Chapter Text
Throné was unsurprised when the nightmares finally came for her.
In that abandoned church, Father lay dying at her feet. Blood dripped from his lips, and her dagger had torn open his chest, enough that even viscera and muscle were visible. She could even see his heart still beating, and with each feeble pump more blood gushed from the wound. She knelt beside him, and he grasped her arm with a bloody hand.
“Throné… my dear girl…”
Her bloodstained fingers tightened around the hilt of her dagger, and she drove the blade into his throat, over and over, splattering blood onto herself, until she saw that his heart no longer beat. Father was dead, and she was one step closer to freedom. The stench of blood settled in her lungs like rot.
She stood, and a scream behind her caught her attention. Agnea lay upon the altar, blood flowing freely from the wound on her side. “Agnea!” Throné cried, rushing to her. She was unmoving, much to Throné’s horror, and her skin was deathly pale. Throné touched Agnea’s neck, smearing blood all over her slender throat, but felt no pulse. The truth was clear; Throné was too late. She took a step back and slumped to her knees, and tears rolled down her cheeks as the stench of blood grew stronger.
She reached out a bloody hand toward Agnea’s cold body. The collar around her throat suddenly tightened, and she couldn’t breathe. She fell to the hard ground, choking and thrashing. Her hands flew to her throat, but the collar remained tight, biting into the flesh. Her lips gaped uselessly for air and her chest burned, her lungs begging for any kind of relief. The collar felt stiff as iron now, crushing her throat.
If she managed to tear the collar, the poison inside would burst free and kill her. If she did nothing, however, the collar would soon strangle her to death. Either way, she was dead. She knew that, but could not stop herself from repeatedly clawing at the collar choking her, and it only tightened further. As her vision blurred, she tried one last time to reach for Agnea.
When a bloody darkness overtook her, she finally awoke. She inhaled deeply, that sweet air filling her aching lungs. With a shaking hand she touched her throat, and again felt that damned collar. The Blacksnakes collar killing her was a common enough nightmare, and she’d grown used to it. The sight of Agnea’s bloody corpse, however, unsettled her, but it wasn’t so surprising a fear, she knew. Traveling with the likes of her was dangerous, after all. She shut her eyes tightly, and was glad it was not yet dawn, so that Agnea would not see her tears.
Since telling Agnea of her confrontation with Father, Throné wondered if she had begun unconsciously avoiding Agnea. Days passed and Agnea slowly recovered, and was able to stand and walk with less assistance, and was even able to walk up and down the stairs in the inn once. Or so Castti and Hikari told Throné, as she usually only saw Agnea in the mornings and late at night these days. Most of the time she spent exploring Montwise, searching for clues to Harvey’s whereabouts or ensuring no other Snowhares were stalking her, but those were just excuses, she knew.
“What a huge library,” Partitio said, sweeping his gaze around the Montwise library. “I ain’t ever seen so many books in one place.”
“Montwise does boast the largest collection of books in Solistia,” Osvald replied. He wore a dark scarf to hide the prisoner’s chain around his neck, but Throné thought he still looked suspicious.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Professor, wouldn’t it be safer for you to wait outside? What if one of your former colleagues recognizes you?”
“As I am now, that is highly unlikely,” Osvald muttered tersely.
“Well, just try not to scare anyone, all right?” Partitio patted Osvald’s shoulder. “We wouldn’t want this Harvey fella to catch wind you’re after him and run away.”
Montwise was an odd town, Throné thought as the three of them explored the library. Here was the pursuit of knowledge, but not far away was the pursuit of violence within the blood-soaked arena, where countless fighters had lost their lives for the entertainment of others. But such was human nature’s two extremes; perhaps Montwise wasn’t much different from the lights and shadows of New Delsta.
The three of them headed toward the academic section, and Partitio greeted everyone they passed with a bright smile while Osvald followed him and Throné, an imposing figure as he observed patrons closely. Osvald had cautioned Partitio against being too obvious about his line of questioning, so Partitio asked about professors of magic in general rather than about Harvey specifically, and Throné occasionally loosened a few lips with a wink and coy smile. However, the library was rather large, and already they had spent a few days just gathering information.
To calm her nerves as she listened to Partitio speak with a woman in scholarly robes, Throné palmed a gold pocket watch from an arrogant patron harrying a librarian. At least gathering information provided a welcomed distraction from worrying about Agnea.
“Thankee kindly,” Partitio said with a tip of his hat. “I never knew the field of magic research was so vast.”
“My pleasure,” the woman replied. “In addition to Professor Harvey, there used to be another scholar who researched the One True Magic, but I can’t remember his name. Vandham, perhaps? Or was it Vanstein…?”
Osvald cleared his throat, and Partitio quickly added, “Well, I won’t keep you any longer now.”
Throné slipped her hand into her pocket and touched the watch she had stolen, and idly wondered what Agnea would think. As they parted ways with the scholar, they headed toward a private corner away from the eyes of others, and one book on the shelves in particular - The Western Dance Compendium - caught Throné’s attention. She smiled; she’d have to remember this section for Agnea.
Partitio let out a deep sigh. “Whew, I think I bluffed my way through that conversation pretty well! The One True Magic is real complicated stuff, ain’t it?”
Osvald merely grunted in reply, and his eyes seemed more hollow than usual. He touched the scarf around his neck, and Throné noted how his hand trembled. He too stared at the titles of the nearby books, and a wistful look filled a little of the emptiness in his gaze.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “For such a respected professor, no one seems to know much about Harvey beyond his research. Does he really have no life outside studying this ‘One True Magic’?”
“He has always been the obsessive type, I will admit,” Osvald said quietly. “But…”
Partitio laid a comforting hand on Osvald’s shoulder, and Throné bit her lip. Once, Osvald and Harvey had been friends. She could scarcely imagine the pain of such a betrayal, never having allowed herself to grow that close to another. Even when Father had told her Scaracci betrayed the Blacksnakes, damned lie that it had been, she had simply felt resignation. “Perhaps we should call it a day,” she said. “If Harvey is lurking about, it’ll be trouble if he recognizes you.”
“She’s right, partner,” Partitio added with a weak smile. “There’s no need to rush.”
Osvald again glanced at the book titles lining the shelves, and then let out a deep sigh of his own. “…It is getting late, I suppose,” he muttered. “Harvey, where are you…?”
The three of them left the library, and on the way out Throné stole a silver quill from yet another pompous scholar arguing with a librarian. How easily she could picture Agnea shaking her head in disapproval and yet smiling in spite of herself. “I could’ve just asked for it, you know,” she would say, and Throné would gift her the item anyway. Once, in Clockbank, Agnea had asked for a magical hairpin and was refused, and hours later Osvald gifted her a hairpin identical to the one she had requested earlier. Of course, the group knew exactly how he had obtained it, but there was no need to say it out loud. Few could deny Agnea, after all, and she herself could be oddly forgiving.
Throné touched the collar at her throat. Agnea truly was a strange one, happily traveling with the likes of Throné and Osvald, but Throné couldn’t refuse her either. Perhaps she didn’t need to worry so much.
However, the memory of blood suddenly struck her, squeezing her lungs, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. She’d killed someone in front of Agnea, and she could still feel that warm blood on her hands, mingling with Father’s blood. Agnea had nearly died too, her blood burning Throné’s hands. The shadows both mocked and invited her; she could flee into that darkness, and continue her bloody quest alone and not soil Agnea with her bloodstained hands—
“Throné?”
She realized she had stopped, and Partitio watched her worriedly. No, this wasn’t like her. As Pirro’s blood washed over hands, she had made a promise to herself. She couldn’t let his death, or Scaracci’s or Donnie’s, be in vain. “I apologize, I was lost in thought,” she admitted.
“Are you worried about Agnea?” Osvald asked carefully.
Throné let out a dark laugh. “Is it that obvious?”
“Well, we’re all worried about her, ain’t we?” Partitio managed a smile. “And if we don’t hurry back to the inn, she’ll be worryin’ ‘bout us!”
Guilt gnawed at Throné’s chest. A part of her wanted nothing more than to rush back to the inn to see Agnea again, but another part of her hesitated, and she hated that feeling of hesitation. There had to be something that only she could do so that they wouldn’t return empty-handed. Agnea was always the overly helpful type, after all, and Throné wished to honor that. “Actually, I have an idea, Professor,” she said with a smirk.
Osvald eyed Throné closely. “Oh? What is it?”
“I could steal a student’s robes and sneak into Harvey’s lecture. We may not have learned much about him today, but we did hear he’ll be holding a lecture later tonight.”
Partitio frowned, clearly worried. “You sure? I could come with—” He stopped, and shook his head. “No, I ain’t got the right city accent. I’d blow our cover in no time.”
“An academy should be open to all,” Osvald growled.
“That is a very important issue, yes, but Partitio is right, it’s best if I go alone,” Throné said.
“If that is what you wish, I will not stop you.” Osvald sighed. “But Agnea will only worry further about you.”
“I will return as soon as possible.” Throné flashed another smirk. “I’m a thief, after all - I can steal possessions and information and no one will be the wiser.”
“That’s Throné for you.” Partitio chuckled warmly. “Just… be safe, okay?”
“I will, I promise.”
Osvald’s expression softened, almost like a smile. “Thank you,” he said quietly.
Stealing a student’s robes was simple enough, and Throné stole a few textbooks for good measure as well. She listened closely to conversations, learning more about Harvey’s lectures, but little about the man himself. She still didn’t know where he lived, what his family and friends were like, or whether or not he was married and had children. (For Osvald’s sake, she certainly hoped not.) She could almost admire the clear separation between his professional life and his personal life, but it would be easier to confront him in a private residence than a classroom or library.
She wondered if it was right for her to so casually consider another murder so soon after killing Father and that Snowhare man. But knowing what Osvald had endured because of Harvey, she’d no right to stop him either. To love another so strongly to seek revenge - for a moment she thought of Agnea, and her heart began to race. But better her to help Osvald with his revenge than Agnea.
As she entered the lecture hall with a group of other students, she pushed such thoughts from her mind. She sat at the back near the entrance, and greeted other students with a smile as they passed; pretending to be a student was much preferred to a prostitute or beggar. A mousy girl, probably around Agnea’s age, sat beside her and smiled shyly, but otherwise didn’t try to draw her into conversation, and for that she was grateful. She touched the clasp of her robes, and they covered the Blacksnakes collar around her throat.
Once all the students were seated, a red-haired man approached the podium. He was tall, although not as tall as Osvald, and his clothes were fancy and ornate, clearly expensive. He smiled at the class, and his beard was neatly trimmed. Throné sat straighter in her chair; so this was the infamous Harvey. He appeared ordinary, and some may even say handsome, but she knew better than anyone what darkness could hide behind beautiful masks.
“Welcome, my students,” he greeted the class. His voice was clean, almost inviting, but Throné caught a faint patronizing tone, much like Mother or Father, a note she might’ve missed if Osvald hadn’t told her of his true colors.
Her fingers balled into fists. At first, she’d only believed Osvald’s claims of being framed because Agnea did and resolved to keep close to him, lest he try to hurt Agnea or the others. In time, however, she had come to see he lacked the darkness that marked criminals such as herself and her fellow Blacksnakes. But this Harvey - all her instincts screamed he was bad news, and she knew better than to doubt them.
“Today we will continue our lecture on the link between magic and the blood of monsters,” Harvey continued to say as he lay a row of differently-colored soulstones on the podium. “I have also brought various soulstones as a demonstration…”
As Harvey continued to lecture, Throné took careful notes, partly in hopes of learning something useful to aid Osvald and partly to avoid looking suspicious. He spoke at length of monster blood, and that feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach grew stronger. She knew some occupations could not avoid exposure to blood, such as apothecary and hunter, but this man spoke so animatedly about cutting open monsters and collecting their blood. How could someone willingly surround themselves with that stench, even in the name of research and knowledge? Throné had killed her fair share of monsters, but to defend herself and companions, and Ochette helped to ensure the carcasses did not go to waste.
Her quill stilled, leaving an inky blot on her page of notes, and the mousy girl beside her glanced at her worriedly. Again she saw her hands stained with blood, and blood gushing freely from Agnea’s injured side. But Agnea lived, and Throné’s bloody quest continued. She took in a deep breath, and gave the other girl a brief reassuring smile. It was almost nice to be seen as a normal student of magic. Agnea, however, knew the truth about her and still smiled for her, still thought her capable of love.
“Let’s end the lecture here for today,” Harvey said eventually. “I should let you all know that in a few days’ time, if all goes well, I may have to leave the city unexpectedly for an extended sabbatical, so be sure to continue your studies in my absence.”
Now that was valuable information, Throné thought. She quickly gathered her notes and left the classroom with a group of students, being sure to keep an eye on Harvey. If she could tail him, maybe she could get an idea of where he lived. He headed toward the library, and she followed carefully, using other students as camouflage. He smiled and nodded at passing students, but didn’t stop to speak with anyone. The crowds began to thin as he headed down a flight of stairs, giving Throné less cover, but she had stalked prey in riskier situations than this. She spotted him turn a corner into a stack of bookshelves - the geology section, she remembered Osvald telling her earlier, and as she peered around the corner, she no longer saw her target.
“What the…?” she muttered to herself. She glanced around, but only saw books about rocks and minerals. She frowned; it wasn’t like her to lose track of her target so easily. Father would be ashamed.
No, she didn’t care what Father would think now. She hadn’t come here to confront Harvey, only to gather information, and she had gotten some useful information indeed. Time was running out; if Osvald wanted to confront Harvey, he would have to do so soon.
She climbed the stairs to return to the main level, but as she passed another row of bookshelves, movement caught her eye. She peered between the bookshelves, and at the other end were two women in student’s robes. The shorter woman cupped her companion’s face, smiling sweetly, and they drew closer for a tender kiss. Throné tore her gaze away, wanting to give them privacy.
Easily, far more easily than she had any right to, she could imagine kissing Agnea like that, and the softness and warmth of Agnea’s lips. It surprised her that even a snake like her could hope for romance. Father had loved a woman once, and then, hurt by her betrayal, killed her. But Agnea believed she wouldn’t turn out like him.
Before leaving the library, she handed the textbooks she’d stolen to the librarian at the front desk, saying they had been left behind in the classroom. The librarian thanked her with a smile, having no reason to doubt her words. Agnea would think it kind of her to return the textbooks. She left the stolen robe near the entrance as she stepped outside, and touched the collar at her throat. Still she remembered the look of despair and fear on Agnea’s face as she had shared the story of Father and the woman he loved and murdered.
Night had fallen by the time she left the library, and for once it was a clear sky, and the sight of the stars came as a slight relief to her. Sometimes it felt as if night approached too quickly, but the stars made it a bit more bearable. Perhaps one day Agnea would shine brighter than any of them. The thought Throné’s heart feel a little warmer.
However, she began to feel uneasy the closer she came to the inn, and the lamplight cast unusually deep shadows. She almost broke into a run, and as the inn came into sight, she spotted both Castti and Hikari leaving in a hurry.
“Throné!” Castti exclaimed as she and Hikari rushed to Throné. “Have you seen Agnea?”
She felt her heart sink. “Is she not in her room?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry.
Hikari shook his head. “She wasn’t when Castti and I checked, and the innkeeper said he saw a young woman with long brown hair leave.”
“Damn it,” Throné swore under her breath; what was Agnea thinking? But Agnea was a spirited young lady, dancing as easily and readily as breathing, so it was no surprise she’d grown restless. “I will find her, I promise,” she said, and without waiting for a reply, she bolted in search of Agnea.
Injured as she was, Agnea couldn’t have gotten far, and it was unlikely she had left town. Throné hadn’t seen her on the way back from library, which narrowed things down a little. Throné moved quickly, scanning the faces of all those she passed, and at this time of night, there weren’t many people out and about. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs, and cold fear prickled at the back of her neck. She could not lose Agnea, not after coming so far.
But what could one as twisted as her do for Agnea? She’d only been able to parrot a lullaby Agnea had sang for her, and only when Agnea had been asleep. She’d been raised without love or comfort, so what right did she have to offer comfort to others? How could Agnea still stand to look at her, still reach out for her?
She soon spotted Agnea past the general store, standing near the small cliff that overlooked the lower level of the town. “Agnea!” she cried out, and immediately regretted how Agnea jolted and touched her injured side.
“Throné?” Agnea said weakly as she turned. She wore a simple dress and shoes, and even in this faint lamplight Throné saw how bloodshot her eyes were. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing!” The words were out of Throné’s mouth before she could think about them. “Don’t you realize how worried everyone is?”
Agnea flinched, and kept her gaze downcast. “I just needed some fresh air, that’s all.”
Throné took a hesitant step closer; it hurt to Agnea so colorless. “I understand you’re feeling restless. You could’ve asked one of us to accompany you.”
“I haven’t danced in days, you know.” Agnea clutched her hands over her chest. “I want to make people smile, but I’ve just been a burden, haven’t I?”
“…Recovery takes time, Agnea. You know that.” Throné touched her own side, where Father had stabbed her in Winterbloom, and she would never forget that pain and humiliation. She hadn’t been able to save that weakened woman either.
“But I…” Agnea bit her lip, and her shoulders trembled. “I want to make you smile too, but you’ve been avoiding me, I think…”
Throné felt as if she’d been struck. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would form. She couldn’t deny it - she hadn’t been helping Osvald for any selfless reasons. She knew that. Osvald’s hatred for Harvey and his pursuit of revenge were convenient outlets for her own frustration.
“Throné.” Agnea reached out her hand for a moment, and then let it fall to her side. “That night, why did you tell me about that man and your birth mother?”
“Because…” Throné hesitated, and she could no longer meet Agnea’s honest gaze. There was still warmth in those bloodshot eyes, and it was both a relief to see and too much to bear. “Because I wanted to. That’s all.”
“I was relieved when you returned from that abandoned church,” Agnea said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I was so, so scared you’d be killed, and all I could do was wait.”
“You sang for me. And then I killed Father, the man who raised me.”
“And then you saved me. It hurt, it hurt so much, but thanks to you and everyone else, I’m still alive.”
“That man was only targeting me. If I hadn’t let down my guard…” Throné shook her head, unable to forget that stench of blood. “And I killed him too, right in front of you.”
Agnea was silent a moment longer, and her eyes watered, tears glistening in the starlight. “When I close my eyes, I still see all that blood. I was so worried you wouldn’t come back…” She choked back a sob, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I… I don’t want to lose you…”
“Agnea…?” was all Throné could say. When was the last time someone shed tears for her? She couldn’t remember. Agnea, cheerful and radiant, naïve and clumsy, cried now for her, and her chest tightened.
“Stay with me, please!” Agnea exclaimed as she threw her arms around Throné and buried her face in Throné’s shoulder. “I’ll make you smile, I promise…! Throné, please… please just stay with me…”
Carefully Throné laid her hand on Agnea’s hair, and felt how Agnea’s body trembled against hers. She’d seen how Agnea looked her, with both awe and desire, and smiled at her as if she truly were worthy of hope. Sometimes she was selfish enough to want to claim the treasure that was Agnea’s heart. She was a thief, a snake always trying to steal warmth and hiding away in the shadows, but even she had begun to dare to hope.
Again she tried to speak, but no words would come. She brushed her lips against Agnea’s hair, and let Agnea cry for a little bit longer.