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It was always bittersweet, when someone came to her bench promoted.

A part of Hvergelmir wanted to be happy for them -- that they were still surviving, day by day, and still felt comfortable coming to see her even as they became further entrenched in the Negaverse -- and she was. Any time someone she knew was gone away from her for a while, she feared the worst. Death. Torture. Youma transformation. Any time they came back, she felt relieved.

A part of her, though, always grieved the promotions. Each step higher in rank with the Negaverse was a step deeper in, too -- a further seating of Chaos within the heart. More responsibility, more burdens. More chance that one of them would stay with the Negaverse, despite everything, just to care for the underlings they'd been assigned. More chance they'd given up, or had bought into the party line.

More chance that someday, one of them would come to her bench sand say they didn't want to talk anymore.

Someday that might be Labyrinthite. If not, then probably someone else. Everyone's luck ran out eventually.

Not today, she hoped. Always just not today.

"Kerberos," she offered warmly, to show he was still welcome at her side, as ever. "I've been worried. Come, sit with me, tell me what's kept you. It's been too long."

Kerberos never sat like he was a man who was relaxing. She'd never seen him relax. He sat like a man who could barely keep going, who'd lost the will to stand.

He always looked so lost.

Is this why you were promoted? she wondered. For capturing a knight? Is that what's put lead weight in your gaze?

"You don't seem like you wanted to," Hvergelmir observed gently. "Why don't you tell me the whole story? Sometimes it helps, to tell someone."

Hvergelmir didn't think she particularly needed to hear the full story of what had happened -- though of course, the details were always useful, in her line of work. In general, she could probably work out most of the whys and wherefores, in an overarching sence. Rather, she'd said it because she thought it might do him some good to hear. She thought that hearing someone else acknowledge that he wasn't a person with cruel intentions might give him permission to start believing it about himself.

Whatever had happened, it was obvious he'd taken no glee in it. This, though, was how she was beginning to see that the Negaverse worked: you were forced to do terrible things until you began to believe that only a terrible person could do such terrible things, and terrible people didn't deserve second chances. This was how child soldiers were made. This was how people eventually came to accept their yokes.

She didn't want to lose Kerberos that way, too. Not when he'd come so far. Not when he'd been trying so very, very hard.

The saddest part was how unsurprising a story it was. The saddest part was how neatly it had all worked out for the Negaverse, how neatly these things always worked out. Kerberos had been a pawn from the beginning, and they'd continued to manipulate him every which way they wanted for years now.

Hvergelmir was determined that they would not be the only ones. The war was fought on many fronts, and this -- within people's hearts -- was one of them. This was where she'd waged her fight, too. She had no intention of conceding it to them.

Hvergelmir reached out a hand to curl it over her friend's, tucking his chilled fingers in around the bells he'd shown her. J'adoube, she thought to herself. I touch. I adjust. She offered a compassionate half-smile.

"The thing about sacrifice," she began quietly, "is that we desperately want to do it for someone we love. But we find it unforgivable in ourselves when someone we love sacrifices themself for us. No one ever makes a sacrifice for someone hoping it will make that person hate themself." She lowered her eyes to where her hand held his. "Your Luka stayed to protect you, just like you tried to send him away to protect him. He wouldn't want you to go down a darker road because of that. He didn't want you to die. He wanted to give you a chance for something better."

Hvergelmir shook her head. "That's not how the heart works. That's how the head works, but the heart -- it doesn't listen easily. Love is like a floodgate, sometimes. Once you care about someone, it's hard to stop."

She lifted her other hand to settle it on his cheek, light but concerned. "It will always be your choice," she said carefully, "and I can understand if you think that you need to stay, but . . . there's always a door for you. An out. If you want it. The Negaverse . . . it'll only get worse. There's no future for you down that road. Please don't give up -- not when he wouldn't want you to."

Hvergelmir frowned visibly, sliding her hands up to clasp them around Kerberos's beautifully tattooed forearms. "You don't think you're worth it," she said. In her mind, she saw not Kerberos's face, but another one laid over it -- petite and rounded, green hair and confused eyes. This was what had lost them Persephone -- this horrible, heartbreaking belief that they weren't good enough for the chance they were being offered or the power they'd been born to wield.

Not again. Not Kerberos, not my friend. This one, I'm going to save. Please.

"That part, we can work on," she promised, her smile faint but fond. "I can call for Cosmos to do the job right now, if you like. If she's free, she'll come."

Hvergelmir shook her head adamantly. "Sailor Cosmos is a woman with magical powers," she said flatly. "No more and no less. A human -- not a god."

Hvergelmir leaned in, lifting one hand to feather the hair away from Kerberos's face, tuck it behind his ear once more. In a light motion, she traced the pad of her thumb over one of the little fissures that cracked the skin of his forehead. "My darling boy," her voice came quietly, just barely bridging the space between them. "Redemption was made for sinners. You're afraid that you might somehow be stealing it, that it might be offered to you by mistake . . . but Kerberos -- sweetheart -- it exists because you need it. Because in very dark hours, it's the last thing left. The sharpest weapon. You've wandered farther into darkness than most people go -- I'm offering you a great weapon because it will take a great weapon to fight your way back out. Redemption is the last and strongest sword -- and it doesn't exist for anyone except the person who needs it." She looked carefully into his eyes. "Tell me what it is you're afraid of."

"Oh," Hvergelmir whispered faintly, studying Kerberos's face. "Is that all." She leaned in closer, till she could reach near enough that she very carefully kissed his forehead, lips lingering with delicate certainty over the cracked skin she'd traced with her thumb. She settled back again, but only far enough away to bring their eyes level again, a few breaths of space between them. "I hear," Hvergelmir confided, "that your odds of success go up when you file an application." She let both her hands trace the lines where his pale neck met his shoulders, afraid that if she didn't keep contact with him, he might clam up and retreat.

Don't be afraid, Tam Lin. You're not alone. I won't leave you. Whatever shape you take, I'll hold on until your queen lets you go. My faith in you is that strong.

"You're so afraid that you'll fail, that you've decided to fail yourself before you try. What sense does that make, darling? Why wouldn't Cosmos agree to purify you?"