This can work, Seto imagines, this thing with him and Pernia.
Sometimes it will be flowers and sunshine, laughter and innocence and picnics in golden rain.
Sometimes it will be the blood of their miscarried child—the one that Seto had wanted only to bind Pernia to him--and a knife under the pillow. Because Seto doesn't trust anyone, and Pernia's learned not to trust him with everything.
Sometimes it will be tears shining in the sun and flowers in Pernia's hair.
Seto thinks that he can deal with this, but that he could never have dealt with a truly happy ending. He's too broken, or too warped, or too something to ever be really happy. He hasn't broken Pernia, not yet, but he's chipped her. He's not sure whether to be happy or sad about it.
