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Elizabeth wakes up to a cold sweat. Frost crawls up her skin like vine growth, and she sees again the moment of her death. She wishes she was dead. She still doesn’t think she deserves to live. She shivers, teeth chattering. Even then, she shuffles away from the warmth of the other in the bed. It gets colder, but she decides that she can live with that cold.
She wakes up again to the smell of bacon in a pan. The sizzle smells like ash, and she has to hold on to the bedframe to avoid collapse. It reminds her of fire, of the burning flame, and of herself–or what she used to be.
Elizabeth looks at the mirror. Her eyes are bloodshot. It reminds her of the scarlet she once proudly spilled. She looks significantly weaker, nothing like what was. Her face is pale– none of the red that used to grace her features are there. The colour has faded. She can’t look at herself anymore. Is she still Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame, the Once feared Scarlet Governor? No. She is her no longer.
Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame is dead. She has gone away with that shot in the station long ago. What is left is merely a shell. Cinders to a once bright and blazing flame, a semblance of what once was, a shadow. She hopes she can leave that name behind.
She feels ice grow into her body, and she shivers. She looks away from the mirror. That’s not her.
Nerissa comes back to Elizabeth burying herself into the sheets, and by the Gods, this place is burning. She clumsily clambers onto the bed, putting the breakfast tray aside. She holds Elizabeth steady, hands on either side of her shoulders. She hopes it grounds her.
Elizabeth scrambles closer to Nerissa, as if by instinct, and she lays her head on the crook of her partner’s neck. It gives her some semblance of comfort. She settles, feeling the warmth seep into her skin. It doesn’t melt the ice in her blood, but it staves off the cold.
“Liz?” Nerissa asks, tentative. “Are you okay?”
“No.” Elizabeth answers, weak and shaky. “I don’t feel like myself.”
“It takes time to come back, it’s okay–”
“No. No. It’s not like that. I don’t want to go back.” Elizabeth croaks. Her voice cracks, and Nerissa almost flinches.
“I’m not her. I’m not the Scarlet Governor anymore. I don’t want to be her anymore.”
Elizabeth laughs weakly, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. She feels like passing out. “I don’t know what I am, Nerissa.”
Nerissa presses her lips into a thin line. She doesn’t know what to say. She feels herself crack, and it takes every ounce of herself to steel her heart. She can’t bear to see her love like this. She wants to rip a man’s throat out and see him bleed out on the floor. Anger bubbles from the deepest recesses of her chest, and she feels her jaw clench.
She traces a finger from Elizabeth’s shoulder, up the neck, and across the cheek. She does it as softly as she can, as if afraid that her love would break apart into pieces with too much pressure. She heaves a breath in.
“You should eat something.” She says, voice full of love and pity. She pushes the tray closer. “I’ll be back for you, I promise.”
Nerissa comes back that night drenched in red. Her body is painted in Scarlet from head to toe, and ichor drips onto the floor from the end of her coat. Elizabeth’s coat.
Ice grows into her skin, and Elizabeth feels her vision swim. All she can see is red, red, red. She falls onto the floor, stupefied, as her eyes cloud and horrific apparitions flash through her brain. Suddenly, she’s one of the many, many people she’s forcibly ripped the life out of. Elizabeth freezes over, grasping at her own arms and her teeth chatters. It’s so, so cold. She shudders as her breath grows shallower by the second, and her vision turns black.
Nerissa sees her love collapse into the floor. Her heart drops. No no no no- Liz- and she runs, drifting onto the ground. She doesn’t care if her knees smear red. Her mind kicks into overdrive. Nerissa checks for a pulse, pressing her fingers onto neck. The red stains the porcelain skin. She feels the faint beat– Good, it’s there, and with a burst of strength, Nerissa scoops her love up, hobbling over to the other room.
Elizabeth stirs in the middle of a sofa, a blanket– weighted, draped over her body. She spots the flecks of red in the corners, and she folds those ends away. She hears running water, and she wills herself to get up as the shadows of her past fade along the corner of her eyes. She cranks open the handle to the bathroom. Steam fills her vision, and amidst the mist and heat she sees Nerissa. Red runs down her now-scarred back– that wasn’t there before– and pools at the bottom of her feet. The colour spreads across the liquid like a disease, and Elizabeth feels her jaw lock.
“Darling?”
Elizabeth feels her feet move, and suddenly she’s right behind Nerissa, tracing a cold finger down scarred ends. The blood doesn’t seem to even matter anymore, and it runs right out of her vision. She feels something flicker deep in her chest, like a spark to a fire, and it thaws off some of the frost embedded in her skin. Her finger stops at one particular scar on the end of her shoulder, spreading over her skin like a sundial. Gunshot wound. It’s faded and pale. Elizabeth presses against the corners of that skin-printed sun, gazing into wine red. A silent question that Nerissa understands.
“I got that when I was running from the station. Tried to leave with you. Couldn’t, had to break through the back door, got shot when I jumped in a car.” Nerissa hums, nonchalant. “It’s been a long time.”
Elizabeth could just see the red running down the wound, spreading into the leather of the car seat. She’s grateful Nerissa is alive, even after everything. In front of her is a woman who would kill and maim and die for her. Her blood runs a little colder at the thought. She feels air fill her lungs, and she exhales.
Nerissa laughs, sending ripples across skin, and Elizabeth feels it rumble into her arm.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head over that, darling. I’m still here, and that’s what matters.”
Suddenly, Elizabeth is plagued with the harrowing vision of Death. She sees Nerissa crumple to the floor, scarlet spreading across the floor, a gaping wound drilled into the side of her head. She feels her blood boil, and she raises her gun and shoots, round after round after round, into officers’ heads as fire blazes under her hands. She doesn’t even register the silhouette of her supposed killer, a mop of light green falling onto the ground as crimson bleeds into skin.
The sloshing of stained water snaps her out of trance, and she hears the muffled creak of a shower knob. She’s suddenly cold again. Nerissa turns, and Elizabeth feels a soft pair of hands press onto the side of her arms. Nerissa leaves a soft kiss on her forehead, and she feels it burn.
Elizabeth gets her first taste of murder after a long, long time. They’re in a mansion. She vaguely remembers that it belonged to some old corrupt cabinet member. She feels frost creep into her skin, and she hunches over as her vision grows glassy. She realises with much difficulty that she’s crying. Smoke billows out of the gun in her hands, and she feels herself shake. She’s never felt like this before. The metal of the gun is frigid, and cold grows into her fingers. She coughs weakly. Has killing always been this hard?
Nerissa feels her eyes narrow. Her vision cracks like glass, and Elizabeth doesn’t seem like Elizabeth anymore. Instead, Nerissa sees herself, what she was, what she used to be, cowering and shaking, among the hollow gaps.
She exhales, slowly walking over to Elizabeth. Nerissa brings Elizabeth’s hands into her own, in hopes that warmth will bloom from inside her palms. Slowly, the shake disappears. Elizabeth pants raggedly.
“Elizabeth.” Nerissa says, with much gravity. She presses a hand onto Elizabeth’s shoulder, and she feels her darling relax into her touch. She takes the opportunity to snatch the gun away. “It’s fine.”
Elizabeth looks at her hands. Red fills her vision, and the acrid smell of fresh blood on the floor hits her nose like a sledgehammer. She almost retches, and she’s immensely grateful for the soft yet firm hands that held her steady and grounded to the earth. She groans, biting cold filling her senses.
Nerissa pulls her into a hug. She hopes the ice melts. Elizabeth burrows closer into her partner, and her skin burns like fire. Nerissa feels hands, once steady, now shaking, slide into place within the small of her back. For once, she thanks her experience for not getting blood on her dress.
“You will relearn with time. That shake in your hands will stop.”
You have once given so much for me. Now, it is my time to give it back.
Nerissa kisses porcelain skin, chaste and short, and it lights fire along Elizabeth’s body. She moves, bringing her darling with her to the door. The body lay forgotten on the floor, blood freezing over the cracks in the floorboards.
Elizabeth walks into the comfort of their shared bedroom, one day. Nerissa is off hanging the clothing outside. She spots her– their– no. Nerissa’s revolver on the table. It's engraved with both their colours, and she takes note of how the red gleams against the metal. The scarlet is bright, but faded at the ends. It’s well-used. Elizabeth feels rime grow along her arms, and she freezes in place.
Immediately, the nightmarish phantoms of her past plague her mind, and her vision blurs.
She sees herself– no, she sees the Scarlet Governor, shooting down man after man, a calculating smile plastered onto her face. The red on the gun glows Scarlet, and crimson pours onto the ground like a broken dam. The colour sends Elizabeth reeling. Ice seeps into her neck, and it takes all of her effort to tear herself away from the table. She clambers towards the heater and cranks the knob to the max, and warmth radiates into the air. It’s still not enough. Elizabeth shivers, pulling the blanket over.
Nerissa comes back to a huddled mess on the floor. The room is as hot as a house on fire, and Nerissa feels herself sweat. She hobbles over to Elizabeth, who is shaking violently despite being wrapped in the safety of her blanket. Nerissa slowly presses a hand on her love’s arm and Oh, Gods, she’s freezing. She scoops up Elizabeth into her arms, and softly lays her on their shared bed.
Elizabeth feels a feather-light kiss on her temple, and she vaguely registers a heavy, warm blanket being pulled over. It staves off some of the cold.
Nerissa smiles softly, tracing a warm hand over the jawline, and it lingers on the cheek before she lets go. It’s alright, I’m here. I’ll always catch you in my arms.
Elizabeth hums. The touch sends fire into her veins. The red fades off the corners of her vision, and she drifts off to sleep.
Murder comes again, this time in the staircase to a courthouse. Shots fire across the air, and Elizabeth feels her ears ring. She lunges at a man, cutting a line across his neck, and she watches as he crumples into the floor. The red sprays onto her dress, and she almost retches from the colour. A bullet whizzes right past her ear, and adrenaline rushes into her veins like a bat to the head. Her vision clouds over as she feels herself keel over and suddenly she’s back at the station, bleeding out on the floor and all she sees is the velvet carpet and–
Someone catches her before she falls onto the ground. Elizabeth barely registers a gloved arm and her– what used to be her maroon jacket at the edges of her eyes. She hears a gunshot, and then comes quiet. The man falls into the floor, red bleeding into the carpet from the wound in his head.
Elizabeth reels from the red. She holds onto the railing for dear life, feeling her dinner spill onto the floor. Her head spins. Footsteps approach– that’s not Nerissa– and instinct kicks into her bloodstream. She raises her knife and spins over, gutting the last man in the stomach. The blood stains her face, and she almost loses herself to the apparitions again. Elizabeth stumbles over, her arm colliding against the wall. She groans. Gods, she’s gotten rusty.
Nerissa runs over, stepping over the blood and the bodies. She’s stained in red herself, and something inside Elizabeth tells her that she thinks that’s a striking colour, that it’s beautiful. Nerissa looks gorgeous in red. The nausea hits her a moment later and she hunches over, feeling the blood rush over to her head and– Before she can disassociate yet again, strong hands snake across her back and steadies her. She pants raggedly, coughing dryly, and the knife clatters onto the floor, forgotten.
Elizabeth wakes up to the sound of something scraping against wood. Her instincts kick in, and she jumps out of bed, knife in hand. She glances at the time– 05:52 AM, and her eyes dart in the direction of the sound– it’s just Nerissa. Never mind.
She chucks the knife, now sheathed, onto the bed, and she creeps towards Nerissa, tiptoeing across the carpet floor. Nerissa hums a song nondescript as she fiddles with the wood scalpel, carving into a slab of oak. Elizabeth smiles a little. She’s happy her love has found something. Something other than murder to love, something to want for herself. Nerissa is learning, even without her, and Elizabeth feels her heart grow warm from the feeling. Perhaps, the ice in her skin isn’t permafrost, after all.
The scraping stops, and Elizabeth feels herself being pulled into the chair. Nerissa presses a kiss onto the crown of her head, and heat spreads into her hands like a melting glacier. The wood scalpel is put in her palms, and she feels Nerissa guide her to the wooden slab. The wood chips off under the knife, and Elizabeth feels herself lift when red doesn’t bleed from the cut. Nerissa laughs, and it spreads into her skin like a heated inferno.
They end up creating a bird carving. It’s small, and rough at the edges. It’s a very amateur piece. Jagged splinters line the tail end, and Nerissa smooths it off. It is, so to say, imperfect. Elizabeth lets out a heavy breath.
“It’s cute,” Nerissa says. “A lovely piece, if I do say so myself.”
“How?” Elizabeth replies, before she can stop herself. “It looks messy.”
Her sweetheart laughs again, and it’s soft against her cold, dead hands.
“Elizabeth, darling, there is beauty in imperfection. I don’t mind its flaws, especially when it gives me something more precious than anything material can give.”
Nerissa kisses her again, chaste and sweet, and Elizabeth feels the frigid rime in her skin melt into clear water. She hopes spring comes faster.
“It gave me you. Why could I not be happier?”
Elizabeth feels her breath disappear from inside her lungs. Nerissa smiles, glowing against the dim morning light, and it’s like she’s the guardian angel that she’s been praying to all her life. The embers in her empty heart rekindle, sparks flying from the ashes. She feels the fire relight from inside her chest, and it glows a warm blue.
It’s fine, she decides, it’s okay to be flawed. She’ll learn as she goes. She knows she’s not the Scarlet Governor, but she can’t stay weak and cold anymore. She needs to keep burning, harder, brighter, until she blazes into a brilliant inferno. The ice melts away, and finally, finally, she’s human again. She feels alive for the first time after what feels like an eternity in hell. It is finally spring.
They find themselves behind an oil factory, this time. They’re surrounded by men, equipped with guns and axes. Elizabeth holds in a breath, sparing a glance at Nerissa, who winks. She holds out three fingers– a telltale signal. We go at the count of three, Elizabeth remembers. A gun clicks, and they kick into action.
Bullets whizz past Elizabeth, and she steps away like a dancer in a ballroom. She moves, grabbing the man’s neck, and slits his neck. The red spills onto her face, onto her dress, and she inhales deeply. It doesn’t bother her as much anymore. She spins, throwing her knife into another man’s chest, and Nerissa shoots him in his head. Elizabeth ducks, snatching a gun from the floor– ah, there’s that familiar weight– and shoots three men, all on the chest. She’s getting used to it. They crumple to the ground, and Elizabeth seizes their fire for herself. With time, all of them fall, one after another, against the concrete, and crimson spreads onto the ground. The red washes against Elizabeth’s heels like waves against the sand, and she hums, nonchalant. She catches the knife headed her way.
Nerissa smiles, tracing a line across her partner’s shoulder, and down past the small curve of her arms, and takes her hands into her own. She’s covered in red, too. It spreads across her chest like freshly bloomed flowers. Elizabeth finds that she doesn’t mind.
“Are you okay, love?” Nerissa says, and Elizabeth titters lightly. She nuzzles against her sweetheart’s cheek, and red smears onto her like brush paint. Colour seeps into the cavity in her heart, and she feels herself come alive, in every sense of the word.
“Yes, I’m quite alright, my dear raven. Don’t you worry.”
Something has changed within her. It’s no longer the same. Elizabeth finds herself at crossroads. On one side, there is a road stained in red. It ends at one point, and she sees the blood trail off the path. On the other, it’s a much cleaner path. There are still flecks of red dotted over the ground, like crimson snow. The end is shrouded in fog. Her eyes glow, resolute, and she steps onto the misty path, walking headfirst into the unknown.
Nerissa hands back the maroon coat to Elizabeth, one day.
“Here,” she says, putting the neatly-folded coat into Elizabeth’s arms. Immediately, a familiar weight drops into her hands. “I’ll give it back.”
The feeling isn’t foreign to her, and it’s like she’s met an old friend. The maroon colour glows against the evening sun, and Elizabeth laughs.
“You didn’t have to.”
Nerissa hums. “I felt like I had to. It was yours to begin with– I just took your mantle for a while.”
Elizabeth puts the coat around her shoulders, and a familiar weight settles into her shoulders. Suddenly, she’s better. Heat spreads into her like warm hearthfire, and she feels like she’s never left.
They break into another police station. Elizabeth clenches her jaw, knifing an officer down. He falls limp, red spreading from the wound in his chest. She steps over his body and runs forward towards Nerissa, who shoots another two men down. She watches as crimson spatters onto Nerissa’s dress. It looks like sparkling wine. They run into a room, shooting another four men down. Elizabeth feels her breath grow heavy– It’s just like last time.
The door splinters open, and Officer Ceres strides in, gun pointed straight at Elizabeth’s head. Nerissa feels her teeth bare, red bleeding into her vision. She raises her gun faster than ever before, and she pulls the trigger. Adrenaline rushes into Elizabeth’s veins like lightning and she reacts with haste, pushing Nerissa’s arm just a little to the side. The bullet drives into the officer’s clavicle, and she falls, sliding against the floor.
Nerissa growls, raw and primal. Her head snaps in Elizabeth’s direction, staring daggers into scarlet orbs.
“Why–”
“Nerissa–”
Ceres groans from her spot at the floor, gun clattering to the side. Nerissa’s head snaps back in a millisecond, and in a manic haze she puts her finger on the trigger. Elizabeth jumps in, electricity crackling into her hands as she grabs the gun with surprising strength. They grapple and wrestle for the revolver, hands on each other in a frenzy. Nerissa pushes into a shoulder. Elizabeth snarls, nails digging into fabric. They growl and scream and choke at one another, grasping at each other’s necks like feral beasts. However, Elizabeth has always been the stronger one. She seizes Nerissa’s choker and pulls, feeling the other groan as the force hits her neck. Nerissa feels her arm grow limp, and it falls to the side. She pants, and suddenly she’s looking at a fierce lionbeast with blazing fire for a heart.
Nerissa huffs raggedly, putting her finger on the trigger. She wants so badly to shoot, but she feels a hand on her shoulder and she stops, lifting her finger off after prolonged hesitance.
Elizabeth shakes her head. She looks right into Nerissa, eyes resolute.
“That's enough.” She says, final. “No more.”
Nerissa wants to resist. She grits her teeth, gripping at the revolver like it’s her only lifeline. “But- That's Ceres Fauna- She almost killed you-”
“No. That's enough. She doesn't deserve that death.”
Nerissa feels her blood boil, and bile rushes up her throat. She burns, hatred running across her body like wildfire. Her eyes narrow, and she feels her jaw click.
“She almost killed you, Liz, I need her dead. She hurt you. You could've died-”
“But I didn't. I did not die. I'm still here. I’m alive. So she shouldn't, too. Do you understand, Nerissa? I kill when I want to, I spill blood when I want, but I don't kill in blind revenge.”
Nerissa lets out a shaky breath, and she feels herself grow weaker by the second. She still doesn't understand where Elizabeth is coming from. Why do you not want her gone?
“You might not want her dead, but I do. Liz, I don't know whether she's going to come for you again and I would rather live with the blood of an officer in my hands then see you bleed out on the floor again.” She croaks, trembling and weak. The gun shakes in between her hands, and she chokes out something between a scream and a sob. “You don’t understand, Elizabeth. I need to kill her.”
She feels like she's the Nerissa that didn't know how to kill again, that Nerissa that followed Elizabeth- The Scarlet Governor like a lost puppy. The Nerissa that shook at the sight of blood, the Nerissa that didn’t know how to want for herself. She's not her anymore. She’s not that Nerissa anymore. She's long become Nerissa Ravencroft, the woman that knows what she wants, the woman that has learnt to kill like an art, the woman who is the Governor's one and only equal. However, at this very moment, she feels small again, weak again, lost again. She has to use every ounce of her willpower to not crack like the glass strewn all over the carpet.
Elizabeth feels herself steel, too. The fire crackles inside her chest cavity. Just for a moment, she feels like her old self again. She realises, with surprising ease and blinding clarity, that she won't ever escape her own bloody legacy. She hums. That’s fine. She has changed greatly, and she makes peace with that fact, feeling her hold on her knife grow steadier. She stands upright, resolute. She inhales deeply. I'll find my way.
She softens, moving a warm finger down the edges of Nerissa’s shoulders, down across her scarred arm, and stops at her calloused hands. She intertwines her fingers with Nerissa's, and it feels perfect. Like the old times, that feeling has never changed. The heat spreads into her like blooming wildflowers. She smiles a little.
“Nerissa. Nerissa, my dearest, most sweetest raven. I will go if I need to. We cannot run from Death forever. If I was shot dead, let me bleed. But I will live for you. I will stay alive for you. So you mustn't die, too. We don't need anyone else to die. Officer Ceres doesn’t have to die.”
Nerissa feels her throat constrict, at a loss of words. She takes a deep breath, focusing on the feeling of her hands against Elizabeth's. She exhales, and her breath wavers. Her anger fades a little. She listens.
“You once told me to live for you, if I couldn't live for myself. That goes for you, too. If you can't live for yourself, do it for me.”
Nerissa sobs, grasping at a stained collar. “I would kill for you, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth smiles feebly. She presses a hand against a hunched back. “I know. But I would rather you live for me. Do you understand? You have so much to live for.”
Wet tears drop like rain against Elizabeth’s shoulders, and she pulls Nerissa closer. Red smears and mixes into her but it doesn’t hurt her. Her heart glows with heat not unpleasant, and she hopes it spreads into her love, too. There are too many words left unsaid. They decide to leave it that way. Frost may cling onto the petals of a rose in a cold, frigid winter, but it will melt with the passage of time. Spring will come, and flowers will bloom from the ashes.
Elizabeth has warmed over. She’s been cold for what feels like a hundred thousand years, and what she thought was permafrost has finally melted over her shoulders. She hums, looking outside the window. The street lights glimmer under the black cloak of night, and the snow melts under the surge of spring heat. She feels hands snake around her waist, and she laughs, turning towards the love of her life.
Nerissa grins childishly, pulling Elizabeth to the bed. They both fall onto the plush cotton, and they giggle into each other’s necks. Warmth envelops Elizabeth as Nerissa pulls her close, flush against the crook of her shoulder. The two glasses of warm water Nerissa had boiled just a minute ago lay forgotten on the nightstand.
Elizabeth brushes a stray hair off Nerissa’s face. Her sweetheart hums, chuckling lightly.
“You’ve changed.”
“I have.” Elizabeth replies simply. “Do you still love me?”
Nerissa titters off, and Elizabeth feels the sound seep into the bedsheets. It’s such a simple question.
“Yes.”
“Do you still love me? Despite my change of heart?” Elizabeth presses on. She feels herself sink into the bed as if it was quicksand. She sighs. “I’m not who I was before. I’m no longer the Scarlet Governor. I don’t kill like that anymore. I don’t think like that anymore. Even after that all, would you still love me?”
Nerissa laughs. She presses a warm palm onto her love’s forehead. “Yes, of course. I loved Elizabeth, not the Scarlet Governor. You changed. I changed, too. But we’re still together, in the end, despite all odds.”
Elizabeth chuckles. She holds that warm hand like it’s everything she’s ever dreamed of.
“I dreamt of a world where you died, my love. You never survived. I had to pick up the broken pieces. I don’t think I would have lived if I was her.” Nerissa presses her lips onto a thin line, and emotion leaks out of her skin like red hot magma. She laughs weakly. “I’m glad you're alive.”
Elizabeth kisses the hand she’s holding with careful reverence, hoping the fire seeps into skin, and that flowers bloom from inside the fire. “I’m glad you are, too.”
“You’re still Elizabeth Rose Bloodflame to me, my rose. I’ve never seen you as the Scarlet Governor. I’ve never thought of you as a cold murderer who could kill with the grace of a painter, no. I’ve seen you struggle with yourself for so long, to make peace with yourself. I thought it would go back to how it was when I broke you out. It didn’t. It didn’t and I don’t mind that at all.”
Elizabeth feels her eyes narrow in confusion. What? Nerissa giggles sweetly, tracing circles into her darling’s arm like a prayer.
“I fell in love with the deepest, rawest part of yourself, not whatever facade you chose to put on. We have loved each other at our worst, I would like to believe, and we may have cracked into pieces, but we can still love, as broken and bruised and hurt as we are, can’t we?” Nerissa says quietly. “I don’t care if you have blood on your hands or whatever. We’ve gone too far off the end, anyway. I don’t care if you’re not the person you used to be. The Elizabeth I love has never left.”
Elizabeth chokes out something, and if Nerissa didn’t know any better, she would’ve thought it was a sob. Nerissa presses a kiss into her forehead, her cheek, the bridge of her nose, the corner of her lips. She kisses the tears away, and warmth seeps into Elizabeth’s skin like searing flames. She feels flowers grow across the empty spot in her chest, like spring bloom after a long, chilling, bitter winter. Enough time has passed, and the frost melts.
“You still love me, my raven?”
“Yes, my rose. I love you with my life.”