The news was received while Ciel and Alois were in the car on the way to the scene. The rode in silence as they both tried to process that. Alois wanted to pull over, but knew he was needed on the scene, so he pushed himself to hold off until they made it to the parking garage. Baldassare's car was still there. It was uncomfortable, like they were looking at a ghost.

Alois placed a hand on the vehicle's black frame, taking it in. He stood there, taking in every detail. There wasn't a single scratch on it. It was just as pristine as when Baldassare arrived.

"Jim." Ciel called out, snapping the blonde from his trance. "We have to hurry."

"Right..." the menace reluctantly answered, removing his hand from the vehicle. He followed behind Ciel to the elevator, but the path there seemed really long.

Time wasn't moving correctly. He couldn't sense it at all. When he reached that elevator, however, he felt suffocated. Folding his arms, he guardedly drew himself close and shut off the world around him. It was like standing in someone else's coffin. All Alois could think about was how this probably was the path taken by Baldassare as he unknowingly walked to his death. Then, when he entered the room, it was something else entirely.

The room was practically destroyed and the troops that were sent in were making sure it was clear of threats. The duo immediately looked to one another and knew that they were the only supernatural beings there. They could sense no others. What they could see were a pair of bodies and some blood spatter. They hadn't been disturbed and the hotel staff didn't know they were there, so it appeared to the demons as though HELLSING was first on the scene.

Looking around, Ciel's eyes immediately went to the bodies. As he walked over to them, he observed the blood spatter on the walls and on the sofa, but would get to them momentarily. Crouching down, he saw looked over the bodies, touching their heads with gloved hands and rotating them so that he could see the exposed necks.

"There's scars on their necks." he observed. "Bite marks. These two are vampires. One of them has a sunflower tattoo on her wrist. The other one probably has one, too, but it's probably under his clothes." Standing up, he took a few steps and examined the scene.

"Those two are Girasol members." Ciel continued while comparing the tajectory of everything. "The spatter suggests that they were standing where they fell when they were shot, and given the nature of this meeting, they were probably standing behind Baldassare. That means that he was sitting here on this sofa and shot the person sitting in front of him. We'll confirm it later when forensics gets down here and recovers the bullets. But the question is… who got shot? From the angle, it looked like they had gaurds too, since they shot Baldassare's, so they must be important… And why did they only move Baldassare?"

He paused, folding an arm across his chest while tucking his hand under his other elbow. With his free hand, Ciel rubbed his chin and thought, but partially, he was waiting on Alois' input. The blonde was silent, however, and Ciel couldn't sense him moving around to look at things, so he called out to him.

"What do you think, Jim?" he asked, turning his head to face his beau. The menace didn't say anything, however. He just stood there and stared, his eyes vacantly fixated on the spot where Baldassare sat. The man's statue-like appearance concerned Ciel, making him speak up again. "Jim? Jim?"

"Huh?" Alois thoughtlessly replied, struggling to turn his head to face his husband, while his gaze followed a second after.

"What do you think?" the bluenette questioned again while gesturing to the scene.

"I don't know..." The blonde hadn't been listening. He looked away again, this time looking down. He didn't seem to have any interest in the investigation, but rather, wanted to avoid looking Ciel in the eye.

"Well..." the bluenette began, pausing to think. "I… I think the forensics team can handle this. Why don't we go home?"

"Okay..." the blonde stated, allowing himself to be escorted out of the room by his husband. Ciel almost had to, because Alois' mind wasn't responding fast enough to move. The Watchdog stood beside him with an arm around his waist and his free hand holding both of Alois'. The blonde was shaken and needed something steady to hang onto, so Ciel did his best to be that support. As they got to the elevator, however, some of the shock seemed to wear off, and Alois' eyes became wet.

His face shifted, trying to hold himself back, but the tears had already begun to silently fall. The arm across his back shifted so that the hand attached to it was now trying to soothe him. "It's okay." Ciel softly said to him. "It's going to be okay."

Alois shook his head. "We don't know that." he said. "He's gone… Baldassare's gone… He's… dead." He choked on that last word, his body threatening to sob. "What's Gehenna gonna do without him? He's so important to Gehenna and I don't know what to do… I'm supposed to, though..."

"I see..." Ciel knew what he was getting at, but knew it would make the blonde feel better if he got to express it himself. The elevator pinged and stopped on their floor, letting them out into the parking garage. "Knowing Baldassare, though, he probably had a plan in case of the worst case scenario."

"Sister Dorothy said he was getting better. He probably still had a will, but he was getting better. Even I noticed a difference… He was… Nice? I still didn't really get along with him, but I think she's right. He was getting better…" Pausing, he stopped walking on their way back to their car. Rubbing his eyes, Alois' voice broke. "God..." he croaked. "He was getting better, Ciel..."

"I see..." The Watchdog looked down. While Baldassare had exhibited suicidal tendencies in the past, he began showing notable progress as the town developed alongside him. Ciel wasn't sure how to feel about any of it and added information only seemed to make it worse. He didn't know what he was thinking or feeling. It was all so overwhelming that it felt like his emotions had shut down. In a somewhat twisted way, that is what he found unnerving. He didn't have time to work out whether or not he was being a heartless bastard, however, as he had a more important things at hand. He had the investigation and he had his husband.

"God… I don't know what to do..." Alois lamented. "How am I even gonna face everybody? I'm stupid. I'm really, really stupid… I don't know anything… I've let everybody down and I don't know what to do about it..."

"You haven't let anyone down..."

"I let down Baldassare." the menace rather forcefully replied. "He tried to be friendly and I just sort of blew him off because I thought he was going to say something rude… If I had met him halfway and just… politely asked him about later plans like any polite person would, I could've warned him! I knew about the threat! I knew… But I didn't know they were that close to Gehenna… I wasn't active enough in the community and Baldassare's gone… All I do is show up for meetings… I don't actually do anything else… It's my fault..."

"No one blames you..."

"It doesn't matter where the blame is placed as long as I know what's true!"

"Come on..." Ciel said, drawing the other man in close. He wrapped his arms around Alois securely and was in turn clung to as a source of comfort. It was almost surprising just how instinctive the response was on Alois' part, but wasn't that normal? Human beings have a natural drive to seek things that help them feel not only "better" in the sense that they are free from pain, but also in order to stabilise themselves and make themselves safer. That applied to supernaturals as well. Alois was particularly honest when it came to himself, while the bluenette had to first become comfortable with the idea. Seeking comfort also means admitting that one is vulnerable in that moment. The demons being vulnerable around each other, however, was something that they did not fear.

Ciel tried to think. There had to be something he could say to help his spouse. He was a fountain of wisdom at times, but he wasn't always fast on his feet.

"The thing about being in charge of people is: No leader ever knows exactly what to do all of the time. The ones who think they do are often shoddy leaders. People are imperfect and because of this, mistakes can be made." he stated. "Your intentions can be pure, but that doesn't mean that everything will always go just as planned. Sometimes, you can be completely blindsided by something and you might not be ready to handle it, but that is what separates good leaders from the bad. A bad leader will double down on their convictions or give up. A good leader will reassess and try to tackle the issue to the best of their ability."

Alois cried into Ciel's shoulder, still, but interrupted himself for just a moment to reply. "You're not helping..."

"I'm sorry." the bluenette replied, reaching up to stroke the blonde's hair. "You are allowed to mourn. You are allowed to feel. You are allowed to, and should, have time to process your thoughts and feelings. That doesn't mean that you can drop all your obligations, however. People look up to you, Jim. Right now, they need their hero more than ever. Once you come home, however, you can cry all you need to. Come on, give me everything you've got."

It was obvious that Alois was overwhelmed. He had never been in a position of power like this before when things had gone this awry. It was hard for him to not take it personally and to not see it as a personal failure on his part. The menace was terrified! He knew that Gehenna would mourn the loss of Baldassare. He knew how important the Girasol vampire was to the community and how vital it was that he was there. If Baldassare hadn't had time to name a successor, they would have to somehow find someone who could take his place, which would be an ordeal in of itself. Finding someone with that kind of charisma and could lead Girasol would be difficult, but he didn't know that it was already taken care of. Baldassare made certain of that before he passed. Alois didn't know, however. There was no way he could. He hadn't been told yet. Thus, he felt the weight of this small world of supernatural beings on his shoulders and was trying hard not to be crushed by it.

He cried a lot that day. When the forensics team finally arrived, Ciel pulled him behind one of the pillars that supported the building above him in order to give him a little more privacy. At the time, the menace hated being moved, but afterwards, he was appreciative. He said some awful things about himself and no one else really needed to hear it.

"I feel so stupid..." he said, choking on his own tears. "I let Baldassare down the most. I knew what he was getting into but didn't think to ask! I didn't take any interest in him or what he was doing as my coworker and now he's gone… I'm so fucking stupid..."

"You're not stupid." the Watchdog cooed softly, still holding him and playing with his hair. "You're one of the smartest people I've ever met. I think Baldassare probably knew that, too. I think that's the real reason why I'm sad he's gone..."

"Wh-what d'ya mean?" Alois sniffled, lifting his head somewhat.

"Baldassare and I… We've known each other for a long time. We've also always kind of had a bit of a mutual understanding between us. It's like we can both tell just by looking at each other that we both struggled for a really long time with immortality and finding things to live for. I think I should have talked to him more. There are things that… I think it would be good for me to talk about with someone like that." Ciel nodded, affirming to himself that he was on the right track.

"Incidentally, however, it was actually you gave both of us a reason to keep going." he continued. "I love you and Baldassare loves Gehenna. You're directly responsible for giving light to Gehenna and that means Baldassare, too. I think he was grateful to you and I think you should be proud of that. He knows that you would have his back the second you knew he was in danger because that's the kind of man you are. The fact that you didn't was pure chance. It doesn't negate the fact that you've saved so many people already. You're still amazing."

"No… You're wrong..." the menace stated, gripping the fabric of his husband's coat tightly. "I'm just a con-artist… I'm never as big of a person as I make people think I am and I don't know how to be anything else..."

Blinking, Ciel thought about this for a moment. It was as though his husband found himself to be somehow unworthy and undeserving of his position- the position that he earned with his own knowledge and power. The only person who could ever have done the things that Alois did was Alois himself, yet he could not see that.

"Jim, look at me for a moment." Ciel beckoned, only to receive no reply. "Jim, I want to see you."

The blonde's reluctance was understandable, but Ciel was patient with him and eventually, he did heed the Watchdog's instructions. Pulling away somewhat, he faced the bluenette, but his eyes would always dart around him before long. His husband took one of his arms from around him before reaching into the breastpocket of his blazer and pulling out a handkerchief.

"Oh, dear..." he tutted, all the while gently dabbing around Alois' eyes and cheeks with his cloth. Ciel was sure to treat the blonde delicately, as he didn't want to provoke an even worse reaction. "You're a right mess, aren't you? Your eyes are puffy..."

The contact seemed to visibly calm the blonde down somewhat, allowing Ciel to lead into what he really wanted to say. "As for this 'con-artist' nonsense, you're either a really good one or a really bad one, given how I refuse to believe that. You've shown your work. I've seen the process of you getting here and there's been not one single instance of you using any kind of sleight of hand. I would know if you did. I'm a businessman, after all. You? You're honest and your intentions are always good. You just can't always see it in yourself, sometimes. You're a good man, Jim. It's as true as the Earth revolving around the sun."

"That's a weird simile." the blonde said, but he didn't seem as down as before. "You're a weird guy, but a good guy."

"Do you trust me, though?"

"I trust you… I just don't trust me..."

"But I trust you, so if you trust me, then you also trust in my trusting you."

"Stop saying dumb shit. I'm trying to be sad." Alois stated, leaning forward again so he could be embraced by his husband. "It's fuckin' annoying, but it's sweet that you try."

"I'm only telling you about my observation of things. If you want, we can just stand here until you feel better?"

"Nah… I need to get us home… I'll focus on feeling shitty by myself, thanks."

"Alright." Ciel replied before kissing the blonde's cheek. "I love you, though."

"Obviously." Alois answered back while smiling just a little bit. He still felt rather helpless and uncertain, but knew that he could count on Ciel to help him. Even though the menace honestly would rather do things himself, the Watchdog would definitely come to his aid anyway.

That added onto his guilt a bit, however. He didn't want to be a burden to Ciel and he didn't think he deserved such assistance or praise in light of what has happened. After all, Alois felt responsible. He failed to notify Baldassare of a known threat because he nor HELLSING, had thought it necessary to inform the populace of Gehenna or even just the members of the council. The two were not related before, but Alois knew that he would have to offer an explanation somehow. He also knew that this would come with being blamed and his allies being angry with him. Perhaps some of them might even turn their backs on him.

This left him with a new moral conundrum: Should he notify Gehenna of a potential threat or not? Either choice could go awry and he would have to deal with the aftermath of whatever he chose, but the fact is, he had to make a choice. A big part of him wanted to run away, but he already knew which choice was "right." He just needed courage to go through with it. Even if it cost him his status as the hero of Gehenna, if he fails to come clean, he felt that he would have never been a hero at all. Alois craves praise and acceptance. He had fought so long and so hard to reach the level that he was currently on. He had suffered for his status more than the majority of people ever would or ever will. Naturally, it was terrifying, knowing that it could all be lost in an instant and yet he knew that he would be an even worse person if he tried to hide his mistake. Out of the two options, there was only one valid one to him. He needed to explain the situation to the council and make amends.

First, he would go home and collect himself before figuring out just how to go about it. There was no way that he was going to be able to do anything while still upset and there was no way that he was going to feel better if he just threw himself into the work that was stressing him so much. While he usually sought out Ciel to comfort him directly, he wanted to be alone instead, but it was the type of "aloneness" that simply meant that they were in the same room, but not talking or touching. He didn't want to talk and he had already been coddled sufficiently, but he also liked having Ciel in the same room as some kind of moral support. It was a strange way of doing things, but it was the way he wanted it, so it was fine with the both of them. While he was sitting on his end of the room, Ciel sat on his and collected his own thoughts.

Truthfully, the Watchdog felt as though he should be more sad than he was, but the type of "sadness" he did feel didn't appear to be the "appropriate" kind. While he was upset that Baldassare was gone, his mind wandered instead to the ramifications of his loss on Gehenna periodically before turning back to Baldassare as a person. Perhaps it was due to the strangeness of their arrangement. The pair had been aware of each others' existence since around the 1970's and started things off on the wrong foot.

When Girasol started dabbling into more illicit activities in order to keep both themselves and the people within the perimeters of what would later become "Gehenna," Ciel was called in to scare them a bit. He decided not to kill them, however, as he saw that they did important work and were necessary for the stability of the region. The Watchdog did not go easy on them, however, and killed a large group of them, leaving only Baldassare's general, "Fangless" Shaun alive from that group to warn the rest of Girasol. That was also the same day that "Fangless" Shaun became fangless. Ciel had plucked his canine teeth from his skull and sent him on his merry way.

Since then, the two had not been on the best of terms. Baldassare resented Ciel, while Ciel strangely remained aware of, yet only mildly annoyed by Baldassare. As years passed, however, there came to be a wordless understanding between them. They both understood what it was like to live past one's time. It was hard to keep going after a while. Baldassare himself had developed his suicidal tendencies before their first encounter. Yet, in time, Ciel would also develop his own. Whenever the Phantomhive looked back, he peered in on his own mental state from his lowest point. It was when he decided to resurrect Alois and form him into the ultimate enemy.

Life had dragged on for far too long. With no war for him to fight, the fire within him had begun to die, leaving him purposeless. He merely drifted from day to day, wondering when something was going to happen until he took matters into his own hands. Thus, he brought back his greatest foe. Alois was the only man to ever completely defeat Ciel Phantomhive, so he would be the perfect person to reignite his spark. Yet, when Ciel thought about it again, he realised something rather dark about himself. Back then, there existed a small part of him that didn't expect to win.

It was the same with Baldassare. Both of them had things in common that they couldn't really discuss. Certainly, Alois tries his best to understand and he does to an extent, but the fact that he did not experience the same made the bluenette a bit embarrassed to talk about it, so he wondered if he could have had that conversation with Baldassare. What would that have been like?

At first, it seemed like the Girasol vampire would laugh at him and shame him for his faults, but knowing him, Ciel didn't think he would. In fact, he imagined them sitting across from each other with that same sort of understanding on this this time, instead of with a glance, it would be communicated with words. Instead of seeing into their hearts from the outside in, they would be see who they really were and even learn new things about themselves.

But it could never be. Baldassare was dead and so was any chance of them ever bridging that gap. So many things were left unsaid and it left the bluenette feeling regret.

Ah, so it was regret… The Phantomhive's old friend… Ciel could never seem to escape it. It always weighed so heavily on his conscience. Ciel wanted closure that he couldn't have and forgiveness that could never be given or even voiced. Sometimes, he really missed his servants. Now that was a loss that made his throat close up.

With every war, however, a casualty on one side was a victory on the other. The Philosiphers knew what they had done. They knew and they celebrated their actions, laughing and smiling gleefully while the world on the side of Gehenna felt like it was falling apart. Ciel knew that is what they were doing and it pissed him off. While he sat in his home with anger slowly bubbling from the sadness, they were at their own base, slowly moving toward their own victory.

"It is a joyous occasion, this." declared Abhartach. "Although this gesture may be small in the grand scheme of things, the scales are slowly tipping in our favour. Friends, family, and allies, by Christmas, we will be victorious. Gehenna will fall. London will fall. England will fall and with it, so will the commonwealth. When the smoke clears, the world will be forever changed and we will continue to change it in our image. Glory to our new kingdom!"

"Glory to Abhartach!" those at the table relied in unison, raising their glasses. They were all smiles at the misery of Gehenna. To them, Baldassare was nothing. He was a pawn and nothing more. It was fine to dispose of him and throw him on the heap. As long as it lead to the throne, it did not matter who stood in their way.

Claire Whelan was quiet as she sat there. The feast looked delicious, but the thought of eating it made her want to vomit. Her eyes were still unfocused as the actions of herself, her father, and their king replayed themselves over and over again in her mind. It was different than before. The informality was gone. The distance between herself and her enemy grew smaller as she remembered Baldassare's allegiance. His loyalty dwarfed her own fanatical compliance as he refused to submit no matter what happened to him. There was no pain to great for him to resist. Not even the threat of death could sway him. He didn't care about England or the crown in the slightest. It was an unrelated war that he was reluctant to allow his people to get caught up in. All he cared about was the safety of his own people. It was a completely rational and reasonable request, but it was met with violence when Abhartach didn't have an answer or a way to confirm that indeed, they would be safe from harm and their way of life would be preserved. Why wasn't Abhartach able to confirm it?

The question shook the woman to her core. It was hard to even look in her king's direction as these thoughts swirled in her head. Claire could not pay attention to the festivities and merely sat in silence. Her actions, however, did not go unnoticed.

"Toughen up. It's been hours." Her father, Feargus Whelan, whispered to her in a rather forceful fashion. He was careful not to cause a scene, so he was sure to keep his words and his actions hidden from the others. "You're a grown woman for God's sake! You should be recovered by now. Don't embarrass me. Straighten your back. Chin up. Don't look unalert."

"Sorry, father..." she replied before fixing her posture. Once she did, she was ignored and had to put on a bit of a facade. It was hard to stomach, but she was somehow able to force herself.

With that, Feargus turned his attention to Abhartach, putting on a smile. "Your majesty, once we have taken Gehenna, I would be most appreciative if we could go ahead and quickly marry Evangeline and Farroel." he very politely requested. "Just in case something happens during the conquest."

"Nothing will happen, but I see your point." Abhartach stated before taking a drink from his glass. "You're worried about your succession. Fear not, it won't be that much trouble to do so. Once we have Gehenna, we will also have the church. They can marry there."

That notion, however, piqued Johnathan's interest slightly, though not enough for him to speak up. Meanwhile, the king smiled. "Yes, let our lines be strong and our futures bright." he declared. "Once we have secured Gehenna, we will have free reign of both it and the people there. Then, England will be ours. Then, the neighboring lands around it. Once again, Ossory will belong to the faoladh, and Lexington house will be restored to it's most magnificent splendor. You will both be dukes at the very least! As will you, Lord Merritt… And Johnathan. You are both most helpful allies."

"Thank you, your highness." Caesar replied. He paused before coughing into his napkin. When he pulled it away from his lips, Sir Lexington arched an eyebrow.

"What is that?" the incubus questioned.

"Nothing. I just choked on my wine." Soon after, he continued to cough, only for it to die down again. "I do hope we're able to start soon. I can barely contain myself!"

"I actually have instructions for you, Lord Merritt." Abhartach informed. "I want you to go to the Gardening Center tomorrow and harvest your crops. Bring them here once you're done."

"Do you want them to be decked out in gear?" inquired the baron.

"I want you to load them up with as much as they can carry. We can take Gehenna with just our faoladh, but we will need all of the reinforcement we can muster in order to enter the next phase. Do not fail me."

"I won't." Caesar stated. "I don't wanna end up like this… Baldy bloke… What's-his-name."

"'Babyface' or some such." corrected Lexington.

"Regardless… You know what to do." Abhartach said, although his tone almost seemed to be that of warning. "I want my army."

"Yes, your highness." Lord Merritt answered. "Consider it already done. I'll head out tomorrow morning and troops will start to arrive before nightfall."

"Excellent. I will be waiting." Then, however, the king's attention turned elsewhere. "Johnathan, you will go make sure that the weapons' stock is ready for use. Get ready to move the designated equipment. Will you require any assistance?"

"No. It'll be easier if it's just me." the demon replied. "Perhaps she should focus on her own upcoming task. There's not a lot of time left, after all."

"Indeed. Then Claire will stay and continue preparing for the first invasion." Abhartach replied. "As for Feargus, Farroel, and my daughter, you should be preparing for the wedding."

While the princess' cheeks changed hues as she smiled to a soft pink, her betrothed's face completely went white. He was going to be married much sooner than he anticipated, but instead of joy, horrible knots tied themselves up in his stomach. Suddenly, it felt like he could fall through the floor at any moment. In fact, he sort of wished that he could. Evangeline placed a hand on top of his as it rested on the table, snapping him from his trance. She smiled at him whole-heartedly, obviously enthused by the turn of events. Farroel did his best to return it, but his mind was still reeling, so it seemed "off" somehow. While he rather liked Evangeline, he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine at her smile. She obviously didn't mean to be threatening, but it felt like that to the man. With the wedding being moved forward and being so close, the reality of it had dawned on him. He knew that it was the "right" thing to do, but the thought only filled him with dread.

Philip noticed his distress, but said nothing. After all, it was not his place to comment. Farroel himself had told the prince to mind his own business, so he was going to try his best to do so. His best efforts could not dispel the jealousy that bubbled up from within him, however, prompting him to rather forcefully stab at his food.

He knew that he should be rejoicing. His sister and his childhood friend were going to be getting married soon. Yet, his own feelings prevented him from being elated or even focusing on his own "relationship." Philip's own fiance was out of her room for once and sitting at the dining room table at his side. The solitude had gotten to her and she needed to be around other people, even if she did not like them.

Shockingly, however, she didn't actually hate Philip. He was annoying with his nosiness, certainly, but he wasn't obnoxious. Sasha knew that her betrothed was also unenthusiastic about their union, as he admitted to it, himself, in trying to relate to her. There was no transparency in his intentions, as he, too, was merely trying to make the best of things. There was apology, there was understanding, but Sasha Pomeroy could not forgive Prince Philip Abhartach so easily. She was still upset about her situation, but too worn down and tired to keep being angry about it. There was at least some comfort in knowing that the sentiment was echoed by her partner as well. He seemed like a nice enough person. There were no demands that she serve him, love him, or even like him. Her participation was merely a business transaction and she was not obligated to do anything beyond that.

"You're eating." Philip quietly pointed out, prompting the other to utter a small, flat tone in response. "That's good. I was a little worried. Depression hits hard, but it's still important that you eat at least something, even if you don't feel like it."

Sasha looked over at him as if she were questioning his intentions, prompting him to roll his eyes. "Relax, I don't mean that in a creepy 'you need to be healthy to give me an heir' sort of way. I mean it in a 'nobody should starve' kind of way." he said. "I'm guessing some of the servants said sort of 'questionable' things to you to get you to eat?"

"Yeah..." Sasha replied, looking down at her plate. It was almost empty, she had been so hungry. The feast had only just started as well. Casually, her betrothed leaned forward, grabbing a tray of food before using a pair of tongs to fill up the girl's plate again.

"You're way too young for that sort of thing, anyway." he said. Somehow, he seemed a lot less like a 'love interest' and more like a nosy older sibling. Part of it was simply do to the fact that there was about a decade between them, prompting the man to sort of 'mother' her. "Ideally, you wouldn't have to do anything at all. There's going to be some pressure from the others, but I don't have any interest in doing anything with you, really, so it's perfectly fine if we put it off for a while. For the time being, just smile and play the part and they will back off a bit. I will cover for you the best I can."

"Why are you helping me?" she questioned, arching an eyebrow.

"Because unfortunately, we're both in this mess." Philip informed. "It will be easier if we work together to make things go as smoothly as possible. I don't want to hassle you and you don't want to hassle me." With a pause, he put the tray back and added: "Speaking of which, I'm sorry I bothered you so much while you were in your room. I have to keep up appearances a bit and at least seem keen."

"If you don't want to marry me so bad, then why are you going to?"

"It's the same reason that you're marrying me. I have no choice, either."

Sasha knew that. He had said it before in a roundabout sort of way, but hearing it directly was new. It made her feel a bit better about things, although she was still not looking forward to it. While she didn't verbally respond to him, she nodded in order to acknowledge him before turning her attention back to her food. As her eyes darted downward, however, she spotted Farroel looking at them with an unusual look on his face. She decided that it wasn't her problem, however, and minded her own business.

Once the feast was over, the group continued their festivities, entering he ballroom in order to dance. Few of the main players in the game danced, save for Abhartach and Feargus, who merrily danced with every woman they could. Troops and servants alike joined in, from the maids in the main house, to the faoladh men from the weapons workshop, to the women who were going to be on the front lines. It was the last hurrah before the storm began, getting everyone involved excited and ready to go into battle.

Lord Merritt danced with whatever man asked him to before eventually retiring for the night. Sir Lexington saw him leave and rolled his eyes as the baron was joined by two other men once he left. Meanwhile, the incubus preferred to dance with women, so they took his priority. He ignored those who were succubi or faoladh, however, as he, as a noble, had to worry about his own line as well. Status helped him somewhat in that regard, but not by a lot. Even Philip danced, too. With Sasha, no less! They did so entirely to have fun and refrained from any song with a slow tempo, instead opting to talk until the music passed.

Farroel, was not so lucky. He was tense- so tense, that he felt like he was about to pull a muscle. Sadly, it was obvious, too, especially during slow songs when Evangeline leaned her head on the man's shoulder. She knew that he wasn't having a good time. She knew that when he smiled at her as they spun around and around in lighter moments that he was lying to her. Evangeline was indeed a "princess" with romantic notions about love and relationships. She was about to have a real-life fairytale wedding, but she still could not be elated because she knew that her betrothed was not happy. She loved him. She had loved him for a very long time and hoped that one day, that he would be able to love her back, but as the time between then and the wedding grew shorter, she became more and more disillusioned. The servants and the other Philosophers had lied to her. She knew that, now. Farroel did not love her in the way that a man loves his future wife and there was very little chance of that ever happening.

"Farroel..." she said, prompting his attention.

"Yes?" he inquired.

"Are you really happy?" Evangeline already knew the answer, but somehow, wanted wanted to hear it firsthand.

"What?" he gawked, laughing somewhat nervously. "Of course! I'm going to be married to the most sought-after woman in the entire supernatural world. Not to mention, to my childhood friend. Why wouldn't I be happy about that?"

"You seem unenthusiastic." she noted, before correcting herself. "You've seemed that way for a long time. Now you seem less like a wolf and more like a rabbit caught in a trap. It's not like you, Farroel."

"I..." the man began, only to not really know where he was going to go with it. She was right. He was trapped.

"I already know that you don't like me..." the woman continued. "Well, not in the way that I like you, at least. Part of me wants to know why, but… I don't know if I'm strong enough to hear about my shortcomings."

"It's not like that..." Farroel said. "I just… It's not that there's anything wrong with you, it's just… People can't really decide who they fall in love with… It isn't that you are repulsive or anything of the sort. It is simply that… I just don't feel this way about you. I'm sorry… That's not the sort of thing you want to hear from the man who's supposed to become your husband."

"Are you really fine with marrying me?"

"It's the right thing to do. Our union is what is best for the Whelan family."

"What about you, Farroel? Is that really what's best for you?"

"I…" Farroel began before looking down. "I'm not as important. I have to worry about the whole. If this is what it will take to secure the future of the family, I'm perfectly willing of going through with it."

Pausing, the woman let out a sigh. "How uncool… I always thought you were so rugged and dashing, but you're so passive, Farroel. Surely there's some fire in there, somewhere."

Looking up again, Farroel tried to look the woman in the eye, but his gaze wound up shifting to just over her shoulder. "Maybe there is..." he said, his eyes watching Philip and Sasha dance. "Somewhere..."