Chapter Text
Late spring. Almost night. Warm wind is blowing through a slightly open window.
Drag.
Another one.
She's tense. It's around this time of the month when work gets a complete hold of her. She nearly drowns in endless reports no one — sarcastic laugh — else could possibly submit. Of course, it's her who has to do the mundane, trivial work. Like everybody else in the Land of Justice. No matter how remarkable of a duelist she is. Rules. Sometimes she even likes being buried in work. Helps forget, makes her feel less empty. Or makes her not feel at all.
Another drag — an attempt to get long-awaited relief. But nothing comes after this yet another one. For a brief moment, a mere second, she remembers the time when a cigarette would hit instantly. And taste better. And be way more worth this whole process. Feels like yesterday and never at the same time. She doesn't let this thought distract her much, and her mind quickly gets back to work.
She lights another cigarette.
Still cant's focus. She's hesitant to admit it but feels it with every cell of her body. She hears a knock on the door.
***
—What are you doing here?, —Oh, how exhilarated she actually is to see him.
—Surprising you, —He pulls flowers from behind his back. Violet orchids that is. She rolls her eyes and smiles slyly but takes the bouquet. It's their little game. He knows tomorrow morning he'll see them on the counter in her favorite vase.
—Come in, dear.
—Dear? —He grins, —Never called me that before.
She only gives him a playful look, hiding the fear inside. The world is slowly but steadily starting to fall apart. Maybe, it's high time to stop playing with him and show her true feelings. Maybe.
***
What is love anyways. Holding a person in your arms? Listening to their heartbeat? Searching them with your eyes in the crowd? Being there for them when it's their lowest? Accepting support? Even if you're tough and can do whatever on your own? Knowing them better than you know yourself? All of it and so much more? There's so much to this feeling. Love.
Sometimes it's just hard to voice it. To say that out loud. She loves. In her own, sometimes twisted way. But she does. And so does he. And sometimes he's as twisted as she is. But they both know. And they don't need words or anything else.
For now, at least.
***
When they first met she knew instantly he wanted to fuck her. She was not quite surprised though, she's used to filthy attitude. Used to being treated in a disrespectful manner or belittled. Also, used to proving idiots wrong. And used to always winning. And she knew he wouldn't be a exception to this simple equation.
Or would he?
However, he was somewhat different from the other... suitors she had the chance to encounter. He talked to her in a perfectly acceptable, even respectful manner. He looked her straight in the eyes and not a millimeter below. He treated her like she'd already put him in his place. But she didn't. And she still felt almost attacked by his bold nature. She could hear his dirty thoughts in the air. It drove her to madness as she could feel it but not actually see it. His manner was impeccable. Flawless. But she felt it. And couldn't explain.
Or was it her?
Was she the one who wanted him from the very beginning?
And that's where the thoughts were coming from? From her own mind?
—Miss Clorinde? —He coughs.
—Yes? —She blinks, coming back to reality.
—Monsieur Neuvillette insists we work together on the stolen paintings.
—With all due respect, Duke, I can handle the case on my own, —She narrows her eyes, almost waiting for him to slip up.
Wanting?
She needs a reason to be mad, but as the time goes, he doesn't give her one. Nothing justifies her feeling.
—I understand, I've heard of your exceptional performance. But that's what the Iudex commands.
***
Having spent some time with him, she's only grown more solid on the feeling that he's different. And that's what scared her the most. Because they're all the same. She's learnt it the hard way. And she's been quite successful in preserving her peace and building a wall around her heart. Before having met him.
She lights up a cigarette, sitting on the stone fence. She crosses her legs, takes a hit and looks at him persistently. Oh, how beautiful she is in the moonlight.
—What do you want from me? —Words come out harsher that she planned.
—You want an honest answer, don't you? —How she'd love to wipe that smug grin off his face, —I want you all. I want your heart and soul. I want you, Clorinde. Don't make that face. It was obvious to you from the second you met me, —He grins again.
—Liar. Give me another cigarette, —Almost an order, and he's happy to subject.
She's disappointed. He's so obviously trying to trick her it's not even vulgar, just outright tasteless. Embarrassing.
—I am honest with you, Clorinde. And I will prove it to you.