her pokeballs first. the ones she kept under the bed, on a rotation with her dragons, in case the worst happened and she couldn't access a pc. those in a leather bag and tossed in the duffel. the photo of herself and her family on her bedside table, fingertips lingering on the frame beside it - of herself, arm wrapped around king's waist, his hand on delta's shoulder. the only picture they have of each other. 

and then in the closet, moving aside shoes to grab the shoebox. the hand towel discarded on the bed, simple crown in hand, cold in her fingers.

she's still holding it when the floor creaks. her shoulders hunch and she doesn't turn. not until the crown is safely packed under a few shirts. and then she faces him, thumbs the hood down. 

"you were right," she says. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

her lips curl faintly. the ghost of a smile. and then it fades to a look of weary complacency. hours before, hours, she'd spent working out all the knots in her feelings, hammering her temper around the edges so if, for some ungodly reason, he happened to be here, she could remain composed. 

she could do this. because she has to. 

"i put myself in the spotlight. and you. and delta. and now it's not safe." she gestures to the bag. "so i'm fixing it."

KING WAYLAND

☉

she could crumble under the weight of that gaze. but it's not his piecing it together that hurts. it's the way he looks over her, through her, looking for something. not finding it. instead, likening her to the very person who seeks to see her, and by proxy him, burn. 

a flinch, but she doesn't have the fight. an argument means an attempt at a resolution. an attempt to salvage.

"yeah. yeah, maybe it is." 

she shivers, remembering fernando's thrusted palm, the nauseating panic in her throat. works the grimace down before it can come up, keeps pale eyes quieted, maelstrom bottled tight. 

"but i don't care," she lies. 

KING WAYLAND

☉

he drifts closer. she drops a hand in warning as he peruses her things, but grips the edge of the duffel bag rather than his wrist. he pulls the crown up and her gaze flickers from it, to him, searching for some semblance of recognition. worry knits in her chest; it was painful remembering, in the beginning. it was painful writing it all down. 

more than once, she'd had to blot the blood dripping down her nose. 

"i've been in ever grande. i would have come to get my things sooner, but there's a chance fernando's watching me." she raises her chin. "matias brought you - us - up in the aqua meeting. fernando...followed up."

a glimmer of fear, blinked away just as quickly as it comes. she shifts her weight.

"you can tell her what you want. it doesn't - " concern me anymore. the words dry up in her throat. no, no, no. no cracking. 

"can i have that back please?"

KING WAYLAND

☉

"don't flatter yourself. no one else paid him any mind." it comes out naturally, the teasing lilt, as though she hasn't been gone over a week. as though she's not trying to extract him from herself as carefully as she can right now. 

"what do you mean stop? i'm going to get us home. i have to get us home."


"home? there's no gettin' home, freya. this is our life now. accept it like i 'ave. it's easier that way."

"it's - " she struggles for words. the complicated doesn't feel right. it won't stop his wondering and that will undoubtedly lead to remembering. 

to pain. 

to the realization that she's failed him before. over and over and over again for twenty years, she's failed him.

"you don't need to worry about that. please give it back."

KING WAYLAND

☉

his hands go white. the curves of the crown leave pinkish marks on his hands, blood rushing, waiting to puncture. her defenses go up in the face of his accusation and she repeats to herself to stay quiet, to not argue, to keep the grand scheme of it all in mind. their suffering now will give him happiness later. 

that's what matters.

so let him call her a liar. let him spit on her like matias did. like fernando did.

shock splits apart the rest of her seams in one fell swoop. her eyes widen and she comes to life as a visage of fear, and wrath, and horror.

"what? how do you - gods, king, did she - ?" palms on his shoulders, as though that will tell her if he's been violated. "how? how do you know about her?"

KING WAYLAND

☉