Victor of the Duel Marybeth Mareski [Warning: Incredible spoilers for episode 29.] I'm not sure if you had ever felt so impotent, dearest. I don't have remorse about it, of course. I was doing nothing cruel. After all, your impotence, which you found so infuriating, existed with or without my presence. I did not create it. My only regret is that I might not have destroyed it. Had anyone ever gotten such a rise out of you? Your scream was torn from the very depths of your soul, dripping with blood and gore. Did your throat bleed like your heart? How ever did you let her pierce it so? Dearest, she's nothing special. Nothing worth hurling your self at me for. A fencer you may be, but a street-fighter you are not. Your punches, admittedly, jarred my arms at their base. But I saw them coming. No matter how much brutally beautiful strength you had in that body of yours, I saw it coming. And it wasn't enough. Perhaps it will never be enough. That girl, with the cruel eyes, she is your vampire. She saps you of your strength, your spirit. And then I threw you. Your back against the wall. That was something you were not nearly ready for. If not for the wall and my grip, you would have fallen, you know. I could feel the impact through my arms. Did you hate me then, dearest? Surely you did. The way your eyes narrowed, they were like to pop. It was all very black and white to you. I was the tormentor, the oppressor. I wanted only to hurt you. Dearest, that is not the case. That is far from the case. How could she not love you, your glow so radiant as to outshine the sun? Nothing exists if not you. And yet you exist on your own, with your own codes, morals, rules, desires. Especially desires. Do you think you are so clever as that, that your consuming love is invisible by your will? I assure you it's not. Even the dullest boor could notice the way your sun rose and set in her eyes. And I daresay I am not the dullest boor. But you know, your hate was beautiful, as is everything of yours. Your cheeks flushed a pleasant red, blue eyes sparkling with life. And I wanted you then as I have always, and always will. So I took you. The embrace of your lips was warm and wet, and you thrashed about ineffectually, feeding me your muffled objections. It felt so short to me, but it must have been eternally long for you. And at the end of that eternity, your teeth showed your displeasure, clamping firmly onto my tongue. My clasp on you loosened, and you pushed me away. I was bleeding. You spat. You'll never clean yourself from that experience, will you? Kissing a man -- perhaps the first and last time you'll ever have such an experience, dearest. Most ladies are of the opinion that I kiss well. Apparently you didn't share their opinion. You panted, swallowing, trying to remove my taint. Dearest, you'll never remove the imprint of a kiss given with the purest love. The sensation of my lips will be on yours forever. And you held yourself, because after such an experience, you doubtless needed the embrace of feminine arms. But I had what you wanted. The silly locket that represents her hold over you. Never before had a prisoner clamored for her chains. But you wanted them so desperately, as desperately as I wanted to break them. I felt the sting of your slap, and deferred to your judgement. They were your chains, after all. I left you there, on the floor. You would only have hated me the more for any comfort I offered. My steps were slow, so deliberately slow as I left. And thankfully, you took advantage of them. You grasped at your dignity. You could never stand being impotent, dearest, and damned if I was going to let you be as much. In the end, did you have your dignity? Did you gain your potency? Perhaps you did. The chains were shed. And you know, we can thank a pink-haired duelist for that. And in that, perhaps the Victor of the Duel was not our Ojii-sama after all. Perhaps she who came out the better for this little fight was she who shed her bonds like she would shed her blue-haired admirer. You may think me cruel. And I may well be. But I had the best intentions. And perhaps they saved your soul. --------- I like Ruka. I shouldn't, I think, but I do. I find him immensely irritating, somewhat egotistical, and his hair decidedly irritating, but he most definitely had the best intentions, and I like him for that. "I need to wash myself again, to hide all the dirt and pain 'cause I'd be scared that there's nothing underneath." - Radiohead