Laughter usually represented joy, a pure expression of amusement and happiness. It was what one wished to see on their loved ones' faces, what was so precious one could die for.

There were those, though, whose laughter inspired fear; so disgusting, though, many considered maniac and insane.

Not all, now, were still so naive to deny them, were still so blinded to ignore them.

The world was cruel and it often did things to a man's sanity.

Humanity is striped.

The sense of humor and self are twisted.

His existence defied itself.

Left in a state worse than death.

To be cursed alive.

It was in this belief that their last hope was held tight: that to laugh so disgustingly, such a creature must truly be flawed.

Having a mind too insane to be questioned.

Drowning in so much hatred, life itself is an enemy.

Embracing such darkness, evil is the only explanation.

Yet, now, witnessing the scene right before their eyes, what hope left could there be in such a world.

For it was him and exactly him that was cursed.

The kindest and most humane, the weakest yet most heroic.

He who suffered the most and still smiled the brightest.

What could he be but a miracle blessed upon this land, a savior and the best good-man?

If he himself, a man so great, was still tormented by a fate so tragic, who then could escape this sickening joke?

Lamenting in silent guilt and growing despair, they remembered.

This was not the first time they had heard this side of his. Back then, just a few viewings ago, in the middle of that frozen wasted land, that laugh, they had encountered it. It was just a while ago, yet, with all they had seen, time seemed to be stretched endlessly into a delicately thin string, binding them all in this never ending tragicomedy.

Back then, things were different, desperate times, simpler times. Just them expressing themselves watching him struggled again and again against impossible odds, beyond the concept of life and death.

Back then he had already stated it clearly, back then it should have already been clear.

Still, not all could be so cruel, so heartless to accept it shortly.

Maybe it was to protect the perfect image of his within the confine of their minds, perhaps it was to secure their own hearts from every acknowledging something that surely would break them all.

The few that did, blamed it on circumstances.

Only the fewest of them could view it for what it really was, and claimed so boldly: his self-hatred.

One, though, had an emotion different from the rest.

"Disgusting."

The Vollachian Princess proclaimed, earning her looks of disbelief and anger. Disbelief, for the rest of them could not fathom the idea of someone being so indifferent and heartless, and anger, toward the one whose heart truly held no warmth.

"How dare you, bitch!"

The youngest Royal Candidate rebuked with fury, overtaken by rage, she screamed unpleasant words at her opponent. Had it not been for the knight by her side, things surely would have gotten physical. However, untrue to his usual self, other than stopping his mistress's violent way, he did nothing of the sort to settle her fowl mouth. For now, even Reinhard was annoyed.

"Please take back what you said, lady Priscilla. I will not stand still if you insult my friend once more."

Taken aback by his atypical actions, the others within the cast got out of their emotional daze, escaped the maze within their own hearts, and found their emotions, in this moment, focus solely on one particular individual.

"Angering the Sword Saint is a new low, even for the like of you."

"Ya dare say dat 'gain? Bitch!"

"I will not tolerate this act."

Expressions of disdain and lines of mockery filled the once silent room. The sides had been set: all of them against one. And although that one still hid her face well behind the fan, the look on her eyes, unmistakably represented the wrath of a burning fuse.

And she would have exploded too, it was not so much a possibility that could happen as waiting for a suitable moment to do so, for the end of the barracks of insults so that she would surely return them all with fire.

However, unexpected to both sides, a single sentence from another individual was all it took to regain the silence from the time before:

"Be quite, all of you."

The coldness coming from her words was such that they felt it even before the literal fall in temperature of the frozen room.

And true to her order, they followed. Perhaps it was out of obedience for those from her camp. Or rather fear inside those that recognized her power. Maybe it was astonishment from the sheer authority she exercised, from what a kind person can turn into when enraged.

"Priscella."

The one in question had been quite amused if not a bit furious and surprised at the development of the 'play' before her up to this point. But never once for so many years had she even considered the possibility that one day she would feel fear, much less from a Half-devil she despised. The world worked in her favor after all. This, however, was neither her world nor a 'play' she could simply watch, but a dooming reality that might get her anytime.

And this time, it seemed that she would have to take it on all by herself.

Meanwhile, the silver haired Half Elf that had brought the Sun Princess such a sudden feeling of dread didn't even bother giving said Royal Candidate a single look of acknowledgment, didn't even bother facing the equivalent of a provoked star with anything but her back and indifference.

Still tending by her knight's side, her face tainted with dry tears, yet in this moment alone, something dark convincingly was within. And when she finally turned back to face her opponent, for but a moment, that darkness got through and into Priscilla, and for that moment, her flame, for one, turned cold.

Although her blaze was now regained, the frozen seal that once eclipsed it still, though, remained. And with bitter words the silver haired liege continued:

"Do not insult my knight ever again. Do. You. Understand."

Gone was the self-doubt presented in her sayings, and for all the softness the sentence might greet one's ear, doubtlessly it was anything but gentle.

For so, at the end of the gelid threat, unconsciously the Bloody Bride took a visible gulp, despite her mind screaming murder and her body was every ready to go, her instinct desperately held her still, to avoid whatever danger it felt, to escape the shiver now slowly spread through her veins. Her arrogance, however, simply would not stay put, it violently thrashed out, forcing her to return the humiliation, to chop off the head of the one who dared to do so to her in the first place.

Like a barely contained inferno, her fury boiled up, threatened to overflow.

Like an erupting volcano, the more it was suppressed now, the more destruction it would bring.

Yet under all of that layers of molten rage and blazing hatred, deeper than her well-known arrogance and self-praising narcissism, something gradually emerged.

It was the tiniest crack there was, the smallest fracture of her perfect pride.

And the worst thing was that she, with all of her intelligence and wisdom, was fully aware of this imperfection within her own heart.

For more so than the idea of succumbing to the half-devil's glare, she despised the possibility of a defeat by her own self-doubt.

That fading feeling of weakness only restrengthened again when she stared straight into the other woman's eyes. Deep within the pairs of amethyst orbs, the Vollachian Royalty saw it plainly, too, the concepts of hatred and scorn. Deeper ,still, was something more earnest, so powerful and influential that it was what those superficial emotions might truly be, that it might be what originated all of those feelings from the beginning.

And fitting so, that something was Love.

Love strong enough that it could hate, could threaten and could harm.

Love obsessive enough that it could rain fury over anything disrespecting its nature, that it would never be satisfied anything else other than the thing that it searched.

And love pure enough that she now finally understood why she felt so odd, so unlike her usual self, feeling afraid and insecure for the first time in so many years. For what kept bothering her wasn't someone and surely wasn't that half-elf's threats or power, but something she didn't believe she could have: a similarly untainted love toward the man she considered worthy enough.

For that, finally, she tasted regret.

Another color to add on the ever-growing palette that was her inner self.

And that chaotic turmoil of emotions, ideals and intentions from within was what led her to do something utterly unimaginable for her or for anyone else: The Sun Princess made an excuse.

"It wasn't what I meant."

She said it quietly and maybe, even shyly.

Despite that, because of the focus that had been placed on her, because of the the invisible tension of the soundless room, all heard her well.

And it earned a lot of confusion, smirks and denials.

Firstly, I want to apologize for taking so long to write sth so short.

In my defense, however, these weeks have been hectic. Turn out I was wrong about not having any test till November, instead it was having test after test till the end of November then I will do an even more important test.

That and I was tricked into playing Genshin by my brother, and now I'm a hopeless addict.

I do have a few ideas for next chapter, but whenever I actually get myself to do it remains an unsolved mystery.