My Father came down from his throne, his eyes gentle, his face unrecognizable, his frozen side slightly melted.

He kneeled at the same level as me and laced his fingers with mine. His fingers weren't as cold as I remembered, his eyes weren't as torturous as I believed.

Retuning my old gesture from years back, he spoke into my ear, "My Father was a monster. He whipped me until I broke down. These scars my body is littered with – not even one come from any kind of War, since I don't give a chance for the enemy to strike. I retained that part of him, I hurt people until they can't be hurt anymore. I killed him, Selene, I made trails of blood all over his body and I took over Yami the most violent way as possible. I thought I cleaned his remains up everywhere, but you know where he still resides?"

I couldn't think straight at that moment. The person who bore such authority as he wore his crown was simply another unfortunate Royal.

I don't know what kind of twisted affection we held for one another, revealing our vulnerability, but we were two hollow bodies trying to warm the other up.

We were broken and traumatized.

"Nightmares, is it?" I finally replied.

"No." He pressed three fingers to his heart. "Here. He's still there somewhere, whipping me."

I would have never even fathomed how scared he was every night if he hadn't told me. I was finally aware of his irregular breathing, his body unable to calm down.

He hated sleeping; and I had always thought that was because sleep lowered a person's guard.

I could never really decipher this person. He had deeper wounds than me, and they were only continuing to bleed, no matter how much he tried to bandage them. But he'd hide them and never seek help – falling for the fear of being labelled as weak – as life continued to cruelly gnash on him.

But I understood him somewhere.

He wanted it to stop already; the pain, the fear, the anger, the hatred, the madness, the cruelty, the feelings – and his heart.

However, he couldn't bring himself to do anything to dull his survival instincts – because he always felt like he had finally gained control, only to fall from a steep cliff again, only to be betrayed in return, only to find himself involved in matters he couldn't allow to slip into anyone else's hands.

I was his salvation, his successor, his only light source under a night sky that didn't even have stars.

I was his moon, I was Selene.

When I'd rise to power, he would finally be set free from the chains and responsibilities that bind him.

And it hurt how much sense that made.

Why was he telling me this? Was he making me aware how gently I have been treated in comparison?

...Why could I understand him?

My hands were squeezing his; my face was buried in his chest in a futile attempt to stop my warm tears from showing. I'll protect you, Father, I'll make your night bearable – I'll always be on your side, even if it doesn't seem that way... Papa.

"The throne is yours anyway, Selene, but why is it that you want to kill Helen? Why is it that you want to carry regrets? Why is it that you want to grant Helen a merciful release, bearing all her responsibility yourself? Are you, truly, hateful at heart?"

That was what my Father had went through. He took over the Empire and erased all traces of Grandfather, only to find himself unsatisfied and regretful.

"Helen never returned love to me!" I screamed in pain. "Never, never did she see me as anything but a tool. I'm just—I'm just her stepping-stone to success!"

Helen had never looked at me even when her eyes were focused on me. Helen's words were never meant for me even when she addressed them to me. Helen was never mine even though she was born with me.

If I saw the people facing my sword as animals, Helen saw the people facing her as puppets.

"So, it's a grudge, I take it?"

"...I don't know! I can't make out."

"Do you want to, then? Will you be able to comply with reality if I were to show it you?"

My voice wouldn't come out, my only responses being in sobs and gasps. It was like he was asking me if I ever got the chance, would I really be able to raise my sword at Helen?

But even though I knew I was only a short-tempered arrogant girl trying to fill the gaps in personality with unhealthy and toxic relationships, I wanted to see it for myself.

The hellhole I lived in.

My Father countered emotions by knocking in extreme rationality, as did all my ancestors, embedding morality within them and detaching from biases.

If there was something Yami did unjustly, it'd be—

Killing in the name of God.

Using politics for benefit and selfishness, shutting down the 'heart' altogether, and keeping oneself in highest regard – that was the only way of survival.

Yami did not believe in God. But they played the strings of faith and explained themselves as such. Uta would, on the other hand, tailor their constitution, but Yami would not care.

I felt absolutely nothing when I slayed the assassin, because he wasn't my first kill, and that showed my rationality remained – but was only swayed in by my reflex actions to keep Helen away from any kind of danger.

The fact that I was so weak when it came to my sister, who didn't ever care about me, felt as if acid was being splashed on me.

What did I truly feel? I couldn't even tell at this point. My heart was filled with frenzied emotions of different colors, but always merged to form a rainbow band. I was fond of the sister I hated, I pitied the Mother I was hurt due to... and I couldn't even place my Father anywhere within me.

If only a rock would replace my beating heart.

—Though I wouldn't be able to that, freezing my heart was certainly possible.

All I had to do was imitate Eric Yami.