Ascension Of The Villain

"Where have you been?" Iyana choked out. Her voice broke at the edges, trembling with disbelief. Her arms reached for him as if afraid he would vanish again like a dream.

But he didn't vanish.

Vyan ran to her without hesitation, without a second thought, and dropped to his knees before her like gravity had finally pulled him back to where he belonged.

She clutched him with every shred of strength she had left, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder. Her fingers gripped his coat tightly, as though to make sure he was solid, real, here. Not another memory. Not another hallucination born of longing.

And then she broke.

All the emotions spilled out from months of grief and sleepless nights and unanswered questions. Her shoulders shook as sobs escaped from her chest, raw and loud, soaking into the fabric of his collar.

"Where have you been all this time?" she cried again, broken, breathless. "I've been waiting for you."

Vyan ran his hands gently along her back, up to her wet hair, smoothing it down with the tenderness of a man who'd carried her absence like a wound.

"I know. I know, my love… I'm here now. I'm so sorry." He pressed a kiss into her temple and whispered into her hair. "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting for so long."

For a moment, the warmth of his embrace was enough. It melted everything—the loneliness, the doubt, the despair. But then, just beneath the surface, another emotion began to rise.

Anger.

Sharp and bitter, bubbling from all the nights she had cursed him in the dark. For leaving. For not coming back. For making her wonder if she'd ever see him again.

"I hate you," she murmured, voice trembling with rage and heartbreak.

His lips found her forehead, kissing her gently. "I love you."

She drew in a shaky breath. "I hate you so much."

He kissed her eyelids, brushing the tears away with his lips. "I love you so much more."

Her fists trembled against his chest. "I didn't miss you," she whispered. "Not even once."

"I missed you every second." He brushed a kiss against her cheek.

"Liar," she hissed. "You broke your promise. You left me behind."

He placed kisses behind her ear. "I know. I'm sorry. I had no choice. I didn't want it to happen."

"More lies," she complained, almost childishly.

"I'll tell you everything later," he assured. "But I need you to know that whatever I did, wherever I went, it was for you. I didn't want to leave you alone for even a second longer than I had to. I never wanted to hurt you, Iyana. I had no idea something so terrible could've happened."

He pulled back just enough to look at her properly, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You must have been scared here, right?"

The question slipped out so gently, it almost didn't feel real.

Iyana froze.

The answer yes sat heavily on her tongue, trembling like a secret desperate to be freed, but her lips didn't move. She just… sat there, breath caught, throat tight.

For some reason, the response oddly lingered there, unspoken, battling with the old habit of silence. It seemed like she had become her past self—someone who didn't cry out because she had been terrified.

Ever since she was a child, fear had been the one thing she refused to admit out loud.

She had built herself like that. Into someone who didn't tremble. Into a girl who didn't cry when her knees bled. Into a woman who stood at the frontlines while others waited behind. Into a knight who never flinched, even when the odds bared their teeth.

People looked at her and saw an unshakeable soldier. They saw poise, power, and grace. Never fear.

And they believed it.

Because she made it believable.

In a way, she had been proud of that image. Proud of how no one ever looked at her with pity. Proud of how nobody ever asked, Are you scared? Because it meant she had convinced the world that she could handle anything, even if she were a woman. It was often lonely that way, though.

But Vyan…

Vyan always saw past the armor. With time, he had managed to convince her that man or woman, nobody could handle everything alone.

She still remembered it the first time he asked. She was fifteen, her wrist freshly fractured, the doctor's words still echoing in her ears: "You might not regain full movement. There's a good chance you might not heal on time to take the knighthood exam this year."

Her dreams seemed to be crumbling that day. She had been emotionless anyway. Or at least, pretended to be.

"It's not a big deal," she had said.

Everyone had believed her.

Except him.

He had looked her in the eyes and asked quietly, "Are you scared, my lady?"

She had stared blankly and had responded, "Why the hell would I be? Nothing scares me."

"Not even the fact that you might never become an official imperial knight?"

She had gulped. "N-no, I'm not. Only weak people are scared."

"Hmm? That might be the case, true. But I think it's okay to be weak sometimes."

"Why is that?"

"Because only when you're weak do you let your guard down enough to be seen, held, and healed. Only after all those things can you truly be strong once again."

"And who exactly do you think is waiting around to do any of those for me?"

"For starters, I'm always here."

And she had broken. Just a little. Just enough. Because he was the only one who saw through her. The only one who cared to look. The one who saw both her strength and weakness.

After that day, she had never once hesitated to be weak in front of him. Because she knew he would always hold her.

Now, years later, in his arms again after what had felt like a lifetime of emptiness, the question returned as soft, gentle, loving.

"You must have been scared here, right?"

"Yes… Yes, I was scared. I was so, so scared, Vee…"

The admission felt like a wound ripped open, and then, strangely, like a healing.

Vyan pulled her to his lap, his arms secured around her as if he could shield her from every horror she had endured, every long night she had survived alone.

"There, there, my baby," he whispered, cradling her close. "It's okay. I'm here now. You don't have to be strong anymore. Let it all out. I've got you. I'll hold you through it."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and began, "In the prison, every night, I—I was internally terrified. With my hands and legs chained, I… I couldn't do anything. Every time a man passed by… I was… I froze up from fear because I was so powerless, that… if anybody tried something, I couldn't have stopped them. The way some of them looked at me… it was so disgusting. I… I…"

Her voice trembled so pathetically, but she couldn't care less, neither could he.

"It's okay, take your time, love." She could hear the restrained anger in his voice, but he tried his best to sound soft for her. "Deep breaths."

She wasn't sure if he was saying that to himself or her, but it went both ways. So, she nodded her head and obliged, then continued, "I was scared I'd die in vain in that prison. I was so scared that I might be abandoned, that I'd never be let out. I thought I'd never get to see you again. I even regretted not agreeing to marry you the night before you disappeared. I blamed myself that I had failed you, that I had failed my troops as the war general, that I had failed my nation…"

"None of those are true."

"I know. In the back of my mind, I know they're not the truth. But with nothing to do these days and all this free time, all kinds of pessimistic thoughts have been running through my head. And I'm scared of the negative person I've become. You might start hating me. Maybe you'll get tired of—"

"I could never." He looked into her eyes with all the sincerity he could gather and smiled warmly. "You'll be fine. I'll take care of you, no matter what you've become."

"So you won't abandon me…?" she asked in a voice so little that she almost felt like an innocent child.

"Under normal circumstances, I would laugh in your face for asking such a ridiculous question." He playfully rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face remained constant. "But I'll be understanding this time and grace you with a proper answer. And the answer is, no. A clear cut no. I can abandon my own name. But not you, Iyana. Never you."

Those words wrapped her bleeding heart with ointment.

"You're the reason for my everything, silly. Don't you know that? I exist for you, Iyana."

And because of those words, because she had let her weakness out and had been seen, held, and was starting to heal, she felt like she could be strong once again—a hope that had started to crumble away from her.