Chapter Text
The costliness of the defense and the allure of the offense can lead to unnecessary mistrust, hostility, and war, unless some of the variables discussed earlier are operating to restrain defection.
-Robert Jervis, Cooperation Under the Security Dilemma
It was almost comforting in its familiarity.
The steady rhythm set by the nervous tapping of her foot had been a half-forgotten habit, one that had almost disappeared as she found herself enmeshed in the daily delights of the summer season, only for it to once more arise now. The pounding that had so regularly filled her years over the last few years had returned, that discordant ambience once more haunting her as she endeavored to rally what confidence remained within her. The lingering taste of acidic bile had been a companion for so long that it seemed almost natural that it had returned to her now, the caustic tang having crept up the back of her throat throughout the morning.
It was apparent to her now, as she found herself standing before the stark white cinder block citadel that was Westerburg, that the dread that had haunted her for so long had not truly disappeared: it had merely receded, waiting in the wings as she played her part in the summer, welcoming back into its cold embrace as she inevitably stumbled out of her warm summer dream and returned to the desolate grasp of an uncaring reality.
The feelings weren’t good, they’d never been good, but it seemed as though it would have been almost unnatural to approach Westerburg without them, their presence having long since become the standard.
She wasn’t surprised that they were back: their return hadn’t been unexpected, not after the days of consideration and contemplation that she’d found herself subsumed in the aftermath of that night. It seemed as though she should have been more distressed by her return to these modes of thinking, that she should try to rally her mind against these thoughts and drive them out… but all she could muster in her defense was a tired sort of acceptance, submission having once more provided her with some semblance of safety when she was once more faced with the difficulties of the world.
She didn’t like feeling this way. She wished that she could feel something else.
But this was where she’d always end up.
The time she’d spent with Veronica had been a wonderful reprieve from everything, one that she would treasure and look back to with fondness, but it was one that was unfortunately and inescapably temporary. She’d been foolish to allow herself to consider the idea that it might have been something more, the idea that it might have actually been a shift in the status quo rather than a temporary anomaly. The truth was simple: things lasting as long as they had was a blessing, one that she wholeheartedly appreciated, even if she now had to deal with the likelihood that she might now be faced with the conclusion of her relationship with Veronica. It was a hard thing to consider but… well, she knew that she’d have to be ready if Veronica found this to be a sufficient cause for a break between them.
She should have known better.
She hadn’t been able to muster up the will to punish herself for the mistake, the exhaustion brought about by the last few days dulling that inclination as she instead found herself readying what strength remained within her for the rapidly approaching return to Westerburg: she couldn’t afford to allow herself to be distracted lest she make a more permanent mistake. She still wasn’t confident that she would be able to do so, not after everything that had happened: she’d known that she was the most likely vector of failure for this relationship, had planned around that as best she could, and it had done nothing to stop her from stumbling into that mistake . She’d fallen victim to her hubris, her greed , as she always did, allowing her wanton desires to crash what chance she had at extending that period of happiness any longer than she already had.
The worst thing was that it wasn’t the first time she’d made this mistake.
It wasn’t something new.
She just hadn’t recognized it at first.
Years ago.
Despite her efforts to forget it, she still remembered her friendship with Martha, the sheen of nostalgia and regret having preserved those memories despite her wish to leave them behind. Those memories marked what might have been her greatest mistake, the moment that she had inexorably shifted the course of her life so that it led her where she stood today. It provided a neat benchmark for comparison, one that made its similarities with her current circumstances exquisitely and painfully clear to her critical examination.
While the context and means differed, the thought process and the failures inherent in it had been present in both decisions.
The relationship she’d had with Martha had been a beacon of stability in a sea of uncertainty and doubt, providing her with the shelter she desperately needed and allowing her to hide away from the difficulties of life.
It didn’t matter that her parents didn’t love each other anymore because Martha was there for her.
It didn’t matter that her home had become a battleground because Martha’s doors were always open.
It didn’t matter that she didn’t have faith in herself because Martha did .
Martha had been something reliable, a font of support that allowed her to develop and grow outside of the shadow cast by the implosion of her home life. She had represented stability, reliability, and trust, something that had been all too lacking in the other facets of her life. Martha had been an ever-present fixture in her life, someone that had been present through it all, a presence that had helped Heather stand against the powerful tides of life until she was strong enough to do so on her own.
But she’d never been one to be content with what she had. She’d wanted something more than a desolate home, something more than an empty life, something more than Martha .
Martha was kind, she was trusting, she was loyal, and she was always the same .
That was probably why Heather’s approach had been so damnably alluring.
The red-clad girl’s appeal had left her far more excited than Martha’s gentle friendship ever had.
Heather had offered her an opportunity to take the tiller in the midst of the storm, to steer her own path through the tempest rather than simply clinging to driftwood as she had her entire life.
Heather showed her a future where she was the one in control, where she could act rather than be acted upon, where she could rule not only herself but others.
Heather had taught her that she didn’t need to hope for life to be better, she could make it so through force of will, she could claim what she deserved for herself.
Heather had told her that she was special .
The idea that someone as smart, as popular, and as beautiful as Heather thought that she was special had been intoxicating at the time… it still was, even as that allure was tainted by her hate. That tantalizing lure had made it all too easy to cast aside what she knew, to cast aside the warmth that Martha brought alongside the weakness and doubt, as she chased the ever elusive independence that Heather had presented her with.
She’d never stopped to consider the idea that the most alluring bait might have hidden the most vicious hook, that those captivating red lips might have whispered nothing but lies and platitudes as they lured her into Heather’s thrall. That realization had only come once she was firmly under Heather’s yoke, having come far too far to ever consider turning back.
It was only then that she had registered the truth: she had traded a friend for yet another master.
The parallels to her… misstep with Veronica had become apparent in an unfortunate bout of extended self reflection, her miserable deliberation having led her to consider the parallels between the two situations.
If she were to indulge in excessive metaphor, something that she felt rather entitled to at this point, it seemed as though she had once more found herself within that turbulent and terrifying ocean of powerlessness and uncertainty. The small raft she’d found herself upon wasn’t particularly sturdy or safe and her place upon it was predicated by her ability to beat off the unfortunate souls who sought to share her shelter, her heart once more hardening to the pain of existence as she did what she had to do to keep her head above the water. The weight of exhaustion had become unbearable, the planks beneath her slick from rain, and the hands grabbing at her stronger than ever: she’d fought on but her position was unsteady and failing under the onslaught.
Veronica’s arrival in her life had been akin to that of a lighthouse perched atop a rocky island, the land providing her with a reprieve from the swaying sea and the freezing storm. She’d been granted an opportunity to dry herself and rest. She’d been granted a chance to repair her raft and herself, to stand with the support of another despite her years of isolation, and she’d found herself reveling in it.
The heat of the crackling hearth had sparked a similar fire within her heart, one that had rapidly spread to consume her as she found herself consumed by the idea of something more. It was that same fire that had raged out of control, burning that wondrous lighthouse to the ground.
Veronica had held her up when her strength started to flag and had provided a font of kindness when she felt nothing but weak.
Veronica had offered words of encouragement when her dark thoughts had begun to consume her.
Veronica had provided the companionship that she had so desperately craved, even if she hadn’t been able to admit it to herself.
Veronica had thought that she was special , that she was worth something , that she deserved better .
Her failure, that great fire that she had unleashed, had come about only as a result of her unceasing desire for more . She had been blinded by the idea of an even brighter future, one that might present not a relief from her troubles but an escape from them. She had been enchanted by the idea that there could be something even more than the friendship that she had so eagerly luxuriated in, her temptation leading her to ruin as she chased her passions without consideration for the reality of the situation. She had fallen prey to those same desires that had led her to Heather so long ago, Veronica’s presence having been just as enticing as Heather’s murmured promises and light touches.
Her ambition to claim something more, her insistence on steering her fate despite her clear inability to do, had always seen her claiming nought but ruin for herself. It had inspired her to demolish her relationship with Martha and sent her plunging into Heather’s embrace. It was what had driven her to resist Heather’s advice and directions, forcing the other girl to cut her down to level. It was what had driven her to… to… kiss Veronica, to chase that insane thought of there being something more than friendship there.
In the face of such a consistent track record of failure, it seemed the height of foolishness to refuse the far less painful and complex path of simple submission: it would be so easy to simply accept the facts of her condition and status, to accept that she was only fit to be a follower that served at the whims of someone more suitable. She clearly wasn’t capable of governing herself, she just wasn’t able to fully accept that yet.
The idiocy of defiance had claimed her on several occasions though it held little allure anymore: now that she’d identified the common thread in her previous catastrophes, it seemed pointless to consider that kind of action anymore. Still…
There was something different here.
She could recognize the mistake she had made here just as well as she had with her others.
It simply hadn’t lost its allure, that shiny quality that had led her to brush her lips across Veronica’s in that moment of insanity. Those sentiments and urges still lurked inside of her, creeping to the forefront whenever the girl came to mind: it seemed as though that simple kiss had unleashed something within her, leaving her unable to dismiss those thoughts now that they had been allowed to manifest in the real world.
She had little intention of returning to that pitiful existence she had carried forward before the arrival of Veronica in her life. Even if she had to accept that her reprieve with Veronica had been a temporary affair, there was nothing to say that it couldn’t be resumed, even if she knew that it couldn’t truly last, the thoughts that plagued her consciousness making a repeat of her blunder all too likely. But… that fire Veronica had lit within her had also served to reinvigorate the dying embers of hope that she had left untended for far too long, the small but inspiring flicker they carried giving her the confidence to dream of a world where Veronica might be willing to look past what she had done, where she might be willing to ignore Heather’s actions on that moonlight hill and simply pick up where they had left off.
It was that small spot of hope that had led to her decision to not engage with the girl until she was certain that she could effectively communicate her apologies: her initial state of despair and confusion had put her in a position where she wouldn't have been able to communicate her regret in a dignified manner. She had been distraught then, unable to see past the thick fog of her former failures and struggling to conceive of a way back from the precipice that she had found herself teetering over.
As she had established so many times before, Veronica was a good person and most decidedly a far better person than her: if there was anyone that might have been able to look past her misplaced rapacity, it would be her. She knew that a settlement with Veronica would likely be a temporary measure given her apparent inability to restrain her desires, that she would likely once more ruin things with her own ambition, but the idea of losing the relationship was far too much to bear. Even if she would almost certainly find herself in this same position of vulnerability months or years down the line, she couldn’t bear the thought of what might happen were she to fail in her attempt to bridge this gap.
In her darker moments, she had considered that eventuality. The thoughts hadn’t been pretty ones.
Duke hadn’t survived as long as she had through passivity or kindness: she had kept her position because she was the most willing and capable of smashing down those that might challenge her for it. She held the rare ability to hold back the baying hounds of Westerburg, to beat back challengers like Courtney before they had a chance to make a play that might actually threaten her. In those worst moments, she had found herself considering the existential threat that Veronica posed were she inclined to share what Heather had done: it made it all the more imperative that her silence be secured, even if she was unwilling to resume the relationship that they had held before.
Yes, securing her silence would be paramount: there were few things that could ruin someone so completely as the… proclivities she had displayed to Veronica. It rubbed her the wrong way to consider Veronica in this kind of context. While she’d traditionally found herself both relishing and hating her duties in ruining those around her, she could feel nothing but dread when it came to the consideration of Veronica in that context.
Her response in this situation had always been one of striking early and hard: she’d always remembered what she had read of the logical problem presented by the prisoner’s dilemma. In a situation where two parties have no loyalty to one another, it is always better to defect for one’s own benefit at the expense of the other lest they do the same. She had never been one to assume the better nature of her opponents, something that had kept her safe over the years as she struck quickly and without mercy, discrediting and denigerating potential rivals before they had the opportunity to strike against her, something that had allowed her to nullify the threat that they posed by virtue of their preemptive removal.
With anyone else, she wouldn’t have hesitated.
With Veronica?
She instead found herself rehearsing the request that she intended to make in her head, struggling to find some kind of way to voice the appeal she hadn’t even decided the nature of yet.
It was maddening.
But Veronica made it worth the effort.
She had to move forward somehow.
Even if that movement was a stumble.