Dany stands up. She brushes herself down, tugs on her shirt. Her heart is hollow; her stomach is plummeting through the decks of the [i]Plousios[/i] until it comes to rest in the swirling colors of her uncle’s waves.

Bella is standing so stiff. You could use her to build a bulwark, a pillar, a wall. Part of the ship, constantly staring out, never looking back at anyone. At Dany.

You fucked up, princess.

There’s so many things you could say. You could try to explain. Tell her that you don’t hate her. That she confuses you. That you are terrified of how you keep hurting her. That you wanted to tear the galaxy apart when you thought she was dead. How sorry you are for kissing her without permission. How you can’t drag her through the fucking grey forever of the Lethe, which scares you so fucking much, thoughts drifting away until your head’s empty, and then, impossibly, your limbs and body drifting away until it’s only your head bobbing on the waves, like Orpheus still singing, when you imagine it, when you feel the scream of it building up inside of you. How you want to keep her safe. How sorry you are about the closet. How sorry you are for locking her in the dark. How sorry you are that you can’t turn back around and go home.

You reach out to her back. Your fingers rebel and curl back again against your palm. Your tongue is cleft to the top of your mouth. Why is something cleft when it’s together and when it’s separated? Why are you cleft?

Beljani is watching. You glance over at her. Your eyes sting hot. Why is that worse? Why is it worse when she’s watching, and not saying anything, and it hurts, it [i]hurts[/i] that someone has to see this. Someone else. Someone here to judge you. Someone who knows how you’ve failed.

What about you, Bella? Do you care about me or do you hate me? The thought digs its claws into you, too. Is it just old servitor chains in your head that stop you from tearing me open? You chased me so far, you didn’t kill me, you broke open out of those awful bones and I held you and we stopped Sagakhan and you ran away after I thought you were dead, I thought you [i]died,[/i] I’ve had to live with that more than [i]once[/i], and it tears me up, my heart, my liver, my veins, my brain, my bones—

That’s what you think.

Your eyes are angry hot. The Auspex won’t let you look away, though. It never does. It tells you how Bella shifts, how she shakes, how she digs her claws—

And you move.

Dany moves.

She catches Bella’s hand.

Pries her fingers open.

The slick fingers.

“Don’t,” Dany sobs.

That’s all she can say.

Don’t hurt yourself.

Please.

Not because of me. Not because of Mynx. Not because of anybody.

Don’t don’t don’t don’t please don’t.

Another order.

Is that all you know how to do, Dany?

“Please.”

You’re holding her hand. Isn’t this what you wanted? Your heart throbs with the terror, the tension, the scream of fucking up and the need for her to stop hurting herself. But what if it’s you, Redana? What if being around you (fake, pretender, nothing) is what hurts her? What if she needs to be free with Beautiful, who can use that mind of hers in ways that Dany can’t and never could—

Beautiful.

“Beautiful.”

She can find anybody.

“She, [i]she[/i] can find anybody. All we have to do is tell her. All—“

We?

“…I’m going to ask her to help,” Dany says, awkwardly pulling her fingers free. There’s still blood on them. “You… I’d like it if you came. You know her better than I do. I just.”

Stop talking.

Redana clenches her (hot. wet.) fingers into a fist and does the most awkward stupid little bow, like she’s in the presence of royalty, and then she turns on her heel and starts walking before she can explode and she’s not going to turn around, because that would be ruining the whole point that Bella can choose, and Beljani is watching, and how would that look, seeing if she’s going to chase after like a, like a pet, and—

Dany looks back anyway, because she’s not strong enough, and she can’t bear not knowing. She has to see. Just like Orpheus. Her face is pathetically hopeful. Vulnerable.