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Bury It Down, Deep Within

Meant to cross-post this a while ago as I had plopped it over onto AO3, but forgot. I play fast and loose with headcanons and canon here, but that's just me. The OC depicted alongside Nadia is Beatrix and they are not the Apprentice as it simply does not fit their character nor the relationship they have in my headcanons in the context of Nadia and their's relationship. Anyway, please enjoy this Nadia heavy-focused fic. (You can find this fic also over on AO3 as well.)

Fic Summary: In the realm of sleep, dreams and nightmares both rule. Nadia had always preferred no dreams over anything else. And yet the world of her subconscious decided that it was about time she faced the reality of what had come to pass over the past year and what had come before when she had slept three years of her life away.

Agathokakological: Adjective: composed of both good and evil.

TW for depictions of body horror and gore.

The Countess’ skirts swished across the palace floor as she examined the missive in her grasp. Her lips faintly pursed as she removed her glasses from her features and tapped the edge of them to her cheek as she contemplated the advice her sister, Nasmira, had offered her. Truthfully, Nadia was feeling just a little out of touch with her people at the moment and considering she now had a far better and more open relationship with her sisters, and was far more willing to heed their advice. She had written to Nasmira for just that: advice. And her elder sister was all too happy to dispense advice as well as firm reassurance that Nadia was likely doing an excellent job at being the Countess. Her cheeks briefly pinked as she read over the reassurance again, shaking her head a smidge. She wasn’t often used to being on the receiving end of reassurance and even praise from her sisters; it was still a new and somewhat foreign feeling.

Sighing, Nadia tucked the missive into a pocket on her dress and continued down the hallway. A quiet hum escaped her as she briefly adjusted one of the new paintings that replaced one of Lucio’s many atrocious and gauche portraits of himself. She didn’t miss him nor his awful portraits. Her humming continued as she strolled down the hall and past a mirror in the front hall as she made her way towards the terrace. However, as she moved passed the recently shined mirror, Nadia had to back-track a little.

Now while, the Countess wasn’t necessarily a vain creature, unlike her ex-husband who was very much a peacock taken human form, Nadia did have a rather striking and alluring beauty that many commented on. But as she returned to the mirror and studied her reflection, she couldn’t help but not necessarily recognize the creature that gazed back at her.

It squinted when she squinted, it adjusted her necklace and even smiled back at her when she did so. And then it frowned as well when she inspected her face closer within the reflected glass. Surely the reflection bore some resemblance to her, but she did not like it. There was something off-putting about it and she couldn’t quite place what it was exactly. Nadia tilted her head to the side and once more squinted her vermillion eyes at her reflection. Perhaps it was merely the lighting in the hallway that made her eyes look a little sharper and the color just a shade closer to brilliant crimson. It had to be, she reasoned to herself, pulling her gaze away from her reflection and shaking her head. She had too many things to do and worrying about small oddities within her own appearance was certainly not on the list.

Stepping out onto the terrace, Nadia inhaled deeply and leaned against the railing, gazing out over the vast gardens of the Palace. It was perfect, utterly perfect. Perhaps a little too perfect as she leaned her chin upon her knuckles, eyes shifting to examine the hedge-maze in the distance. It had been a considerable amount of time since she enjoyed the living puzzle that lived on her grounds.

With some time to spare prior to her next engagement, the Countess moved down the nearest set of stairs and began walking in the direction of the hedge-maze. It was odd, as she moved, she encountered no guards walking their rounds or gardeners tending to the many bushes. But Nadia paid little mind to it as it was beginning to grow late in the day. It was as if all of her cares and worries were being held out of reach and out of sight of her. Which was, in retrospect, a rather terrifying thing. And yet, Nadia couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Such a thought, that she didn’t care, does cause her to pause, albeit only briefly. Nadia cared a great deal was the thing, to the point that she often overworked herself to exhaustion.

But isn’t it nice to not care? To not worry? A voice so similar to her own murmured to her and beckoned her into the hedge maze. Even if she desired to fight such a tempting voice and the thoughts that it placed within her mind, Nadia couldn’t. She felt near helpless as she entered into the hedge maze that she knew so well. And as she made her journey to the center where she knew a fountain awaited her, the Countess casted a glance backwards, finding that as she moved, the hedges seemed to grow taller and thicker.

Her mouth opened slightly as if to utter a curse, but no sound escapes her. This was only further adding to her confused and irritated state. Turning around fully, she began to go back the way she came. And much as she predicted, Nadia found herself unable to do just that as the hedge maze’s walls had grown taller and overgrown.

“Oh now this is just ridiculous!” A scoff escaped the Countess as she summoned her saber with a bit of magic. Offering a brief apology to the gardeners she employed, Nadia began to hack and cut through the branches, vines and the thicket of the bushes. Sweat began to trickle down her skin as she pulled, tore and cut down any piece of the hedges that came into her way. She finally began to make some headway when she yanked a particular large branch out of the way after cutting it in twine. Her eyes squinted as she seemed to catch the sight of someone else within the hedge maze.

“Hello? Is someone there?” Her voice called out as Nadia brought her saber down once more, finally making a hole big enough for her to climb through. And yet as she opened her mouth to call out to the figure ahead of her, she watched as, whomever it was, began moving deeper into the hedge maze. Huffing in annoyance, she climbed through the hole she had made and called out again, “Hello, do you need help? It may be better if we-” Her voice cut off as she heard the rustling of leaves and the creaking of roots. Whipping about, Nadia watched in both surprise and horror as the hole she had just created via her sword and brute strength, covered over in thicker roots and vines.

It was almost as if the hedges were more alive than Nadia had believed. She watched on in almost morbid interest as the roots twined and shifted, growing back leaves and more branches. They almost seemed to resemble sinew and muscle; as if the hedge was a…

“Person,” She uttered the singular word out loud. A shiver ran through her and she glanced briefly downwards to her saber. The blade shined in the dying afternoon light and was sharp as can be, as if she had just finished sharpening and cleaning it that very day. Hesitantly, she raised the blade higher, gazing at her reflection within it. Unlike the reflection of the mirror in the foyer, she only saw herself in pieces: first her hair which had begun to come out of her elaborate updo, leaves and small branches sticking out of her indigo hair. Second came her forehead, scraped and a little worse for wear, the only thing strange about were the beginnings of- She lowered the saber back down to her side. The Countess closed her eyes tightly, not daring to believe what she had seen just now in the reflection of her blade.

“No,” She quietly whispered, not daring to look down again at her reflection in her sword. She refused to believe she had seen the beginnings of two twin twisting horns coming from her forehead. Utterly refused to believe that she was becoming something inhumane. Clenching tight to the hilt of her sword, she continued her venture forward, following, at least hopefully, the same path that whomever else was within the maze was also taking. Moving through the maze, she kept her eyes forward, lips pursed and sword at the ready to defend herself if she came upon anything that may mean her harm. Twists and turns were her only companions as she continued along the path. And she dared not look back, the memory of watching the hedge wall mend itself back together still fresh in her mind. Briefly, too, Nadia swore she could smell the coppery scent of blood, and, too, feel the stickiness of it upon her very hands.

Closing her eyes tight, she let out an uneven breath as she kept moving. This seems to be a terrible error on her part as the usually very elegant and usually light footed Countess trips over an overgrown root and is sent sprawling into the sand.

Sand? Nadia grunts as she pushes herself upwards and looks about. Her fingers slid through the ashy sand as she rose to her feet. Taking into consideration that the grass and dirt of the hedge maze had given way to the ashy sands of a familiar shore, the Countess was further on edge. She leaned down, plucking up her saber and shifted her gaze upwards. Her lips pulled into an angry sneer as she saw the dilapeitdated stone building of what remained of the Lazaert.

Sucking in a breath, she mutters low more to herself than the howling winds that have begun to pick up, “This doesn’t bode well,” which after such words left her mouth, Nadia realized that it was probably the understatement of the year. Or perhaps even century. Then again, she had dealt with a great many things in the past year: awoke from a nearly three year coma, solved the mystery that was her ex-husband’s death, prevented and defeated a primordial evil from coming into the mortal world and got married a second time. She… had done a lot in the past year, now thinking about it. Shaking her head and banishing the thoughts of her beloved spouse, Nadia focused on the task at hand, her head on a swivel as she began trekking up the shoreline towards the overgrown area that surrounded the Lazaret.

As she crested a sorry excuse for a sand-dune, as it was truthfully more silt than sand or dirt alone, Nadia caught a glimpse, again of the figure she had been tailing through the maze. Her heart nearly twisted at spotting her patron Arcana, the High Priestess gliding along the shoreline further down. It was… wrong, this was all wrong. And yet a bit of strange familiarity filled the Countess with just a bit of hope that something may just go right. Moving with some of her usual grace, she slid down the dune and walked quickly in the direction of the essentially divine being.

“High Priestess?” Her voice rang out, clear above the howling winds that sounded eerily like cries of the burned dead.

But her patron did not slow down nor turn to face Nadia. She continued her trek along through the ashy dunes, leading Nadia to who knows where.

Eventually as Nadia crested over another dune, she spotted her patron Arcana standing at the edge of the waters' edge, gazing out at the looming city of Vesuvia, so near yet so far away. A strange sort of mist surrounded the city that Nadia so loved.

Grunting, the Countess did her best to make her way down this dune and towards her patron.

"High Priestess?" Nadia spoke again, voice a little louder now as she approached. Her saber was now sheathed at her side, and yet there was an uneasiness to her own body; a tension in the air. Her eyes followed the High Priestess' gaze, looking towards Vesuvia. "It's a surprise to see you outside of your realm and here of all places."

The High Priestess gives no proper response, save for a sort of humming noise. Her taloned digits clicked together as her head swiveled in a ninety-degree angle, bright red eyes boring down into Nadia's vermillion ones. "Is it not customary to pay respects to the spirits of the fallen?"

The Arcana's voice, so usually motherly sweet and calming, made the Countess' skin crawl. But Nadia doesn't draw back in disgust, no, she keeps her face steely and calm. Something was very, very wrong. Just as it had been when she had entered into the hedge maze. Letting out a breath, she would nod. "It is customary, yes. Though many cultures have differing burial rites. For Vesuvians-"

Nadia's voice is cut off but a sharp, chattering noise as "the High Priestess" began to laugh, a sound that sounded less like an actual laugh and more of a death rattle. That sound made Nadia cringe just a little, drawing back a half step. The ground beneath her feet felt less like sand and more like mud, sticky and disgusting.

"You would know all about burial rites, wouldn't you, little Satrinava. You rule over a city of ghosts, even now. Look upon your mighty Vesuvia and weep, for you know I am correct. It's as if you enjoy it, surrounding yourself with wayward ghosts. I wonder, do you gravitate towards lost causes, because you know you, yourself, are a lost cause. Always overlooked, even by your own family." "The High Priestess" seemed to make a clicking noise and shaking her head from side to side in an almost chastising sort of manner. It was unnerving, seeing the humanoid owl entity's head move almost mechanically from side to side. As if she were a puppet on strings.

Nadia's mouth shifted into a thin line as she glared at the creature that dared wear the face of someone she called a dear friend and confidante. Her hand wrapped tightly about the hilt of her saber. "You… How dare you! What even are you, you disgusting wretch?" Her voice comes out almost like a hiss.

"The High Priestess" cocked its head to the side, its head almost becoming vertical with its neck. And even for a being that resembled an owl, this sort of head positioning didn't settle right with Nadia. Once more, it made that clicking noise. "What am I, she asks. You know what I am, little Satrinava. I am no one of consequence, just a bystander in observing you and your continued failures." The being's eyes seemed to narrow, almost as if it was analyzing Nadia. As if she were something the being could snap up into its beak and consume.

Nadia's skin prickled and she held back the want to bare her teeth in an almost animalistic and very undignified manner. She once more drew her blade, putting some distance between herself and her foe. But she could not bring herself to attack, something deep within, prevented her from silencing this beastly thing.

"You are still so very lost, aren't you?" The creature would remark, removing a taloned-hand like appendage from the sleeve of its robe. There's the clicking of the talons and soon the earth beneath their feet is shaking, trembling and twisting.

Nadia stumbles, trying to catch herself on something, anything. But all her hands meet is air as she is sent, once again, sprawling to the ground. But rather than ashy sand or even mud, she hits stone as she glances upwards, finding herself on a familiar stone landing. Stone stairs go upwards, and downwards. Up, though, the creature that wore the High Priestess leans, gazing down at her with those dead yet somehow still so bright red eyes.

"Even now… You delude yourself. You think you've escaped, little Countess, and yet here you are. Wandering up and down the stone stairs of this prison of your own making, desperately wishing to return to a city that is just another one of your many failures. Perhaps I was correct in my original assumption when I called you cursed. You are cursed to walk this place, always repeating the same cycle. Over and over again." The creature muses as it begins to walk down the stairs, and once it comes down to the landing, Nadia strikes.

She pushes through that feeling that was holding her back from doing so previously. Bringing her saber in a downward, diagonal slash. Glaring in irritation as the creature grabbed ahold to the point of her blade with its talons, Nadia tried to pull her saber free but it felt as if the blade was embedded in wood or some sort of strong material.

The creature leaned closer, it's beak opening slowly as it hissed out, "Doomed, you are doomed little Satrinava. Cursed to this cycle, always repeating, over and over again."

Nadia turned her head sharply away, face scrunching up in disgust and annoyance. As her eyes opened again, she felt her blood run cold as she stared behind her, down the stairs.

On each step, going as far down as she could look, were duplicates of herself and of the creature. Hundreds, likely even thousands as the staircase curled away into the depths of a shadowy abyss. All of which in a similar stalemate she presently found herself in: her saber locked tight in the grasp of the beastly creature who wore the High Priestess' visage.

"No. No! You're a liar," Nadia snarled, whipping about and glaring at the creature before her. Yanking her blade free, she drew back from the monster. "I broke out of the cycle and I can do it again."

The monster has the audacity to laugh at such a statement, it's feathered and beaked face/head being tossed back as it spreads its taloned digits and arms wide. "Be my guest then! Try and escape, because just like before you are alone and all you will ever be is a cursed, little lost girl who cannot save anyone. Not those you love, not your precious city, and certainly not yourself!"

As the monster cackled and crooned, Nadia shoved aside her resignation and the feeling of wanting to just give up as the monster implied. No, she wouldn't give up. She had done this before and she could do it again. Even if, as the monster had said, she was alone.

Brandishing her blade at the monster's neck, she let go of all of her inhibitions and, perhaps too, her years of etiquette training, and bared her teeth. "I will not be told by anyone, any longer, who or what I am! I am Nadia Satrinava, and you tell me I rule over a city of ghosts. AND YET THE ONLY GHOST HERE IS YOU."

With a lunge that came so easily to her as Nadia knew her blade footwork better than most, she delivered another diagonal swipe that actually makes contact this time. The Countess had caught the beastly thing off guard as the blade cuts through its supposed disguise. And as the blade made contact with this thing’s form, Nadia could feel herself triggering her Sight. The magic so ingrained within her, that had been dampened, restrained and choked by the forces that this thing used to torture her with, burst to life.

The symbol on her forehead illuminated and revealed the truth of it all: there was no Tower, no hundreds, maybe even thousands of duplicates of herself. No, she stood once more on a sandy beach, saber taut in her grasp. A proper sandy beach, the water lapped at the shore happily, even a gull cawed in the distance. She could even feel the sun, albeit slightly obstructed by some clouds, upon her skin. It was refreshing, despite the fact that she could still feel the gritty feeling of the ashy sand and the rub of the stone steps of the Tower on her skin and beneath her shoes. Her attention quickly shifted to focus on her 'companion.'

The monstrous creature that wore the High Priestess' visage hissed and rattled; it sounded like stone hitting stone or perhaps even more macarbly, bone against bone. Its body, diagonal bisecting cut visible from shoulder to hip, was shambling and twisting about. Feathers, paper thin yet blackened skin bulged and tore as the thing attempted to remain in one piece. The gash was a weak point and yet at the sight of something shifting, twitching beneath the skin gave Nadia pause and even made her own skin crawl once again.

"What? Afraid to finish me off, Little Satrinava? Lost your courage so quickly?"

"Says the one who can't even hold itself apart." She snarled right back at the monster. Her eyes drifted to the shoulder she had cut into, eyes narrowing as Nadia catches a glimpse of what might be lurking beneath the surface: a beetle. A bright, red, shiny shelled beetle.

"Lucky strike. There won't be another of those." The monster would chitter, its taloned hands twitching and clicking together as it began to almost slither towards Nadia. There's no imprint on the ground as they moved, further cementing that this thing wasn't human nor had any proper legs or feet to stand on.

"I don't need luck." Nadia would sniff, readying herself as the monster drew closer. Her eyes water at the corners as the foul stench of decay, rot and the sweet coppery smell of gore. It was awful and it only served to further fuel the images that were resurfacing as her monstrous foe grew nearer: sick rooms, long thin beds, some covered and some not, all filled with the sick and the dying. The curved beaked plague mask wearing doctors that moved from bed to bed, some just observing, others attending to those closer to alive than dead and some just would stand there. Their eyes, blank and hidden behind goggles of red or even dark green glass. The stench of death and the death rattle hacking and coughing create a symphony of disease.

Shaking her head, Nadia attempts to clear her mind of such thoughts as she held tighter to the saber in her grasp. It was keeping her alive. Or perhaps, more accurately, her skills with it were. She just needed to keep this thing talking and it was getting harder to do as the stench got worse and worse. But she had a plan. A rather wild and very unorganized plan, but at this point strategy wasn't going to be helpful. She inhaled deeply, steeled herself and readied herself for an attack, whether it be verbal or physical.

The monster's eyes narrowed as it began to circle Nadia slowly, much like a bird of prey would. Truthfully, this thing may wear the visage of an owl, it was truly a vulture in nature. Ready to pick at the remains of something long dead.

And yet, Nadia wasn't dead. Not yet and not anytime soon. She wouldn't go down easily. No, not ever.

With a lumbering lurch, the essential daemonic doppelganger of the High Priestess, was upon Nadia.

She parried the taloned blows that came down. Or at least, she tried to. One swipe caught her in the shoulder, tearing her dress and marring it with talon marks that stung and burned. Another caught her saber wielding hand, clearly an attempt at trying to disarm her, but Nadia held fast. When the monster bared down at her, she did what she did best: used the field to her advantage. Swinging her leg outwards, she essentially attempted to sweep the legs of this beat out from beneath them.

To a point, it worked. The beast went tumbling to the ground in a mess of blackened, paper thin skin, feathers, once elegant robes and beetles. The shiny, red, plague beetles began to skitter out from beneath the things skin and body scrambling over the limbs and into the sand.

Nadia crunched several beneath her feet as she planted one foot atop the monster's chest and the other firmly or about as firmly as one could on sandy ground. There are no clever words uttered, not from Nadia at least as she proceeds to cut a deep but thin slash across the beast's neck.

It gurgles, wiggling and squirming beneath the Countess. Instead of blood, more of that familiar red, miasma pours from the slit in its neck and the gash across its chest. Nadia's eyes are cold, empty and emotionless. So very different compared to the dying monster beneath her blade and foot.

The thing eventually goes limp, the red miasma being blown away in the wind. And the exhaustion of this misadventure catches up to Nadia. She makes it a foot or two away from the corpse before she feels her stomach begin to turn. Leaning against her blade, she bends over and attempts to stabilize herself. Sweat trickles down her forehead as she catches a glimpse of her reflection, mildly distorted and only half of it in her blade. Deep red irises and blackened sclera stare back at, black tattooed arching lines curved from the corners of her eyes.

Pulling her head away, she sank down to her knees and finally let herself let go.

Monster.

Devil.

Cursed.

"Nadia." A voice, quiet whispering on the wind causes her to lift her head. It sounded so very familiar. And as she rose slowly, her body no longer her own, but twisted and transformed into something more beastly, more Devilish in nature.

"Nadia?" Again, that voice spoke, this time a little incredulously, yet still beckoning to her as she began to move the length of the beach. She knew that voice. But from-

The world around her began to shake, twist and crumble. Even the ground beneath her feet began to shake as if an earthquake were occurring.

"W-Wait, hold on-!" Her voice cuts off as she's thrusted into darkness, the sand and ground giving way beneath her feet.

⸰⸰⸰

"Nadia!"

The Countess shot upright, a piece of parchment sticking to her cheek due to ink having dried upon her skin and the paper itself. Her head swivels as she attempts to collect herself. Her eyes focused on her surroundings: her workshop-study-office surrounded her and the door to it was wide open.

Standing within the doorway was the lean, light brown haired and tanned skinned Beatrix, her spouse and the head of the Guard Force in Vesuvia. Their helmet was clipped to their hip as their armored form stood there, long cape pinned to their shoulders and draping slightly over their body. They struck quite a figure, despite being covered in the day's grime.

"Nadi?" Beatrix spoke again, stepping fully into the room now and drawing over to her. They can't help but let out a little chuckle as they carefully remove her cheek and swipe off the ink with a handkerchief produced from a pouch hidden beneath their tasses. Rubbing the ink off, they gazed at her curiously. "Usually you're the one waking me up at my desk, you must've been very tired, Starlight."

She could hear her heart in her ears, rapidly pumping and moving. It was almost as if she had run up and down every single flight of stairs within the palace. Nadia's eyes shifted downwards to Beatrix's hands as they gently held her chin and cleaned her cheek. Vermillion eyes examined them closely, searching for any blackened skin or a talon or maybe a claw.

And then without a word, Nadia rose and silently embraced her beloved. Her eyes closed tightly as she held onto Beatrix.

The warrior wore a look of confusion on their slightly scarred features as they held Nadia tight right back. They, almost on instinct, nuzzled their face right into the column of Nadia's neck. Their nose rubbing gently against the Countess' neck. "Nadi?"

"It's fine, just a very… Very bad dream, my wonderful Partho. I'm okay. I'm awake, that's all that matters." Nadia would quietly say, her hands slipping beneath the chest plate and held tightly to the tabard beneath the armor. A slow breath in and a slow breath out, her nose wrinkling at the scent of dirt, the outdoors and beneath it all, Beatrix's natural scent of amber and honey.

The warrior cocked their head to the side and glanced at their wife. There's a question about reassurance on the tip of their tongue, but they decide against voicing it as they hold onto Nadia. They remain like that for several moments before Beatrix quietly murmurs, "Why don't we go take a bath and settle into bed early tonight?"

"That sounds nice…" Nadia would remark, still holding tight to her spouse. Her eyes were shut, voice trembling just slightly. So slightly that it was barely noticeable.

⸰ °)☀(° ⸰

But again, Beatrix doesn't comment on such a thing. Even if they do notice.

It's about a week, maybe less, when Beatrix finally brings it up. They'd finished a council meeting early as there was nothing else to discuss. Nadia had dismissed the Courtiers yet Beatrix remained, ever stalwart at their wife's side.

They were organizing their notes from the meeting when they noticed Nadia's half lidded gaze off to the side. It was clear the Countess was anywhere but in the council room chambers. She had been, not that Beatrix would like to admit, distant the last few days or so. And while Beatrix was one to let Nadia be when she got into one of these moods, they could feel and even smell the tension to their beloved's mind and formed. Truthfully, they wrote that off to their lycan heritage. Werewolves did tend to have a better understanding of body language when emotions couldn't be properly articulated.

Pursing their lips, Beatrix rose from their spot at the table and moved over to the doors. Opening one, they called out to a walking past servant and asked them to fetch some tea. They instructed the servant to bring it along to the terrace. With that in hand, Beatrix moved back over to Nadia and offered their hand out to her.

"I'm in want of some air, join me?" Their voice is calm, even yet loving.

Nadia's head shifts up a little and she regards her spouse with a critical eye. Vermillion meets emerald as she settles her hand into Beatrix's offered one. And with ease, she rises.

The pair exit the council room and head off to the terrace. They settle easily into their usual chairs and the servant that Beatrix had spoken to from before arrives. She offers a bow to both Countess and Captain equally before stepping off.

Beatrix is silent as they fix Nadia's cup of tea and then their own. They're quiet as they stir in a bit of honey, eyes focused as they wait for Nadia to speak.

The Countess is silent as she cradles the saucer and teacup in her grasp. Her eyes are slightly narrowed as she examines her reflection in the wider back of the tea spoon. "May I ask you a silly question, Bea?"

Beatrix's head shifts to the side as they glance to Nadia curiously. "Doubt it's actually a silly question, but sure, what's on your mind, love?"

Silence is what follows as the lycan Captain gazed at their wife. They take in the slight scrunch to her eyebrows and the still present purse to her lips. It's clear to Beatrix that the Countess is collecting her thoughts; all of the tells there so plainly for them to see. And yet so many would call Nadia immensely hard to read. Not to Beatrix, though.

Nadia takes a sip of her tea before setting it aside. She turns herself so she's angled towards Beatrix and she takes their teacup and saucer, setting it alongside her own. Intertwining their hands together, she examines Beatrix's knuckles. She silently counts the little scars that are a light pink against their usually tanned skin. "I almost killed Lucio, back then, in the Hierophant's Realm. It… I know it wouldn't have solved anything. It wouldn't have righted the wrongs his own cowardice and lack of care for the citizens caused… But there was just that small, singular moment where I almost did it. I thought, 'Yes, this won't solve anything. It will not undo what has been done. It will not return to me what I have lost, but… Damn it, it may just feel good!'"

Nadia's voice cracks and her fingers tighten around Beatrix's. There's a slow exhale via her nose as she lets go of one of their hands to rub at the bridge of her nose. "But then I looked at him and I realized that… If I did do that, wouldn't I just be continuing the cycle of hurt and pain that has tried to drag me down since I woke up? I've been changing, all along. And I've known that, but I suppose I've just been… contemplating what has been and what could've been."

Beatrix raises their eyebrows a little. They don't speak, giving Nadia the space and moment to talk out how she was feeling. While becoming less and less rare, Nadia did still have trouble expressing her feelings and did still close people out. But she opened back up again, after she had had some time to herself and she talked out how she was feeling. Just as she was doing now.

Nadia is quiet as her own words hang in the air and she holds onto the lycan's hand again. Her eyes shift to the teacups, lips falling into a thin line as she ran her thumbs over Beatrix's knuckles. "I had this awful dream. That I was back there. In the Tower and I've been turning it over and over in my head. And I've come to realize that… I essentially lost three years of my life to that sleep or coma, whatever we want to call it. And yet, I haven't given myself to grieve the person I had once been and the time I've lost."

Another pause, her lips shifting down into a frown as she murmurs, "I've made up for it, I like to think. Those three years that I lost, I'll never be able to get them back. But all this time I've been trying to remember, to recall… To never forget that I've been neglecting the fact that I haven't been able to grieve the fact that I did lose those three years."

Nadia closes her eyes, letting go of their hands and slouching back in the chair. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she utters, "I can't keep burying these feelings down. I've made too much progress since waking up and doing everything we've done just to ignore it. Because if I continue to ignore it, it'll feel as if it's one step forward and two steps back or what have you!"

The frustration is palpable in the Countess' features and it doesn't take a lycan to see that. But Beatrix watches, concern written in their eyes, as their wife rubs the bridge of her nose as she often did when she was annoyed. But there's also the slump to her shoulders, a defeated sort of expression in her vermillion eyes. For a moment, the lycan wonders if she'll cry, if they'll have to hold their usually strong, calm, level-headed and cool tempered wife fall apart. But if it comes down to it, Beatrix will do it. They will hold her tight and comfort her as they always did.

Nadia's eyes close briefly as she just shakes her head a little, her palms coming up to rub her eyes. "I'm just so tired, Beatrix. I never realized how tired I was. I suppose I got so good at hiding that fact even from my own self. How utterly depressing." Her hands fall away from her eyes and she fists them into the fabric of her dress.

The pair sit in silence for several moments, the only sound the wind in the various plants and foliage that lined the garden as well as the occasional skitter of some bird or small animal.

It's Beatrix who breaks the silence by shifting slightly as the chair creaks beneath them as they lean forward. They hold Nadia's hand tight and press a kiss to her knuckles. Turning it over, they begin to rub her palm and the lycan's voice is gentle yet loving. "When you were asleep for those three years… I didn't know what to do with myself. Yes, I did return to Nydon for one of the three years, but I did come back, obviously."

They pause as they stare down at Nadia's hand before looking over to their wife and smiling slightly. "But I didn't know what to do with myself during that time. I felt… useless, you know? My brain was going a mile a minute or even faster than that. It felt like all I could do was worry and pace and wander the streets. Only to return back to the palace by the time the moon was cresting over the horizon. And I would just… stand there at the foot of your bed, and stare at you for I don't know how long. Wishing, begging, pleading to every single Arcana and every single other immortal deity to just, please, give you back to us. And even though I never got an answer back, I never gave up hope."

Leaning back in their chair, Beatrix settles Nadia's hand into their lap and holds it tightly between their two hands. "Even in that time, hope was hard to come by, but I still held some in my heart. Because I knew that, at the end of it all, you would come back. I just knew it. Call it foolish optimism, but it did end up being true in the end. Here we are, nearly a year later since you've woken up. Nadia, I can't give you back the years you lost, but I can tell you all that you missed and help you put such worries to rest." They pause and squeeze their wife's hand.

"You could've killed Lucio, but you didn't. You stripped him of his titles, you banished him. Because you knew that was the better and safer option. It takes more courage and strength to show mercy, even in the face of the one who has hurt us the most." Beatrix would remark, giving Nadia's hand another squeeze.

And while her spouse's words don't make everything better, right away, Nadia knows they're making a valid and good point. Her fingers flex around Beatrix's hand as her eyes shift to focus on the garden. "And you think I have such things?"

"Without a doubt."

"Would you still love me had I done otherwise? If I had…" Nadia lets out a breath via her nose as she pushes onwards, "Had I gone down a path that others would think utterly vile and evil? Would you love me then?"

The lycan warrior followed Nadia's gaze for a moment before they regarded their wife with a rather weary smile. "I'd go through all of the realms and all of the Hells if it meant I could be by your side, Nadia. So yes, I would. I'd follow you anywhere."

"Loyal pup." Nadia remarks, half-heartedly teasing as she leans over and presses a kiss to Beatrix's cheek. She sighs and leans her forehead to her spouse's. "Thank you for being my rock as always, my handsome wolf."

Nuzzling Nadia's nose with their own, Beatrix would quietly murmur, "There's no time limit on grieving what has been lost nor is there a time limit on healing, Nadia. But you have to remember, you're not alone anymore. I know you know that, but it's one thing to know-"

"And another thing to be told," Nadia would easily finish, raising a hand and gently cupping Beatrix's cheek. Her smile is faint, but sweet as she kisses them properly. A slow yet deep kiss.

"You're my rock too, ya know." Beatrix would murmur after they parted from the kiss; both of their cheeks dusted red. "And well, my everything truly. Wouldn't know what I'd do without you."

"Let's simply not consider such a reality. Because I think that while my fears of not always being inherently good and not being able to get back what has been lost are part of me, they don't go very deep. Our love though? Down to the bone and into whatever is beneath such a thing."

"Your soul then?" Beatrix asked cheekily, but this only earned them a roll of the eyes from Nadia.

"Never took you to be such a romantic, my love."

"Eh, you can't be the one always flirting, ya know?"

Nadia, again, rolled her eyes, but chuckled good-naturedly. She squeezed Beatrix's cheek before leaning back, gazing out over the garden and just enjoyed the afternoon sun.

Her worries, fears and thoughts, while not put to bed with the nightmarish things she had seen, Nadia was reassured. And her spouse had been right, she wasn't alone, and she never would be ever again.

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