I’VE LOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU THAT HURTS ; p

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Four days.

Suiteheart had been gone for four days.

The bond was off.

And Margaery was numb.

There was no warmth, no love, no sly remarks or witty comments... Suiteheart had willingly decided to sever herself from Margaery and then disappear and that absolutely killed the Lunar Lieutenant. History had the nasty tendency to repeat itself - especially when it came to she and Suite - and the chocolate point couldn’t sleep unless she knew that her wife was safe and out of danger’s way. But without the bond... well, it was impossible to tell if Suite was even alive. Her only option was to practically drink herself into such a state that nothing mattered except for blood and alcohol. She felt nothing, experienced nothing, wanted nothing. All she cared about for those four days was her wine and her blood and the way that the monster tempted her with promises of power.

Despite her perpetual drunken state, she was still troubled. It was her fault that Suite had to leave... her fault that she was plagued with nightmares of a time that history forgot... her fault that her wife was being forced to witness a life that wasn’t exactly hers. She wanted to tell Suiteheart everything. She wanted to make things right. But she couldn’t. Not if she wished to keep not only Suite, but herself protected. If her wife were to truly wake up... Margaery might actually cease to be- an outcome that she was sure nobody wanted.

Poor Maarit. The pearl who’s innocence was ripped from her too soon. She could have lived and died without touching another soul, her smiles and charm getting her much farther than her teeth and claws. It was the loss of her siblings and one of her uncles that drove her grandmother into cursing them. All of them. It was her wretched, awful grandmother who made the words “always and forever” a bitter reminder of their eternal damnation. Stronger. Smarter. Immortal. But at what price? But at what price? Maarit died the day that her father murdered Erlend. Margaery was born from the blood and tears of her sorrow.

Maarit Mikaelson. Margaery Mikaelson. They were once two sides of the same coin- a happy girl who led a happy life with a happy family. How could she have fallen so low?

Surprisingly, Margaery was not drunk today. She had merely resorted to existing, her copper stare cold and empty as she stared at the blank page of a hundred year old journal. She longed for some semblance of feeling, for Suite, but nothing was there except for-

And suddenly, everything hit her, heart skipping a beat as the bond was reignited and she was once more connected to her wife. Margaery’s first instinct was to be angry, her rage - cold and bitter - rising like a poison in her chest. She swallowed it down though, an unexpected wave of calm washing over her only as she heard Suite’s words. As tired and desperate as they sounded, they still originated from her wife. She was okay. She was okay.

But Suite wanted answers.

And Margaery.... she didn’t know if she could give her answers.

But she couldn’t ignore her, not again. Every time Suite has brought up the nightmares, Margaery had found a way to avoid the truth, offering her silence or worse- an excuse. She couldn’t tell her. It’d destroy Suite. It’d make her question everything. But what then could she do? Suite wasn’t going to be appeased by silence forever and soon enough, Nik would be here to start the cycle anew.

In a way, she supposed it was now or never.

[color=#b14767]”Mea vita,” Was all she breathed upon arrival, entering their shared room and making sure that the door was properly locked. She briefly looked around, noting their pictures and decor and feeling a pang of hurt over the fact that soon, all this would be a terrible memory when her father came to collect what was his. [color=#b14767]”I... look, I can’t tell you. I want to. I want to with my entire heart.... but some secrets are best left buried. I will ask you this though: do the names Maarit and Erlend sound familiar, love?”

It was all she could afford to give her without ruining the delicate balance of things. If the names managed to spur some memory in Suite, then she would call it a day and work to pick up what surely would be the remnants of her wife. If they didn’t... she supposed she was out of options then.