Author's Notes: Needs more chapters.
Behind Blue Lies – Chapter 13
It was a perfect plan. Or so Vriska kept telling herself. The culmination of a week of planning. Of good ideas torn to shreds and replaced with new ones. Of those plans being ripped to pieces for new plans. Days of trying to stay sane as she worked with Sollux to plan something that could very well drive her mad, and would undoubtedly destroy her life. Nights of blessed sleep, and wondering how she was going to get the obviously needed sopor after she joined Veruna in hiding. If she survived. In the end they had finished it. A balance of as few deaths as they thought they could get away with, as much destruction as could be afforded to make it flashy, and just the right amount of blood to satisfy Veruna without destroying what little remained of Vriska's conscious.
And this morning... This morning judgment came down upon her, damning her no matter what happened. Either Veruna would see through all the work, kill Vriska on the spot—or torture her, who knew with that one—and go after her friends, quads and inclade, or she would accept the plan and all those deaths would be on Vriska's hands and she'd lose everyone anyway. Kanaya would hate her forever, never knowing the price Vriska paid for her life and comfort. Karkat would be disappointed in her—the thought of which hurt more than she'd ever expected. Terezi and Equius would feel vindicated and call for her head. Tavros...
Who knew what he'd think. Vriska didn't. She'd refused Sollux's continued pleas that she turn to the brownblood, refused to bring him into this any more than he already was. How could she just expect him to sit back and say nothing of what was going on? Sollux, Vriska could trust him. He was in this as deep as she was, he knew what it was to fight despite the costs it placed on innocent trolls. It was a battle for their futures, for the future of Beforus, and in that kind of game you sacrificed whatever pawns you had to for the sake of the war. You took the time to mourn when no one was around, where no one could see, and moved on. The battle continued regardless of emotions, and so the players had to keep moving as well.
So here she was now, a just out of sight of where the Keeper waited. This would be her last chance to close her eyes and be at peace with herself for a while, and Vriska knew it. Once the plan was in Veruna's hands things would start in motion. It didn't matter that the target that Sollux had helped her select wasn't happening for almost a full perigee. Veruna would spend a good bit of that preparing her forces, and she'd likely expect Vriska to be there with her. Work would be abandoned—not that Vriska cared, the paperwork transferring her production facilities to Remium's ownership were processed and would be official come the night—Kanaya left to wonder where her matesprit was because the note Vriska had left her had been vague. Everything she'd need for what came next was with her. All of the plans carefully written out on paper for ease of destruction, detailed down to the last millisecond. Other papers that had the plans for the explosive device that Sollux had contrived. Everything the psychotic, would-be Empress needed to start her war, perfectly arranged on so little paper. Also with her was her sopor pills and her husktop, the former hidden in several small containers about her body, the latter heavily encrypted to protect Sollux and the Web until such point as Vriska felt it was safe. All she could do was hope that it would hold if someone else got their claws on the husktop, that Sollux's skills were as good as she thought they were. If they weren't, there was no guarantee that their plans would stay safe until Vriska's allotted time to log in using the cipher Sollux had given her.
Now, though, her moment of peace was past. If she took too long getting in to see Veruna, who knew how the troll would respond. It was now, or it was never, and never was too dangerous to even begin to contemplate. With a deep breath, and a quick check to make sure that everything was still in place in the pockets and packs under her, Vriska ducked out from the limited shade of a rock face and headed at last to cover the last bit of the distance to the normal meeting place. Sure enough Keeper was there, waiting like he always was, the same disgusting vibes rolling off of him as there ever were. Oddly enough, Vriska was almost relieved to find that this, at least, wasn't likely to change when everything else did. Keeper would still be creepy, still make her want to throttle him no matter the price her empathy would take out of her. It would be right up there with her carefully contained, murderous hatred of Veruna.
"Spider Bitch," Keeper spat as Vriska joined him under the stone overhang and pulled back her hood. "Her Ladyship is looking for you."
"Like I couldn't even begin to figure that out on my own," she countered, standing by and letting Keeper go through his usual routine to verify who she was. Now, though, Vriska didn't even wait long enough to bandage her hand once Keeper was through. Instead she just pushed on past him and slipped through the crack and into the meeting cave. What she saw there, though, froze Vriska in her place.
The cave was... empty. The stone benches, tables, everything was missing. There were no other trolls there either. Well, no, that wasn't exactly true. At the head of the room, where Veruna always chose to speak, a single large table (this oddly of wood) stood, a stone bench waiting on either side of it. Veruna herself leaned against one side of the table, a satisfied smile on her face. Except for the presence for the fuchsia and the limited furnishings, nothing was left of the meeting cave as Vriska had known it. If Vriska had doubted that this was the turning point for the hierarchists before this, it would have been possible to keep deluding herself now.
"What, no celebration for the soon to be conquering hero?" Vriska asked as she strode forward far more confidently than she actually felt. It was pretty easy to do too. All she had to do was reach out and borrow some of Veruna's own confidence, acting as if it was her own.
"Whale, the celebrations only reelly come when you actually conquer, gill. Keep that in mind."
Veruna smiled, pushed herself fully to her feet, and gestured towards Vriska. Sometimes it was hard, when she looked at Veruna, to remember just what the female was. There was no denying there was a special kind of beauty to the terrible creature. Her body was delicately shaped, just like it seemed all of the fuchsias were, made up all of curves. What was even the point of it? Vriska had always found herself more partial to the sharper features of cool bloods than the curves of the high or the more blocky builds of warm bloods. Still, there was something almost mesmerizing about the way Veruna swayed as she moved, her movements only serving to call more attention to the curving lines of her body. Even her hair had the kind of waves that evoked the nautical life of half of the cold blooded shades. But one only had to look at Veruna's blood painted horns and dress to know just what she was. A killer queen. Charming and so obscene. The world she would usher in was not one Vriska wanted to live in. Nor was she any better this morning than she usually was. Today her claws too were painted with a range of indigos, purples, and even a hint or two of cerulean. Apparently she'd been displeased with some group of hierarchists—or maybe lowblood sympathizers—in the last week.
"What? No faith in my talents, Veruna? I'm offended. I've proved once that my pan is better than the fists of any number of your best highbloods. Won't you take it on faith?"
"Faith, dear Vriska, is what feeds this disgusting system. Lesser creatures have unwavering faith bereef in the system to protect them. They think that their precious system will protect them against the force of our fury. But the tide is changing, and those that live on faith will sink. Will you swim?"
Something was making her tense. Vriska could see it in the way one of Veruna's painted claws was tapping on her crossed arms. Could sense it in the way the troll's anxiety tasted in her gift. Could hear it in the overabundance of fish puns. Whatever had happened between now and the last time she'd seen the other troll had been serious. It was that realization that drove Vriska to look at her enemy more closely, turning the full force of her vision eightfold upon the bitch.
There were new splashes of color on Veruna's dress. Most prominent among them was a shade of indigo that almost bordered on the 'upper' limits of cerulean. Vriska remembered the color, it had belonged to an annoying, self satisfied indigo system enforcer who had recently come to count herself as one of the hierarchists. From the very beginning the young enforcer had felt wrong to Vriska, but she'd said nothing. The risk of having her gift found out and abused was far worse than the risk of the troll getting caught and killed in front of Vriska for spying. And she had been caught. Caught and brought before Veruna. It almost made Vriska wish she'd pulled the indigo aside, pulled her into the Web, protected her. Problem was if she failed, the indigo would have either turned her over to Veruna, or fucked up anyway and gotten Vriska caught in her death. Either way, the encounter had left Veruna frayed around the edges. Would make her harder to deal with, harder to fool. If everything went wrong because of the indigo...
"I don't like swimming," Vriska admitted. "I'm more partial to boats. Let someone else handle putting in the energy to move me. I'll stay high and dry."
"As much as I would love to, I fin I can't fault your apperch to the problem. Come. Share your designs with me. Shoal me you deserve to keep breathing, landdweller."
"Of course. Shall I get to that now, or are we waiting for any one else to join us?"
"We're the sole participants tonight. Wave a lobsta do, so don't waste any moor of my time. Shell me everything. Come, sit, glub about the glory of your pan until you are blue in the gills. But min-now that what you give me better be crayative or so kelp you cod, I will krill you where you stand."
"You won't have reason to," Vriska promised, pulling portions of the plan out from a variety of the pockets and packs inside her solar protection garment. Under Veruna's watchful, baleful, eyes she set about laying out piece after piece. Maps of the target location. Details on the event they were hitting. Projected damages, casualties, timing on everything. Designs for the explosives, suggested ways to get them in place. Everything and anything that Veruna could use to wreck destruction, bring the stability of Beforus crashing down around their heads. And Vriska was giving it her at no cost.
What had she and Sollux been thinking?
The next several hours were spent bent over the papers with Veruna, discussing the strong points of the plan, where it could be strengthened, and who they would consider placing into which positions to the tasks Vriska had outlined. The carefully written pages were soon marked up with new notes, usually in Vriska's neat, tight handwriting, but sometimes in the large, flowing script of the fuchsia. The most disturbing thing about watching Veruna write wasn't the fact that the fish-puns were even worse in text, or the way that Veruna stabbed at the paper, but that she wrote with her own blood. As if she was proud of what she was planning, as if she was daring anyone to try and stop her.
It was something Vriska was set on doing.
At last they'd gone over everything, Veruna's smile spreading wider and wider as Vriska explained more and more details, and the would-be Empress nodded to Vriska.
"Yes, I do bereef everything appiers to be in order. It's honestly rather fintastic that you put this together in a week."
"I told you that I serve you," Vriska pointed out, stretching her arms a bit to work the stiffness out of them. "I'm glad you like the plan. We've only got about a perigee, so things need to be set into motion..."
Vriska trailed off as Veruna burst into giggling laughter. It was a terrible sort of laughter, the kind that would have made any normal troll's legs rattle. But it was worse for Vriska—what wasn't these nights—because her empathy thrust Veruna's complex, typhoon-like swirling rush of emotions over her like never before. Bloodthirst was there, fury, hatred, rage over being denied something. Below that amusement, satisfaction, fondness. And even further below that disappointment, regret, even a hint of sorrow. Just what was going through her pan right now?
"This is some reelly searious work you've put into the planning. But I bereef we can do betta. Wave got quite an opperchtunaty here. I've got an eeling that if you apply your pan a bit more, there won't be a shingle troll able to do anything but carp about our victory for sweeps. What do you say, child?"
Say? To what? What was this damn troll even glubbing about—and that very question made Vriska shudder, she'd clearly spent too much time alone with Veruna this morning.
"The look on your face, Vriska, is quite gillarious. Let me glub it to your plain then. I want something bigger, something better. I want to strike at the wriggling day celebration of the Empress, three days from now. Show my sister that I can reach her where she thinks herself most secure. Vriska, I want you to krill my sister for me."