he managed to move his hand in time to avoid them touching, but not to save the vial being smashed on the wooden floor, "To hell with you."

He looked at it, and then, with a flick of his hand, deftly transformed it back into the bottle, the glass whole, the liquid swirling as usual.

Liliana sighed, "Oh stop it. If I don't want to take the damned thing I won't, but that... that was symbolism. I know you probably don't get that, being a... whatever the hell you are. But don't you dare disrupt my point."

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow, "Liliana?"

She sighed again, almost wearily, "You don't understand. Right."

He continued looking at her, his honey-coloured eyes locked on hers, "You seem..."

"Different, is the word." She caught his eyes and shook her head, "Ah, don't worry about me, your majesty. I think everyone's allowed a touch of despondency every now and then, don't you? It'll pass, don't worry."

He considered her for a while, and then nodded, "Very well. I will leave the tonic there. Maybe you will come to your senses."

He turned back to the door, and Liliana took half a step forwards, "Where are you going?"

He turned back, confusion and something close to surprise echoing over his face, "You care?"

She snorted, "Oh, because you wish to know where I am every second of the day, but it is absurd when I ask where you will be for one moment of it." He continued looking at her, and she leant back against the counter, casually, "It was curiosity. I just wondered what the King of Blades does with his spare time, do you golf?"

The King of Blades paused for a moment, and then shook his head, "I have a room just down the corridor from yours. I usually retire there. Good day, Liliana."

"Good day, William."