Notes: Yeah. If you weren't sure, shit is about to hit the fan.
Behind Blue Lies – Part 9
She looked a bit like Aradia, Vriska noted as she stared down at the battered troll. Sure, there were differences—the troll's horns were more forward set on her head, only curled about half of the way around then twisted back into a sharp point—but there was more resemblance than just the blood color. Her eyes were the same shape, also filled in with the rich color of her blood, and her hair hung long, if limp, around her face. She looked gentle, sweet, undeserving of what was obviously to come. Aradia, though, never would have come to a place like this unless she willed it. The psychic powers that had helped to save Karkat a while back had only grown stronger with time, as freakishly strong as Sollux's psionics. Of course, Vriska had all of that from hearsay as it were. She'd only ever met Aradia once before, when a group of them had gotten together to see Karkat off for his internship. Yet she could still see the similarities here, in this poor girl who had been forced to suffer.
Whose suffering would soon end.
The simplest truth of the matter was that the girl was going to die. There was no avoiding that fact. If she had been brought here, into the presence of Veruna, her life was over unless by some miracle the Empress and her peace keepers entered now. And even then she might not survive what would come. The question was whether Vriska was going to live through to the end of the meeting. This was obviously another test. Veruna was fond of them, far too fond. The problem was that this was the kind of test that Vriska couldn't bluff her way through. This wasn't the kind she could blow off or survive by sheer force of will. This time there would be blood on her hands, and not the kind she could forgive herself for. This wasn't Calgor they were talking about, killed to protect herself. This was an innocent, a maroon grabbed off the streets who not only had to die by her hands, but had to do it in a spectacular enough way for Veruna not to suspect Vriska.
The very idea made her want to shake. Not that she could. She had to be strong. She had to pull this off flawlessly or she would die. Everyone she knew would die. If she failed, it might as well have been Aradia before her for all that she could protect anyone. The only question was whether she was going to be able to do what she had to.
"Well, my dear, what do you think of your gift?"
"How did you know just what I wanted?" Vriska countered, forcing fake amusement into her voice as she approached the beaten lowblood. "You're always so kind to me."
"You were so kind as to take care of that blatant waste of seadweller blood for me. The least I could do was repay your delightful antics upon my behalf."
"It was more for me than you," Vriska grumbled. Still, she knew what was expected, and she took a moment to unclasp her solar protection garment. Calgor's blood had been one thing. What would happen next would be something entirely different if Kanaya saw even a speck of blood. Defending oneself from a cold blood and a warm blood were two different things.
With a flick of her wrist she tossed the garment aside, making sure it twisted and flared in the air to catch as many eyes as possible. Better to be showy. Better not to let them see her sweat. Or hesitate. Plus she could always use the moment to think. What was she supposed to do? How could she kill this troll as flashy as possible without going mad?
The cloak fluttered to the floor, and Vriska had to move. Her dagger came out, spinning easily through her fingers as she knelt by the maroon blood, smiling as wide and cruel as she could manage. Fear, pure, violent and poisonous in the corners of Vriska's mind, pressing in on her and demanding to be answered. Part of her wants to lash out at the source of the fear, but it won't do any good. There'd be more fear, mixed with pain, mixed with sorrow. Too many mixings, and her not prepared for it.
"No," the maroon gasped, and she raised a hand as if to ward Vriska off.
"Fuck," one of the purples mumbled, and as he raised a hand to strike at the girl, Vriska found herself caught up in a blast of fear that was almost like a blow across the face. All of her energy went into trying to suck air into her straining aeration sacs, despite the fear so intense that it seemed to constrict her chest.
As suddenly as the fear caught her, it was gone. The maroon was curled up again in pain, the purple smirking through a hard sweat that had broken out on his brown.
"Fucking psychics," he mumbled, wiping his brow. "Thought we beat that out of her."
"That?" Vriska gasped, glad there was something more than just general fear going on. Her behavior would be suspicious if there wasn't.
"Broadcaster," Veruna sighed, obviously annoyed. "A strong one too if she hits the purples this hard. Don't worry, Vriska, it's no surprise that someone of your hue managed to fall. I won't hold it against you."
"Thank you, highness," Vriska snarled, pushing herself to her feet. Apparently it had been bad enough to bring her to her knees.
Stupid girl, Vriska couldn't help but think. How had she not been able to tell there was a psychic talent at play. She was usually so good at spotting those that might pose a risk to her. Something about her vision eightfold came into play, or maybe just luck. But it'd failed her this time. And in the worst way possible. How was she supposed to not only kill an innocent troll, but one who could force every moment of pain back upon her, amplifying what her own gift would already deal?
"Damn you," Vriska hissed, tightening her grip on the dagger. "Could have made this so much easier on yourself..."
Could she have? Vriska didn't think so, but she knelt by the girl and lifted her dagger. Checking her grip one last time she turned all of the force of her gift upon the troll, lashing out with her empathy like she'd always heard a cerulean was able to do. The maroon gasped in recognition of what was going on even as Vriska's mind forced itself into hers, gripping it tightly and holding it still under the force of her gift. She could feel the mind she had pinned struggling, trying desperately to work itself free from Vriska's hold, but for nothing. The poor girl was a maroon, psychically strong but susceptible as well. Once Vriska had caught her up, the troll's mind and body gave itself over to Vriska's will.
It felt wrong. Horribly wrong. As if part of her mind was trapped in another body, struggling to move in unfamiliar skin. The body itched around her mind, and she wanted to claw herself free of it. Claw the mind to pieces because she did not belong. Along the edges of her awareness there was a foreign, familiar presence struggling against her, demanding to be set free. Demanding control. But what did it know of control? How could it embrace this thing, this ill fitting form that clung to it as if it had a claim upon her?
Silence, Vriska barked, her words echoing in the mind, not the flesh world. And, surprisingly, the squirming around the edges of her mind ceased. That was almost more unnerving as anything else. Suddenly she knew, without question, that whatever she willed would happen. This body would obey her as readily as her own. More readily in some things. There was power here. This was power she hadn't even considered before, and was limited only by the forces commanded by those she laid claim to. So much lay before her, in reach, if she only choose the right tool. Veruna, the Empress, Feferi, all could fall before her if she only selected someone useful, like Sollux.
The moment, but not the temptation, passed as Vriska tore her mind from the maroon's and brought the blade down. It easily pierced into her chest, and with a savage jerk fueled by her strength, Vriska tore the blade across the chest, ripping skin and even grinding through bone as she went. Maroon welled up from the flesh, pouring out and coating her hands in its heat. The girl's mind screamed out in her head, but Vriska squashed the emotions down, forcing them as side as coldly and efficiently as she had the troll's mind when she had grabbed it. At last the writhing, both physical and mental, ceased, and Vriska tugged her dagger free. Another slash, this one quicker, was lain across the troll's throat, more a precaution than anything. At last she stood and turned toward the nearest troll. The indigo, looking at her with something bordering respect, didn't even have time to flinch back before Vriska had grabbed him by his shirt. He protested, only weakly because he wasn't sure just what she was up to, until Vriska had wrapped her other hand in the bottom edge of his shirt and used it to clean her dagger in a few quick swipes.
He didn't take being used as a towel well. With a growl he lunged for her, hands open like claws, and Vriska just ducked under his outstretched arms. Her free hand grabbed at his shirt once more, and with a twist of her hips and a pull of her arm, the indigo was sailing over her and crashing into the body of the maroon. It was the simplest of throws, but more than enough to catch a brainless indigo off guard. The trolls around them laughed or scoffed, as was suited to their natures, as Vriska reached for the purple that had been standing next to the indigo. She said nothing at all as Vriska cleaned her hands and arms. Like as not the purple didn't want to risk being made an example of like her indigo friend had. Bested by a lower blood once, even if it was a cerulean, and the shame would never end.
"You're welcome to adorn yourself as you see fit, my empress," Vriska said, almost shocked by how composed she was as she spoke. Composed and cold. And this time, she didn't even have to feign it.
"Oh, aren't you just the most precious thing? Warms my fins just to see how well you are progressing. It would have been a shame if your glubbing idiot of a guardian had ruined you. And to think he kept you from us. How shellfish."
"He's not important. I've already dealt with him."
"I am well aware of that. He is beyond our vast considerations. No, I just believe it was wrong of him to deprive us of your skills. I do come to believe that you were quite right. Pan over might. And so I must make a demand of you, girl. Prove your loyalty to me."
"I think I've more than proved myself by now, Veruna."
"No. You've proven your self interest. You've proven that you wish to gain a place for yourself, that you are willing to go to great ends to achieve power for yourself. You are sharp like coral, both of pan and tongue. You are exactly what I need. But I need to be shore of you dear..."
Things were getting serious. It was easy enough to tell, with or without an empathic gift. Once the fishy language started, all questions were answered. Serious business was happening whether it was wanted or not.
"Just get past the glubbing and tell me what you want."
"I want proof, dear. Proof that you are tied to us. That you throw yourself in with our lot. I want your thinkpan dear. It would serve us well. So I've a task for you."
"Anything, my lady."
"We'll see, dear. We'll see."
"Just get to it before I die of boredom."
Veruna nodded and gestured to the purples and indigos still assembled near her. "Deal with the body. You are with me."
In silence Vriska followed the older troll to a rarely used corner of the room, far away from the others assembled. The would-be Empress gestured for Vriska to seat herself on one of the cut stone chairs, and took her own seat, snapping her fingers as she did. A violet quickly rushed over, pulling a wine pouch from under his cloak and moving to pour into two cups Veruna seemed to pull from thin air. One Veruna kept in a seemingly delicate hand. The other she held out to Vriska. There was no refusing it, so Vriska took the liquid and raised it in a slight salute to the highblood before taking a sip.
"No longer to I care to float in the shadow of my sister. Too long has she sat comfortably in a throne that should be mine. Too long has she indulged the disgusting lowbloods and their desires. Too long have I held back my forces, waiting for just the right moment to strike. It was not until I saw you that I knew what I was waiting for.
"It's the sinister thinking you possess, dear. You'd have cut Spided's throat had it better suited you. Instead you turned him over to my glubbing sister, and gained yourself some choice pearls. I would have you harvest them for me. Beforus is my oyster, and I've yet to claim it. While you shall not do the claiming, you shall be my messenger.
"You will announce me, announce us for Beforus to hear. Consider it our coming out of our shells party. Set the stage for me, dear. And I want it painted in a multitude of colors of those horrid lowbloods, and the high sympathizers. You are to arrange for the event, every glorious detail. I expect you to present something fitting my tastes within the perigee. Fully planned. You may then choose a team of my trolls suited to your tasks, to prepare the party. If you please me, it shall be you that will speak my message to the world, and you will stand at my side when I finally reveal myself to my sister and all her foolish ilk."
"And my reward for this?"
There was a chuckle from Veruna, not the scathing look Vriska had half expected.
"Ah, yes. I expected such a question. You, my dear, shall be one of my generals if you please me. And dead if you fail."
"With an offer like that, my Empress, how can a girl refuse?"