"i'm just trying to help you! at least save some broken remnants of your innocence!"
"my innocence? oh god dad, that's long gone!"
or
in which mercy mikaelson is dealing with all the things that make growing up so hard.
{season 5}
{book 2}
compl...
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| farewell (n): an act of parting or of marking someone's departure |
"ARE YOU ACTUALLY INSANE?"
Mercy tried to ignore the pain in her arm as Tokala harshly dragged her into the Abattoir. Luckily, it didn't sound like anyone was home, still celebrating Freya's wedding. It was good, especially since Mercy didn't want any of her family to know what she just did, what she just agreed to give up.
Mercy didn't want to leave. She didn't want to say goodbye to New Orleans, not yet, not when she was just starting to like it again. After years of hating everything to do with her hometown, she finally grew to notice the more beautiful and amazing details of it—only to have to forget it all. But this was a sacrifice that she needed to make, if not for herself and her own peace, then surely for the wolves, for her sister. Hope won't be hunted like Mercy was, not if she could help it.
But Tokala—and the First Powers—weren't seeing it that way.
The boy finally released her roughly, and Mercy nearly stumbled. She righted herself and whirled toward him, but he was already so close to her. Instead of the burning want and desire she had felt with this closeness before, all she felt from him was pure rage.
"You can't seriously agree to this, Mercy," Tokala hissed, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. Mercy felt the same, because couldn't he see that she wouldn't do this if she didn't think it was necessary? Why couldn't he see what she was seeing? "You can't give up your throne, not when you just brought the wolves together—"
"I can, and I will," Mercy replied, setting her jaw. "End of story."
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her and spun her around again, keeping her still. "Don't walk away from me," he muttered coldly. His blue eyes could've frozen her in place with the ice in his veins, making her shiver in a completely different way than before. "What? You think this will make them stop hunting you? That this will keep them all away?"
"Maybe it will," Mercy bit back, trying to escape his grasp again. His nails dug in further at her rebellion.
"I promise you, it won't," he said, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Leaving New Orleans—that I can understand, but giving up your title, your throne?" He scoffed, shaking her to the point that she actually started to fear what he could do. Never before had she felt this with Tokala, and it was making her realize that she didn't really know him at all—not like the way he knew her.
"It's my title and my throne to give up, not yours," Mercy snapped. She tried a different approach, and instead of pulling away, she pushed his chest. He let her go, his eyes still a hot burning fire, but Mercy returned it with just as much heat. "Don't forget, Tokala. Yes, I am the Queen, which means that you are still my subject," she hissed coldly, raising her chin. "This decision is mine to make, and you need to understand that your decisions aren't automatically mine too."
