"Ah! There you two are!"

All in all, the lunch went smoothly.

Caitlyn and Lyra returned to their seats just in time for the desserts to be brought out and replied to questions about their whereabouts with a simple apology. Something about the weather and sights being unusually lovely.

The matriarch gave them a chastising look for their tardiness, but moved on without further questions. After all, she knew of Caitlyn's favouritisms of the Dean's adopted daughter, and was always more keen on condoning their shenanigans. It was worth it, to see a brighter smile on her little girl's face.

The chatter returned to nothing short than amicable, the atmosphere morphing into warm and welcoming once more.

Lyra seemed more relaxed now, something Jayce noticed when he snuck a glance at her upon her return. She sat, ever straight and cordial, eating her tiramisu while sharing fitted laughs and quips.

He knew her not to be as keen on sweets. So it was surprising to see her champing on the dessert with delighted gusto. It meant she felt better, sure, but something didn't sit quite right, and he eyed her cautiously now and again through fleeting glances.

A coffee and a few polite conversations later, the two students were standing outside the estate, shaking hands with the generous hosts.

Encouraging words were exchanged, wishes of luck with their studies, and Lyra received affectionate embraces from the two older Kirammans which she returned in kind. They also did not fail to deliver her worried encouragements to get appropriate rest and nutrition. She chuckled at those politely and promised, as she always did, to abide by their words.

Of course, she received pointed, scolding looks straight after.

"We're serious, Lyra." The two parents hissed, and all the girl could do was smile with light embarrassment, fighting the urge not to cower under their strict parental looks.

When Jayce moved to say his own goodbyes, shaking hands with the two elders and expressing how especially grateful he was for the fish tartare, Lyra crouched down to meet Caitlyn into a soul-crushing embrace.

"I'll see you next weekend, okay?" She muttered to the little girl, who nodded feverishly into the jacket draped over her shoulders.

"I'll let you know about my latest reads."

The student pulled back giving Caitlyn a wide smile.

"And, since you're all grown up now, feel free to drop by the lab whenever you like. Both his and mine." Lyra gestured to Jayce with a playful glare.

The boy beamed brighter, promptly whipping around at the mention of his person. "Absolutely! Now that you're older, I'll feel less guilty using you for manual labour." He winked, and the little girl threw him a look which everyone couldn't help but laugh at.

With a final squeeze to Caitlyn's hand, Lyra stood and rejoined Jayce's side. Then, smiling gratefully at the girl's parents one last time, the two finally set off towards the intricate metal gates lining the estate.

Several waves and goodbyes were called from the family on the porch, and the two students reciprocated in kind, smiles stretched all the way across and up. By the time the Kirammans at last retreated into their estate, Jayce and Lyra had stepped beyond the silver gate and settled on walking down the cobblestone path in peaceful silence.

Or, well, Lyra was. Jayce's mind was racing down a few unpleasant train tracks, which he was struggling to ignore.

"That was some good food." He offered, his tone casual, as he straightened the lapels of his coat. "I'm feeling like one of your airships now."

Lyra snickered, shaking her head humorously. "You and your fish tartare."

"Everyone has a weakness."

She hummed.

He snuck a glance her way then, and his smile twitched at the corners. In truth, he was curious about his friend's state. The way she had left the dining room might not have seemed suspicious to most, but despite her better knowledge and wishful thinking, he knew her a lot better than she thought.

The way her face paled, the way her fingers shook almost invisibly. First the outburst in the lecture hall that morning, then this? It did not often happen that he saw her like that and he did not like it. He would be lying if he said he wasn't both worried and infinitely quizzical at both displays.

He peaked over at her, carefully.

Lyra was walking with her head lowered, eyes barely visible over the rim of her sunglasses. He could see a soft, fond smile playing at the corner of her lips, and that confused him further. It was rare sight which he did not want to disturb.

Still, what kind of a friend would he be if he didn't at least ask?

"You okay?" He blurted out, tactfully, attempting an offhanded approach. It came out a lot more mumbly than he wanted and he almost slapped himself right then and there. He didn't, only because that would have been infinitely more obvious.

To his luck, he observed that the girl didn't seem to catch on to his slip up. Lyra was too busy staring at the cobblestone beneath them, eyes lost beyond it.

"Yeah." She replied after a second, and Jayce was surprised to hear just how sincere her voice sounded.

"This was... surprisingly nice."

She wasn't lying. He could tell, she wasn't. So he did all he really could do — he nodded, and drew his gaze forward.

"Good."

The two walked on in silence.

Jayce mindlessly kicking about an ill-fortuned pebble with the top of his tailored shoe, Lyra drifting forward with her usual airiness, collected and passive.

It just seemed wrong, though.

Jayce knew Lyra did not much speak of her thoughts. And he never pressed her to do so, seeing as she seemed to like this quality about their friendship most. She had never been much of a talker, not even during their younger years. Still, he had come to care about her deeply. The girl was strange, and all of its synonyms combined. But she was like a sister to him, and he knew that what he saw in the dining room was an oddity too big, even for her character.

She sounded fine. She seemed fine. And very much unwilling to talk further, which he had to respect.

Sure, he was curious, but this strayed beyond any wish to satisfy any of his personal curiosity. He couldn't ask her again, he knew that, but he still wanted to make sure she was alright. How do you ask that to someone so categorically emotionally shut off?

The silence sat heavier on him now. While Lyra strolled with surprising ease, he tried to focus on the feeling of the afternoon Sun. On the chirping of birds, on the brimstone beneath their feet, on anything that wasn't the growing feeling of anxiety slowly taking root in his stomach. As a scientist, he didn't like not knowing. As her friend, he hated it even more.

It was past three and the light around them began to saturate, yellows shifting into oranges and reds as dusk rolled steadily in. Though the day had proved unusually warm, spring was still a long way from coming, and the wind in the air made sure to remind them just that.

As Lyra pressed on, she was surprised to find herself enjoying the Sun and current temperature. Quite the turn of the metaphorical table, considering her earlier irritation at the weather. Still, the wind was pleasant, and the day truly had taken a turn for the better.

In a shocking twist of fate, Lyra felt almost at peace.

Of course, she knew what Jayce meant by his question. After all, he had a way of being very rarely subtle where subtlety was required.

The truth of the matter was, she hadn't lied. She actually was, fine.Against all odds, the lunch had actually made her feel better. Lighter, maybe?

Now that the unpleasant bit had been permanently shoved off into a cobwebbed and dusty corner of her brain, she felt good. All she'd have, was a bright, lightly distorted memory of a warm afternoon. Of Jayce's implacable love for fish tartare, of Caitlyn's happiness at the gifts she was given, and of their chat on the balcony.

As for the bit in the middle? Why, she could barely truly recall it.

It came in handy to be able to trick one's own mind at times.

Still, the matter of Jayce bugged her.

She could feel anxiety coiling off him like water off a duck, and it was her fault that he was visibly rattled. Her fault that he now walked with clear unease. A concrete example of one of the consequences she had to live with.

The consequence of being painstakingly aware that her silence hurt those close to her, who truly worried about her well-being. Lying to him and Caitlyn about where she was from. Lying to Heimerdinger about her memories. She tried to convince herself that these were needed, methodical silences. But the way guilt feasted on her from within day after day made her increasingly more unsure of it as years rolled by.

Lyra knew she had to restore some sort of balance.

As she cast a hidden glance up at Jayce, she could visibly see the churning of his thoughts, the way the gears in his head turned and the crease astride his brow became deeper and deeper.

Lyra bit her at her cheek, in thought, looking forward once more.

Some sort of balance had to be restored.

"Oh, um, Jayce?"

He blinked at the sound of her voice, peaking at her curiously.

"Yeah?"

Her nail scrubbed mindlessly at her gloved palm and she blinked. A moment of silence passed. Before her shoulders dropped slowly, as she blew out a soft breath, shooting him a strained cantankerous look over the rim of her sunglasses.

"I ain't walking this time."

He blinked at her.

Processed what she said.

Then, despite himself, exploded in a loud, boisterous laugh.

She snickered at the display, and couldn't help but spill into chuckles when his hand came to clamper her rattling form on the shoulder. They stood there, giggling like children, Jayce's efforts more pronounced that her own. Still, when the sounds died down, the suffocation of hanging questions lifted, and they resumed to strolling onward towards the steamboat port a little more comfortably and a little more happily.

"Alright."

He knew she was okay now. And so, balance reigned once more.

||

"Did you have to salvate all over my new clothes?" Lyra huffed, dragging herself up the leading staircase of the Academy dormitory building. All the while, pointedly grimacing at the new wet patch that sat comfortably on the padded shoulder of her white jacket.

Jayce chuckled behind her, happily climbing up the stairs with his usual relaxed gait. "You could've just moved me."

"Oh, I tried! But you're built like a goddamn mountain." The younger student hissed, proceeding to stomp in through the main doors, mindlessly pushing them open.

They slung forwards and back with impressive speed, but Jayce effortlessly swerved out of their way before they could hit him square across the face. 

"Hey, you were the one who suggested it, when you know I black out on boats." He raised his hands in a nonchalant shrug, unable to hide his grin. "I don't know what you were expecting."

"Well, for starters, for the motor not to break." Lyra grumbled, starting her way up the stoned staircase inside. Her gloved hands worked skilfully to slip the long sleeved jacket off her shoulders, before her eyes skimmed across the fabric, assessing the damage. The young student couldn't help but groan in distaste. The patch was big and very, very wet.

Because bloody of course.

She flinched and jumped when an elbow jutted her square into the ribs, flared brown eyes flying to burn holes into the jogging Jayce beside her.

"Lucky you, an extra ten minutes in my presence."

She scoffed. "Forty minutes of you snoring into my ear sure is lucky."

"You're welcome."

He grinned all too brightly and she rolled her eyes at his cheery disposition, watching as he skidded by her all the way up to the top with impressive ease.

The staircase led to a long general hallway, tall portraits adorning the laminated walls all the way down both ends. The dormitory building was vast, and one of the many, entirely occupied by students of all years and departments. It so happened that when she decided to move into the dorms at the beginning of the scholastic year, despite her greater prayers, she had ended up sharing the building with her pain in the ass of a friend. She suspected Hemmerdinger's well-intentioned, parental hand had a play in this. Something about her 'needing friends'.

Because bloody of course. 

Lyra made a show to ignore the amused brow her friend raised at her slow pace, as she trudged up the stairs after him. She only deigning him with an unimpressed grimace once she fell into the spot in front of him, hands slowly working to fold the jacket over her forearm in a manner that screamed with her displeasure.

That only amused him further. He was hardly to blame that his oldest friend's annoyance was this entertaining.

"You off then?" He asked after a moment of trying to bite down a laugh.

While he lived in the right wing of the intimidatingly large building, Lyra's lab and quarters were located in the north-west area on the left of the hall.

Having her own section of the building to herself was something the older student incessantly teased the younger about. He knew that it definitely suited her hermit-like, unsociable personality.

Still, he could never truly call himself a gentleman if he ever passed down the opportunity to call her posh and coddled whenever the opportunity arose. Which is why, when Lyra reluctantly nodded at his question, she knew exactly what his snicker meant.

"I need some Jayce-free time." The silver-haired woman glared at him pointedly, before passing a hand through her now unruly, uncombed ponytail. "Plus, I have some things that need finishing at the lab."

"Oh! That lab."

Mark her words, one day her eyes would for sure get stuck facing the wrong side of her skull at the over-exaggerated roll they tended to give in his presence.

A sight Jayce never failed to chuckle at. "Fine. You know where to find me."

"Ditto. Unfortunately." She grumbled, but a twinge of mirth lined her tone.

"Will you be down for dinner?"

"How can you still be hungry?"

"I am a growing boy, I need my nutrients." He shrugged, before rounding his heels and starting his way down the right side of the hall.

"I think I'll pass." She hummed, "Although, if I do decide to smuggle out some munch, you'll be the first to know."

"How flattering."

"You're welcome!" She grinned, self-pleased, whirling around and setting off into the opposite direction.

"Ha ha. By the way!"

She paused briefly to look behind her upon hearing his call. Jayce was still walking off, but had rounded on his heels and was now trotting backwards down the marbled floor, toothy smile and shining bravado on full display.

"If that guy gives you any more trouble, I have a pair of dusty old mining gauntlets hung up at home."

She raised an amused eyebrow at his statement, a small smile curling the side of her lips. "And what exactly are we meant to do with those?"

"We can get creative."

That made her chuckle, and she shook her head in dismay. "Bye, steroids."

"Later!"

The walk to her quarters was intricate but usually brief. Though, she was not as lucky today.

With Jayce gone, the tiredness of her sleepless nights and the headache from her leftover hangover rolled back in full. Although, now, they were also accompanied by her long time friend and serving companion — 'guilt'.

Lyra wasn't a liar. She didn't like lying. She didn't do it out of pleasure or out of some sadistic need to satisfy an underdeveloped superiority complex. It did not bring her joy to watch her friends and newfound family struggle to try understand her. It brought her more grief than any of them could even possibly begin to fathom. But for once in her life she had built something good. Something leaning on pillars and pillars of lies, sure, but something good nonetheless.

Despite her better wishes, she found herself dwelling on Cassandra's statements from earlier.

The words had struck a chord, of course they did. But the truth of the matter was, it was nothing she hadn't heard before from the general public.

A long time ago, an angry, idealistic young Lyra was stumped when she came to the startling realisation that she was inexplicably grateful to have people in her life. The Kirammans, Jayce and Heimerdinger. Having them made her feel loved and wanted, a foreign feeling she desperately tried to cling onto. She could not stand the thought of the other option. That old, familiar, gut wrenching emptiness of her earlier years.

Maybe that was why she so promptly shoved Cassandra's statements into the depths of her mind. She was grateful for their kindness and chose to focus on that rather the unpleasantries. Even if it meant forcing herself to ignore the way her heart sat uncomfortably in her chest.

Because what was the alternative?

Her steps paused then, in the middle of the dark, unlit hallway outside her room, eyes glued to the ground.

If she had spoken up during lunch, she would have ruined the relationship she had built with the family. Not to mention, blown her cover to pieces, jeopardising her new life in the process. Putting Heimerdinger's reputation at risk, along with it. And that was not something she was prepared for at this time. So bearing this in silence was for her own ultimate sake, really.

But that look on Jayce's face.

Her gut twisted uncomfortably at the memory.

That confusion, the wish to understand and know if she was okay.

She knew her and Jayce were fine, they always were. But that unease, the discomfort, was only there in the first place because of her actions.

Consequences, her mind echoed with the word.

Sighing, Lyra passed a hand through her hair.

Her head was banging. She needed to lie down.

Her hand reached for the handle of her room, when a glimmer of colour flashed in the corner of her eye. She blinked, looking closer. Sure enough, a pink note had been stuck to the wooden surface of her door.

The shade of the paper was joyful; the message it carried, far from it.

'My office. Now.'

Lyra sighed louder, the hand that was frozen mid-air coming to rub at the skin of her face. Gods, she was tired.

But that squiggly, elegant handwriting was familiar.

Heimerdinger.

Because bloody of course.

||

"Good afternoon, Professor!" Lyra cheered as she charged head-on into the office. "What a lovely day we're having! That little note of yours sounded awfully like you were cross with me about something, so I've come to resolve that terrible misunderstan—"

"What did you do, Lyra?"

Her movements paused, eyes wide like a Stonehorn in headlights.

The yordle did not look happy. In fact, he looked positively fuming. Quickly, her eyes rushed to scan the surrounding floorboards.

Only to find the rather blatant absence of a certain porro.

That meant... Shit.

He was properly pissed.

"Well?"

Play dumb.

"Who's Lyra—"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about." The Dean of the Academy glared at his adopted daughter. The bushy silvery eyebrows, which were usually raised in joy and contentment, were now pointing decisively downwards, his frown and steely gaze rooting her to the spot.

Lyda gulped.

"Starting a verbal sparring with a professor. Causing a commotion. Then making inappropriate comments in front an entire auditorium? Explain this lunacy at once!"

Understanding the tone the conversation had taken, Lyra straightened her posture and crossed her arms over her chest. Her joyful attitude drained instantly, replaced with her signature serious, vacant expression — jaw clenched, lips pressed into a thin line. "I started nothing, only retaliated." She then stated, courtly. "He made inappropriate assumptions, so I corrected him. And he was rude to Jayce."

Heimerdinger raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Entirely unprovoked?"

She bit the inside of her cheek, gaze shifting sideways in an irked manner.

She did provoke him. With good reason. Too bad Heimerdinger didn't know exactly what that reason was. And once again, it was not something she could actually disclose or even expand on.

Consequences.

"Lyra, be honest now. What happened?" The note of exasperation in the Dean's voice drew her attention back to him, before she forced her guilt-filled eyes to move away.

"I cannot help, unless I know—"

"Everything is fine." She dragged through gritted teeth, fingers coming to pinch the bridge of her nose. Gods, her headache was going to kill her.

"Everything is rather patently not fine—"

"Nothing is going on!"

The yordle paused, tentatively, mild surprise flashing over his features at her sudden outburst.

"I am fine! I'm fine! I'm tired and I'm stressed, but it's nothing I can't handle." Lyra continued, palms coming to smear across her face. "I'm an adult, I can deal with this myself, in an appropriate manner. As a matter a fact, I am dealing with it."

Gods, her headache.

She needed to lie down.

The Professor was quiet.

She didn't dare look at him, eyes squeezed shut beneath fingers that were pressing tightly at the skin between her brows. After a moment that felt much longer than it was, she sighed, and was startled by just how exhausted she sounded even to herself.

"Look." Lyra started, voice strained, quieter than normal. "I am sorry for causing trouble. I am. But I was standing up for myself, so I think that's worth something."

When her eyes met Heimerdinger's, she almost wished she hadn't looked. Because the expression that sat on her mentor's face was painted with nothing short of pained understanding. And it startled her to no end.

"Being an adult does not mean carrying one's burdens alone, Lyra." He spoke softly then, his gentle voice carrying a depth she had not heard him use for years. "It comes with acknowledging when it is necessary to accept help."

She looked down. She didn't know what else to do.

That emotion in his eyes, she could not stand it. Not pity, no, but close. Dangerously close. And it twisted and clawed at her insides in a way that made her sick. She wasn't a child, but he was treating her like one. 

He sighed after a prolonged minute of silence. She heard how tired he suddenly sounded, but did not make the mistake to look up again. She couldn't, not with that headache beginning to spike.

"You will solve this wrangle with Viktor, yes?"

She was tired, and the sound of his name took her by surprise. So much so that she forgot to reign in her visible flinch. Inwardly, Lyra cursed herself for it. Because she knew Heimerdinger noticed.

"He's a fine young man, Lyra." The mentor pressed, confirming her suspicion, his tone careful but convinced. "From the Undercity, just like yourself... I thought for sure, you two ought to—"

Her eyes shot to him instantly, reflexively, filled with passionate, raging snide. "Get along?" Lyra scoffed, venomously, "Why?"

She regretted her words the second they came out.

Because they both knew the question was left hanging, unfinished.

Why, because we're both from the Undercity?

If his expression wasn't stricken before, it sure was now. She tore her gaze away from him, because the shame shot through her almost made her gag. Her lecturing him, of all people, on unjust views and mindsets? When he'd been trying to change the Academy's admission process for years, when he'd promoted project after project in the Trenches' best interests, when he'd adopted her?

Disgraceful.

Yet she was plenty happy, ecstatically ready even, to brush Cassandra's statements under the rug in the span of a minute.

Fucking disgraceful, her mind seethed, and guilt burnt at her skin in a way that made her want to turn it inside out and scratch the itch that now perturbed it.

"I thought you would find... an understanding."

His voice was soft, and she wanted to scream. He was kind to her time and time again and this was how she repaid him? Making him feel like he, of all people, had to walk on eggshells around her, when he had done nothing but worry about her? Guilt throbbed through her, using her airways as a chew toy.

Disgraceful.

Utterly disgraceful.

Her mind swam with thoughts that screamed deprecating abuse, one uglier than the other. So his voice, in its softness, reached her only from afar.

"I have lived a long life, Lyra."

She heard clearly what he said next and it sent a suffocating knot into her throat.

"I recognise a tormented soul when one stands before me."

Lyra didn't realise her lips had began to tremble. Not until she'd forced open her mouth. "Professor, may I please be excused? I've had a long day."

She didn't dare look at him, not even when his silence stretched on. She physically couldn't stomach looking up, not when she was feeling this wretchedly guilty.

A quiet, painfully dejected sigh echoed in the room.

"Of course, dear."

Lyra darted promptly for the door without loosing a beat, strands of hair obscuring her features. Hand grasping the handle into a tight grip, she twisted it, ripping it open.

Before she could flee, her feet stopped. She paused in the doorframe, eyes wide, staring unseeingly forward. He couldn't see just how harrowed and haunted her pale face looked then, obscured by the thick curtain of her bangs. When she forced her voice out, she made damn sure it sounded sincere. That he understood just how truthfully she was speaking, so that he knew the words coming out of her mouth to be meant from all the remaining ripped shreds of her soul combined.

"I hope you know I do not take everything you do for me for granted."

Her voice resounded with conviction, a slight tremor lining her tone. But it was barely audible, and she prayed that he had not heard it. Patiently, if not cautiously, she lingered in the doorframe, standing still while she awaited his reply. When it came, guilt finally submerged her completely. 

"I know, my dear." Heimerdinger spoke, and the sadness in his voice felt more painful than a stab. She could almost imagine him smiling lightly at her back, his moustache lifting minimally at the corners, eyes crinkling at the edge. "You're doing wonderfully."

She made sure he saw the small nod of her head before she bolted forward and out. The door shut behind her and Lyra stood frozen on the other side, in the dark hallway.

Brown irises blown wide, pupils small, she stared forth with unseeing eyes. She knew her hands had began to shake a while back, and she let them give into the urge properly now that he could not see it. Her mind felt blank, buzzing lightly with the underlying sizzling of static.

I hope you know I do not take everything you do for me for granted.

A pathetic attempt at a thank you.

She did not know what had just happened. What made her act they way she had, or what had spurred on that disgusting behaviour from her. All she knew was that she was a disgrace.

A hypocritical fool.

She didn't deserve him. Any of them.

Her body was shaking, extremities and shoulders now shuddering and trembling like boiling water in a covered pot. She had not felt this angry in years.

She had to leave, now. Crawl back into that hole of a room and stay there for the foreseeable future. Before she could do any more damage that she would not be able to undo.

It was a good plan.

But the familiar clicking of a cane that resounded on her far right, disagreed.

Her head whipped to the side, eyes fixing him with her gaze as soon as he rounded the corner. Just like that, all she saw was red, and it turned full on burgundy when she saw him spot her and scowl.

"Oh. Great. It's y—"

She marched up to him before he had the time to finish his sentence, barging intrusively into his personal space without any sort of consideration.

"What the hell was that shit you pulled today, assistant?!"

Viktor's eyebrows rose, in mild surprise. His eyes made a note of the way the young woman's gloved fists were clenched tightly by her sides, of the crease astride her brows and, mainly, of the flaring anger in her eyes. But he did not shift or give any indication of being even minutely perturbed.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't play dumb." Lyra snapped, strands of hair sprawling around her head in a haphazard mess. "It is none of your business what I do in my spare time, nor who I do it with."

He blinked slowly, unbothered, and she almost leapt forth and strangled him right then and there.

"When it affects your academic performance—"

"My academic performance?" The laugh she barked out was filled with guttural snide, and it ricocheted off the marbled walls in haste flickers. "As much as I appreciate your gracious concern, I believe I answered all your questions correctly, without batting an eye. Is that not so?"

His lips pressed together a little tighter and brows furrowed downwards a little further. He was displeased. She was right, and he knew that.

Lyra scoffed. "So much for academic performance, asshole."

His stance straightened then, measured anger flaring up on his angular features. "You're forgetting yourself, Miss Velaryon, I am your professor."

"I'll forget myself all I please when you put my credibility on the line, ridiculing and berating me in front of a classroom full of people." She bit back. "You had no right to say those things to me, and especially not to Jayce."

The creases on his forehead suddenly relaxed. But the ugly, deriding smile that contorted the corner of his lips almost made her lunge forward.

"What an endearing display of loyalty." He mocked, accent rolling off his words in sharp waves.

"I'm just sticking up to a bully."

Viktor's smirk fell, eyes widening slightly, and he blinked. As he continued to stare her down with that hard gaze, she swore she spied a veil of dumbfounded doubt skim across his irises. It was gone as quickly as it had come, and his features steeled, delivering her a heartfelt glare. "This conversation is over."

He moved to walk past her, but Lyra whirled in front of him before he could, and he was forced back in outraged surprise.

"No, you will explain yourself!" The student glowered, nails digging painfully into her palms, narrowed brown eyes buried under furrowed dark brows. "Because if you've been throwing tantrums left and right without a reason, then you have some nerve calling me a spoiled brat."

She did not miss the way his jaw clenched tighter, nor how his chest now rose quicker. He was angry. The sight almost made her smirk. But she stayed put, unmoving, expression still fuming with unrestrained anger.

"Move aside, Miss Velaryon."

"Like hell I will!" She exclaimed, taking a step forward instead. He took one back out of reflex, but his hard demeanour did not falter.

"You've been making my life miserable, why? Because I bumped into you once? Do you realise how understatedly ludicrous that is? You don't know me! Or the kind of person that I am!" She cut him off when she spotted his lips parting to speak.

"But please, go on, reiterate it." She dared another step forward, but he did not move. Their eyes narrowed equally at each other and she stared up at him venomously, a snidely smile distorting her skin. "Though, I'm afraid my response will be much too similar to the one I gave you last night."

Viktor levelled her with a glare, bright amber eyes sizzling with hatred. Lyra could see his scowl twitching at the corners minimally, the way the grip he had on his cane had turned knuckle-white. She was angry, more so now that she standing almost chest to chest with him, and he seemed equally so. His eyes flickered over her features in haste brushes, until he suddenly smirked.

"I'm astounded that the Professor can hold a person like you in such high regard." He seethed, and she noted how his eyes held only what she could describe as disgust.

Her teeth were near grinding against one another, "I dare you to elaborate."

"A rude, frivolous, judgmental thug."

This man was baffling, "When did I judge you?"

"That's what you're focusing on?"

"No, please, tell me when, when have I ever once—"

It was then that he stepped forward and her eyes blew wide. Against her better wishes, she stumbled back, thrown off her stance, a surprised whimper dying in her throat. He stalked after her diligently, making sure their chests were close when the last bits of the restraints he had on his anger seemed to finally snapped.

"Did you think I did not see you ogling me like I'm some sort of spectacle of nature when you slammed into me?"

Lyra blinked, daft and silent. She stood still, stunned, unable to look away from the utterly passionate hatred flaring his eyes.

This is what this was about? Their first interaction?

Of course... In all her dumbfounded silence yesterday, she had not realised that she had stared too long.

Did he... think she judged him for his limp?

"I may not be your Piltovian finest, Miss Velaryon." Viktor continued through a cynical smile, leaning so close into her face that their noses were only inches apart. "But unlike you, I did not have the luxuries of being handed everything on a silver platter. Everything I earned, I earned through hard work, and your sheer audacity and disrespect in the face of that is outstanding."

The small thought of apologising that had sparked through her died instantly.

"You self-pitying moron, open your eyes!" She levelled him back equally, leaning in herself. And she threw her hands in the air a little too dramatically when she all but screamed her next sentence down the entire hallway. "I was staring at you because I thought you looked hot!"

Viktor shot back immediately, eyes positively agape.

He blinked.

"Excuse me?"

Whelp, too late to back out now.

It was between that or telling him the actual reason, and she wasn't planning on doing that ever at all, so this would have to do.

"Don't worry, I am very much aware how much of an egotistical, prudish asshole you are now, so save yourself the torment and consider that a big 'my bad'." She scowled hatefully, though with a little more of stutter than she wanted to.

She just called him hot.

Her childhood friend.

Her professor, dammit.

Lyra physically felt the heat that rushed to her face, and knew then that she needed to run before he saw it.

Yes, run, good plan.

Run.

She was halfway through rounding her heels, attention unfocused, when she heard him scoffed quietly behind her.

"What, are Mr Tallis' services not sufficient?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he visibly flinched. Regret washed over his features faster than he could blink.

Lyra froze, her eyes wide in pure shock.

She knew he had a sharp tongue. They were very much alike in that sense, since they were kids. They had gotten into all sorts of arguments back then and, in the heat of it all, Viktor would often let certain comments slip. Not because he necessarily meant them, but because of how proficient and quick he had to become at verbal sparring over the years. He wasn't any good with force, so he only had his wit to resort to. Unfortunately, it was precisely his wit that got him into trouble more often than not. Especially now.

Lyra saw his instant, uncomfortable remorse, but did not acknowledge it. For once in her life, she was genuinely too stunned to speak.

Viktor fumbled in his spot, his steely demeanour faltering, replaced with uncertainty. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for, I did not mean—"

"You know what?" Lyra whipped to face him fully once more and smiled. "Fine. Okay. I'm not even going to acknowledge how incredibly offensive, unprofessional and out of line that statement was."

He flinched lightly, corners of his lips twisting uncomfortably, and he almost stumbled back when she stepped into every inch of his personal space with her chest planted in front of his. Viktor's stance looked infinitely smaller now, despite his prevailing height, and he stared down at her with wide, baffled eyes.

"But I will say this." She ground tightly. She was furious. And for once, she wasn't going to hold back.

"You're a self-centred, self-proclaimed asshole, and gods forbid anyone has the gut to call you out for your shit. You're out here thinking you're toil and struggle incarnate, while there's people who have worked tooth and nail for their fair share in life, just like you. If it helps you sleep at night, fine, hate me, pester me, make my life miserable all you please. But know this." She scowled in full, and saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed.

"All you are is an entitled snob, who justifies his bullying through the judgment of few ignorant assholes that have put you down in the past. You have the audacity to speak of my judgment when you are the one who made his mind up at the first sight of me, jumping to irrational conclusions out of a need to antagonise everything and everyone that surrounds you here. Wake up, assistant!"

She leaned in close then, so close their noses almost touched.

And with all the derision and anger she could ever muster, she spat her next words.

"You've spent so long making everyone into monsters that you've become one yourself."

Then, she swerved past him, and left without a glance back.

||

I should be writing my dissertation right now, but this is much more entertaining.

I hope you guys are well! I will be updating this story more in the following months, in anticipation of Season 2.

Please comment if you have any kind of questions!