A/N: I had an amazing conversation with an acquaintance of mine on Tumblr last night and she made me do a lot of thinking about this story, about Tahki, and about Pagan's character. I now realize there could be a few flaws (and one of the bigger boo-boos I fixed in the last chapter) and I'm going to be trying my best to fix them! We've also got some... bonding...? Like, they barely tolerate each other, but knowing Pagan, he'd most likely want to try and at least get on better terms with his guests. It's just a short, domestic chapter to give y'all a break from the usual. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy!

Chapter Genre: General

Chapter Rating: T

Rating Content: Brief Language

Tahki busied herself with planting the flower seeds, enjoying the nice cool breeze that gently whipped her hair. It was something about being up in the North that made the air seem a lot more crisp, a lot more fresh. It could have just easily reminded her of her home back in Canada, of course. But regardless, it was very refreshing.

It wasn't quite as cold as it was the previous day, of course, so Tahki had dressed up in a pair of dark, ripped jeans and a quarter-length black shirt. She still had her leather glove on, though, as her hand still hurt like the blazes!

She heard someone walking down the stone path but she didn't avert her attention from planting the seeds. Whoever it was, they could talk to her while she worked.

"I heard you had beaten the shit out of some of my men last night."

Despite that it was him, she couldn't help but grin at herself. "Yeah, you definitely need to get them a better trainer. Unless they're self taught; then you need to get them a trainer."

She had gone to where she found most of the soldiers the previous evening (as she had been itching for a fight), and she had managed to get one of them angry enough to threaten to beat some sense into her. She had placed a hand on her hip. "Come on, I dare you!" She taunted. "Or are you scared you'll get beaten by a woman?"

That had done it, and the solider immediately charged her, which she easily side-stepped and drove her elbow into his back. Of course, this started a small brawl and she had managed to keep fighting until their boss (most likely a Sergeant or General) came and broke up the fight. She should have guessed he would've gone to report to Pagan Min about it.

Pagan stood just a short distance away from her, watching carefully as she planted the seeds and gently move the dirt back over top of them. "And you look unscathed. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

She dug the mini shovel into the dirt and looked up at him. He was wearing a black jacket and... were those jeans? He was still wearing his makeup, though. "Where do you think I earned a living for the first five-to-ten years of living here?"

He was confused, at first. That didn't make any sense whatsoever; 'where do you think I earned a living...?'. He didn't know that there were fighting rings anywhere in Kyrat.

Unless, he wasn't supposed to know there were fighting rings in Kyrat.

"You fought in illegal brawls?"

She shrugged and resumed with her garden work. "Yes. Jesse had a job, but it almost wasn't enough to keep us supported. Of course, I couldn't find a job anywhere else so I took up in illegal fights. Got some good money off of it, too. It's where I earned most of the respect from the people. Although Jesse wasn't impressed when I came back home with a new bruise."

Once again, this left Pagan confused. Just the previous day, she didn't want to be anywhere near him, and now she was having a casual conversation with him about illegal fights (which he would look into later). Perhaps she just had some mood-swing issues. Tahki suddenly looked up at him, a gleam in her eyes. "But there was never a time where I didn't come home with a wad of cash."

It hit him, then; she was proud. Proud she was able to hold her own, proud that she could fight. This wasn't a regular conversation to her; this was almost boasting about her fighting skills. "But that doesn't answer where you learned to fight in the first place. All things considering, of course."

He meant her arm, of course. She sighed heavily and set the shovel down, standing up from the ground and wiping her hand off on her jeans. "If you're talking about my non-arm, then yes, it seems a little odd. But you know what they say; never judge a book by its cover. My non-arm is the reason I learned how to fight."

Pagan tilted his head to the side. "That's not all, though, is it." A statement, not a question.

The proud gleam in her eyes immediately disappeared and she knelt back down into the dirt, busying herself with planting the flowers. "No, but that's none of your damn business."

There's the attitude he was waiting for. The man simply shrugged. "Very well. Carry on."

Tahki sighed mentally and looked back up to Pagan. Jesse had practically begged her earlier that morning to act a little more civil around Pagan. He understood why she hated him, but her bitchy-teenager attitude eventually wouldn't fly with him. Pagan was King, his word was law and, as much as she hated it, he was also in charge. "You have to get over it, be mature about it, and shut up about it." He had told her. "You may have gotten away with it before, with the people and the Golden Path, even the Royal Army, but now; you're in his world. His world, his rules, his actions and his choices."

"Look, it has nothing to do with you personally... much." She explained to him. "You just worked with my father, and he took the things you did to heart. He was a good man, but even the sweetest fruits can turn sour."

Pagan laughed, then, loudly and almost joyfully. When he finally managed to calm down, he asked her, "Did Harper tell you to say that?"

She shrugged again. "No, but he told me to bite my tongue and at least tolerate you." Not his exact words, but that was making a long story short.

"Oh, well, at least you're honest." He sighed.

She waited patiently for him to leave so she could get back to work peacefully, but he never did. His shadow was still there and she could still smell the faint scent of cologne. She looked back up at him. "Don't you have 'business' to take care of, today? Or are you going to keep standing there like some stalker?"

He clasped his gloved hands together. "No, I'm taking a break today. Damn terrorists. Besides, with you being, well, your father's daughter, I thought I should chat you up, get to know you better. Try and create a," he brushed calmly at the air the way one would brush a fly away. "Clean slate."

Tahki stabbed the small shovel into the dirt and pointed at him. "Okay, if you want a 'clean slate', the first thing you should know is that you don't mention my father. You don't compare me to my father, you don't talk about my father before he left for Canada and you sure as hell don't ask me about my father. Got it?"

"Done. And I have just one condition for you." He crouched down beside her, but not close enough that she could whip around and smack him one. "Drop the act. It isn't very becoming of you."

She almost dropped the packet of seeds. "Excuse you?"

He gestured with his hand. "The act. Your 'bitchy teenager' act. What did you say Harper was; thirty-four? And three years younger? You're thirty-seven."

"Yeah, so what?"

He gestured again and rested his hand on his knee. "See, there you go again. 'Bitchy teenager'. It's grating and it's not fitting for a woman your age. You need to cut the act."

That was the one condition that Tahki knew she would have the most difficult time with. It wasn't much of an act, but more of a shield. When her shield wasn't up, she was vulnerable. And when she was vulnerable, she could act out and speak out in a dark and almost vicious manner. No shield, means seeing emotions. Ones she didn't want to share. "How do you know it's an act? What if it's just my nature?"

He shook his head. "No, that's not your nature. I've seen your nature."

"Go shoot yourself and get stuffed."

Pagan was about to call her out again, but he held his tongue. "You see, when you didn't listen to me and went outside to fight those terrorists, I saw you. But I didn't stop you. I saw what you were and what you could be. You have the nature of someone who feels that they need to survive, to prove who is stronger. Survival of the fittest. You're a pack wolf, but you don't like to play nice." He waggled a finger at her. "Now that... that is your true nature."

That was enough. She wasn't about to be attacked and not be able to counter. "And you want to know what I think your nature is?"

"I think you chewing me out at breakfast yesterday was enough." He muttered.

She glared at him. "No, those were your faults, not your nature." She gently set the seeds down and turned her body to him. "Your nature reminds me a lot of a wounded old wolf. He prefers to be alone, not daring to accept help for the wound he suffered. And, as a result, he uses the wound as an excuse to bite at any other wolf that tries to 'make nice'. He doesn't want help, because he wants to appear strong, but he also wants to keep using that excuse to bite at everyone else." She pointed a finger at him. "You are a tyrant; you're using something, I don't know what, but something to keep on driving fear into the hearts of those you think are below you without guilt. There's something that has hurt you in the past, but you aren't going to talk about it. You are allowing that pain to fester in you, like a poison, and you are using it as an excuse for your petty and horrible actions against others. You need anything to blame, but yourself. That's your nature; a lone, wounded wolf."

He stared at her, then. Gaze unwavering, not a single muscle in his body moving. Damn this woman, he thought. Pagan knew, with that little rant, her 'act' had been set aside. She had proven his point, but she had also taken a huge chunk out of him in the process. She was right, in a sense, about him being an old wolf. She had also been correct about him being wounded.

He was also right about her not playing nice; she bit him real hard. And he was tempted to bite back.

Then he remembered their little 'terms', and that he had come here to try and be a little kinder. 'Clean slate', he reminded himself. "You're comparing me to an old wolf, now?"

"You compared me to a wolf as well. You can't say a thing."

Tahki handed him a packet of seeds. "Here." She said.

"And what am I to do with these?" He asked.

"Plant them, smartass." She snapped. "If you want to 'get to know me better', then you're going to help with the work." She then added with a little smirk. "Unless you're just a little miss-priss who doesn't want her clothes getting dirty."

He fixed a glare on her and his grip tightened on the packet. "I am not a priss." He spoke through gritted teeth.

She pointed just ahead of her. "Then get on your knees, take a shovel, and start planting. Make about four or five rows, each row being about one and a half meters across and gently sprinkle the seeds into the rows. Then just put the dirt over the seeds."

He walked off towards where Tahki had pointed, careful as to not disturb the area that she had already been working on. He wasn't a gardener, not in any way. But if this is what it took to make that clean slate, then he may as well just get it over with. "Were you a gardener?"

She gently patted the dirt over a completed row. "Nope. It's really just something I enjoy. Got to keep the exterior of the house pretty, somehow."

/ / /

Jesse walked briskly through the corridors, dodging the few guards that were patrolling. He had fallen asleep and forgot to check up on Tahki. After asking Ronin where she was, he had stated she was working in the gardens with Pagan.

He had immediately taken off. Those two were like wild animals; poke the stick at them even just a little bit and they could both easily be snapping at each other and ripping each other's skin off. Of course, one would be more likely to end up dead than the other. But either way, he just needed to check up on them to make sure they weren't trying to strangle each other.

He almost barreled outside and stood still, waiting and listening for them. He'd rather catch them in the act of fighting than call out and have them stop fighting before he got there.

He heard voices down the garden path and he carefully walked down it, looking around a tree to see them both kneeling on the ground, planting seeds.

Jesse did a double take. Since when did Pagan Min plant flowers?!

"You should do something like this more often." Tahki stated. "Give you something to fill your time."

"I have more important things than gardening."

"Like what, terrorizing and murdering innocent people?"

Dammit, he thought he told her to shut up!

"I am taking back what is mine." Pagan replied.

"By murdering innocent people."

Jesse continued to watch, waiting to see if either of them would throw a punch or threaten someone with a knife. Or a mini shovel, in their cases.

"You were in illegal brawls."

"But I didn't kill people. And they were willing fighters."

"So are the Golden Path. You fought against willing people with fists and feet. I fight against willing people with guns and grenades." Pagan briefly stopped in his work. "You and I aren't as different as you think."

Tahki scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Trust me, we are polar opposites. If we were the same, I'd be a murderer, too."

Jesus, were they actually having a normal conversation?! Well, somewhat normal conversation. But it was still a conversation. And since when did Tahki suddenly tolerate the guy? She could barely be around him, let alone talk to him! Did they brainwash each other or something?

"I'm not a murderer." He snapped at her. "I never pulled the trigger."

"You ordered it." She countered. "That's almost no different. You ever wonder why the people get the same punishment as the assassins they hired?"

Pagan didn't respond.

"Because they are just as guilty." She finished.

Jesse waited once again. Surely that would make Pagan upset, if not angry. Surely that would make him yell or try to pick a fight!

Instead, he changed the subject. "Did you ever learn to hunt? You seem like the hunting type."

She patted the dirt over a row of seeds. "Why is that? Because of my heritage?"

Jesse let out a short breath. He guessed this was as normal of conversation as it could get between these two. They were both like wild animals, he reminded himself of his earlier thoughts. They both had the sticks right next to them, but they could learn to not use them.

Satisfied that they weren't going to kill each other, Jesse silently slipped away from them and walked back into the palace. He didn't know if this was a good thing or not, them actually (barely) getting along, but if it meant less knives and less guns (and insults) then it was as good as it was going to get.

/ / /

"Did you ever learn to hunt? You seem like the hunting type."

She patted the dirt over a row of seeds. "Why is that? Because of my heritage?"

Pagan looked over her shoulder to see that he was gone. "He's a snoopy little shit, isn't he?"

Tahki shrugged and made another row in the dirt. "It's just his nature to worry about me. And don't dodge the question."

Pagan resumed his work and continued to place seeds in the rows he had made. "Yes, it is. You're a Native who already enjoys the outdoors and has a love of nature. I wouldn't put it past you to be a hunter, either."

She raised a finger at him, shovel still in her hand. "One; somewhat racist."

"Oh, please." He scoffed.

"Two; generally speaking. I prefer my meat fresh rather than buying it at the market; no telling what got to it while it was out in the open air." She explained.

"And what did you hunt with?"

"Modified single-hand crossbow. I hate putting bullets into the meat."

"Interesting."

Pagan placed the dirt over the final row of flower seeds and he brushed his hands off. "There."

Tahki poked him with her shovel, which had another packet of seeds on it. He suppressed a sigh and took the packet. "How can you stand working for so long?"

She laughed, then, an almost cheerful sound. "How can you stand working for so long?" She asked him, almost sarcastically. "I keep at things like this until they're done. No sense in stopping. The final product is always worth it. After the flower seeds are planted, there are trees to plant. You don't have saplings, so we'll have to root cuttings."

He looked at the label on the small pack. Calendula. Bright yellow flowers. He carefully opened the packet and stuck it into the dirt, making a few rows and then taking some seeds out. She didn't ask him any questions, so they worked in silence for a few moments.

He had been beating around the bush about her... non-arm, did she call it? Asking about how she hunted, commenting about how quickly she could work, complimenting how well he handled a pistol or handgun. He wasn't being direct about it because, for one, that could easily mark his side of the slate. Secondly, she could have lost her arm in something that was traumatizing. He didn't fail to notice how her non-arm was always covered up. She could just easily be self aware about it as well.

Still, he couldn't help but ask. "How many years have you been with just one arm?"

He heard her shovel drop into the dirt and he looked over at her. She looked just about ready to shoot something! "You seem so well-practiced in everything," he said, trying to somehow make it better. "It seems like you've been-"

"I was born with it." She cut him off. "Hence why I wasn't adopted until I was almost fifteen. Hard to be adopted when you're a teenager. Even harder when you're a cripple."

"I hardly call you crippled."

"Alright, handicapped, then."

He dropped the subject, then. He heard enough. And she shared enough.

"Okay, now it's my turn." She said. "What's your deal? And I'm being serious, as well. You look like a teenager with that hair. You also wear makeup and you seem to like the colour pink. What's with that?"

"It's in style." He replied simply. "It's also my best suit."

"And the hair?"

"Easy to take care of."

"Fair enough."

Everything doesn't always need a complex explanation, she thought.

"And you; you aren't like most women I've seen or met." He commented.

"I have no clue if that's a compliment or a veiled insult."

He shrugged. "Take it as you will. But most women I've met are always concerned about something; their hair, their makeup, their body. And then there's you. You don't seem to care about outward appearance at all."

Tahki tsked. "Well, thanks a lot..."

"Not in that way, mind you." He quickly corrected her. "You're already an attractive woman, but you aren't a little miss-priss like most women are. It's almost refreshing."

She nearly dropped the shovel again. Why did he keep coming at her with all these statements and compliments? It kept taking her off-guard. "You think one arm is attractive?" She asks.

"Attractiveness isn't always a matter of ones' body." He replied. "It could be their eyes, their hair, the way they talk or the way they act. It could also be their spirit, their soul. And in your case, it's a matter of your spirit."

"How, now?"

He set the garden shovel down and turned to her. "You're independent, brash, fiery, a free spirit. Nothing holds you down. But you are so damn infuriating!"

She shrugged. "Not my problem you've got a temper."

He was about to snap at her, but he quickly closed his mouth. She just said that to get a reaction from him.

Tahki pulled her phone from her pocket and sighed. "We've been at this almost all day. It's almost supper, we haven't eaten and my back is getting sore." She pocketed her phone and started to collect the gardening items. "We should take a break."

Pagan nodded. He handed her the gardening shovel and stood up from his spot on the ground, hearing the faintest sound of his knees cracking as he did. He was getting far too old for these kinds of things.

She placed the gardening items in a bucket that was hanging on the branch of a tree. "Better than going back and forth to the shed." She explained.

They both walked back to the palace, although keeping a fair distance between one another. "You always seem to have these massive meals. Who does the cooking?"

"Cooks."

"Funny." She rolled her eyes. "You know, you could really do some good with the leftovers you get."

His head snapped to her. "What?"

"You get leftovers, don't you?" She asked. He nodded. "Well, you could do a lot of good with those leftovers. I know a few families here in Kyrat that would be more than happy to have them."

"Was that a thing in Canada?"

"Yes; it's called food donations." Tahki snapped at him. "For someone who rules a third-world country, you really don't know what goes on with your own people."

"Because they are none of my concern." He said.

"And yet the Golden Path is? They are no different than the people that you rule over. They're just voicing their hatred of you, is all." She stopped just inside the door, staring him straight into his eyes. "You know, if you would just take the time to actually have a bit of compassion for your people, or at least take the time to familiarize yourself with them, you'd probably have a lot less problems. Kind of like what you did today with me."

And with that, she took off down the corridor, leaving behind a confused and irked Pagan Min. The nerve of her! What right did she have to tell him what he should or shouldn't do? He didn't have time or patience to deal with the common people.

'And yet you have the time and patience to deal with the woman you have deemed infuriating?' The little voice inside his head mocked him.

Pagan growled and slammed the door shut behind him, walking down the corridor to his own room. He needed to get his mind off of things. Perhaps some light reading before dinner. Reading was always enjoyable.