[color=#b14767]"Bastille, if you don't open this door right now I swear to the Gods above that I will break it off its hinges."

This was an awful decision.

But then again, she had been full of them as of late.

Her behavior had been so morally dodgy this past week that admittedly, she was losing sight of who she truly was. First, came the hunger that not even the well-stocked refrigerator and the loners she had slaughtered could sate. Then, came her impulsive decision to murder her mother as if she hadn't been the one to birth her all those centuries ago. Centuries... it was strange to think about, strange to even accept that she had lied to everyone, that she had walked on this planet far longer than she proclaimed, longer even then anyone else she knew. Immortality had treated her pleasantly until now, until this terrible pregnancy took away her sense of reason.

Until Bastille rejected her... rejected everyone.

She banged angrily upon his door, eyes surprisingly gray given her current emotional state. [color=#b14767]"Listen, among other things, I just killed my own mother and a couple loners and I"m having one hell of a week. Open the door please, I'm tired of you casting me aside. Suite aside. Hazel aside. I never did anything but care for you! I'll continue to care for you forever, Bastille, but if you don't open that door..." Margaery trailed off, frustration radiating off of her in waves.

What else was she to say? What else could she do? She was angry, unbelievably so, but those feelings were directed entirely at herself. Bast was misguided, lost. Starrynight's death had killed a part of him too it seemed and all Margaery wished to do was comfort him... even though the beast that lurked beneath her own skin dared her to grow dark with hatred. I could never hate him, She clarified with her subconscious, feeling displeasure wash over her in an almost instantaneous response, You won't make him hate me.

Perhaps that was Margaery's fatal flaw. Where most were cursed with excess hubris, she had too tender of a heart, even underneath the steel-lined thorns she guarded it with. Just like her mother, she gave out second chances like they were nothing, like her own conflicted feelings didn't matter. She had grown so accustomed to believing that she was an insignificant being that her own self-loathing had transformed into her Achilles-Heel of sorts. Her one weakness was her lack of belief in herself and her nearly impossible belief in others.

[color=#b14767]"Open the damn door."

She paused, refusing to give in to the sudden sting of tears in her eyes.

[color=#b14767]"Please."

Margaery was surprised that he even opened the door. She had half expected him to dismiss her or worse, pretend as if he wasn't home, avoiding her as he had so diligently done these past few days. For a moment her hard expression softened, desperation dancing so clearly upon her features. She missed him. Missed being able to look at him and know that he didn't hate her. Missed the strange sense of family that his mere presence provided her. But she wasn't a fool, she knew that he didn't miss her, that if she dropped dead right before his eyes, he probably wouldn't even flinch.

But then he began to speak to her and that softness disappeared, consumed once more by her own white-hot anger. Not at him though. No, this was her fault... if she had just been better, done better, another child of hers wouldn't have been so easily lost. [color=#b14767]"Two things. I'm going to start with the one that'll anger you the least even though I know that anything that comes out of my mouth somehow has the capacity to fucking make you hate me," She paused, inhaling a deep breath to steady herself. The monster tugged incessantly at her, practically begging to be unleashed so that it could protect the fragile side of Margaery. She refused it. [color=#b14767]"I want to train Hazel defensively. I need her to be able to stand up for herself... I need her to be able to protect herself from.. from..." You.

Initially, the enemy had been Tanglewood, not Bastilleprisoner. Her mind somehow betrayed her, convinced her that perhaps he was the danger here. She was almost inclined to believe that. Almost. [color=#b14767]"The second thing, well you won't like the second thing because I am here to mother you. I don't know what the fuck I did to you to make you hate me but I'm tired of you behaving like a child and pushing us all away. I can understand Suite and I because you're some sort of edgy teen who could give less than two fucks about authority but really... Hazel? I thought you to be better than that, Bastilleprisoner."

There was another moment's hesitation before she sighed, her rage quelling slightly. [color=#b14767]"I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you hate me, really I am. I don't know what I have to do to exactly prove that to you because part of me is convinced that this is a forever type of thing. Only a few days ago, everything was alright and then I speak a few phrases of Latin because god forbid I grew up speaking the language and you freak out!"

"Shun me all you want but leave my wife and Hazel out of it. I thought you were better than this."

Like Bast, Margaery had also contemplated what would have happened if she had made different choices. Done different things. Sometimes, she longed to be back at home, surrounded by her real family, suffocated and sheltered but not at fault. Never at fault. Her father was prone to bouts of anger, his temper uncontrollable and unpredictable, but he always calmed when he saw her. She was the family's flower- a symbol of hope, a symbol that no matter what, they'd have each other. Always and forever. She wouldn't have been happy, but at least she wouldn't have been here, pregnant and suffering at the hands of someone she cared too deeply for. She would have her mother and she would have her father and she would have the insatiable darkness that continued to beckon her, even now, even as she continued to collapse in on herself. What more could she need?

See, the truth was, Bastilleprisoner was merely confirming all of her fears and insecurities in one fell swoop. Lilyspoise had done this to her once, harping on the fact that she was a failure and someone that was not her mother, breaking the chocolate point in doing so. She had picked up the shattered remains of herself and put them back together but it seemed as if history had the nasty habit of repeating itself. Margaery, admittedly, didn't know why she was surprised or even why she was still here, trembling before him, letting the reality of her awfulness sink in. She should have left before he even had a chance to destroy her. She should never have left her father's side.

Nik had called her a fool so many times, blaming her ability to love easily and helplessly on why she was constantly getting hurt. She was just like her mother, he told her, and that was why he had to protect her and oppose anyone who even thought to lay a finger on her. That sort of innocence was foolish indeed, but something he was strangely ready to defend. Perhaps it was because he saw himself buried deep within his daughter, in the parts of her with too sly a tongue but wide eyes and a love for the world and the gifts it had to give. Perhaps he wished to protect that little ounce of humanity that his last and only daughter exhibited so wildly. So passionately.

But that didn't matter. Her father didn't matter. Not right now, not when she once more experienced the world crumbling at her feet, the earth itself threatening to engulf her. Honestly, she'd prefer that fate over this. She thought that she knew what hell was, being cursed to eternal damnation and all. Turns out, she didn't. Not until this moment. Not until Bast absolutely ripped her to shreds.

[color=#b14767]"I do care," She cut in quietly, though her anger had long since dissipated. She couldn't find it in herself to even dredge up a bit of the emotion. Bast was tired of her so called facade and she was tired of feeling an unfamiliar rage. [color=#b14767]"I'm trying my best! Okay! Do you not think that I haven't lost everything I-I love at one point?" She could feel her tears coming, hot and fresh and ready to spill over her cheeks at any second, [color=#b14767]"Do you seriously believe that I'm doing this because I'm s-selfish?" They were here now and it took everything in Margaery's power for her to choke back a sob. [color=#b14767]"My own mother chose my psychopath of a father over me. I grew up without a solid mom figure in my life and that... that fucked me up okay... And I'm trying, Bast... I'm trying so hard... Not to be selfish... Not to ruin everything. I don't want to ruin everything, I don't want to hurt you..."

She was crying quietly, ashamed to have succumbed to her sadness so easily in font of him but doing nothing in particular to ease the flow of tears. [color=#b14767]"I'm not t-trying to steal Hazel away from you. I never d-did anything to you with the intention of inflicting... of inflicting pain. I've tried to be nothing b-but there for you and that wasn't good enough. It's never good enough, is it?" She inquired, though mostly to herself. What had she done wrong? Where had she gone wrong? Was he berating her, breaking her, over the fact that she could speak Latin? Over the fact that she genuinely did care about Hazel and wished to see her happy and at ease?

But perhaps he was right.

Perhaps she was the shitty mother from her nightmares.

Perhaps she was cursed to inflict damage upon every child she thought to mother.

And then he was speaking of Lilyspoise and the world seemingly faded around her in response. He was the one that took her memories. He knew everything. And he was fucking using it against her. To break her. To take away that last little bit of happiness that she had been so desperately clinging to, so afraid to let go of. [color=#b14767]"N-no..." She gasped, a paw raising to reflexively cover her parted mouth, [color=#b14767]"No." But it wasn't like he was speaking anything but the truth. She had broken Lil, just as Bastilleprisoner was breaking her. It was ironic almost- how she was destined to fail either herself or her children every single time she put an effort in. [color=#b14767]"Not my daughter... Why... Why would you do that to my little girl?"

Her tears stopped suddenly but that sadness remained upon her face, contorting her features in such a way that it looked like the very life had been strangled out of her by her own melancholy. [color=#b14767]"I'm a monster," She began, her voice deathly soft, wavering, shattered, a true extension of how she felt on the inside, [color=#b14767]"Not a mother."

She hesitated, a shaky breath inhaled.

A shaky breath exhaled.

[color=#b14767]"Thank you for finally proving that to me."