[b]Princess Redana![/b]

The Lethe washed away many things. For her, it washed away fear, pain, regret and doubt. She drank of it greedily and deeply, downing mouthful after mouthful of that cool water until only her hopes and aspirations were left. She wished she could be a Princess and perform her role perfectly. She wished she could sacrifice so that those she cared about would be safe. And, somewhere a few ribs below her heart, she'd had a very quiet and hungry wish that somebody would remember what she'd said carelessly and jokingly and not let her squirm her way out of it.

It bubbled up from inside her. An emotion that was completely incompatible with being Princess Redana Nero. The desire that someone would want to take [i]revenge [/i]on [i]her[/i]. That all of her teasing, poking, prodding and skirting around the line might somehow mean that when the assassin came for her, they were coming for [i]her [/i]and not the person she was impersonating. It was a perversion, a kink, an entirely unacceptable vanity to imagine that the death she was programmed to yearn for might be because of who [i]she [/i]was. And of all the wants in her head, that was the one desire that split her from her mask.

"You won't get away with this, Praetor," she said, holding up the words, the bait - just in case. Maybe you're just confused? "I'll escape, just like I always do," she knew exactly how hollow that sounded over the tearing sound of her dress. "And - and when I do - you'll..." words jumbled in her mouth; the scripts she's following no longer aligning.