Tsubaki's face blushed the color of her crimson dress when she spotted Asad from across the ballroom. He, with his charge at his side, strode in through the center of the crowd, which parted to make way for them. Elizabeth looked radiant of course. Most would never guess what turmoil dwelt within her heart. She wore a deceptive, inviting smile that fooled even Tsubaki.
Pixie could see right through her, however.
Wearing the same dress she had the night before (though altered for added modesty), Pixie was confident in her disguise. Her tattoos were concealed by the light-violet, silk underlay and she wore a long, wavy wig. Its deep red was unnatural, implying to those it deceived that she'd dyed her hair. Her dead eye had always been the primary concern in these instances, so she took extra care to conceal its true nature. Several layers of cover up had been applied to the scarred area and she wore hazel-colored contacts. A long, curled lock of the wig concealed her eye from most angles, a nuiance in fashion that was common among the nobility, fortunately.
Like everyone else, Pixie applauded the young lady's arrival from her place in the back of the ballroom. Though she marched with an air of confidence around her, Pixie could practically taste the youth's terror.
I should'a never let you outta my sight.
Once they were close, Tsubaki smiled at Asad, and watched as they passed her by. If she had to guess, he would stand nearby while Dio re-introduced his betrothed to the gathering. After that, the two of them could speak to one another.
She didn't mean to stare, but she couldn't help notice something off about him. He looked troubled. Asad had never struck her as the kind of man to wear his emotions son his sleeve. Had anyone else noticed?
Are you okay?
Though she was trembling under her mask, Elizabeth's bravado held against the crowd's applause. She just had to hold it together a little longer. Soon enough, she'd be able to sneak away from their prying eyes and breath.
As she and Asad ascended the stairway, Dio turned from his servant, Raphael, to take her hand and and greet her. He smiled at her. The man who had claimed he'd killed her sister, who threatened her with violence and suffering, and who hurt so many of her friends and allies. He was right there before her, offering his hand and smiling.
He had no right to look upon her, much less touch her. She returned the smile, despite herself, and took his hand. "M'Lord," she chirped and fluttered her eyelashes.
"M'Lady," he replied, taking her hand and leading her to the center of the platform. "Ladies and Gentleman, I..."
Pixie had been focusing on Elizabeth since the moment she'd entered the room. Through no conscious effort of her own, she'd avoided looking at Dio, though she was aware of his relative location in the room. Now, however, looking upon him was unavoidable.
Dio...
The memories of that night hit her like a freight train: the look in Cherry's eyes as he stole her final breath, the agony she felt as his cold steel rent her flesh, the horrified cries of the child and the elated laughter of the madman... it was overwhelming.
Pixie shuddered and hugged the Margaret's book tightly against her chest. Averting her gaze, a million thoughts raced through her mind, deafening her to the bland speech he was giving. She hadn't see him in over twelve years. The last time she'd set her eye on him she had two, and she'd thought she was looking at his corpse. Her fingers trembling, Pixie reached up her cheek and covered her dead, left eye; tears already quivering in both. It took every ounce of self control she had within her to keep from doing... something. Whatever it was, she couldn't be sure, but she was too afraid to let go.
Instead, she did the only thing she could thing to do. She tried to run.
Before she could take more than two steps backwards, she had bumped into someone. "Be still, darling," a soothing voice whispered, hushing Pixie's frantic, ragged breaths. A warm hand touched Pixie's shoulder. "Do not be afraid. He cannot hurt you hear. He does not know you."
Slowly, Pixie turned her head. It was Contessa. "Please," Contessa cooed, holding out her other hand. "Give me the book, Lady Cogburn. I must give it to Lady Maribel."
Unable to speak through the dry knot in her throat, Pixie simply nodded in compliance and, hesitantly, handed over the tome. Once the book was in her hands, Pixie hung her head and gave the woman a painfully pathetic look. Reaching out, Contessa held the bandit's face in her free hand. "You poor dear," she told her. "Do not worry so much." Her warm smile suddenly turned into a cunning grin. "You just need to wait a little longer. You will have your chance to deliver justice, soon enough."
Again, Pixie nodded. "You look miserable, child. Please, excuse yourself if you must," the Golden Empress suggested. Without a word, Pixie pushed past her and bee-lined for the bathroom.
She needed to get out of there. If she didn't... she wasn't sure what she was going to do.
Elizabeth stood by Dio's side during the length of his speech and was very grateful when it was all over. The bright, hot lights shining in her face were one thing, but having to fake a smile while in the presence of your most hated enemy was simply too bitter a meal to choke down. Thankfully the crowd converged on them in the wake of the speech and it took little effort to put space between them.
Ignoring most of the words sent her way, Elizabeth spotted Asad's CO coming up from behind him and decided to point her out before disappearing into the crowd somewhere. When he turned to see what she'd pointed at, Asad caught his first glimpse of Tsubaki's beauty. "H-hi," she stammered sheepishly. "You look... hansom."
***********************************************************************************************************************************************************
"... Been getting a few looks from some of the boys, but nobody's tried nothing."
Bennie grunted. "Pixie always took a hard-line one that sort of thing," he told her. "With this lifestyle, it's easy for men to forget themselves. I don't imagine you're a stranger to handling hungry wolves, but still, if anyone bothers you like that don't be afraid to get help. Me, Whiskey, Ruffles, any of the 'grown ups', really."
A short silence followed. She was on-edge. Despite whatever training she'd received, Bennie could tell just by the way she rested her chin on her knuckles that she was uncomfortable. "Listen," he began awkwardly, "I'm a blunt kind of guy. I usually approach problems head-on. 'This' is unfair, I admit it, and I don't intend to put you in this position again. I just wanted to clear the air a bit." He clenched his jaw. "And to do that I think I'll have to give you a bit of a history lesson."
Bennie glanced in the rear-view mirror. The three teenagers in the back were pre-occupied with their own trivial discussion. With the sound of wind filling the cabin with, Bennie was confident his words would reach her ears alone. "When this all started the Iron Maiden was a very different environment," he said. "Sure, people joined up because they had nowhere else to go, but it was more than that. There was a profound hatred in each and every one of them back then, save for Jake, possibly. They hated the nobility. They hated the system. They hated the whole goddamn world.
"It was a family built by mutual disdain, not love. Things changed though. After a time, the Iron Maiden became a real family, and in their love for each other they found love for others. That 'Robin Hood' shit we pull now? That wasn't there at the start." Bennie laughed sadly. "Fuck, back when I first joined up I thought it was dumb as hell. I was like Amy, you know? Calculating, methodical; I had been running on pure logic my whole life. I think I got it from my dad, actually. My family, the Carmines... we were a cold bunch. There was love there, sure, but it was muted and sterile. It was all about duty. All about results."
Bennie laughed. "And like Amy, I ultimately joined this gig for one reason," he looked to Sandra, grinning under his bandanna, "Pixie," he admitted. "But you know, after awhile, I came to love the family she'd built just as much as I loved her. Maybe the same will happen for Amy." He looked back towards the road. "I guess what I am trying to say is that... we got hurt bad in Yuteni. Things changed and they will never be the same. That transformation the Maidens went through over years and years of turmoil? It's lost on all of you. We're a fresh crew. It's all new, and as much as me and the other veterans wish it were otherwise, this is not the same Iron Maiden it once was.
"Sandra, if we're to survive... if we're to live up to the legacy all those men and women died to build, we have to find some common ground. We need to work together. But you know, I'm not Austin... hell, I ain't even Pixie. I can't be yours or anyone else's surrogate father. I'm just not cut out for it. But I can be your friend."
He looked at her with a hint of concern. He wondered if any of this was getting through to her. "People on this crew have special relationships," he suddenly said, seemingly changing the subject. "Me and Sprout? I'd die for that kid under almost any circumstance. There isn't a single other person on that ship I care more about. And you know, that's fine. I don't expect you or anyone else to put their loyalty to the Maiden above that of their real family. You and Amy? I get what you mean to each other, and I don't intend to get in the way.
"That said, you two are Maidens now and Maidens don't play petty politics. The two of you won't be treated any differently than the rest. Sometimes, you'll have different responsibilities. Sometimes you won't be together. That's just the nature of our trade, unfortunately, and that's something the two of you will have to reconcile. I don't imagine Amy will be too happy when you return to her tonight, but she'll get over it. Sooner or later she'll realize I'm her Captain and it's just as much my responsibility to protect you as it is hers, now."
When he was finished, he looked at her for a long while. "I'm sorry if I came on too strong," he apologized. "I'm still getting used to this whole... being Captain thing." He chuckled nervously.
*********************************************************************************************************************************************************
Give the lady a break, Sprout. No doubt you're making a very awkward situation worse for her. An amateur mistake."
Oh, FUUUUUUCK YOUUUUU!
"No need to be squeamish for me dears. What we doing, comparing notes?"
Sprout blushed a bit. Though he'd normally boast about his achievements, he felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable discussing such things with a girl his own age. "Well, uh," he stammered, "yeah, I reckon we ar'." Then suddenly, he felt very bold. "How 'bout you, Gale? You 'ave any stories of yer own?"
Again, he felt oddly embarrassed. Did something change in him when he lost his virginity or was he now just painfully aware of how sensitive the subject was?