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"Because," Ashford hissed at Millie, "this place is a falsehood. It is a sham, a --"

He was cut off by a formed harpoon, streaking through the air and piercing his side, embedding itself there before it faded away-- and red soaked through his shirt and pinstriped vest, sticky and awful. Ashford snarled and the sound was guttural.

The small boil, ghostly and small, attempted to attack him once more-- to little avail. Another body shielded him from the blows of Thackery.

"Thank you," he said to the Kitsune ghoul, who stayed quiet even as she valiantly protected the reaper. She may not have approved, of his plan, of him, but--

They had a duty.

"I know," Ashford said, his voice filled with gravel and shards of glass. "I saw a shade of myself fall into a coma. I saw us fall in love. I saw you kill me to keep us together." He clenched his hands, a searing of power burbling in his chest, but Ashford stayed his hand.

"But it wasn't real. You are not real. A false idol concocted by a power that stole away that which was mine." Despite his wound, the Pyramid Head swung once more with his knife, driven into a berserker's rage.

"I will see you bereft of all that you have, False King."

The mark wasn't fading, no matter how much he scraped and scratched and pulled at the skin. To complicate things, another had chosen to intervene, standing between them. Thackery watched Tomoko with remorse: such a shame that she didn't understand. Such a shame that she acted wordlessly, not even offering him an explanation. At least he would give her that much.

"Tomoko," he began, fingers curling around her arm. "This is the only way to fix things. I'm your Gatekeeper. I have to do this. So please..." He forcibly moved her aside, clearing his path once more. "...let me fix it."

For a time, it looked as if he wouldn't touch Henry again. His tail snapped back and forth, and he was very visibly displeased, but he seemed to have calmed.

Until he saw the mark again.

"You're a LIAR," he repeated, his conviction stronger than the last, despite how childish he was beginning to sound. "You listened to someone who wasn't me and they ruined you. You did this." He jabbed a finger into his ribs, which was the highest place he could manage without standing on his tippy-toes. "You saw all of that stuff. If I wasn't real, it wouldn't be either. Neither would your feelings."

He took a step back, to better see Henry's face when he answered the only question that mattered.

"You do care about me, don't you?"

His lips were pressed into a thin line as he awaited his response, a thin line separating loss from redemption. There was never a thing more serious.

Current HP remaining: 280/300
Damage/ Healing/ Defense done: 0
Target(s): Ash

The small boy was once again brushed aside, easily. He was merely a shade of something. But if he knew more... Once he had been more than this, had that past person known something that could help him defend his King? His last memory had been short, too short, a glimpse of that inescapable past which had brought him to this realm and to his King... But what if he could have more?

The little child stepped back, not out of fear or hesitance to do what he saw as his duty. He stepped back towards the edge of the cracked stones, and into a puddle. You had to will the memories forward...

~

The scene was familiar. Like he had seen it a thousand times. Like he had grown up there, his whole life.

The small homestead was plain, rough, simple. The fields to the southwest were barren and sparse, where only grasses and scrub bushes grew with any success. The southwest fields were home to the family's sheep. Little woolly things. They might have been fluffy but they were by no means friendly or sociable. They always turned their backs on the boy. But he was a shepherd, and they could smell it on him.

To the west, a deep forest. It had a scrubby nature as well, dry soil and warped trees, with the occasional chestnut or berry bush. Sometimes the boy went there with his Pa, and he would collect berries while Pa hunted for meat. Birds or squirrels, maybe a rabbit. Sheep were too valuable to eat.

In the north, the most visible feature of the landscape stretched out like a jagged wound across the fields. A deep ravine, rocky and treacherous, with a little creek of fresh water far, far below. Never go to the edge. Not even to look for a second. It was even more dangerous than the woods. Even in this memory, his body recoiled habitually. Never, not even the sheep would go to the edge.

He suddenly felt walls around him, the small, cosy cabin filled with the scent of stew and wood smoke, a small kitchen, living room, and bedroom all in one big room. It was home. He knew every inch more thoroughly than he knew his own heart.

But it was lonely in these memories. His parents had gone to sell sheep. It would be days before their return. He would be all alone, and in his spectral state he knew where it would lead...

~

He knew, but... he didn't remember. It was like a dream, the emotional response to seeing that small cabin again already fading from his mind. The details would be forever etched in his mind. They were his beginning.

He had already seen the end. That was his home no longer.

The child stood helplessly. So his living self had nothing to offer. Perhaps he had no gift at all. It was the closest thing to doubt he could feel for his King, the brief wondering if the King had been wrong just once.

They certainly were a gloomy bunch, Crispin deduced, listening to each of them speak, and watching each weary face.

"My name is Crispin, is it?" he wasn't sure if he liked that name or not, but found it oddly charming all the same.

"But no, of course I don't remember. I've only just arrived here!" he offered the group a tentative smile. Vaska looked about ready to curl up and vanish into his stole. Harland was pale, despite his smile, and Alastair looked as melancholy as the air that hung around the group.

I wasn't expecting such a chilly welcome for being so new... Crispin thought to himself. He tugged sheepishly at a lock of his hair.

"I apologize if I've offended you, sir," he addressed Alastair. Crispin was at a loss; he had no idea why this man was angry with him. Boyfriend? Who, the fellow beside him? Or the one with the stole? Crispin had never seen them in his life!

But is that really true?

"I can see you're all tired," he muttered, not wanting to dwell on the weird spike of anxiety he'd just felt. Crispin drew himself back up to his feet. "Just rest here until you're more well. I may be new, but I've got the strength of an ox!"

He smiled a little, and flexed. "See? Now which way was that scuffle, you said? I'll go help."

Crispin glanced around, until spotting the skirmish -- a bit far from their resting place in the weedy garden. He dusted the dirt from his pants. "I'll be right back, mind you. I'm going to see if I can't break it up."

His overconfidence would have been sweeter, had he not really been so ignorant to what was actually going on.

Green eyes watched the False King's tail lash, like a snake swaying in preparation for a strike.

"I have never been a liar," Ashford replied, the words dripping with acidity. "Not in any lifetime. I did this because I love you."

He leaned against his blade, stricken, his breathing coming in laboriously. Using the last of his breath, Ash laughed and laughed and laughed, in a way that was utterly broken.

"You can't see it. You can't see it, but I," Ash abandoned his blade, fingers flexing, and with them he reached to throttle the Fake, wanted nothing more to see him gurgle and fall. "I love you more than anything in this world or the next, more than life itself. More than your life force and my own combined. I do care, I do, I do, I do."

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Rushing onto the battlefield with a violet semi-transparent sword in her hand, Millie was seething with anger. This.... monster that had just been ignoring her the whole time would die for threatening her kingdom.

She ran past Ash, slashing at the side she had harpooned earlier, hoping her momentum would make her hit harder and skidded to a halt a few feet away from the group.

A hint of a smile broke through Thackery's stony expression.

"See, I knew it!" he laughed, closing the space between them once more. The closer he got, the more difficult it was to prevent himself from looking at the awful marking, so his eyelids fell shut, forcing himself to ignore it. His palms slid flat against his chest, near the place where a heart should be beating, then upwards to his shoulders, bracing himself as he stretched to bring his face closer to Henry's. He blinked once, slowly, almost content. He was fixing things. It would all be better very, very soon.

"And I love you, too," he murmured, grinning against his cheek. More than anything. One of the biggest pieces to this puzzle of perfection. "So I can't let you leave again."

His outstretched fingers snaked around Henry's neck, and he squeezed with all the strength his tired body would allow. He was here, safe in his hands, and he'd never let him go ever again.

Current HP remaining: 201/215
Damage/ Healing/ Defense done: 8
Target(s): Ash