Well now. Well now indeed.

Lich King Araxesendenak flew through the air, fiery eyes staring at nothing, and considered the events of the past hour or so. Well, the events that had occurred approximately an hour ago. The events of the last hour mainly consisted of him flying cross-country and char-broiling any curious carrion birds that got too close.

That had been ruddy invigorating. Infuriating, yes, as well as deucedly frustrating. Really, if ever there was a single decision in his death that he regretted, surely hiring Tolliver’s Dungeoneers ranked near the top of the choices list. But even more than that, it had been revitalizing.

When was the last time, excepting those blasted adventurers from a century and a half ago, when he’d had to work that hard? When he’d come up against something that strong? When he’d had to bloody well invest himself in a fight?

Had he ever had that in his death? He remembered, vaguely, that one time against the gnomish artillery corps… But no, that had been during his life, before he’d made the plunge into undeath.

But more interesting, moreso than the fight or even its outcome, were the tools that curious glowing woman had utilized. That last blast of power she’d unleashed on him had been of a magnitude beyond what most mortals could have hoped to achieve. It was, he freely admitted it to himself if no one else, beyond even what he could hope to dredge up except on his very best and committed days.

But more than that… It was familiar.

(put Araxes full title here): Cuthbert.

Cuthbert(Unequaled): My lord?

(Araxes Title): I am returning in haste to the capitol. I wish to see the commanders of my legions waiting for me in my throne room when I arrive.

Cuthbert(Unequaled): Of course, my lord. May I offer them some semblance of what to expect your orders to be?

(Araxes Title): I will be giving them marching orders, Cuthbert.

Cuthbert(Unequaled): Yes my lord. The fracas did not go as planned then.

(Araxes Title): No indeed, Cuthbert. It went better. Bring down the golden chest from the attic once you have seen to your other duties, and leave it in my sarcophagus chamber. I shall have need of it.

Cuthbert responded in the affirmative, and Araxes withdrew from his messages, concentrating instead on flying in a straight line.

That power. It had the taste of what he’d been hit with when that spherical harlot had woken, of what had lashed him when the mountain had broken atop him, and had surrounded and imprisoned him inside that damnable copy’s headspace. It had felt ancient and solid, as though reality itself bent around it when applied.

Violet eyeflames narrowed in thought as he plowed through a briefly surprised hawk. The connections were there, if one had a mind to see them. Cora, that strange creature, was intimately tied into the essence of the world. Her power bent the reality he had known for more than 500 years in ways he’d never dreamed of. And if her power could do that, in stood to reason that the power demonstrated by that glowing chitty could do similar things.

He wanted it.

It was untenable, that a creature out there somewhere had a power beyond what he himself was capable of. After all, what had this entire beastly lichdom thing been for if not the accumulation and wielding of unlimited power? And if someone out there had more than he, could stand against him and put limits on his ambition, then it wasn’t really unlimited, was it?

So. The gold box would give him a starting point. He would work on it while he sent his armies to crush the upstart Tolliver and his new mistress. Five legions ought to be sufficient.

And if it wasn’t, he’d just send more. It wasn’t like he was hurting for troops, or like they needed to be fed or quartered. The dead were remarkably cost-efficient that way.

(Araxes Title): Oh and Cuthbert, draw me a bath. I have a depressing feeling that it will be the last one I’ll have the time to take for quite some time.

Business before pleasure, and all that. Speaking of…

(Araxes Title): How soon until the others arrive, incidentally?

Cuthbert(Unequaled): Should be any time now, my lord.

(Araxes Title): Excellent.

* * *

He came back to himself all at once, like he had just fallen from a great height only to land in his body, still sitting in the chair Marie had begged him into. He opened his eyes to find her staring at him, a strange expression on her face. Her eyes met his, and for the first time since they’d met again she was able to maintain eye contact.

And this time it was Sam that flinched away as though seared. Gods, there was equal parts hope and fear in those blue eyes , and a challenge that he hadn’t seen before. He took a deep breath and let it out, looking around the room to gain some time.

Gods, he’d thought it would have been easier now. Apollyon’s explanation was supposed to have soothed his emotions and opened his eyes, he supposed. Surely that had been part of the creature’s aim, to put him at ease. But back in this room, with Marie sitting across from him…

The storm no longer raged. Now it simply roiled, churning within him, dredging up pain and heartache and sorrow over and over, almost five years worth, all coming back at once.

“He pulled you out, didn’t he.” Her words, soft and silvery, jerked his eyes down from where they’d been studying a wall-mounted banner and back down to her. “He pulled you out and told you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Sam nodded anyway. “Yeah. He did.”

“Everything?”

“Everything he wanted me to hear.” And some things he didn’t, I think. “Is it true?”

Her eyes closed and the next breath she drew was a shuddering, hesitant thing. “Yeah.”

It was like trying to walk through a trap-filled corridor with only half a map and a broken leg. His eyes closed, and he felt the tears well up. She’d abandoned him. Them. Everything. But…

“Why did you do it?” He had to know. Even with all of Apollyon’s reasoning, even with all of his revelations, still he had to know.

“If he told you, then you know why.”

“I want to hear you say it. I think you owe me that much.”

Silence. He opened his eyes and saw that hers were still closed, her face pinched, her brows drawn down. He probably could have worded that gentler.

Gods, this was going to be difficult.

“Because if it was true, then someone needed to change it,” she said finally, her words quiet and rough. “And if it was true, then you, and Jack, and Annie, and everyone else… Needed me. And…” She drew in a breath and pushed it out. “I couldn’t not do it. Y’know? I couldn’t have gone back, knowing that everything I looked at wasn’t real, that everyone I’d ever known was not what they looked like. That you—“

She cut off and looked away sharply. And Sam bowed his head. Yeah. That he. That he hadn’t been real. That he’d somehow been a slave to a system, his overarching fate somehow decided by something neither of them could see. For Marie, smiling, free, wild as the wind Marie, it would have been untenable.

A neat little trap indeed.

His head came up and his eyes stared past Marie into nothing.

Son of a bitch.

Twice. Twice in the same day, he’d been backed into a corner like this. Once by a councilman who wanted Sam to free his people. And once by a god who wanted Sam on his side. And both times the other party had seen fit to offer Sam not a real choice, but a loaded one, where if he chose anything other than what they wanted he would be betraying people to death or worse.

His eyes narrowed and the storm blazed up, sharp and serrated and angry.

Do I have ‘take advantage of me’ written in big red letters on my forehead or something?

No, the answer came quickly. No, what he had was power. Power and resources and abilities probably more than he actually realized. And where there was power, there would be those looking to take advantage of that. Of him.

And unless he wised up real damn quick, it was going to keep happening.

He re-focused, then, and saw Marie staring back at him, uncertainty writ large on her face.

“So… Are we good?” she asked.

Anger blazed hot and fierce inside him at the question. A question that shouldn’t have existed in this reality. A question that only had to be asked because some shifty shapeless manipulative son of a bitch had manuevered her into making a choice. Just like he’d done to Sam.

Only… She hadn’t had anyone else around her, had she?

A pit opened up in his stomach then, and he fell down, down, down. Realization as cold as ice speared through his mind and left him raw and ragged. She’d had only Apollyon whispering into her ear, hadn’t she? Only that thing, sly and slippery and dazzling with his truths and explanations of how reality truly was. No one to reach out to for counsel, no one from whom to seek aid.

Only Apollyon, and his damnable Choice.

For that alone I will hate you, creature.

Marie was still staring at him. She reminded him of a bird watching a larger predator, waiting to see which way he would pounce. Which was a fantastic idea. She could, with the power she doubtless contained in her little finger, destroy him and send him on yet another trip to the White Room. No, what she was waiting for was not his pounce, but his answer.

Are we good?

“I don’t know,” he said, and there was tired honesty in his voice. “Better than we were before he pulled me out. But good?” He closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with his palms. “You chose to abandon us all, Marie. We loved you. I loved you. For the last almost five years now I’ve been motivated by that death, by what you meant to me. Now you’re back, and you’re…” he waved a hand at her whole form, trying to encompass everything in a simple motion.

“Yeah.” Her voice was subdued. “That.”

“And we can’t even talk about it like real people, because…” This time the hand-wave was wide and sweeping, taking in the whole of everything around them.

Now there’s a thought. The idea came up out of nowhere and plopped itself down for consideration. He looked at it for a moment, then shoved it aside. Later. Not now, for certain.

“Are we good?” he breathed. How could he be? An hour couldn’t wipe out half a decade’s worth of pain and desperation and anger and drive. Not even this hour. How could anything—

He frowned then, as another idea rose. An idea that stemmed from the conversation with Apollyon himself. For a god-like being, he certainly seemed uncareful with his words.

Or maybe he just wasn’t used to dealing with suspicious bastards.

Sam examined the idea, rolled it around, knocked on it to test for strength. It seemed to hold. It was a starting point, anyway.

“I remember that look,” she said, and he came back to himself to see her lips quirked at one side, a little half-smile that rent at his heart. “You’ve got something?”

“Maybe.” He took another breath, then leaned forward and extended his hand. “Hi. I’m Sam. I’m pleased to meet you.”

She blinked at him, blue eyes dropping to the hand then raising to his face, searching for meaning… And then widening in understanding.

Slowly, hesitantly, her hand came out and met his in a grip.

“Hello Sam,” she said, not looking away from his eyes. “I’m—“ A hesitation, so bare he almost didn’t recognize it. “I’m Diana. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Diana. It was a name with no strings attached. A stranger, come in to save his parents and his friends. A stranger tied to a shifty being that bore watching. Someone who had no past with him, and who only had a future to build.

He could work with that.

“Hello Diana.”

“Hello Sam.” Her grip was firm and didn’t tremble a whit. “So uh, what comes next?”

For the first time since walking into the room, Sam felt a real smile wash across his face.

“Now? I think you should talk to my parents.”

She stared at him for a second, her features frozen. Then her shoulder slumped and she heaved a sigh.

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”