EAU DE RÉSISTANCE ; open, return

[Margaery]

MARGAERY FOLIE-MIKAELSON

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MAKE ME QUEEN OR
I'LL MAKE YOU BLEED

He had come for her the morning after it happened, smug and cocky and oh so sure that his beloved daughter wished to return home with him. She had saved him the trouble of coming to find her- already ready on the border as he strolled so carelessly, so nonchalantly onto her territory. They had just stared at each other for a brief moment, both so vastly different and yet, the same, and then, Margaery had laughed. Gods, she hated him. But she would give him these fleeting moments, this little ounce of hope. If he wished to believe that his daughter had finally wanted to come with him after years of manipulation and deceit, then he could.

He'd never know the truth though.

And so, Margaery had humored him for an entire day, discussing idle topics and pretending to wince and fall apart every time he gloated about Suiteheart. Admittedly, a part of her was hurt. Once again, he had succeeded in taking away something that offered her happiness. The only difference this time was that Margaery had managed to best him. Suiteheart had died with her blood in her system. Selene would take her soul, repair it, and then return it to her as part of their bargain. She'd be reunited with her wife - at a cost - and Nik would never, could never, know. As reassuring and comforting as that knowledge was, she still couldn't erase the crushing emptiness that had all but enveloped her. Without Suiteheart, detecting anything that even resembled emotion proved to be a struggle. She liked to believe that she was coping the best she could, but even that she was uncertain of.

It wasn't until he had began weaving intricate tales of their lives moving forward that she had abruptly halted in her footsteps, glaring at him with narrowed copper eyes. She wanted to dig her claws into his neck just as he had done to Suiteheart. She wanted to watch him crumple to the ground and lay there surrounded by his own blood. She wanted to see the end of Nikalus Mikaelson permanently. But it was not easy killing somebody who could not die and even though they were the same, he still far surpassed her in strength. Even engaging in combat would be a bad idea. So she had merely resorted to turning on a heel and walking away instead, ignoring the protests and threats sounding behind her. Maybe she was crying. Maybe she wasn't. She couldn't remember much of that day, just that she hated him.

And Margaery Emilia Mikaelson - Maarit Mikaelson - would never stop hating him.

She didn't know how long Suiteheart would take to transition or if her efforts would work at all and that lack of understanding... it frightened her. She did not rest. She did not feed. And she certainly did not tend to her responsibilities or her roses. All that mattered was her wife's return and she'd be damned if she didn't dedicate every hour to pacing the borders to be the first to greet her.

Margaery hadn't been expecting the scar though and gods above... it felt like her heart itself was being ripped out of her chest. She simply watched Suiteheart for a moment, faintly intrigued by their lack of bond but more so unable to tear her gaze away from the wound that adorned her wife's neck. She swallowed harshly, blinking away fast approaching tears, and then she let Suite in.

"It's your fault you know? Suite wouldn't have that pretty little scar if you hadn't ever fallen in love with her, sugar," Genevieve taunted from the recesses of her mind. But the words fell upon deaf ears. Margaery was far too concerned with the rush of emotion. Everything was heightened - even more so than it was before - and she was acutely aware at a hunger akin to her own. [b]"Suite..." She choked out, not meeting her wife's eyes. She couldn't... not with that scar so blatantly on display.

Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

This was all her fault.

"You know, love." She could hear her father's voice too, all knowing and arrogant. [color=black][i]"You have the tendency to cause destruction everywhere you go. You certainly are your father's daughter." But she didn't want to be. She didn't want to be chaos's heir or murderer's successor. She wanted to simply be Margaery, free to live out a happy life with the one she loved most.

"I'm sorry..." She breathed, "I didn't give you a choice."

She had pushed the vampirism upon Suiteheart as if it were nothing and now, her wife was doomed to live an eternal life just like she was. Just like their children were. If she wasn't so distressed by [i]everything, perhaps she'd be able to see the silver lining to this entire situation: she'd never have to lost somebody she cared about again.

"I keep deciding your fate for you. I keep steering you down this path, making your decisions, ruining your life. Suiteheart," She paused, a shaky breath inhaled, "I'm..."

Margaery had told herself that she wouldn't cry and yet, here she was, large tears rolling down her cheeks. All she could see was that scar and it taunted her, teased her. Look what you've done, Margaery Mikaelson.

You've destroyed your beautiful wife forever.

You may have fooled everyone into thinking that you're some innocent flower, but perhaps we're finally getting to see those thorns you hide under that pretty facade.

Perfect.

© [color=#9ca4af]MADI