It was but a few days remaining until the fateful end to their story. Astrid’s father would stand before King Reign and seek a role within his Court. Astrid would then confront him, hoping to that to an end. She had the backing of the Senators, the inner workings of a massive conspiracy that had failed to generate traction prior to her arrival. Since, it has turned the political world of Crocus against her father in a short time, some remaining resistant to the idea of aligning with her, but the numbers were few and far between now. Even if those who were loyal to her father wanted to argue it, the numbers she had dwarfed those of what he may have had supporting him.

And too, they had some other things in their back pocket that they would be able to rely on. For one, after a coordinated attack against the people, they had managed to develop a false conspiracy towards that implicated her father in trying to overthrow the people, turning his ‘campaign for good’ into one of totalitarianism and future control. She knew it was not something that her father would ever believe in, which makes it all the more outrageous for others to believe, and that would be true if not for the furtherance they committed towards. Numerous people whom were poisoned by powerful Succubus Blood into believing that they were in fact part of such conspiracy, they were the perfect pawns. And for as much as her father may have denied such involvement – as anyone involved would believe – they would have a harder time believing that of those involved themselves. And with the sheer number of participants believing themselves involved, it was setting up to be perfect.

The other part, the pinning of her mother’s death, something that she had done herself, onto him was the second part. It was one that was more involved, more difficult to fully believe given the parts attached. However, the involvement of the Phantom Lord Guild Master Iblis was the one who was helping to make sure that it was going exactly how she wanted it to. Through his connections, a guilty party had already been found convicted, their confession forged, and through connections within Crocus, had already been provided to the authorities of Crocus. Everything necessary for them to set up a trojan horse within the government was established and set.

Yet, in both scenarios, they recognized there was no hope of it being full proof. Her father could always deny the accusations and the situation would matter not. At worst, it would turn into appearing like a coordinated attack upon his character, it being so being beside the point. They needed to go one step further. As Freddie had explained to her prior to her arriving here, the key point was that they’ve gone and done a great job of implicating her father without ever having put evidence to his name. They needed something which his mark on it.

They need his stamp of approval.

And so, in order to find something like that, or rather to plant something with that, she was home.

For the first time in nearly a decade, she was back at the home where she grew up in.

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It felt larger since the last time she were, hastily gathering what few possessions she had as she departed posthaste, the death of her mother at her own hands having weighed heavily upon her. She was so much different then. She was afraid. A terrified little girl that desperately felt like the world was closing beneath her, that the future she wanted to make for herself was being further stolen. As much as she wished, she could not forget how she felt on that day, the desperate wish to leave and never be seen again. Never once did the idea of returning her ever cross her mind, and even years later, the thought – if it even had crossed her mind – never persisted a second time to give her real reason to venture back.

It was almost fitting, that in her quest to rid herself of her father’s hold over her forever, that she find herself back here again.

Albeit under far different circumstances than what was first anticipated being. Perhaps for either of them.

One thing she certainly did not expect upon her return was the unexpected armed presence within their household manor, based within the wealthier part of Crocus. Servants were hardly new to Astrid; in fact she had spent the greater part of her childhood in their company than that of her parents, particularly her father whom seldom ever had time for her. Her mother, she tried, but seldom had the time to devote to her with her work.

But the servants that she recalled and thought fondly of were not here. Rather, these were guards. Mercenaries. Protection most likely, hired to protect her father with the announcement of his inevitable meeting with King Reign. The last thing anyone could have afforded were to allow him to be targeted for a hostage scenario or kidnapping or any sort of tragedy for that matter. The announcement made him too great of a target, and at one’s home would be where they would assumedly be most vulnerable compared to the protections provided to the Senators in the Crocus Senate Building.

She knew that she had no hope of getting in through manners of peace. Fortunately, the dagger that she kept within her belt and the gun that she had holstered had come with her – a decision that she felt prudent for as long as she were in Crocus – and though a part of her certainly did not envy the nature of having to carry out this, these people having the misfortune of being assigned a detachment serving her father. But in her conquest to stop her father she had already murdered people whom had done even less. It was fair to assume that they would have shown her no pity if they had caught her.

No reason for her to afford them any different.

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They were certainly trained, no question to that. The mercenaries who were stationed throughout the home certainly were threats if used in different means, but it seemed that as she ventured through the massive manor, still having some level of memory to where things were, advantages may have laid, it seemed that the others could not say the same. They were as much lost, confused, unable to navigate through, which enabled for Astrid to as much move past them when able, if not cut them down with a quick slit to the throat via the knife in her possession than anything else.

It was almost too easy.

By the time she had arrived at the master bedroom, she almost half-expected to see her father there, waiting for her. It would have lent to a fun return, or otherwise a hasty reunion that would have as much been cathartic to Astrid as it would having wasted all the effort put forward, if not causing even more problems. Everything set up had been to remove him from the political realm as a traitor. For Astrid’s father to die early would instead paint him as a martyr and threaten to undermine everything they worked towards, the connections made, promises perhaps guaranteed, deals wrung.

There was simply too much on the line for things to play out in that way.

Fortunately it would not come to it, as she would open the door to not find her father waiting for her, but rather the elderly man whom she had almost come to view as more a genuine father than that of her actual bloodline. She looked at him with disbelief, surprised to see him both alive and serving her father. His face was old, tired, the last decade clearly having been difficult for him, Astrid’s departure likely having attributed to that.

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Astrid didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to respond. The guards and thoughts of her father had given her thoughts of bloodlust and revenge, but seeing the man before her had calmed her, almost making her want to cry. There was a pain associated with seeing him, a desire to see things having gone differently, but she knew that it could not happen. He knew it too, and though he said nothing, he sympathized with Astrid. Without a word, he held out his hand, as if knowing her purpose for being there. There was reluctance on her part, gambling that the man before her would not betray her, put everything that they had put to work in outright jeopardy. Staring into his eyes, she could almost feel compassion, a sense of trust.

A feeling that had she not seen in over a decade.

Struggling at every step along the way, she finally retrieved the small parcel of incriminating documents that had been forged with her father’s handwriting and presented it to the man, him gingerly taking it with both hands, saying nothing in the process. Astrid felt a sense of shame wash over her, as though he were judging her. To her disbelief, he nodded to her, approvingly. She couldn’t believe it. She longed to believe it, but needed the validation. As she was about to ask if he were serious, she felt his arms wrap around her, a final hug.

As much as she hoped the situation could have been different, this may have been the last time that they saw one another. It would be a final farewell, and his parting gift to her would be helping her in this.

She started to cry, the teams dripping down her face as she hugged the man in kind, remaining there for a while before eventually they both released their respective grips. She wanted to spend more time with him, but knew it could never be afforded, at least not right now. But perhaps soon, once the climax to her war had finally come to its end. Until then, she moved close, planting him a kiss upon his cheek, weakly smiling as he in return flashed a wide smile, one that touched her far more than she would have first imagined.

Though she did not know it, her return was everything that he could have asked for and more. To have done, to deny Astrid her reason for being there would have been cruel.

He may not have known or agreed with what Astrid was doing if he had known, but he were not to deny her that.

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