Since being informed of Alexa's capture, the Vaskels of the manor had been thrown into a fit. 

The majority offered to guard the building where she was being held until He contacted the house again to hear of their progress. Others offered to import food from their world. James didn't bother to interfere. Normally, he'd jump at the chance to wring their necks or throw them through a newly renovated door or window. But this time, he was too happy to let them spoil things. There was no easy way out of the manor, not with Vaskels dogging his every step. They'd all caught wind of how he'd planned to kill Alexa, though his plans kept changing with every thought. He'd studied his kind for years, but there seemed to be no text or manuscript that mentioned their weaknesses. With Vaskels, it was fairly simple. Rip their hearts out. Burn them. Stab them with Incense sticks. But with Halfbloods... He had no idea. So he decided to do what he'd been doing for the past three-hundred years: stall. The order that had been placed in his mind wasn't as loud as it had been these past few days and he felt that it was time for a break. He'd never seen New York, not properly. He'd loved to gaze longingly at the skyline when the light was low, but never anything beyond that. In all of his years as a vague Emperor, he'd never actually seen any of the countries he'd lived in. It made him realise how similar his life was now to what it had been when his parents had been alive. Even then it had been better than this.

"James?" Well, not quite. Hope was standing in the doorway to the bathroom, where he'd asked to meet her a few hours ago. Her hair and body looked intact and she moved with that fiery grace he'd witnessed all those years before. She didn't look like she'd crack if he touched her. She looked mortal.

"Did you want to talk to me about something?" Hope asked. Her face, and the way her eyes bore into him, reminded James of a doe. He could still picture her, standing in the early morning light, outside her cottage.

"You're beautiful," he forced out.

"Did you ask me here to this...bathroom just to tell me that?" she teased. He smiled and moved closer, hands shaking.

"No, I wanted to... Hope," he stuttered. He hadn't stuttered in centuries. He'd been so used to being in control of everything, and then he'd met her. A catalyst for change.

"Would you like to go out with me?" Her eyes widened, while her cheeks began to colour a dull shade of red.

"Are you," she began. "Are you asking me out?"

"No. Well, yes. Yes, I am".

"But what about your sister? She's here, so"—

"And she'll remain here for as long as I see fit. You're my humanity Hope. You come first," he said. He knew he should've told her that a long time ago. Beating down the voice which screamed that he was stalling for time, trying to protecting his sister after everything he'd done to destroy her, he cupped Hope's face. She laughed.

"So, you're taking me out? On a...on a date? Isn't that what normal people do?" she asked sceptically. He chuckled.

"Think of it as practice. For when all of this is over". He'd already planned their first trip away: France. They were going to stay in a small hotel near a beach. Hope could try ice-cream for the first time.

"So, how are we going to get out of here?" she asked. James sidled over to the bathroom window, peered down. Luckily, the roof sloped downwards and only stopped a couple metres away from the ground. As soon as they made it outside, they wouldn't have to worry about any Vaskels. Only those in the Highest of Dynasties could survive in sunlight long enough to apprehend them. A knock at the door spurred his mind into action.

"My Lord? Are you well?"

"Quick, let's go!" he hissed. Hope, trying not to laugh, launched herself through the window. She landed easily on the roof outside. Her body tightened, muscles acting like cables to propel her forward. She wasn't going to break. She wasn't going to fade away. Not now and once Alexa was dead, she'd never leave.

"Are you coming?" she said from the rooftop. The Vaskel knocked at the door again but by the time he decided to break it down, James was long gone.

He's standing opposite her on the bridge, their faces impaled by the moon. Hers is darker than an eclipse and her body trembles. He knows he should've killed her years ago. He knows that he should kill her now. But, for some reason, he can't bring himself to even move. Before them, the manor crackles with flames, ones that reflect onto the frozen river. He looks down. Maybe if he couldn't see his mistake, it would stop existing.

"What have you done?" she asks. Her mismatched eyes whiten into pearls. She lunges. He lets her fingers cut straight through his clothes, score marks into his skin. He deserves it. He knows he does. Her hands beat his chest, even as he tries to tell her his hurt is worse than hers. She'd never believe him. Not after this.

I had no choice, he wants to say, wants to scream, but he never does. Because even he knows that it's a lie. Her blue eye glares up at him and she steps back. The look on her face burns with malice. She is going to kill him. His parents' fears come true in a heartbeat. Alexa is a monster. All this time, he thought they'd been keeping her safe from the world, but now, now he knows. They'd been keeping the world safe from her.

"Alexa" he begins. She snaps her arms, conjuring particles into existence until they'd formed clear blades with Magik floating inside. Tristans. Her Gift.

"You do not have the right to speak my name," she states, as if it is the only truth left in the world. And it is. For both of them. The Tristans glow in her hands, one with black ashes, the other with white lightening. He doesn't even bother to defend himself. He knows that it's over.

Hope. I am so sorry.

She runs at him.

Please forgive me.

The blades meet his arms, drawing blood without touching his skin. She spins around, slashing left and opening up his stomach. Ice falls from his lungs and he doubles over. The blood splatters onto the frost, black against white. Alexa's eyes are wide and tainted. Her pupils are almost dots. If he listens hard enough, he can hear her chanting in a rhythm, in a language he doesn't understand. The realisation comes too late. He's broken her. He's broken everything and he can't fix it. This time, the left blade swings down, the hilt catching his head. Stunned, he clatters like a chess piece onto the bridge. Blood rains down from the sky. Alexa stands over him, still chanting those words. Her red eye is almost closed, but her blue eye hangs wide open. He knows something isn't right. Something is different. Then it hits him. Slowly, carefully. As he's being cut up from the inside out. Their parents hadn't hidden him. They'd known about his travels, for years. They hadn't tried to stop him. They'd stopped her. Only her. The blades pause, very briefly, and Alexa starts to kick him. The first time, each rib breaks. The second, he sprawls against the far wall of the bridge, cracking the stone on impact. She drops onto all fours and crawls towards him. There's insanity in her face, pure and simple. Just kill or be killed. Her fingers close around his neck and she flips them both over, landing on top of him. His spinal column shatters. But he knows what he needs to do, and he's close enough to do it. At first, his mind rejects it. It's wrong. All of this is wrong. Hope is his only reasoning and if he loses, he will never see her again. This way, he can ensure Alexa's eternal silence. Eternal powerlessness. Even if it does break his heart. Above him, her hands turn to ashes and they reach down—

"Forgive me little sister," he says and smashes his head into hers. Her neck snaps back and she rolls off him. He throws himself on top of her, forcing his spine to heal. The bones knit awkwardly back together, clicking and snapping. He grips his sister's throat and swings her around until she's hanging over the bridge. The Tristans disappear. She struggles against his Magik, but they both know that it's no use. He made a deal, a contract. He must abide. Otherwise... No, he can't think about that. Not when he is so close. Alexa. His little sister. The look on her face pleads him not to. Without her power, all she is, is a girl. A little girl who's lost her way. Again, he utters those words, hoping that one day they will come to pass.

"Forgive me". There is no tone to his voice. There doesn't need to be. They both know what's coming and neither of them can stop it. A fraction of time seems to stop, one where James is testimony to his fears. He can't do this to her. But he has to. He has to.

"Brother" Alexa gasps. "Brother, please"— He plunges his hand into her face. The howl that follows is much worse than any sound he could've ever imagined. Feeling sick, James fumbles around until his fingers press against her eyeball. Then he pulls. And his baby sister screams and screams and screams.

What has he done?

What has he done?

Thousands of years living on Earth, millions of people being born every day, new technology that reached outer space and still, there was no decent coffee anywhere. Not that James was the best judge. He'd barely explored the human world, never mind its use of coffee beans. Halfbloods, in His mind anyway, didn't require food. Not even for the fun of it. Hope pointed to a diner on 54th street.

"What about there?" The way her lips plucked words from her mouth fascinated him.

"James? Hello?" she asked, waving her hand in front of his face. As if released from a dream, he jerked his head.

"Yes, what is it?" Hope looked at him and laughed.

"I said, what about there? At this point, I'd be surprised if we get any food at all". He'd been meaning to ask about that.

"Hope, can you still..." he trailed off, unsure. Seeing as he hadn't been unsure for three-hundred years, it was a very odd experience.

"Eat? Drink?" She held her hands out in front of her. "I think so. I've never felt this human before. And I"— She screamed, altering half the population of New York to their presence.

"What's wrong?" James cried. He wanted so badly to hold her and comfort her, but he couldn't. Thankfully, he found that he didn't need to.

"James," she said proudly. "I'm hungry". That meant... Finally, finally! He'd come through on His side of the bargain. Hope was, she was... No, he couldn't try to touch her, not yet. Somehow, he felt that if their hands brushed, she'd fade away. Instead, he verbally dragged her off to the mottled neon diner. The waitress, after giving them a series of odd expressions and glances, sat them down at a table. Hope hadn't stopped talking since they'd entered. She was almost behaving like her old self, before... Before that had happened.

"I can't believe we're doing this!" she whispered. "We don't do this. We never do this".

"Yet here we are," he said. "You'd better prepare yourself for Paris".

"Paris?! Paris?! You never said we were going to Paris as well!" He could see her standing up to hug him, but she pulled back at the last minute.

"We don't know if this is permanent, do we?"

"No," he said. "But as long as you're here, that's all I need". Somewhere in the back of his mind, he prayed to a God – any God – for this day to last forever. It was always going to be this way, wasn't it? His love or his sister. His Hope. Or his heart. But Hope was his everything, and if he didn't kill his sister, she'd kill him. If that came to pass he'd have nothing. The waitress arrived to take their order, which Hope took to mean 'order everything on the menu'. Not that he minded. His Empire was rich, himself even richer. But even all the money in the world meant nothing without Hope.

"Aren't you having anything?" she asked him.

"No. I...I'm not feeling my best. Besides," he added. "With everything you've ordered, we won't have any space on the table". She grinned sheepishly. Then,

"So, when are we leaving for France?"

"In a couple of days, three at most. Just a few meetings to attend," he said. Her face became shadowed and she turned away to stare out of the window.

"Hope," he started.

"You told me that you wouldn't meet with Him anymore. At least not on your own".

"Then I won't," he assured her. "I'll get you to stand with me". Hope raised an eyebrow.

"If I end up in the same room as that tyrant I'll strangle him," she said sharply.

"I don't doubt that," he smiled, just as the waitress arrived with the drinks from Hope's order. Coke cola, coffee, tea, a milkshake. Everything she'd missed. All because of him. As soon as this was over, they were going to France and nothing could stop them. Then he'd give her a choice. A choice he'd never given anyone, not even after all these years.

Do you want to live forever?

With me, he wanted to add, but eternity was a long time. Too long. Most humans would balk at the prospect. Somehow, he was convinced that Hope wouldn't. Since the night they'd met, three centuries ago in the village, he'd known she was different.

"James, why are you doing this?" said Hope from across the table. He struggled to take her seriously with the milk moustache. As he handed her a napkin, he replied,

"Because I'm the bad guy. I'm the villain and you're the only person who disproves that. You're my hero, in all of this. I," he paused. "I wanted to do something that good people did for a change. Get a coffee. Go on a date. Or a Klamar-e as they say in Undergod." His Vaskelian was a tad rusty, but he knew enough to get by. Hope smiled, the milk on her upper lip starting to dry. Quickly, she wiped it off.

"You've never been the bad guy James. Not to me". Maybe she was right.

There was no end to the crowds that flooded the streets. For every person they passed, five more took their place, making it gloriously difficult to navigate their way around the city. They passed the Flatiron Building several times. Eventually Hope grew peckish again and James stopped to buy her what the humans called a 'pretzel'.

"I can't believe in all these years you've never tried one of these," she said with a mouthful of carbs.

"Yes, well I didn't get out very much," he smirked. It was still surreal to see her smile like that again. She'd been brought back to him too many years after the tragedy, around 180 years ago. At first she'd been a dust cloud, a disembodied voice that had followed him from room to room, telling him he'd made the wrong decision. Then she'd grown and now... Now she was Heaven sent.

"Is that the Empire State Building up there?" Crumbs flew from her mouth and he had a hard time trying to hold back his laughter.

"No. The Empire State is taller," he said.

"What about that one?"

"No".

"What about"—

"Hope!" he cried helplessly. "I'll tell you when I see it". She huffed angrily and shoved the pretzel in her mouth. There was no trace of the shell she'd been before, just an odd sensation in the air whenever she moved. James hoped that only he could feel it and not the entire population of NY. Apparently, that's what the regulars called it. He glanced up at the building Hope had singled out. He felt guilty for not telling her that she'd guessed right, that it was the Empire State, but he couldn't afford to take her inside. She'd only just be reminded of what he'd done. Alexa was in there, as was the human boy. Well, the half-human mongrel. And Wolfie, the actual mongrel. Part of him wanted to destroy them right now. But this was his day with Hope, and nothing was going to ruin it. He looked up, and using his Sight, he gazed through time and watched the sunset. They needed to get back.

"Hope," he turned. She was gazing into the window of a shop, at the models and the clothes they were wearing.

"Hope". He wished he could wrap his arm around her shoulder in comfort.

"I don't want to be selfish," she whispered. "But I don't want to die either. I don't want this – with you – to stop. I love you and I need to be here with you".

"But", she wiped her eyes. "Alexa doesn't deserve to suffer because of what happened in the past"—

"Hope!"

"I know, I know. I know you can't stop it. But could you try? Just try? At least make it painless, please. Please James". She wept into the sleeve of her dress, the remainder of her pretzel drooping in her hand.

"You'll make it even saltier". He tried to tease her, but only a ghost of a smile brushed her lips. In the end, she let the pretzel fall.

"We should get back," she sniffed. They started to walk, James keeping a close eye on the world around them.

"Hope, I know this is hard for you, but I need you to be selfish. Just this once and then we'll be free. We'll have plenty of time to make up for it". He began to list all the things they could do: volunteer at homeless shelters, work with the UN. They could be redeemed, and he needed her to understand that this was what it took to have freedom. Freedom from Him. After all this time.

"I made a promise to you and I'm not about to break it," he said softly. Her face had turned a light of shade of pink from the crying, which was good news. It meant she was becoming human again.

"What about all those promises you made her? Alexa? You broke them". A man selling balloons gave them a hard stare. Pushing on, James swerved around a corner. The Vaskels wouldn't notice their absence for another hour, but it didn't hurt to be careful. Especially not at this stage in the game. Hope remained silent for the rest of the journey, up until they were standing at the manor's back entrance. It led into the basement, and now that Emma was no longer a problem, they used it to sneak inside. As soon as James slipped through the door into the hall, several Vaskels came pounding across the carpet.

"Sir!"

"My Lord, where have you been?" Ignoring them, he waited for Hope to step through the door after him. She smiled.

"I had a wonderful time, James," she whispered, starting to walk away. He rushed to shake his head.

"Don't leave. Not yet. Stay with me".

"Alright," she said. The Vaskels didn't look too impressed.

"My Lord, we thought your sister had"—

"But she hasn't, has she?" he said impatiently. One of the Vaskels, from a Higher Dynasty, stalked forward. Its eyes were flagstone grey, but they flashed with malice.

"Don't think you can treat us like your servants. We're only here until you stop prolonging your abominable sister's life!" Without warning, Hope shot forward, and pushed... She pushed the Vaskel. She'd touched him. Her hand hadn't fallen right through his body like he'd been expecting, but instead shoved him back an inch. James fought to keep the grin off his face. Hope however, looked downright shocked, not to mention pleased. Wiping her hand on her dress, she strode away. James turned to the Vaskels.

"When you're tired of kissing my arse, you know where to find me. I'll make sure you get what you deserve". Then he followed Hope, chasing her frantically until they both ended up in the garden on the balcony. Set against the fading light of New York City, she looked like an Angel. Her hair floated around her shoulders.

"That was interesting," she remarked, almost to herself.

"I can think of a few other choice words". Smiling, she gestured for him to stand next to her. He was more than happy to oblige.

"I..." he began. Hope met his gaze. She was so beautiful, in body, mind and soul. Too beautiful for him.

"How can this be? The great James Frost, speechless?" He chuckled and they faced each other. Her Bambi eyes shone into his, un-twisting his mind strand by strand. He almost felt afraid. Was this how she was feeling? If his heart could beat, it would be dancing in his chest. But it was frozen. And yet, he could still feel her warmth.

"James, I'm afraid," she whispered. So was he, his lips too paralysed to admit it. As it turned out, she didn't need to hear his reply. Their chins almost touched and Hope had to stand on her tip-toes to reach him. Closer they moved and closer and closer until— Their lips didn't touch. Confused, James reached for her hand, but it faded and fell right through his own.

"No, no. Hope!" he cried desperately. "Hope!"

"I'm still here". Her voice was shrunk to a mere hiss and her body had reverted to the shell it had been before. Her sunken cheekbones were testament to that.

"What happened? Why has this happened?!"

"James, calm down," she soothed. "Everything's going to be fine". But what if it wasn't? What if nothing was ever 'fine' again? It wouldn't be without her. Not without Hope.

"I made a deal, Betrayer!" He flung his arms up into the clouds, reaching for Him. Suddenly, his mind grew cold, colder than it usually was. He was here.

So did I. I ordered you to kill her and I will not tolerate any other result.

Of course, James replied.

Do it. Kill her. Only then, can you have your Hope. After that, His presence evaporated, as if he'd never even existed. James shivered. It didn't matter; he'd made his choice. 

There was nothing else to decide.