Sorry I am late! I actually forgot I had planned a holiday to Spain so I went away for a bit and came back a few days ago... This chapter especially was insanely difficult to write, and I needed to rewrite it THREE TIMES before I could feel like it was anywhere remotely acceptable for public viewing. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it?
Today I especially want to thank sweetwater_doodles for your AMAZING artwork of Damian carrying Anya out of the lab (go and see it on her instagram!), honestly the more I look at it the more details I can see which is so cool and I am beyond grateful and honoured that you would spend so much of your time bringing a scene I wrote to life, I cannot explain it in words but thank you a thousand times
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It takes a certain mind to complete a puzzle. Some minds like straightforward situations, and easy answers. It is not a fault, but a fact that the human brain does not like to work too hard, and in the name of efficiency it likes to create 'shortcuts'. Often, these can appear in the way that a mind can make a judgement too fast; it falls prey to stereotypes, it likes to be able to judge quickly whether or not the person from the enemy tribe can be trusted.
On the other hand, some minds like to be challenged. There are some that like to push the boundaries of human knowledge, driving the rest forward as one species: what tool can do the job? If we developed a system of agriculture, could our society improve? If we created laws and rules, would that keep us safe?
Some minds can cultivate the ability to puzzle-solve with practice and repetition, while there are few whose innate curiosity demands to be sated. The sense of the mind stretching can be at once uncomfortable and rewarding, and a good puzzle can create that sensation.
It is not uncommon that a puzzle may have already had all its pieces laid out, and yet the mind itself does not recognise the full picture before them. Perhaps, the picture itself is too ugly to look at. Maybe it forces the mind to confront truths that are too painful to bear. Minds are malleable after all, and a brain will take any measure to protect the mind - repression, dissociation, or denial, for instance, to name a few.
And it isn't until the last piece of the puzzle slots into place, that the mind finally allows itself to see the entire picture.
Not until
That final
Click.
Damian picked up his books out of his locker, ignoring, once again, the stares of those around him, and he slid the books into his bag. The glint of silver at the back of his locker taunted him, and Damian quickly tore his eyes away from the object in question before either Ewen or Emile could notice that it was there.
It had been a while since he had moved it from his bag to his locker, but Damian hoped he could keep it safer that way. He shut the locker quickly, and he adjusted his Imperial Scholar's cloak as he turned towards them, slightly skewed from the sudden weight of the books in his bag.
Emile stayed uncharacteristically silent on the short walk to the library, while Ewen talked at a rapid pace - probably trying to cover up the awkward silence - but Damian couldn't concentrate on his friend's words at all. He couldn't help but let his mind wander back to his conversation with his father - if 'conversation' was the right word for it.
That was… the most Damian had ever spoken with his father. He was sure of it. The most that Damian could remember were some terse exchanges in his childhood, followed by years of silence and distance, and then when Donovan decided on a surprise visit to the Imperial Ball, Damian had been almost too paralysed with fear to speak. He had managed to force out some words, thankfully, but the whole ordeal was impossible to remember without feeling his chest tighten and his veins flood with ice-cold fear. Still, the latest contact over the weekend was an actual argument with his father, which was… probably the closest to a conversation that they had ever had.
It still made him angry to remember it, and just the thought of Donovan threatening Anya and attacking her integrity in any capacity made Damian's blood boil, but even so, Damian's mind kept wandering back to that interaction, picking apart the meaning in his words, his tone, his posture…
Damian tried to shrug it off and focus on the study session ahead of them. Once they found an empty table in the far corner of the library, he laid out his books and materials alongside Emile's (who had not yet broken his pensive state), and quickly got to work.
He was halfway through writing an introductory paragraph in his essay, when a very large sigh interrupted his chain of thought.
Emile leaned on his cheek, his eyes glazed over with a faraway look, and Damian would have tried to resume his studying if Emile didn't then sigh again.
Weird, thought Damian, and he flicked his pen between his fingers as he observed his friend's strange behaviour, but it wasn't long before he finally let his curiosity get the better of him.
"What's up with you?"
"Hm?" Emile looked up quickly.
Damian exchanged a quick glance with Ewen, before turning to Ewen again. "You're sighing."
"I…"
To Damian's utter surprise, Emile stood quickly, his face suddenly quite red. "I forgot a book! Be right back."
"Did I say something wrong?" Damian muttered as Emile scurried away, and when he saw the guilt flash across Ewen's face, a pit formed in his stomach.
"Ewen," he said quietly. "He's acting weird right? Do you know what's going on?"
"Ah, yeah, about that," Ewen grimaced. "I thought he would have told you. Alice broke up with him."
"What!"
Damian couldn't stop the shock showing on his face, but he kept his voice low, remembering at the last minute that they were in the library.
"Why?" he hissed.
Ewen shrugged, all the while avoiding eye contact with Damian, and that was all it took for Damian to figure it out.
"Oh."
"Yeah," Ewen sighed. "Her mother is pretty strict, apparently."
Disgust clawed at the inside of his throat, and Damian swallowed, trying to hold back the wave of guilt that rolled through him. How long ago did this happen? Why didn't he tell Damian sooner?
A shadow flickered in the corner of Damian's vision and he looked up to see the hem of an Imperial Scholar's cape moving behind the bookcase.
Damian accidentally met Alice's panicked eyes before she hid behind the bookcase again.
Huh. Weird.
He quickly glanced at Ewen, who had resumed making notes from his textbook, and Emile, who was pretending to look for a book somewhere else, and he sighed to himself. If neither of them had noticed Alice's presence yet, it was only a matter of time before things would become even more awkward.
Before he could understand why, Damian felt compelled by his urge to confront her, and he left Ewen at the table.
It wasn't like he was trying to sneak up on Alice, but when he reached for a book next to her, she yelped.
"Desm- uh, Damian! What are you doing here?"
Damian raised an eyebrow at her. "Studying," he said briskly, before pulling out the book from its place on the shelf and flipped it to a random page.
When Alice said nothing, clearly nervous to be around him, Damian added: "Can I help you?"
It was so obvious that Alice wanted to ask him something, especially since she kept glancing over at Emile through the gaps in the bookshelves, but frustratingly, she kept holding herself back. He wanted to say something if only for Emile's sake, but Damian kept quiet, knowing that he wasn't exactly the best person to talk about her relationship with Emile - if it could even be called that.
He pretended to read the book, all the while feeling her keen stare on him. It was so stupid, he could just come right out and ask her about what he suspected, but it felt trapped in his throat. Obviously she knew that he knew, which was awkward, and she was probably just waiting for him to say it -
"How do you do it?"
"Excuse me?" Damian startled. "Do what?"
"You and Forger. You… um…"
Alice worried at her lip, and glanced quickly back at Emile. She really was terrible at hiding it, but she looked even more deflated, like she was losing some kind of internal debate, and Damian found himself taking pity on her.
"Emile really likes you, you know. I'm sure you can still work things out."
She snorted.
"Are you seriously giving me dating advice right now?" she stared at him incredulously. "You? Of all people?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" he scoffed. "Just because I turned you down?"
"What?" Alice recoiled. "Wha - no! Not that! I'm just shocked that Damian 'Denial' Desmond himself is giving me advice when watching you drag your feet around Forger was so physically painful to watch that half the school was going mad!"
Damian blinked at her in shock, and Alice reddened.
After a long moment, in which Alice only seemed to turn redder, Damian smiled. "Denial, huh," he chuckled to himself. "Yeah that sounds about right. I never did pull myself together, in the end."
Alice looked confused for a second, until Damian added: "Anya figured it out before I could tell her."
Alice gaped at him. "Really?!"
Damian nodded, but he quickly reminded himself that he wasn't there to talk about himself and Anya. He had a chance to help Emile, even if indirectly, and he wanted to use it, if just to be able to do something for one of his best friends.
"What was it you wanted to ask me?"
"Just… how were you and Forger able to…" Alice sighed. "Ah, f-forget it! I'm not supposed to be talking to you right now!"
"Oh, yeah," said Damian quietly, and his face darkened. "Of course. Because your mother doesn't want you to be seen with someone associated with the Desmonds, right? And that includes Emile."
There were very few occasions throughout Damian's life where he cursed his own intelligence. Ignorance really was bliss.
"I…" Alice looked pained, and once again, she stared at Emile through the gaps in the library shelves. "I just thought that she'd - that she - I mean - I thought she liked Emile. Even though he's…" Alice flicked her gaze to Damian, and he knew without her having to say anything that it was because of him. "Well, she had something to say about it, anyway."
"So?"
That one word from Damian shocked Alice to such stillness that she gaped at him.
"Don't look at me like that! You know what parents are… like…" Alice trailed off awkwardly as she swept her gaze over Damian: the tightness in his jaw was pronounced, and he stared at her with his brow furrowed, as if daring her to say another word.
"Sorry. I didn't mean it like…" Alice sighed, before pulling herself together once again. "Weren't you afraid? That they wouldn't approve of you and Forger?"
"I was," Damian admitted quietly.
"So how do you do it? How do you date or, or do anything, when you don't know how they'd react?"
Something twisted in Damian's chest, because he didn't want to say what he knew to be the truth:
My parents don't care.
Alice had clearly sensed that it was an awkward topic for Damian, but once again he was confronted with the fact that very few people in Eden knew why it was so awkward. Only Damian's close friends knew that his relationship with his parents could only be described as 'difficult' at best . 'Estranged' might have been a more accurate word. Alice had only learned recently about the tension between him and his father from what happened at the Imperial Ball, and yet she still couldn't imagine the true depth of Damian's apathy.
Once again, Damian was forced to be reminded that his relationship with his parents was not normal at all by Eden's standards. Parents taught their children how to navigate the society of the world that they lived in. Parents showed their children how to wield the reins of successful companies and businesses, how to use their networking and contacts to build their little empires to even greater heights. Parents decided who their children should be friends with, and who their children should be married to. The hierarchy was absolute.
And somehow, Damian had found himself outside of all of that. Yes, his parents' distance pained him. Their neglect had already left wounds deeper than Damian could understand. In turning their backs on him, Damian's own family had hurt him beyond repair, and yet Damian knew that it was only because of their continued ignorance that he was afforded the freedom he had. The freedom to choose his friends, his subjects, and even to choose who he gave his heart to.
Although, that last part… was never really a choice. It just was. It was always Anya. His heart had belonged to her without his knowledge, or his permission, but Damian knew without a doubt that he would never change it for the world.
Thankfully, Damian didn't have to give Alice a full answer, because at that moment he heard Anya's laughter approaching the study table, and he turned to look through the gaps in the shelves to see her sliding into the booth next to Becky, with a wide smile on her face.
Just seeing her made him feel at ease. Lighter. Anya was always surrounded by a glow that melted the tension from his body and filled him with a sense of peace.
'How do you do it', Alice had asked, and Damian didn't have to think too hard for the answer to show itself to him. He had explained it to Anya, before. Somewhere in a Christmas market on a ferris wheel, he had told her that it was impossible to care about his parents' opinions and be in love with her - but some things were not meant for others to hear.
"You know, Emile and Ewen are the same as you. Their mothers banned them from being friends with me," said Damian quietly, and then he returned the book to its place on the shelf. "I guess we all just decided what was important to us."
Alice looked away before Damian could see the guilt flash across her face, but he had already turned away, walking back to where his friends had made a space for him.
As final year students, all of them were given more days of study leave before each block of exams, and while Damian wanted to use it to its fullest extent inside the library, the rest of his friends had much shorter self-imposed time limits.
Becky was the first to head home, citing that she also had to make time to respond to her estate responsibilities, and Emile followed suit shortly after. He said that he was going to rugby practice, but both Damian and Ewen saw the pain in his smile as he walked away.
"I'd better go too," Ewen said pointedly, nodding his head towards Emile. "I'll see you later."
"Yeah, see you," Damian understood Ewen's secret message, and just like that, only he and Anya remained in the library.
Anya yawned and stretched her arms, hardly paying any attention to her own movements until she accidentally bumped her palm on Damian's cheek, and it startled him so much that he scrawled over his paper.
"Careful," Damian sighed. "You'll end up punching me in the face again…"
"Sorry," Anya yawned and leaned into his side. "I'm so tired! Can't we take a break?"
Damian gasped, aghast. "The exams are only three months away!"
"Exactly. Plenty of time!"
"Are you out of your mind?" Damian groaned. "If we don't get the basics down now, we'll be toast!"
"Mm, toast…"
"Anya, don't - are you drooling on me?!"
Anya smiled, and for good measure, she linked her arms through Damian's, and pulled the edge of his Imperial Scholar's cloak so that it was around her, almost tucking her in like a blanket. She knew that it never took much for him to relent to her whims, and Damian pouted, but he didn't protest, and let Anya snuggle into him as much as she wanted - exactly as she knew he would.
He huffed, but he didn't say anything, and gently laid his hand on her shoulder, softly drawing circles over the sides of her arms. Briefly, Anya wondered if he even knew that he was tracing her scars through her uniform.
It was sweet, really. Anya understood Damian's anxiety around his academic performance, especially now that his main motivation for studying had been torn to shreds, but if she could at least watch over him while he studied, maybe that could be enough. It was part of why they worked so well together. Damian was driven, and naturally academic, and he excelled at everything he did at school - which was why he was deemed worthy of becoming an Imperial Scholar. In the meantime, Anya subtly reminded Damian that humans had limits - yes, even the great Damian Desmond himself - and encouraged him to actually look after himself in between studying blocks.
Anya liked to think that it worked, because Damian's dark circles had all but disappeared over the Christmas break - and it stayed that way, until he started to take the reins as the leader of the Desmond Group. Judging by his irritability and stress, he was definitely cutting down on his sleep in order to fit everything in, and it worried her.
If only Damian could stay with the Forger's more often. Anya knew even without looking into his mind that it was one of the few places that he felt he could truly relax, and if she was being truly honest, Anya found it just as comforting as Damian did to be able to sleep next to him. She loved his sleepy kisses, the way he would mumble his way to sleep, and then the vision of peace across his face when he finally left his consciousness behind - sometimes helped by her ability to give him good memories in his sleep. It was even a pleasant surprise to wake up and discover that he had moved closer to her during the night, pulling her closer to him almost out of instinct.
In the past she would have tried to study hard alongside him, striving for that final Stella Star so that she could be an Imperial Scholar, all so that she didn't have to rely on Damian… for… that.
Shame flooded through her, all over again, reminding her of the endless, inescapable weight of all her secrets.
Just the thought of it made her stomach clench with guilt. The secret poisoned her, it eroded at her soul from the inside, it weighed heavy in her heart, and after so long, it pressed down on her shoulders and her heart and her soul so that it even became difficult to breathe.
There was no reason for her to hold onto the secret any more. In fact, she had so many opportunities to come clean, and she couldn't take them. Plan B had come to fruition, Donovan Desmond was arrested, and Operation Strix succeeded. End of story.
So why was it so hard to tell the truth?
Damian would understand. Right? World peace was at stake, and through that, even their own safety was on the line, and after everything that they had been through, he would be able to look past that…
…right?
Anya's heart darkened even further as she thought about it. Just the phrase 'world peace' left a bitter taste in her mouth, because as much as Annya hated to admit it, she was never fighting for 'world peace', was she?
No, Anya was much more selfish than that. She wanted her father's love. She wanted to fight for her place in the Forger family, in which love was real, but also heartbreakingly conditional.
Tell him, the voice in her mind said, but Anya's heart was too afraid. After twelve years, it just felt impossible.
Twelve years…
It was too long a time to bear the weight of any secret - nevermind the collection that had been placed on her shoulders, and hers alone.
Anya closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Damian's pen scratching across the paper. The gentle abrasion of the pen sounded so soothing, it could have lulled her to sleep. She could hear so many of Damian's emotions just through his writing. She heard his confidence, his surety as he found an argument that he wanted to write, and the speed with which the ideas flowed out of him. Anya's handwriting was no longer illegible at least, but part of her envied how fast he could evaluate his own thoughts and put his thoughts to paper.
Anya inhaled a deep breath. The fabric of Damian's uniform was soft on her face, his cloak comforting around her back, and she couldn't help but take comfort in his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his breath, how he smelled like library books on a sunny day, that he smelled like home.
It was a while before Anya noticed that the scratching of Damian's pen had gone quiet, and she opened her eyes to see his brow furrowed in frustration, the purse of his lower lip as he chewed it from the inside.
"Is everything okay?" she said quietly, and Damian clicked his teeth in frustration.
"Pen doesn't work," he grumbled, and Anya took that as her unspoken cue to sit back up while he retrieved his bag and started to rummage through it.
"You can borrow mine?" she offered, and swapped their pens without waiting for his reply. Soon she had his mechanical pen in her hand, and she started to fiddle with the retractable element of it, while in the corner of her eye, Damian stared at her pen in his hand. She could even feel his puzzling stare without looking at him, so she tried to tune out his twitching mind while she focused on fixing the pen for Damian.
"Is this from your father's office?"
"Mm-hmm," Anya intoned, her tongue sticking out in concentration. She had unscrewed the nib and the main body of the pen, and fiddled with the spring inside the top. It was just a little stuck…
"You must have gone inside there pretty often."
"Oh, yeah, loads," Anya affirmed absent-mindedly while she worked. "It got me into trouble as a kid a few times. I actually have a funny story about it, I'll tell you later…"
Finally, the spring had unbent itself, and Anya was able to screw it back together, the puzzle solved.
Click.
"Hah! I did it!" Anya exclaimed with a self-satisfied smile, and clicked the pen a few more times, ensuring that the mechanism worked again. "There ya go, fixed it."
She held it out to Damian, expecting him to take it from her, but when nothing happened, Anya lifted her gaze to Damian's eyes.
She froze.
Wide, golden eyes stared back at her, stricken and numb, as if he were staring right through her.
"How long…"
His voice came out hoarse, and his throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed.
He didn't blink at all as he stared at her, his expression hard as ice, and a horrible chill crept through Anya's spine. She couldn't move. The ground had frozen beneath her, and Anya's feet were fused to the floor as though she and the world around her was slowly turning to ice.
"How long has your father been asking you to get close to me?"
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Oh, Damian, I'm sorry. I'm sorry to do this to you. It will get worse very quickly.
To make up to you for my lateness for this chapter, I will aim to post the next chapter on Wednesday 20th March, if it takes longer it may be the case that I post on Saturday 23rd instead, but I don't think I'm too far away to have it ready.
Also, I don't pay much attention to my stats on any platform but it was brought to my attention that Part 3 of the Seven Secrets of Starlight ("The Scion's Devastation") now has over 2,000 kudos on AO3 which is actually insane I cannot believe it! 😭😭 THANK YOU so, so much, I really am so happy that what started as a silly story has now grown into this huge project (and at times, untameable beast), and the fact that so many of you have read it, enjoyed it, commented or given kudos or made amazing artwork or told me just how much it means to you is something I will never be able to repay 😭
This story is so difficult to write, it is a monster that lives in my head and feeds on my sanity, it is a ghost possessing my own body in an elaborate attempt to exorcise itself. It is the last thing I think about at night and my first waking thought in the morning, and yet my soul will not rest until I deliver it in its entirety to you. I would not be able to do this without your support, your words of encouragement, and your enthusiasm for this story. Quite frankly, I would not have come this far without you.
From the bottom of my heart, thank you. xxx