DH AN: Yes, I know this isn't the plunny of doom that still needs its second part. But an update is an update right? Enjoy Chapter Five of An Heiress' Mantle.

AN 2: Spoilers for Not As I Know Him are present (Not out of place because well)

I have very little self-control and follow these infuriating bunnies down the trails, spoilers be darned.


Chapter Five

Each step into the hallway fills Arlomhe with dread. After the second step, she pulls the door shut and cannot stave off her shaking as she checks her inner pocket to make sure the signed contract is there four times. Only the four reassuring contacts with the soft paper let her proceed. Step by step and little by little, the tension eases and spreads so that it's not a giant knot in the pit of her stomach, but it's still present. About halfway through, the tension increases.

Again she let him go…

If the cameras weren't malfunctioning?

She's left to face another interrogation.

And how do I explain the handkerchief?

She faces a major dilemma that has dire consequences regardless of which stand she takes.

How do I cope with my brother just waltzing back into my life?

She halts at that acknowledgement, trembling. What if Marik's still- She banishes the thought, still the trembling lingers."Sharti, not Khouri." She exhales. The phrase is slow, soft.

"Sharti, not Khouri." She repeats again, softer but far more punctuated.

"Sharti, not Khouri." Her voice has dropped to a whisper but the assertion resounds in her core. The R.H. isn't that deep in my head. And he's not… She can't finish that thought because technically...it's not entirely true. She rubs the cloth held in her right outside pocket.

Why did she let Nassr leave- twice?

Because that was how it had to be. But does that mean that's how it must stay? She shakes those thoughts away. What's done is done. It cannot be changed.

She resolves to keep the handkerchief; it's the option with the least unpleasant consequences.

I don't know why he was here.

I don't know why he was here.

I don't know wh-

She's at the office door before the third repetition is finished. Again, she checks a fifth time to ensure that stupid piece of paper is still there. To be fair, this is her first day back as well. And Bryn is right, she was successful and The R.H. likes successful. She quietly twists the doorknob and steps inside, locking it. The R.H. stands near the inner left corner with his back to her.

"I am glad to see you, Ms. Sharti." He steps back and clears his throat to disguise a cough. "Lock the door."

"Already done." She doesn't miss the rearrangement of the chairs, two facing each other in front of the desk, one with a view of the desk and the other with a view of the door. She takes the seat facing the desk. The third one is out of sight and she doesn't dare look for it.

The R.H. turns and watches as Arlomhe reaches for the signed contract, but he holds up a hand and shakes his head lightly from side to side. "Not yet, Ms. Sharti." He steps past her to the left and tests the door with a light twist, satisfied as it only yields slightly. "You doubt my recovery." The accusation is quiet.

He steps past her right and takes the other seat. "In turn, I suppose it fair to admit that I doubt yours. Your shoulder Dear One- that will heal soon enough. But the other after effects…" He stands and steps around her, watching her tense as he very lightly brushes his fingers along her right shoulder and lets his hand fall back to his side. "I do not blame you for avoiding the one who sent you into that trap-" The emphasis punctures the air. "-alone." He slowly now claims the seat. He exhales, idly running his thumb along his fingertips once, his gaze still unnervingly on Arlomhe. Her subtle squirming prompts an equally unnoticed shift to focus on the filing cabinet. "Your reluctance stems from elsewhere." The statement is matter of fact, slowly enunciated, and does nothing to put her at ease.

He watches as her eyes dart every which way but one. He stands and again faces the back wall. "This reluctance of yours must end soon." He affords her a glance over his right shoulder. "I'd much rather it be your choice than at my discretion." He back-steps and stops right behind her ear. "After all, a father's duty is to do everything to protect their child from harm."

The chair audibly skids backward and Arlomhe is on her feet in a half-second. She shakes as she breathes in and out audibly. He counts five cycles before she finally speaks. "Do you think you've failed to do so?"

He paces softly towards her and runs his fingers gently along her shoulder once more. "You wear proof of that failure."

"Don't I wear proof of success as well?"

"And at what cost did that come, Dear One?" The phrase comes hot through his teeth.

"That collapse wasn't your fault." The words are hollow, only propelled by air. "Guilt does nothing in your favor Sir."

"I sent you i-!"

She cuts him off. "I did as you asked." It's the first thing she's said that's even close to full-bodied. She turns swiftly on her heel and looking at the floor she trembles and her voice again goes soft. "I've always done as you asked." The throbbing pain in her shoulder flares and she suppresses a reaction; it's been that way for at least a week. She watches him again test the door, and notes the change in his posture as he still finds the door locked. In a single word, it's relief.

He steps towards her and slowly pulls her into his arms and holds her there. Soft, rare, a small cherished moment that he cannot bear to end. "I am very glad to see you, Mheralo, make no mistake of that." He doesn't dare even think to run his hands through her hair. It's an action that could send her reeling twice in as many days. He stiffens as he realizes her right shoulder and upper arm are smooth under the cloak's cloth. "You've stopped bandaging your shoulder."

"It's been three weeks. I'm fine." She can't hold back her grimace as her shoulder throbs again in protest.

"You act as if you're fine." He tilts her chin gently with his fingers. "I doubt your recovery enough as it is; blatant disregard for your injury-which should still be bandaged if you plan on acting as if nothing's wrong- only eases it from doubt into the uncomfortable acknowledgement as fact." He back-steps to the door and unlocks it. "Take Harkin with you and get yourself properly bandaged." She doesn't move forward, instead grasping at the signed contract in her inner pocket, ensuring it was still there a sixth time. She hears him pace, the time between each step constant, slow, careful, deliberate.

She counts four paces when he loosely grasps her right wrist and carefully draws the contract gripped in her fingers out from its concealment. "I assume you had no trouble with the negotiation?" He grips the bottom of the folded paper but does nothing to force it from her hands.

"I succeeded."

"Then why check for the fruit of that as if you doubt it exists?" He pulls the paper slowly from her fingers.

"Last time you sent me somewhere, I couldn't confirm success…"

"Sharti, your retrieval was successful, no doubt flawless." He sidesteps and moves past her, placing the folded paper on the corner of the desk. "Your return was where it went awry." He looks at the wall. "It is quite the prize…did you reconsider your choice to not see it in the three weeks away?"

"That… that hasn't changed." The last thing she needs is sight of the tangible catalyst that sparked the ordeal in the first place. Even if she hadn't been caught in that collapse, Arlomhe Sharti wouldn't have looked on the spoils; if one becomes too focused on the reward, it invites carelessness.

That's not something she can afford. Ever.

"You're weak." He spits "What use could I possibly have for someone who is so easily ruled by their fear." She trembles and clenches her fists. The reaction wasn't simply careless, it was the stupidest thing she'd ever done.

The R.H. reclaims his seat and rather idly pulls a deck box from his pocket. "Did you win?" His query is careful as he flicks open the box with his thumb.

"Did I win what?"

He ignores the redirected question, and instead pulls the deck from its confines, wrapping his fingers around the trailing narrow width. He slides his fingers slightly down the height of the stacked cards so that a few are unhindered. "Draw."

"Why?" Her voice drops and she starts trembling minutely. 'Brutal' was far too kind a term for that combo… she'd delayed its full force but she should have known that such an essential strategy would include multiples of every card it could-

"Please just this once; I ask you to honor this small request that relates to your ordeal Dear One."

"What did you see?" She refuses to let her voice break completely, but it's close enough to that point that it doesn't matter.

"Something I wish to confirm."

"What. Did. You. See. Sir?" Her voice is a whisper and both fury and fear are thick in her words. Even if he didn't see all of it… if he saw that… she'd never hear the end of it…

He stays silent.

With a lightly trembling hand, Arlomhe Sharti draws the standard five from the deck before her with her index and middle fingers extending and curling to pull the cards in succession. She doesn't look at them, instead holding them aloft face down.

"So you did have a duel."

Arlomhe trembles, finally bringing herself to nod in confirmation. She destroyed the wrong second card- if she'd gone with the other… Jam Defender was a must. Choosing between Infinite Cards and Card of Safe Return was harder. If she'd chosen Infinite Cards instead, that choice might have bought her more time. Unlikely, as Marik had near twenty cards in his hand. No doubt he was ready with a copy of each. She played right into his hands.

"I'm sure you did your best." His voice draws her from her thoughts. She surrenders the five cards she drew.

"All my best got me was rammed against a brutal five card strategy." She shakes. "I never even stood a chance against him."

"Against me." He still holds the five cards drawn. She pales further and her tremors increase. "Even in sleep your face contorted in a way markedly similar to that look you get when I back you into a tight corner."

"And you're holding it… aren't you?" When not in use, decks were typically stacked in a certain preference; his preference is to usually have the crux of the deck in easy reach.

The R.H. does not answer. Confirmation would result in a downward spiral that would only be remedied by breaking their agreement and that's not something he wants to chance. Even this accidental circumstance is hitting Arlomhe Sharti squarely in all the wrong places.

She looks like the little three year old who got caught literally red-handed in that bowl of pomegranate seeds… coupled with that look of being able to do absolutely nothing as that grand strategy unfolds. She's pale, trembling, and if he's not mistaken, her forehead is clearly dappled with sweat.

The R.H. pushes the five cards into the deck and then slides it back into the box. "You may leave at any time you wish." The offer of an out is the best option that he can give her.

"What did you see?" Arlomhe's voice nearly breaks and her gaze is fixed on the floor. "Did…Did you use the…?"

"I didn't…. I couldn't."

"Couldn't or wouldn't?"

He doesn't have time to answer before a paper comes under the door facedown. "Retrieve that, Ms. Sharti."

She does so without question, ensuring that she doesn't see what's on it.

The R.H. slowly pulls the missive from her fingers. He scans. He steps towards the door and then turns on his heel to stop behind her. "Well, well, well…" She shudders in near terror at the glee dripping from his tone. "Looks like I get to make my return with a bang."

He paces to the desk and sets the paper on it. "You're dismissed to see to your shoulder, Sharti." It's sharp, almost staccato, and conveys that he wants her out of his sight as soon as possible. Arlomhe nods slowly and rises from her seat to make her exit.


DH: As a side note, if you like Benu, (Oft dubbed as Ataahua's aviary) there's a new Benu-centric fic, An Emerald Phoenix Renewed that Ataahua published this past week AND I LOVE IT…

A small reminder that the vexing little bird (And a handful of others) is not mine, and on loan to me if you will. Maybe that's why I'm so antsy about getting her right…

Please Review and please go read and review her fic, I mean I do the favorite birdy justice but Ataahua kinda blows my paltry attempts to shambles. Which is to be expected.