𝔽𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣 ℂ𝕣𝕠𝕨𝕟 || 𝕂𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕒𝕥𝕠 𝔸𝕪𝕒𝕥𝕠

23. En garde! Prêtes? Allez!

Kanari winced as a sharp pain shot through her wrists. They were painfully sore from the hours she laid on her bed, digging her nails into her own hands. Her dreams had been restless, and soon she'd found herself flitting in and out of consciousness, never truly awake or asleep.

Images of the manor, her parents, and the king had all swirled together in a hazy mess. Yesterday was a tiring jumble she wished she could just forget. Sleep was not even kind enough to take her away from her troubles, teasing her relentlessly with its light touches before yanking away its comforting influence.

The morning sun caught on the edge of her glass, twinkling radiantly. Kanari glanced at it, only to see her own face reflected on its surface. Sighing, she looked away. 

The visit to her childhood home brought back a tsunami of emotional turmoil she thought she'd locked away forever. Memories whirled around her like the raging winds in a storm, never letting her truly grasp onto one. 

Not only that, but the unsettling feeling she used to get when she saw her own reflection came back. The universe must be laughing at her, for no matter how long she left it all behind, no matter how far she moved on, every time she saw her own reflection, she saw him.

The person who haunted her dreams.

The person who lurked in the shadows of her mind. The person who broke her to the core all those years ago. The person who left her as a broken pile of shards, shattered beyond all hope for recovery.

The same hair color, the same vivid blue eyes. She truly lost the game that was genetics.

Did she not suffer enough? Why did she have to be reminded of how close they were? How alike. How easy it might be to slip onto the same path.

The power of the sword lies in the will of the wielder. Objects are never inherently good or evil, only the actions of those who use them can determine that.

Perhaps, that was what scared her.

The talents she'd been gifted with and the skills she'd honed could one day be used to harm, rather than protect.

She'd found out a long time ago that when it mattered the most, she was incompetent.

How could she ever trust herself?

"If you're not going to eat that, I will." 

Ayato's voice suddenly whispered in her ear, making her jump. She looked to her right to see that he had appeared by her side, his face mere inches away from hers. He was eyeing the chunk of pancake speared on her fork, a smirk on his face, though Kanari noticed his smile was dimmer than usual. 

"You scared me," she mumbled as Ayato moved away sat down on his usual spot. 

"Evidently," he replied, looking over the table wearily. He examined the selection before him half-heartedly, before sighing.

"Dandelion wine is far too strong. How are Mondstadian people even alive?" He complained, taking a sip of water. 

"No one forced you to drink three glasses," said Kanari softly, unenthusiastically biting the food off her fork.

"My head feels so heavy," Ayato groaned, resting his head on his hand. 

Kanari stared at him blankly. He was always so calm and composed. Between them, she was usually the vulnerable one —not that she wanted to be reminded of that fact— so his behavior was... strange. The signature sly aura about him was gone, replaced by exhaustion.

"You should eat something," she said after a few minutes. Ayato had not moved from his position, with only the gentle rise of his shoulders indicating that he was still alive.